Bring on the rock skis. Early season thin coverage doesn’t distort or disrupt the fine views. Photo: Alex Lee
An early start to Alaska’s ski season has Alex Lee throwing sunshine on the benefits of rock skis and the joy they bring—warning: P-tex required.
It smells like snow and I love rock skis.
I fixed a broken boot buckle, ignored a missing skin tail, and freshened up the beacon batteries. Snow line In Alaska still requires a bit of a walk or even more of a drive. The point isn’t really the turns or the vert or the line. It’s about cold fingers and premature seasonality. When I was a kid, I used to wake up in the middle of the night before my birthday to see if midnight had arrived—Fall skiing relies on the same neuro-receptors.
A week ago two friends hopped in the truck just as the sun came up and 35 minutes later we were heading up a dirt road into the Chugach. Rock skis on our packs and sneakers on our feet, we left the Crow Pass trailhead feeling like it was the first day back at school. I mean both the excitement of a new year and the somewhat sluggish feeling of returning from summer vacation. Snow on these peaks meant we were reunited once again with our friends—a familiar horizon hidden by tundra, dirt, and rock since melt out. A couple hours later we were skinning up the Jewel Glacier into the clouds. According to the United States Geological Survey, the water year runs through September and resets every October 1st. So we decided we were safely skiing a couple weeks into the 2023-2024 season. Given the trailbreaking through shin-deep snow, this should have been obvious, but we were on a glacier that’s no stranger to summer snow.
The early season kinks working themselves out—ascending near Crow Creek Valley. Photo: Alex Lee
Thin cover and wind-buffed. But the turns in the Deltas were fine. Photo: Alex Lee
“Rain on snow, wind, and wild temperature fluctuations meant the snow was terrible. But, it was snow and it was wonderful. We skied too far down to make sense, swapped back to sneakers and headed back to t-shirt weather in town and p-tex in the garage.
I first skied the Jewel about a decade ago and it was kind of a secret back then. Those who knew knew, but it was surprisingly hard to learn about. On our way down this day we passed 20-something skiers. The Jewel sits above Crow Creek Valley up a climbers trail that heads south a quarter mile before the Crow Pass Cabin. I feel like I’m too old to keep secrets, plus the glacier is melting and won’t last much longer anyways.
Rain on snow, wind, and wild temperature fluctuations meant the snow was terrible. But, it was snow and it was wonderful. We skied too far down to make sense, swapped back to sneakers and headed back to t-shirt weather in town and p-tex in the garage.
Since the rust was off the edges and my bag was packed, I headed north this past weekend for more. Five hours from Anchorage the Richardson Highway splits the Hayes Range from the Delta Mountains. This eastern end of the Alaska Range is the go-to for hardy Fairbanks skiers all season, but us southern folk find it more reasonable before the cold cold and dark dark set in. It was -10 Fahrenheit when we woke up in the cabin—winter in the Alaska Range shows up early. I felt weak, scared, excited, and itchy. Two puffy jackets, mittens, and a slow breakfast armored us for the subarctic October. We were in a popular sled skiing zone without a sled, and just as little beta. Following our nose into the Delta mountains we soon found snow. We drove my truck until further meant getting stuck. Skins on at the car, and up the valley we went eyeing big mountains still guarded by brush and open rivers. Eventually we found the small peaks in our zone with enough snow to get too and slide back down. We talked about winter dreams and politics and tortillas and construction. We were warm again.
Dawn patrol benefits in the Delta Mountains. Photo: Alex Lee
Find some turns, it’s always worth it. Check your first aid kit and repair supplies. Patch your jacket, fix that broken buckle, freshen up those packed out thread bare gloves. Swap out those batteries in the beacon.
May the snow be cold and the winds be calm. And remember to mind your edges in those rocks.
