Winter H2O

Overflow on Fossil Creek sloshes over my skis.

It seems inevitable that during at least a few ski trips I will have to deal with liquid H2O. This year has been no exception even though much of the winter has been quite cold. Overflow is common on many creeks in the interior as water under pressure flowing beneath the ice surface is squeezed skyward up through cracks. As the water reaches the surface it typically spreads out laterally across the channel. The most dreaded situation is where water collects under the surrounding snow pack and is insulated from the cold air above. An unsuspecting traveler can cross a pristine surface of snow and without warning immediately drop into water hidden just out of view.

Here is a spot that was difficult to negotiate without metal edged skis. I decided to walk just along the edge of the angled ice where there was a bit more traction but making sure to avoid the adjacent snow pack where liquid water might be lingering. Kaplunk!!!-- the crust collapsed and I found myself in an icy water slurry up to my knees. No surprise - I knew I was flirting with a soaking. I was too lazy to put cat track spikes over my soles and walk across the ice.

Water and below freezing temperatures are an unfortunate combination. My saturated boot and pant leg immediately froze-up when they came in contact with the cold air. So I quickly chiseled the ice out, clamped my skis back on, and daintily maneuvered myself across the ice.

Another stretch of overflow or glare ice. This was much easier to negotiate because it was solid with a few windblown patches of snow to ski between. On metal edged skis this is easy travel.

Jeff has similar issues to contend with while traveling over ice and through water: crashing, breaking through the ice surface, and ice build-up on his wheels.

On this trip Jeff's bigger frustration was patiently waiting for a portion of trail that was firm enough to ride.

Some sheep wandering around the hillside were a nice distraction from all the wrestling I did to remove ice from my boots.

My lone ski tracks coming down from Cache Mountain divide.

Caribou Bluff

The Caribou Bluff cabin sits alone on a ridge above Fossil Creek

I think the Caribou Bluff cabin is one of my favorites. The petite log shelter radiates a very cozy and welcoming aura immediately when the front door is swung open. I can't quite place my finger on why the cabin conveys this feeling. Maybe it's because the simple layout is how I would have created such a place. The space is tight but very neatly and efficiently laid out. A narrow table is straddled on either side by two nicely sized bunk beds. This makes it possible to sit comfortably while eating a warm meal and then immediately roll over on to the softness of my down sleeping bag...and watch the northern lights dance across the night sky through the modest picture window.

Christie escorted me on this overnight trip out to Caribou Bluff. Sky "the wonder dog" happily assisted her almost the entire 30-miles out to the cabin. We didn't see any caribou but there were many fresh wolf tracks meandering on the creek in the valley below.

Tales of the north from Robert Service keep us entertained.

Inscribing a few poetic phrases in the log book before heading back to the truck and our lives in Fairbanks. We will return one day and briefly relive this trip as we scroll back through the tattered pages...

Ice Skiing Through the Mountains

A trail sign in the White Mtns protrudes from the slim snow cover

Unbelievable... These were the only words I could mutter as we approached the Moose Creek cabin which rests on the edge of an open meadow in the White Mountains. It was just after midnight when we skied up the spur trail leading to the front porch. The temperature was 50 degrees above zero (+10 C). On this evening, portions of interior Alaska were experiencing the warmest January temperatures ever recorded since weather records began over 100 years ago.

I was dumbfounded. I just couldn't swallow the reality of this situation - that the atmosphere could possibly be so warm on a mid-January night just south of the Arctic Circle. But it was, so I struggled to embrace the unusual scene and tried to ignore the ramifications such warmth would have on the snowpack. Instead of the normal routine upon arrival at a cabin of firing up the wood stove and quickly shedding damp clothes, we propped open the door and windows and let the balmy southeast wind sweep through the log structure.

Our weekend traverse took us across the network of snowmachine trails through the jagged limestone peaks which define the heart of the White Mountains north of Fairbanks. We skied about 100 miles from one trail head to another and spent several nights in the cozy public use cabins en route.

After the temperatures dropped back below freezing the trail transformed into a rutted and icy luge run. This made the skiing extremely treacherous as we careened down the narrow trail and negotiated each turn with a bit of terror because the only way to stop was to plow into the surrounding brush.

Klister - John applies the tree sap-like substance to the base of his skis in order to get some kick, or the ability to push off the snow to propel forward. Not even the stickiest of ski products would perform on the icy path.

Dan and John take a break at the re-constructed Crowberry cabin. The original cabin was destroyed by a forest fire in 2004.

The skiing improved dramatically when a little fresh snow accumulated on the rock hard surface of the ski trail. This made us very happy because we were able to actually ski under control.

