AK Fall: Best if Enjoyed in Moderation

Psst. I have a secret. I kind of like fall in Southcentral Ak.
It’s an acquired taste for sure. Perhaps not the sweetest of autumn vintages – can anything compete with Indian summer during peak foliage in New England?
Alaska fall is not something that can, or should be consumed in any great quantity, but it is sweet, even if not long to be savored.
Sometime during the endless daylight of the summer the solstice, I awake from sleep – already a scarce commodity – and lay awake in the burning light of 4 am, having just dreamt that the short summer had already ended, and darkness was returning. It’s part a horror, part a wish.
This summer was hot, dry, and awesome. I got a lot of time in the saddle. Too much? As the day’s waned, and nights grew, I had to admit, I was looking forward to a break, and a change in pace.

Res-Devils

I caught two great rides on the Kenai with Nathan A. First on the list was the Res-Devils Loop on the last weekend and the last Sunday of August. Both of us had just wrapped up from the Trifecta races, so the legs were tired, and some very light overnight showers Saturday put a dusting of snow on the ridgelines and provided plenty of inspiration.
Despite this, the trail was still dry, and while there wasn’t much foliage to speak of down low, colors in the passes were approaching peak.

 

Overlooking Kenai Lake.

Juneau Lake.

Love this section.

Swan Lake

Bone dry, blue skies, bright color.

Snow on the ridges.

Looking back to the Pass from Hope overlook.

Russian Loop

I expected to spend a bit more time on Russian this fall than I ended up realizing, so in retrospect, I’m really glad we snagged this ride over Labor Day. The weather wasn’t particularly stunning, and admittedly colors weren’t quite peaking yet, but with this trail fully brushed out, it was hard to complain.

Kenai Lake break.

Cloudy reflections.

Burning fireweed below Cooper Peak.

 

Running
The fact that I run is a well-kept secret. I actually run quite a bit for someone who identifies as a cyclist. That doesn’t mean I’m strong, or fast, but there are some great over-land runs to be had in AK, and this is my time of year to branch out. I hadn’t been on Summit Creek Trail since 2013, and hadn’t been over the Summit Creek/East Creek Pass since 2009. Adam was an awesome sport and joined me for a run to the col between East Creek and Resurrection Pass. From there, we turned southward and followed the ridgeline upward and eventually back around to a high col the leads to a hidden tarn just a bit below and east of the East Creek/Summit Creek Pass.

 

Looking down to East Creek/Summit Creek Pass.

Looking for goats. None sighted.

An after work run on McHugh Peak with Lee. Photo L.M.

Crow Pass Skiing

A typical wet fall storm parked over the region early in September delivering rain for 13 days straight. Somehwere toward the end of that deluge, temps dropped and snow started stacking up above Hatcher Pass and Crow Pass. I knew the window might open, and on Friday the 18^th, I slid my bedroom shades back, planning to go to work, only to be greeted by blue skies and an incredibly low snow line.
I was grateful I’d put my ski gear away ready to go, and quickly packed my bag and went down to the garage to scrape the off-season storage wax from my bases while scarfing down eggs and bacon.
There were a few inches of sopping-wet snow clinging to the leafy alders at the Crow Pass Trail Head, and I needed my storm shell to keep dry as the warm morning sun turned the trail into a cold, wet, collapsed alder obstacle course. I was stupid enough to beat anyone else up to the pass, and from the waterfalls upward, ended up breaking the skinner in about 2 feet or more heavy fresh, underlain by a solid but saturated base. Clouds moved in as I climbed, but moved in and out at rapid intervals, providing easy windows to ski through. A few others showed up later, and I ended up doing two runs. A third would have been nice, but I didn’t have confidence the clouds would keep up their intervals. I skied all the way back to the top of the falls without tagging a single rock: Easily the deepest skiing I’ve done in September or October.

 

Looks more like winter than mid-September.

The Summit Glacier has suffered in the heat. The cracks are big.

