The Last Lap

The last week and a half in Alaska was very full. Our younger son, Robin, visited us and so we had an excuse to play the tour guide. This meant returning to some of our favorite places, and slipping in a few new ones as well. So it is one last lap before heading south.

In my past reports I usually pick a few events. But this time I think I will just walk through our day by day existence. Some places I've described in detail before, so they will receive a light touch. But there are new places which deserve to have a lot of ink spilled.

Saturday, March 11

After the trip to Eagle, today is a pretty low-key day.

In the afternoon I went skiing in Perl Creek park. I didn't see any moose. Not even any signs of moose.

Robin flew in at 8:40pm. I picked him up at the airport and Kristina had lentil soup waiting for us at home. There is a little aurora activity. To those of us who have been watching the sky all winter, this was an okay, but not exciting night. But to Robin, it is all new and exotic! So we spend a lot of time scampering back and forth between our wood stove and the driveway. Robin in shoes, myself in slippers and Kristina in socks. It is about -12 F.

Sunday, March 12

After the first cup of coffee, but before most of the house is awake, I dashed off to LuLu's to get a loaf of cinnamon-raisin bread which Kristina had reserved. It is a good thing Kristina had placed the order, the shelf for cinnamon-raisin bread was nearly desolate when I arrived.

Back in the cabin we have a leisurely time sipping coffee and getting sticky and covered with melted butter.

Chena Highway

Later in the morning Robin, Kristina and I go down to Goldstream to walk with Don, Ann and Tula, their white English setter. They are down there already and have walked a few miles with Ron, Sue and their dog Abbey. It is a good introduction to what I think is a dominate Alaskan land form - the frozen spruce bog or "muskeg". As we walked through the bog Anne pointed out that the willow and alder are showing a hint of red on their tips - a sign of spring.

Over the pond, along a musher's trail, down a stream, over the beaver dam and back to our start.

In the afternoon we head to Chena Hot Springs. There is a dusting of snow on the highway, but nothing like the last time we drove out here. The springs are a bit more crowded then a month ago. We speculated as to why this might be. Are these people all on Spring Break? (Robin is) or longer days, or a Sunday vs. a Friday?

Dinner at the bar next to the Hot Springs, and then a long drive home.

We had planned on going to the ice festival, but I think our brains are slightly poached after the time in the hot springs, so we head straight home.

Monday, March 13

After dropping Kristina on Campus Robin and I had to wait about two hours until the Outdoor Rental Office opened. So we ran a few errands around Fairbanks. First the Library, then the co-op food store, and finally an hour at Little Owl Cafe, where we both got some of our on-line task cleaned up.

At noon we arrived at the University's Outdoor Rental Office, only to find that it was closed! This is Spring Break week not only for Robin's school, but also for the University of Alaska. We then checked at Beaver Sports for backcountry ski rentals, but they don't have any. Only classic cross-country skis and skate skis. So we will make do with what we already have. Robin can fit into my back-country ski boots and his back-country skis, and my skate-ski boots will clip into Kristina's classic cross-country skis.

Which means we could have been out skiing for the last two hours!

We packed our lunch and headed out to Old Murphy Dome Road. This road branches off of Elliot Highway, about two miles north of Fox. The first four miles are plowed, but beyond that there is five to six miles of un-plowed road before it connects back to New Murphy Dome Road. All of the way it runs on the top of a ridge line. To the south, Fairbanks, and to the north, wilderness.

Robin is Ready

North to . . .

Tea Time for Tim

We left the car where the plowing stopped and continued on a snow-machine trail. But we also left that trail after a quarter mile to ski out in an open swath, with a view to the north. This is a firebreak; the northern rampart of Fairbanks against forest fires. When skiing in 3-4 feet of snow it is hard to think about forest fires, but this part of Alaska is susceptible to them.

A mile later we loose our swath and rejoin the snow-machine trail. At the two mile mark we encounter some recent bulldozer activity. I thought I was taking Robin into the Alaskan wilderness.

