|6:30 am...out front. It continued to accumulate.|
A rally north lead me to Lizzy's at the base of Hatcher, and not long after we were into the storm to investigate.
We found a white out, and even starting out low at the Government lot, we were accosted by furious flakes.
We realized quickly that we would not be going very high, but the alder land would at least let us approach the base of some of the surrounding peaks.
|Just above treeline, entering the 4068 bowl.|
While we stayed well away from the unseen slopes of Frostbite and 4068, we heard frequent rumblings from across the street. One notable slide ran for two minutes, and sounded like a cascade of wet, card borad refrigerator boxes tumbling down a hill.
We skied the whale snot down low for a couple runs, and hoped we would get a break the next day.
Sunday dawned clear, and we headed back to Frostbite and 4068 area to see how the new snow had settled.
Slides had gone on almost every aspect, though their nature varied. On southerly sun-impacted faces the fresh snow went wide and went far. On northerly faces the slides seemed to struggle to rally support. It didn't matter though, the snow was deep, and heavy. Even a narrow, 20' x 100' slide down a gully piled up enough rubble to bury a car, and with the accumulated water weight, probably crush it too. While the sun shown overhead, clear skies had failed to materialize overnight and suck the fresh snow dry of its water, so we found a rather wet and warm snow pack.
A whoompf not too far above treeline in the flats got our attention. A 5-minute pit suggested the new snow still wasn't getting along with the older drier snow, and just below the old snow was a firm melt/wind crust.
We kept our angle moderate on the shoulder of Frostbite.
|I got sworn at, a lot. Spring attire in AK.|
Then, I ran into Rachel.
"I could do another or go home," she said, having just skied a more northerly aspect.
I was having the same debate, but her tracks on the shoulder looked sweet, and called for more.
"Always another," I replied.
But the light was perfect, and the ambient had set the shoulder up for great turns in inch-deep corn.
|Damn you! But not really.|
|Job well done.|