In the Middle of Nowhere

I first skied in the enormous Alaska Range in 2012 with Chris Davenport and John and Jim Morrison. It was a wild, eye-opening experience on several levels. Not only was it my first time skiing in this range, but it was also my first-time snow camping with airplane assistance. Whether you are in a turbine Otter or Cessna 182, a plane opens endless possibilities in Alaska. The main advantage is the remote terrain you can access and the sheer amount of gear you can bring along. As backcountry skiers and ski mountaineers, airplane-assisted skiing in Alaska is as good as it gets. You literally can bring the whole kitchen sink and set up a luxurious base camp and ski touring headquarters. Trips like this require some planning.

You must do your research and understand the logistics involved. You need great partners whom you trust and can have fun with. The Alaska Range is not the place for first-time ski mountaineers or partners. As we flew in and out of the range on that trip, it was obvious that what we skied and where we camped was just the tip of the proverbial iceberg. This range is huge. The more time you spend there, the more possibilities you see. You can literally take a dart and throw it on a map and not go wrong for a ski destination. Alaska, and especially the Chugach Range, is known for its spines and fluted faces. This place has been incredibly influential in the media over the past several decades.

For this trip, we sought out a different objective and focused on a well-known rock and alpine climbing location in the Alaska Range; an area rather known for its granite towers and walls – the Kichatna Spires, located in the Denali National Park. Chris Davenport spent a couple of years researching and talking to climbers who had touted the granite there. There seemed to be no information or photos of skiers in this location, however just beautiful photos taken by climbers that unknowingly revealed the potential of skiing. After talking to the Denali climbing rangers and our pilot, we found out that no known ski or snowboard crews had ventured to this part of the range yet. Most likely we would be the first crew to explore these mountains on skis.

Chris, a longtime friend and my go-to ski partner for missions like this, and I put the wheels in motion and organized a crew of four, the perfect size to keep things light, fast and simple. Joining us would be the super accomplished ski mountaineer Jim Morrison and professional freeskier Michelle Parker. We arrived in Anchorage to high pressure and crystal clear blue skies. Excited for the adventure ahead, we chartered a Cessna airplane to head out on a reconnaissance flight. Within minutes, the mighty Denali and Mt Foraker rose above the surrounding peaks. Eventually, we made our way to the Kichatna Spires and were blown away by its beauty and enormity of the granite peaks.

We scouted our location to camp, which would offer endless skiing right from our base, yet also keep us safe from any avalanche hazards from above. The next day, we loaded our gear into the Otter and were flown into our camp. We packed enough fresh food for at least two weeks and brought a huge tent and enough down layers. We even brought two pairs of skis each, one for firm snow and one for powder. At our base camp on the Tatina Glacier, we were surrounded by hulking granite towers and plenty of couloirs. It was if Chamonix and Yosemite Valley were merged together. The winter snowpack in this part of Alaska was below average, and many crews were currently canceling their heli-ski trips.

Our objectives were the couloirs and the challenge of ascending, descending and capturing their beauty with photos. In the middle of a high-pressure weather cycle, which is rare for this time of year, we were at the perfect location. The snowpack was lean, and we found most couloirs had about ten to twenty centimeters of snow plastered onto the permanent black ice. From day one we found ourselves questioning if these lines were skiable. Like any assessment in the mountains, you just have to go look and take baby steps to learn about the conditions and manage the risks. After a day or two of research, we were front-pointing our crampons and swinging our axes through the snow and into the ice. The lines were steep, exposed and unnerving.

Fortunately, after skiing a couple of the more moderate lines, we realized we could push our comfort levels and mentally challenge what we thought was skiable. It's this level of commitment to the craft and our own potential which makes a trip like this so special. After a day in the vertical world, we would easily slip into the daily routine of snow camping. Cooking amazing meals, listening to music, and even setting up a little movie theater kept us occupied while we rested. With temperatures dropping below zero each night, we would sleep until the sun's first rays lit up our tents. No need for alpine starts as all our objectives were north facing and in the shade.

Five-star morning breakfast and coffee that would make any barista proud would fuel our mind and bodies for the daily adventure. With decades of experience amongst our group, it was humbling to discover we could still find new challenges. The mountains will always throw something new at you and push you mentally and physically, yet then reward you. It is this process that we have all come to love about being ski mountaineers. This trip was about the unknown, the adventure, the exploration, and a team of great friends with the objective to ski couloirs which had never been skied before. Fortunately, we succeeded in all aspects and found ourselves embracing a lifetime of lines in a little sliver of these gigantic mountains. As we flew back to Anchorage, our eyes were wide open, fingers and cameras pointing, and our minds fantasizing about the next adventure.