We followed a side road up to a minor peak where we found a number of tents set up. I had read that there are a number of dog kennels on Old Murphy Dome Road, and that you can arrange for a Dog Sled Glamping (glamorous camping) overnight. With a view to the north, I expect this is a good spot to watch the aurora.

We stopped for a while to have lunch, but the moment we stepped off our skis we sunk into the snow well over our knees. So we created a bench with our skis, sat with our semi-frozen sandwiches and tea. To the north of us is the Chatanika River and beyond that the White Mountains. And then north of north.

We then continued along the ridge line on a series of snow-machine trails through an area which had been burned over, leaving the skeletons of spruce. Eventually we came out on a promontory with a very grand view of Fairbanks and the whole Tanana Valley.

And then back to the car.

It was +7F when we started, and 0F when we finished, which surprised Robin, because it really was very pleasant. Also uphill skiing keeps you toasty.

We picked up Kristina on our way back from skiing, and then home for dinner. Then in the evening we headed out to Poker Flats to watch the aurora. It was along wait, but eventually the aurora arrived!

It was a good show! Maybe not the best of this winter, but most certainly the best Robin has ever seen.

We left Poker at 2:00 and we were home in bed by 3:00.

Aurora

with the Big Dipper

from the Glass Room

Tuesday, March 14 (Pi-Day)

After a late night last night we are not moving too fast this morning.

Eventually Robin and I head to Goldstream Creek. I've always skied northeast in the past, so this time we crossed the road and skied southwest. At first we were following the power lines, but eventually got onto a frozen creek which meandered through a forest of white spruce and then dumped us out onto a large pond. We continued west through some muskeg for a few miles.

Breakfest View

There is a vast network of trails, most packed by snow-machines, so every half mile or so we are at an intersection and almost randomly chose our next segment of trail. The plan is to head west-southwest until either we wear ourselves out, or until we hit Sheep Creek Road.

At one point we are on a musher's trail. Musher's trails are much narrow then a snow-machine trail and so it is easy to plant your poles off the packed trail, in which case they sink in surprisingly far. We have been following fresh moose tracks on the musher's trail when we encounter a sign warning us that if we continue we will end up in a dog yard, or kennel. In fact the dog have sensed us fifty meters away and are starting to bark and howl. The moose must have really sent them off!

We don't want to ski through someone's dog yard. We know we are about 200 meters from another trail, or we could backtrack about a mile. So we forge off through the woods and deep, deep snow to that other trail. That was work.

We decide it is time to start circling back towards the trail head. But we aren't in a rush and so pick a circuitous route, following a creek. I expect one of the many "sloughs" or oxbows of Goldstream. There are a number of very cute cabins along the stream and as we approach one its inhabitant came out to talk with us. He had built a suspension bridge over the stream, which was a pretty impressive piece of woodland construction. He told us that previous bridges had been washed away in spring floods, so this one was arched high over the stream.

Eventually we tired of the meanders, and so broke a trail up the bank and across deep snow to the power lines. I am impressed as to how difficult it is to travel not on a trail. The snow is deep and soft and even with skis it is hard to stay on top of it. But once we are on the power line trail we are exposed to the wind, and with the temperature near zero, we choose not to tarry and make a quick return to the trailhead.

After picking up Kristina we go out to dinner at the Lemongrass, a Thai restaurant near campus. The place is busy but the food is good and worth the wait.

It is very windy tonight, so Poker Flats is closed.

Wednesday, March 15

Alaskan Range

We are up early, dropped Kristina off on campus, and Robin and I are headed southeast on Richardson Highway by 9:00. It is a long ways to Castner Glacier, about 130-140 miles.It is a simple drive and many parts of it are beautiful. But first we must past through North Pole (a town southeast of Fairbanks), Eielson Air Force base and some long straight stretch of forest.

Finally we break out of the forrest and follow the banks of the Tanana River. Most of it is frozen, but occasionally there are open waters, "leads", above rapids. And above the open waters there is a mist.

But what really catches the eye is the Alaskan Range! A hundred miles or more of some of the most jagged mountains I have ever seen.