A glacial blue layer of water quickly fills our ski tracks as we cross a large area of glare ice on Fossil Creek. The water was just deep enough to splash over the toes of our ski boots. Areas of liquid water insulated by a layer of snow are not uncommon even in the coldest weather. At temperatures well below zero, the water will freeze instantly when it is exposed to the air, encasing your skis with ice and freezing ski bindings shut. This can make it impossible to remove the skis from the boots. Fortunately we have learned a few tricks to resolve this problem.

Kicking back in the Windy Gap cabin. The public use cabins in the White Mountains have a table, bunks, lantern, and stoves. A well deserved reprieve after a long day of skiing in the cold.

The logbook is full of stories and experiences of past travelers who found refuge in the cabin.

Dan negotiates some angled glare ice on the slope just outside the Windy Gap cabin. Large lobes of ice tend to form where groundwater seeps to the surface and interacts with the sub-zero air.

The guys ski towards a rocky precipice which looms above windy gap.

Sitting silently at the crest of the limestone ridge is the natural Windy Arch. It looks like something you would see in southern Utah except it is constructed from limestone.

Where is the snow? After skiing across ice, through water, and over brush we came to an area where the snowpack had been completely obliterated by the record January thaw. We found ourselves bridging our skis between large, grassy tussocks for several miles. Suddenly the trail conditions we had encountered the previous days didn't seem so unfavorable any longer...

Hear the chatter of our skis in this video clip compiled by John:

The COLD has snapped...

Fairbanks is shrouded in a dense layer of ice fog during a bitter cold snap

Alaska is widely known as an icy mass of land positioned near the top of the globe. This is probably the general consensus among most people. The past few weeks have only reinforced this reputation. A bitter cold air mass which has been entrenched across this northern landscape rapidly departed to more southerly latitudes today. Temperatures around Fairbanks hovered between -30F(-34C) and -60F(-51C) for nearly two weeks. This was one of the longest cold stretches in the past few decades.

The icy grip was rapidly replaced by tropical air from the south. An unprecedented heat wave has shot temperatures up well above the freezing mark. Some locations experienced a rise of more than 100 degrees Fahrenheit in a matter of days. All-time record high January temperatures were broken at many locations. This is truly a land of extremes.

Here is a graph showing the daily high (red) and low temperatures (blue) from late December to mid-January from a weather station near Fairbanks. The graph indicates that the temperature failed to get warmer than -40F (-40C) for about 10 days. There were also a few days when the mercury did not get warmer than -50F (-45C).

I have some more ice fog pictures from a previous post here: urban contrails

Winter Solstice at Horner Hot Springs

Sunrise: 11:28 AM, Sunset: 3:13 PM, Total Sunlight: 3hrs 45min

The tarp-lined pool at Horner Hot Springs is a winter oasis.

We boarded the small fixed-wing aircraft fully draped in our ski clothes and boots on a flight headed about 250 miles west of Fairbanks. Dan and I were traveling out to the remote village of Ruby on the banks of the Yukon River. As with most Alaskan villages, Ruby can only be reached by plane or by a lengthy trip down the Yukon River via boat, snowmachine, dogsled, or skis. Our plan was to arrive in Ruby, strap on our skis right on the airport tarmac, and then travel up-river to spend winter solstice soaking in the warm waters which percolate to the surface at the oasis known as Horner Hot Springs.

Horner Hot Springs is located about 25 miles up-river from Ruby. Information online was sparse about this springs perched above a small creek about a mile north of the Yukon River. Back in its heyday in the early 1900's, Horner Hot Springs was a popular stop for miners, trappers, and natives traveling the Yukon River -- which during the pre-aviation era the river was essentially a superhighway bisecting Alaska.

Dan skis from the airport down into Ruby. Gold was discovered near Ruby in the early 1900's but the settlement was officially founded in 1912 and at it's peak had a population close to 3000. Red garnets in the area were confused as "rubies" and the town was mistakenly named. Ruby has remained a native village since the gold rush ended.

We worked for food during our ski to Horner Hot Springs. Sam and Tamara are building the remote Yukon River Lodge about 15 miles upriver from Ruby. We were treated like kings in their "under construction" but warm home during our trip to/from the springs. These super friendly folks hope to have it open for year-round business sometime the next year or so--please visit them!

We encountered a mixture of conditions while skiing up the Yukon River. Large sections of the channel were impassable due to vertical knife-like blades of jumbled ice which formed during freeze-up. There was a nice snowmachine trail for a portion of the trip but strong winds in this area result in deep drifts, wind scoured glare ice, and slab crust which would frequently collapse from our weight. There were also a few stretches of overflow water hiding silently under the snowpack which would wet our boots and lock up our ski bindings.

Horner Hot Springs is situated about a mile from the Yukon River on the south flanks of the mountains known as the Kokrines in the background. We broke trail through thigh deep snow to get up to the springs.