Burma Road Loop

I really enjoy road riding in the Valley during the shoulder seasons, but I’ve stuck to Palmer and Butte on these rides. I’d wanted to check out a loop in the Knik/Point Mackenzie/Big Lake area that included a long chunk of dirt on Burma Road. I’d Burma was a good road, and Phil was up for an adventure. As with most other Valley riding, it was really pleasant. We parked at the Wal-Mart, and traffic was pretty light, and generally very respectful. A lot of the main roads in the valley have parallel bike paths, but unlike Anchorage, where these paths cross hundreds of driveways and side streets where the right-of-way is ambiguous, in the Valley these intersections are far less frequent. That being said, theese paths also tend to be covered in loose rocks kicked up by ATVs and quads, so they can be a mixed blessing. Burma Road itself though was excellent: good flow, narrow, rolling, winding, and well packed. There were two very large puddles at the south end. Phil, on his cross bike, rode through both. I was on the road bike with its 25C slick tires, I made it through the first but portaged the second. Other than that, both bikes were equally adept at this ride, though it was pavement heavy, and I think slicks and taller gears were optimal.

Knik Arm.

Burma Road.

For real?

 

Cyclocross

I’ve been helping out with the Arctic Cross cyclocross race series the past few falls. I don’t have a burning desire to race cross for a number of reasons excuses, starting with the fact that I’m a wuss; but I do like watching cross racing since you can often see a good chunk of the course from a single point, and more importantly, I like hanging out with my friends. We added an event this year so we now have three adult races, plus a short kids race, and cross has gone from being a half-day event with maybe 50 people to basically a full-day activity with 125-200 entrants!
One day, for giggles, I stuck my Garmin in my pocket and let it run while I, umm, ran around, setting up the course, timing, and taking the course back down: I logged about 6 miles over 6-7 hours. It was neat to see. Fortunately, a lot of people pitch in, otherwise that number would be a lot higher!
Photos from the season: LINK

 

CX T-REX.

Do nothing

As winter turns into spring, the days get longer, and so with it, the activity list. Some of the biggest ski missions of the year come by a defacto in March-May thanks to better weather, deeper snow, and the need to chase that cold and deep snow into the higher elevations. At the same time, road riding, and soon enough, mountain biking ramp up and there’s a pressing need to start putting in more time on the saddle. Suffice to say, the spring shoulder season isn’t really a shoulder season at all. I’m OK with that, but I’m a firm believer in doing a big-block recovery, and I’m not talking about a recovery ride or mellow day, I’m talking about a real block. Some folks fret about how boring fall is here and how there’s nothing to do. I say: embrace it, take a rest.

Get out

The leaves have dropped, the sun is noticeably lower, but the snow line seems stagnant. Get out of town, get out of state, get out of country…more on that later:

6:30am in LAX Ted Bradley...

Sneaker winter

As depressing as the current weather track is, I gotta say, this winter has been a bit of a sneaker.
So far, I’ve safely logged far more ski hours than fat bike hours.
Maybe it’s partly because I over-cooked myself this year on the bike, maybe it was getting a fall trip down south that satiated my desire to ride for a while, but I’m glad that winter riding has been limited.
In the grand scheme of things, this winter blows; but, maybe in the way that last summer was a sneaker for riding, this one is the same for skiing, especially in comparison to 2014.
Access is for sure worse than it’s ever been in the Kenai Mountains, but the skiing above 2,000’ feet in Turnagain has actually been better than this year than it’s been since the big winter of 11-12 (at least until as-of-late).
The 12-13 early season was thin and faceted, top to bottom, in Turnagain, and literally non-existent in Hatcher. Last year, I only skied Turnagain once before early February. On the flip side, Hatcher had plenty of snow last year, but kept going in and out due to freeze/thaw events, not to mention, it’s a difficult place to ski during storm events.
So, by the numbers, BC ski days logged, November 1-Jan 4:
13-14 – 10 days;
14-15 – 19 days.
The other aspect of this subjective equation, “objective days” – or high-quality days. I’d define these as days where I skied, or attempted to ski, something that actually felt like real skiing, not just chasing after laps. Up to this point last year, I’d attempted and completed 2 objectives, Gold Cord Peak and Pinnacle. Both were fantastic skis.
This year, I’ve skied three objective days: Basketball couloir, the nameless Idaho face (Potato Peak?), and Government north face.
While none of these holds a candle to Pinnacle, they still felt really good, and are on the books. Really important here though, since we’ve had ample opportunity to do laps days, I felt much better on all three of those days this year than I did last year on Pinnacle or Gold Cord, where I had only skied in marginal conditions two times prior. Finally, I haven’t been nearly as stressed out about conditions or avi concerns.
One thing that for sure sucks this year: the complete lack of skinny skiing. While this is more of a mid-week activity for me, I’ve put in fewer days this year on skate or classic skis than I did by Thanksgiving in any of the previous three years!