At Delta Junction we stop for gas and then head south straight towards the mountains, towards a gap cut by the Delta River.

A curious thing about the Delta River is that its head waters are in Tangle Lake, well to the south (20 miles) of the Alaska Range. I expect there is some complex geology and glacial history which explains how this river can penetrate this mountain range and flow north.

Out of Delta Junction it is about 40 miles to the mountains, the first two-thirds of that is across the frozen plains of the Tanana valley. The transition into the mountains is abrupt, but not surprising since we have been watching them for the last hour.

Alaskan Range

Within the mountains the Delta River has cut a broad valley, or as there would say in Colorado a "park". Just as we approached the Black Rapids (Glacier, Lodge and under the frozen river - rapids) we spotted a herd of moose on the side of the road, just standing around, chewing their cuds.

A quarter mile down the road we see two hunters, dressed in winter camouflage (white and grays), unloading their guns. But it is not moose hunting season - that is early autumn - and I think they may have had shot guns. So I wonder what is in season now?

Ten miles later we are at the Castner Glacier trailhead.

Such a contrast to my visit here a month ago with Kristina! I think the temperature might be similar, someplace in the minus teens, but the wind is gone. However its evidence defines the day.

A month ago the wind was howling and Kristina and I turned back when half way to the glacier. Today it was essentially non-existent. A month ago our ski broke a trail in a foot of powder. Today any loose snow has either been blown away or driven into an icy crust. When Robin and I are skiing to the glacier, up the frozen river, we are on ice or very hard packed snow. It is not clear that the skis are actually helpful.

Ice Arch @ Castner Glacier

Castner Glacier has the reputation of being the most accessible glacier in Alaska, and so is a natural magnetic for sightseers. Today we saw about fifteen tourist between the trail head and the face of the glacier.

Three things struck me as we approached the face. First, it really is a face. There is an abrupt end to the glacier, a wall rises up 30-40 meters high. Right now it is all covered with snow, but I expect that in the summer this is the terminal moraine, probably a jumble of cobbles and dirt.

The second thing you see is a great arc of ice and snow, maybe 10 meters high and 15 meters wide on the inside. It reminds me of the sandstone arches I've seen in Utah. As we approached somebody was flying a drone up and over it. They miss-estimated its height and crashed the drone in the snow on the top. Eventually someone climbed up and rescued the drone.

The last feature is an ice cave. I think in the summer this is the head waters of Caster Creek.

I have visions of glaciers as being great chunks of blue ice. That is what you see in photographs of glaciers calving into glacier bay, and that is what I saw on my hike in Whistler. But when we looked deep into the ice here is filled with rocks, pebbles and cobbles of all sizes. It is more like a conglomerate rock where the sediment has been replaced with ice. It is easy to imagine that as this glacier flows, its bottom will act as a rasp-file, gouging out the valley.

Ice Cave @ Castner Glacier

We lunched on the sunny side of the arch. It is so cold today that there is no melting, but I wondered about all those rocks frozen into the bottom side of the arch on a warm day in July.

Later we explore the cave. It goes back maybe 100 feet and both of us are fascinated by the ceiling. In one place a smooth expanse of ice. However, a few feet over it is dimpled and scalloped in a pattern which reminds me the ceiling of medieval cathedrals, finished with a frozen mist, a glazing of ice crystals.

But there are too many people here and much more to explore. We scrambled up the terminal moraine, perhaps eighty meters, so we can ski on top of the glacier itself. This was a tricky scramble, carrying skis in one hand and steading ourselves with poles in the other hand. Some times on some frozen rubble, sometimes mid-calf deep in snow.

Once on top, we strapped on our skis and headed up the glacier.

Again, my vision of a glacier is a flat sheet of ice, like a frozen lake. Perhaps with a few treacherous crevasses. Castner is more of a frozen gravel pit. In fact, during the summer some of the glacier is buried under dirt and there is scrub brush growing on it! And it is not flat. Rather it is continually rolling, undulating, with ten meter tall hills and shallow dells and valleys.

