Return from the White Mountains

Feb 22

Leaving Eleazar’s Cabin that afternoon, we weren’t sure what the day would bring. Earlier in the week, we arranged to have friends pick us up at the trailhead at 7:30pm. Since we are not very experienced skiers, we weren’t sure what time we would need to leave the cabin. It was about -20F, so we wanted to minimize the time we stood there waiting for Brittany and Oliver to show up. We leisurely enjoyed the morning with coffee, tea, oatmeal and finally a quick lunch. I may have also taken another stove-side shower. The previous one felt THAT GOOD.

When we finally left at about 2:30, we decided that if we arrived much before 7:30, we could drop our packs and ski some more to stay warm, but I know I really didn’t want to do that.

A steady snow began to overnight and continued through much of our ski back to the highway. The Interior is one of the few places I’ve seen it snow steadily the entire day and amount to just an inch or two of feather-light fluff. This is the kind of snow that just blows from your car when you drive away, the snow brush is rarely needed.

By 4pm, we were at the foot of what locals call the Wickersham Wall, the steep trail up the ridgeline that gains about 1,000 ft. in less than a mile.

source

For the first time on the entire trip, I consider rolling up my sleeves. It is still well below zero degrees, but the effort is constant and sends my internal temperature soaring. I climb slowly, pausing to take photos and let my body cool down further. There is no way I’m baring more skin.

It takes special skill to grow gravity-defying icicles from your facemask.

Matt and I stop for snacks and to admire the views. The snow showers are passing and we get a clearer view of the valley from which we just emerged. We spot Eleazar’s Cabin across the valley, a small ribbon of white trail weaving through the valley until it disappears from sight.

We stop for a snack at the top and notice the sun beginning to set. Small holes in the clouds appeared, “Sucker Holes” Matt explained. Sure enough, those blue patches of hope quickly closed up. Thin clouds diffused the sun’s light and a golden glow spread across the sky.

See the sun dogs?

 We ski to the west for two more hours, admiring the changing sky as we move along quietly. Sunsets in California are brief, but those here this time of year last forever due to the low sun angles. The sky turns a glowing orange, then pink, and then finally maroon as the light is slowly extinguished. I snap photos at each stage of the sunset.

At the most beautiful moment, I stop too long to take photos. Matt enjoys a snack and adds a layer. Until this point, I’ve been able to negate the cold of our stops by quickly dashing ahead afterward. This stop proved too long to alleviate the bite of the outside air. It also didn’t help that a light crosswind blew, freezing my windward side and overheating the other.

“Okay, I think Alaska has finally broken me,” I turned and said to Matt, “I’m all funned out.” When we planned this trip back in December, Matt was a little surprised I wanted to do a trip of this duration. Five days is longer than any backcountry trip I’ve ever done. Usually we make weekend getaways. This was a stretch of my patience and endurance.

Soon it was completely dark. The light of my headlamp illuminated the nearby trees and snowy trail. I’ve never done much skiing in the dark, but I found it surprisingly comforting. Even though this trip was a personal challenge, I really enjoyed it. Our vacations always seem to have an element of difficulty that pushes me from my comfort zone. I skied along the trail, ski poles dangling from my mittens. We passed a trail sign indicating we were still two miles from the highway, it was 6:30. Days earlier, Jim mentioned that the last two miles back were downhill. No wonder I couldn’t reignite my fingers, it wasn’t enough effort. By some stroke of luck, we arrived at the trail at 7:29pm, one minute before we were to meet our friends. We dumped our packs and soon found them on a nearby trail, walking their dog.

On the drive back into Fairbanks, I changed out of my frozen and damp layers and felt blood flow return to my extremities. I changed into my down booties and my feet breathed a sigh of relief. Nobody could pay me enough to wear the ski boots another second. It was awesome. We stopped for dinner at Silver Gulch Brewery. I devoured my beer and cheeseburger gracefully, now it was time for some serious sleep.  All I want now is to stay warm and thaw out.  Thankfully, that is exactly what we have planned for the weekend.