Eklutna to Pioneer - 8.17.2024

Its been about a decade since the last time Tarah and I followed the gorgeous rolling ridges from Eklutna Lake to Pioneer. During that time it has stayed fresh in my mind as a special treat to return to. Finally, in August 2024, Nyssa and I left the shuttle car on the shoulder next to the packed Pioneer Ridge Trailhead and retraced our tire tracks up the steep winding road to the lake.

There was just a hint of the sharp fall smell of cranberries as we left the parking lot behind and hiked up the switchbacks towards Pepper Peak. Above the birch forest, the otherworldly aquamarine waters of Eklutna Lake stretched away from us. Across the lake, Thunderbird Ridge mirrored our plans for the day. I think it’s one of the best ridges around here; and ties into Peters Creek—a place that feels about as wild and untamed as any corner of Southcentral AK.


Its a hoof up Pepper, and I was ready for a quick lunch at the top. We looked west past Palmer towards the Talkeetna Mountains where we have so many hiking, paddling, and skiing memories.


My eyes were drawn to the Sheep Glacier, where I had a relatively unsuccessful ski trip years ago.

Nellie Juan Skiing - April 2024

Spring in the Prince William Sound is a time of contrasts that I look forward to each year: deep snow, vibrant blue waters, and endless adventure. This past April, Nyssa, Scott, Emrys, and I set out for a weekend of skiing, shrimping, and exploring the dynamic terrain of Port Nellie Juan.

After surviving the usual Whittier mayhem of the tunnel, parking, and the boat ramp, we leave the harbor behind and motor down Passage Canal and then across Port Wells. The wake of the boat chases us as we turn right and slip into the sheltered waters of Culross Passage.

Photo: Emrys Hall

At the end of the passage, the glassy waters of Nellie Juan spread away from us as we set our shrimp pots. There’s always the sense of mystery when dropping the pots into depths - wondering whether they’ll yield a haul of prawns, a few baby tanner crabs, a pile of mud, or something unexpected.

Photo: Emrys Hall

With the pots soaking, we skin into the temperate rainforest. The snowpack is deep, etched with rain runnels, and uncooperative underfoot - a slippery ascent through the trees that is a laugh-filled start to the tour.

Photo: Emrys Hall

B-Peaks Ski Traverse - April 2024

Since moving to Anchorage a decade ago, the East Fork Eklutna valley has held a place in my mind and tugged at me. Over the years we've explored the peaks around the yawning mouth of the drainage, but the upper basin has waited out of reach. With a scheduled traverse from Seward to Homer kiboshed by uncertain weather and my tight work schedule, Nyssa, Heather, Lars and I "compromised" with a loop through the dramatic gorges of the towering B Peaks.

The trip started on a sunny Saturday morning in the Eklutna parking lot where we swung on our loaded packs and skated onto the lake. Days of spring sun and clear nights had metamorphosed the surface into a hard and fast crust which we cruised across as Chad and his smiling golden retriever skated laps around us.


At the east end of the lake we chased the crust upstream until the skating became a contact sport. Then, we crashed through the scarred deadfall remains of the old wildfire until crawling out onto the road at the East Fork trailhead. We skinned over exposed rocks and walked along the melted-out dirt of the spring trail as the shady walls of the giant gorge closed in above us.

We had ventured into this giant canyon several times, but it seemed even more breathtaking than before. Perhaps it was the intention to pass through it that had me seeing the length of the valley and truly experiencing the scale of the beast.


From high on the cliff walls above us, we could see goats perched on impossibly small ledges. Turned to the scale of moving white dots by the mountains that they inhabit, it felt like we'd entered another world. 

Zero Bowl - 11.11.2024

Early season skiing is a challenge for me: the snowpack is thin, there's limited beta, and I'm so hungry. These factors have led to close calls for me, those I care about, and our incredible community, and it makes me hesitant to head out. The reports of quality conditions and stability have been trickling in, and it was time for us to set aside our piles of chores and head for the hills. 

After a late start, we drove south past the snowy peaks of the Chugach and the Kenai mirrored in the still waters of Turnagain Arm, and chatted about ideas for the day. Usually, we go into each day with so much recent beta and many ideas, it was fun to start this one with a blank slate. By the time we were nearing the top of Turnagain Pass and pulling into the DOT lot, we had a plan: we'd go check out the sunny bowls, chutes, and ribs of Seattle Ridge.

Skinning up the icy uptrack, my stoke and excitement built as we caught dogs and friends enjoying the winter wonderland of a beautiful sunny day on our public lands. Cresting the ridge, we looked across the arm at the iconic ski lines crowning Girdwood, Peterson Creek, and Twentymile. We talked about our favorite adventures past and our dreams for the future in these magical valleys.

Sheep Creek Ski - 3.23.2024

From the hubbub of Anchorage, Juneau is always in the back of our minds as an escape from the big city. About once a year we notice that the weather is drier in Southeast than Southcentral and rush to put together last second plans to get down there.

On a Friday night in March, we looked into the crystal forecast ball to see a sunny weekend in the coastal rainforest while our northern mountains were cloaked in clouds, wind, and snowfall. We rushed to jam our gear into our bags and jump on the first flight south the next morning.

In Juneau, we stepped out of the airport into a chilly and crisp spring morning. An hour and a cup of coffee later, and we were parked out the Thane Road and hiking into the mossy old growth forest of sheep creek.

Hawthorne Peak, the second objective of the day.

Wearing our running shoes, we followed the dirt trail up the valley until we were standing right under the big steep south face of Sheep Mountain.


We jotted down mental notes and snapped photos of the complicated 3,000 vertical foot face, shoved on our ski boots, and started climbing the frozen snow towards the west ridge of the peak.

Pioneer Peak Ski - 3.30.2018

Note: updated below the original post to include an evening lap on the north face in March 2022 with Tony, and again on a magical late summer day with Nyssa in August 2024.

Over the last two days Brian and Sam had both skied Pioneer, and it was about to get a refresh - it was time to go get it. Only two small problems: I didn't have ice tools, and Alex had a project due at work. Easily remedied. I went to REI and Alex called in sick with a bad case of powder fever.

Pioneer's giant north face towering over Palmer.

The next morning found us driving back and forth on the Old Glenn looking for the north face trailhead. After a few laps of the road we'd located the appropriate thicket and were skinning into the alders. Within 500 vertical feet we'd reached the avy debris and were soon climbing mellow ice.


I was pleased how much better my ice tools performed than my finger nails and running shoes. Kind of like being a cyborg.