And the skiing is not easy. For fifty meters we are on a hard wind packed icy crust where you can barely get you edges in, and may ski sideways. And then you break through the crust and are knee deep in powder.

It is a delightful trek! Beautiful is a brutal way, and difficult. But there is no place I would rather be. And the mountains of the Alaskan Range continue to amaze me; Devil's Thumb to the north and Triangle Peak to the southeast.

We ski about a mile or so up the glacier, then stop for tea and to lie about in the sun. Finally we turn to make our way back.

We had hoped to make a spectacular decent of face of the glacier, it is steep, but not too steep. And this is where there are spectators at the ice arch. But just as we are gliding down the face, looking like we know what we are doing, we break through the crust and go into a tumble. We pull ourselves out of the snow, get our skis under us and start again. Only to tumble again - twice more.

It is a long drive home with only a brief stop in Delta Junction for coffee and pastries, and we make it home 45 minutes before our guest arrive.

Mark, Jane, Don, Ann and a puppy named "Salix" (Willow's genus). Ann & Don's other English Setter is named "Tula" (Birch = Betula). Dinner is delicious, fish & cheese cake. The conversation is fun. And the puppy is entertaining - until it wears itself out and falls over asleep.

Thursday, March 16

Two Dollar Bill @ Chatanika Lodge

In the morning I make a quick trip to campus for my Thursday on-line meeting with Mevion.

In the afternoon Robin rents skate-skis from Beaver Sports, then we fetch Kristina and all of us head to Birch Hill.

The Junior National Cross-Country Championships are just finishing. We watch the awards ceremony. I am then amazed as to how fast all the accouterment of the event are swept away. Banners, barriers, timing equipment, score boards all vanish while we do a few loops.

Tower Loop, Blue Loop, Roller Coaster and Warm-up. Robin and I ski together, and cross paths with Kristina at the end of each loop.

Back home for a quick shower and then we head out to Chatanika Lodge for dinner, a place Robin has heard about since he was in pre-school. We finally find a two dollar bill stapled to the ceiling which Kristina's group had put there after one of her rocket campaigns!

Then up to the science building at Poker Flats, to the glass room, to watch the aurora. Nothing too flashy tonight. Just some very steady arcs with a little bit of dancing.

We left Poker at 2:00 and were home in bed at 3:00.

Friday, March 17

Robin on White Bear Loop

In the morning I took Kristina in to the Geophysical Institute, and passed a moose at the north entrance of campus.

We have read that the Open North American Championships are starting at Musher's Hall at 1:00. These are dog sled races, and based on what I saw of the Yukon Quest, I am guessing that they will finish at about 3:00. So at noon Robin and I headed to Birch Hill to ski.

We headed out on the White Bear/10k Loop. When you get to the far end of that loop and turn for home you first must climb "Heart Rate Hill". A well named grade which has a bell for you to ring at the top. It was a hard and fast workout and a beautiful day.

Our plan was to have lunch and then fetch Kristina and see the end of the race. But when we got to the car, Robin tuned into a local radio station which was reporting the race live - and the leaders were already in the last few miles. So we skipped lunch, fetched Kristina and dashed over to Musher's Hall.

The Open North American Championship is a three day time trial. On day one and two they run a twenty mile loop. And then on day three they run a twenty-seven mile circuit, and then add up all the times. "Open" means that you can have any number of dogs in you team. But in reality that meant twelve to eighteen. I expect beyond that you don't add much speed, and the probability of tangling lines or injury increase.

And they are fast!

The day one leaders are clocking the twenty mile loop in 63 minutes! In fact by the time we arrived only the last few sleds were still out. They had had a staggered start - but next time we'll need to do a better job of timing ourselves.

Jazz Bistro on 4th

It is overcast tonight, so we went to the ice festival - again. This is Kristina and mine third time here and it is always interesting to see how the sculptures have evolved. And then we finished the night at "Jazz on 4th".

