A three hour tour.

Sam and I met up this afternoon for a quick ski tour.  I had been on my cross-country skis a few times this season, but this was my first time out on the big sticks.  It was good to drive the legs and burn the lungs after spending all fall drinking beers in the raft.  As was confirmed, pulling oars all day and doing 12oz. curls all night aren't worth a damn come ski season.

Sam, stoked on the skin track:

A self-shot looking west across Cook Inlet:

This was one of those rare days where everything was calm and quiet at the top.  The complete lack of any perceptible breeze combined with a slight inversion (and the climb) to make it feel pretty warm out.  I usually carry an extra insulated layer and hardshell when I ski, but neither were necessary until we got back to the rig.

Sam, ready for the down (looking southeast into the Chugach):

As nice as it was hanging out at the top, the ski down was tough.  There was enough snow to make your turns, but things were a bit thin and windblown.  Most places had a crust layer hiding beneath a couple inches of sugar/surface hoar that was just strong enough to occasionally support your weight.  You'd get one or two solid turns, then break through and hang up on the crust.  They were the best turns I've had all season.

Sam and Karta getting after it with the sunset reflecting off the snow:

Seconds later, Sam found the crust layer:

By the time we made it back to the rig we'd been away from the truck a little over three hours.  Thirty minutes later we were ordering sushi.  Anchorage sure has its perks.