Where will this winter go from here?

My guess, it’s unlikely to recover.
Amateur meteorologist hat, on.
Right now there are three main factors all ganging up to ensure we don’t ski much in the second half of this winter: anomalously high sea surface temps in the north east Pacific (7 degrees centigrade in the north Gulf), a powerful eastern Pacific blocking pattern that extends along the entire west coast of North America, and a weak El Nino pattern.
This exact pattern set up for the winter of 2002-2003, and it never relented. Rain and warm temperatures persisted throughout that winter season, and rarely did any cold air seep down from the Arctic in the second half of the winter. 
Big picture, is it the end of winter forever in SCAK? Probably not. Two years ago our snow shovels and thermometers were taking a beating, and in 2008 and 2010, winter took the lead and carried right over into summer. I’d say we’re on the wrong end of the decadal cycle. Unfortunately, it’s hard to get psyched that mountain bike season will start earlier or that next year could be better, knowing this one is more than likely toast.
In some ways, that’s a nice analogy for the past weekend. In some senses, it was really nice: warm temps, good company, and firm trails made for very pleasant rides. On the other hand, as enjoyable as riding was, I really didn’t want to be riding, I wanted to be skiing.

Yep, those are shorts, in January. I can't say I was wearing short too, but Phil rides hard!

A quick stop to appreciate the weak, but bright, winter sun.

I went to check out the Haesler-Norris Trails in Houston on Sunday after seeing a recent post from Tim, hoping to find slightly more winter-like conditions. I was not disappointed. The trails were firm, fast, and offered lots of traction and no need for studs.

A big sign at the entrance to Zero Lake Rd warned of logging operations. Ah...getting run down by these rigs...just like back home. This was the only rig I saw though, and I like the slogan on the side: "Got Wood?"

The trails offered a little of everything, from spruce tunnels, birch glades, recently logged sections, wide open swamps, and narrow twisty corridors.

It almost felt like a throw back to when I lived in Soldotna and would escape the deep cold or dangerous avi conditions by going to Homer to skinny ski. In this case, I was fleeing north in search of winter riding. I'll be back.

It Never Starts Like It Should

But this one. Wow.
It's felt like the past two falls have been particularly ornery. Cold, dry, snow-less.
I think most people I know would take either in a heartbeat.
It could all change in a breeze, but it's hard to imagine it will.

Hopeful that snow was falling up high, and eager to be in the mountains, Phil and I headed up to Jewel Glacier on Friday to investigate.
Snow may have fallen, but Mr. Weend was out with his buffer, making sure the mountains stayed smooth and brown. I've seen more snow up there in September.
Jewel Glacier was several inches of supportable wind crust all the way up. It was a slippery skin, but surprisingly consistent skiing. The upshot of Mr. Weend's OCD was that despite the thin cover, we were able to make it to within a mile and a quarter of the car before it was time to go back to foot travel.

A dog chased us up the road from the Crow Creek sub-division and did the rent-boy routine in the parking lot, tagging along for the trip. I get the feeling this pup spends more time up here than anyone else and is a true mountain dog. Otherwise, we had the Pass and the glacier to ourselves.

Wind-buffed but carvable.

Spring-like snow and hot-pow where an avi had spit out some debris during the last storm.

Word was out that the riding in Palmer was dry and dusty. Cody and I headed up Saturday in rather winter-ish temps. The riding was as good as expected, and the frosty forests and fields were beautiful. The bonus was riding the newly-built trails. So much fun.

 

Photo courtesy C.G.

 

On other fronts, the slow start is good for house projects.