The hot water in this area seeps from the surrounding hillside. A small collection pond dug into the embankment above provides water to a pipe which feeds the springs below. The temperature was a comfortable 103F(39C)degrees. There wasn't much flat real estate adjacent to the springs but we were able to find just enough space to set up our tent.

Dan crashes at the luxury accommodations at the Ruby airport while we wait for our plane back to Fairbanks. Fortunately for us it was a warm +10F (-12C)...

Here is a link to an old photograph of Horner Hot Springs: old photo. A pipe carrying hot water from the hillside is visible behind the cabin. Notice how the the faint caption appropriately says, "A sure cure for grouch, rheumatism, and the blues." The remains of this log structure appear to have completely dissolved into the soil of the surrounding boreal forest.

Here is also a link to some fascinating historical shots from the Ruby area when it was a bustling goldrush town: Ruby in the past.

Mad props to Dea

Dea prepares for the 11-mile trudge out of Tolovana Hot Springs

The howling wind swirls millions of snowflakes around the tiny cabin. Occasional gusts make our warm refuge shudder vigorously as we anticipate fragments of the structure beginning to peel away with each successive blow. The cold and driving snow surreptitiously creep into our warm sanctuary through any available gap. This was another epic trip for some of our group out to the springs about a 100-miles north of Fairbanks.

I was accompanied by my friend Dea on this recent excursion. Dea is still patiently waiting for a kidney transplant. In the meantime she is into her third year of linking herself up to a dialysis machine which acts as a surrogate kidney that removes waste products from her blood and excess fluid from her body. If she misses even one of her tri-weekly treatments she would not be here with us today.

Dea's motivation to rise each morning and live a normal lifestyle under the difficult circumstances she is challenged with everyday is unequal to anything I can possibly imagine. She is out experiencing a life that is unfathomable to other dialysis patients. This past weekend...her passion for adventure gave her the endurance to plow through shoulder high drifts, post hole for hours through crotch deep snow, and brace herself against howling winds and subzero wind chills. Its difficult for me to express in a series of words the admiration I have for this very special person in my life.

The high-noon sun reflects from the surface of hot water

Frost feathers illuminated in the mid-day sunlight.

After the storm - a portion of trail on Tolovana Dome I effortlessly skied down which was broken by Dea and the others.

11-miles later after arduously breaking trail and being buffeted by 50F below wind chills. Dea made it back to the car with a big smile on her frosted face. She is truly an inspiration for all of us that have the pleasure to share our lives with her...

Borealis times two

The aurora borealis dances above the Borealis cabin in the White Mtns

Silence.... I am always surprised how the complete lack of sound can be so loud. It doesn't quite make sense when I rationally contemplate the physics of it. A winters night in a cold and windless valley in Alaska radiates a silence so powerful that it is difficult to describe. A silence that makes you stand completely still and struggle to absorb some sort of distance vibration traveling through the atmosphere - a breeze rustle a branch, ice expanding on the river, an owl hooting, a jet flying miles overhead, a lone wolf howling at the moon. In the end the only conscious sound that I hear is that of the blood being pumped within my body and pulsing through my arteries and veins.

I was just reminded of the deafening sound of silence during a jaunt with Ann out into the White Mountains north of Fairbanks. Ann and I ventured 20 miles out to the Borealis cabin on the frozen shores Beaver Cr over the weekend. We were last here in May shivering in the early morning sunshine as we stumbled out of our packrafts during an overnight traverse in the endless twilight.

Ann frosted over as she radiates heat into the -20F(-30C) arctic air.

The entire forest was cloaked with a bouquet of hoar frost crystals that shimmered in the mid-day sunshine.

Two inch long crystals were delicately clinging to everything exposed to the atmosphere.

Slapping more kick-wax on my skis - grasses and sticks protruding through the snowpack quickly peeled the wax from my ski base. The low lying boggy areas still need some more snow before the tussocks are entirely covered and the trenches in between are completely filled in.

Peering out of the cabin before we ski back to civilization.

The high noon sun gradually drops closer and closer to the horizon as we head toward winter solstice and a few meager hours of sunshine each day.

Back into the Whites

Dan studies a trail junction sign in the White Mtns

A whole new world opens up as winter descends upon the north and rivers, lakes, and the swampy lowlands freeze-up. Areas that were nearly impassable in the summer months are easily accessed as a blanket of snow accumulates on the landscape. This means that a whole network of winter-only trail systems come to life as dog mushers, snow machiners and skiers explore the countryside. Dan and I made our maiden voyage of the winter to a cabin on one of these trails up in the White Mountains this weekend.

Mashed potatoes by candle light in the Moose Creek cabin

Curtains of northern lights gracefully move across the sky. The aurora was quite nice when I got up to relieve myself in the middle of the night. I will forever revel in the novelty of seeing at least some auroral activity on most clear nights during the winter months.

Dan and Sky depart the Moose Creek cabin