Birthday overnight at John Muir Cabin

Here are some pictures from Kari's and my joint birthday overnight at John Muir cabin.

The weather was gorgeous after weeks of gray, soggy Juneau rain.

Sharon and I started early on Saturday and after dropping our packs at the cabin, we skate skied over to Spaulding Meadow.

Sharon's thinking about our ski trip to Sweden next month...
Chuck, Martha, Kari, Denise and Gail hiked up late morning.

Did I mention how much wine we hauled up the trail?

It was one of those days where it's hard to believe there is anywhere more beautiful than southeast Alaska.

The sun felt tropical...and it's January!

John Muir cabin sits at about 1500 feet of elevation and from the cabin on a weekend like this, visitors are treated to stunning views of Lynn Canal and the Chilkoot Range.

And, the conditions were just right for Sharon and I to skate ski with abandon in the alpine; no need for a groomed trail.

Such conditions are present maybe one weekend a year (this one!).

We started a marathon scrabble game just before the sunset.

Luckily, Kari remembered to take photos of the setting sun.

I was too busy losing at Scrabble and sipping the Pinot that Andy sent up (thanks!).

And, as the sun set, Gail returned from her long classic ski to view one of the several light-houses along the canal.

I will spare everyone of the night photos! But, Chuck was up bright and early Sunday morning for more skiing...that Chuck is such an early bird!

And, he motivated the rest of us outside for more skiing and snow-shoeing.

Yes, another gorgeous, sunny day in the rainforest.

Here's a parting dawn photo by Kari.

What a terrific way to spend our birthdays! I missed getting photos of Carol, Rebecca, Dee and Eric, but thanks for skiing and snow-shoeing by the cabin to wish us happy birthday!
Cheers,
Anne

Training in -40 (Canadian Yukon)

Okay, I'm a huge fan of the Alaska Marine Highway System, but our trip on the Aurora last weekend to Skagway en route to Whitehorse during high winds (50-60 mph) made me question the prudence of winter ferry travel in southeast Alaska (or maybe just the prudence of our decision to board a ferry during high wind alerts in January). Here's a picture of our window after an hour of blistering ice and waves...
Normally, we're staring out the window at the beautifully rugged mountains lining Lynn Canal. But, not last Friday.

For nearly four hourse, the waves repeatedly crashed over the bow of the ferry, the steward passed out new barf bags, the cook got sick along with 25% of the passengers, and I clung to a rail outside in an effort to hold my stomach together. Finally, after almost nine hours, we drove off the ferry in Skagway and headed up the Klondike highway towards Whitehorse, the capitol of the Canadian Yukon, for a weekend of skiing in "real" winter weather.

The temps dipped to -40 the first night and we needed to get our car jumped Saturday morning. It was a balmy -30 as we pulled on our gear at Mount McIntyre and headed out to the track (notice the boot covers).

The area reminded me of skiing the Gunflint Trail in northern Minnesota.

It was darn cold for our Juneau blood. But, there are advantages...wax once with special green and it holds all winter.

The disadvantages to cold and powdery snow showed most in the large amount of time it took us to accrue any real mileage: zero glide. Also, our GU and energy bars froze up rock solid within the first hour on the trail.

After three days of frigid weather, we were ready to brave the ferry back to Juneau. But, we knew we'd miss the cozy wax room and friendly Yukoners.

Imagine a wax room such as this in Spaulding Meadow...

Treading On Thin Ice: Eagle River

December was sunny and cold. But, right around Christmas rain returned to the rainforest. Juneau groomers are wizards at grooming ice and mush for weeks on end. The ski community gives a collective sigh, switches to waxless skis, grudgingly pulls their rain gear from the bottom of the clothes pile and heads out the door.

Gail, Kari and I were still in a bit of rain denial when Gail suggested skiing up Eagle River to Eagle Glacier. The nordic ski web site had boasted some fantastic river skiing during the cold snap and we had all missed out for various reasons. So, early in the morning on the final day of 2010, we left the trailhead with our skis, dogs and headlamps.



We spent the first quarter mile on the Amalga Trail alongside Eagle River. The trail was built by miners around 1900. By 1909 there were 50 people living at Amalga. A mill operated until World War I. Eagle River Mine produced 70,000 or so tons of ore. Eagle River leads to Eagle Glacier and a public cabin. We were hoping to make the 9 mile round trip during daylight.



We headed up the river and followed some ski tracks that looked several days old. There was open water at first but still plenty of ice and snow. Our dogs were thrilled. Kari and I were also pleased because we've never explored this trail or been to Eagle Glacier. For the first mile the travel was lovely...no steep descents or branches to duck.


We began encountering large areas of open water though. And, the old tracks disappeared into the river and popped out 25 feet on the other side indicating there had been a significant amount of melt recently. The further upriver we skied, the narrower it became and the flow increased. We were forced to scamper up a bank and bush-whack about half a mile through the forest. I made the unfortunate discovery that dormant and withered Devil's Club pricks right through heavy winter clothes with the same intensity that it pierces lightweight running shorts.


We attempted to cross again after a bend in the river and removed our skis, contemplating a jump across a narrow stream of open water to an ice island. But, my ice shelf broke and I fell forward onto snow and ice and that also broke through. I could tell I was wet, but I was very close to shore. I tried to find stable ice but my dogs charged over and crashed through all of the ice around me and then gracefully jumped to shore (thanks dogs). Behind me Kari also broke through a layer of ice closer to stable ground. While I was trying to get my chest out of the water and onto some ice, Gail, who managed to stay dry, called out that she had thought taking off our skis had been a bad idea. Yep, it was a bad idea.

I found myself grabbing a snow-laden tree that had fallen from the bank onto the river. I scooted along the tree, holding my skis and poles and then unartfully pulled myself up a steep and bushy 12 foot bank. My dogs were sliding down the bank and leaping up again, showing me how easy it all was. Kari and Gail had a clear route back into the woods.

We peered upstream and the openings in the ice only appeared larger.


At this point, Kari suggested waffles and Gail and I whole-heartedly agreed. We headed back down the river without incident.


In viewing the map, it looks like we made it about half way to Eagle Glacier. Even with the shorter distance, it was enough for our 7 month old Chessie who was sacked out on Gail's backpack ten minutes after we climbed into the car.


Well, it's a week later and the sun and cooler weather have returned. We're trying to train for a few ski events in February and March. So, we've waxed up for the weekend...just don't look for us on any of the local rivers.