I'm not certain how I have got into my seventh report with out describing "Jazz Bistro on Forth", a Cuban restaurant on Fourth Avenue in Downtown Fairbanks. The restaurant is run by Rico and Loretta, Rico works the front room serving, and Loretta creates wonders in the back. But what makes this place unique is that after the last food is served, Loretta and Rico perform. Loretta on drums, Rico on keyboard, and both on vocal. Tonight there is only one other couple at the end of the night. They are from Seattle, and they get up and dance for us. It is a lot of fun! And then the seven of us talk into the early hours. I think we have been here half a dozen times in our ten week stay.

Saturday, March 18

Perl Creek Trails

Robin flys out in the early afternoon, so there is time for one last ski trip this morning. So we make a quick 5k loop around Perl Creek Park. No moose today, but Robin collects some moss and lichen off of one of the birch trees. Lichen structures are one of the inspiration for a project Robin is working on at school.

On the way to the airport we stop and watch the start of day two of the dog sled races. This time we are on time to see the starts. The dogs are happy and excited, like kids who want to show off. "Yes I'm ready to run - just wait until you see me go!" For the mushers and spectators it is a major social gathering. In the parking lot, near the starting area, are the trucks for each team. These trucks are recognizable because there are mobil kennels. Usually a pick-up truck with a custom build insert which has a dozen small doors - one for each dog. Dogs are stacked in like bunk beds in a sleeper car. You might things dogs would be resistive to being put in there cubby, but I have actually seen dogs leap five feet up, and then crawl into their snuggle.

After the last start there is time for the "Pop Scramble". The race organizers invite the kids, by age group, to come to the starting line, and then they dump a few dozen cans of soda pop for the kids to pick up. "Put them in your pockets, or coats, or hats", the race director explains. So first the 3-4 year olds, then 5-6 year olds, then 7-9 and so on.

There are also booths where you can buy dog sled race related stuff. Mittens, hats, dog food and even tee-shirts - it is a warm-ish day.

But we have a flight to catch, so before the leaders return we are off to the airport.

After leaving Robin at the airport its LuLu's for lunch and then back home to collapse. We talked about what we need to do before we fly out in four days, but we don't actually do anything. I've skied six times in the last seven days, for a bit over thirty-two miles, and I am ready to put my feet up for a few hours.

Sunday, March 19

Today we made our first - all be it very small - step towards packing up. We gathered up our library books.

But en route to the Library we stopped at Creamer's Field to watch the final leg of the Open North American Championship. Day three is run like a "handicapped" race. They still stagger the starts, a team every two minutes. But they start with the slowest team, and the last team out it the one with the best total time after two days. This means that by the end of the race the teams will be converging.

Creamer's Field was a dairy farm for most of the twentieth century. But about forty years ago it became a "Migratory Waterfowl Refuge". However, there is not a lot of waterfowl this time of year. Also the refuge backs up to the Musher's Hall property, so a lot of the dog races are on these fields.

We walked across the field and found the race course shortly before the first (slowest) teams came in. We can look down the trail two hundred meters into the woods and watch the teams race towards us. At one point two teams were in view, and the second team put on a burst and past the other team. I think the dogs in the passed team were a bit thrown off by this because their musher had to stop, run forward and untangle some of the dogs.

A few teams later another musher stopped, dropped her anchor, unclipped one of the dogs who was slacking, and dropped it into the sled. She then upped the anchor and was off in less time then it takes you to read this description.

"Dropped a dog into the basket", reported the woman who was standing next to me. I realized that she was streaming her verbal reports and a live stream video back to the Musher's Hall where somebody was combining a lot of different feeds into one live stream. You could be watching this race from anywhere. Every few minutes I could hear her report, "Creamer-22 - team #8 - Blanford just passed here". We are at the 22nd mile mark.

Last trip to Poker Flats

There was also a photographer there who was very happy. He told us that his photo from yesterday made the front cover of the "Daily News-Miner", the local Fairbanks newspaper, that morning.

We waited for Anny Malo from Quebec and Buddy Streeper from British Columbia. Both of them are crouched down behind their sleds, like bicycle racers trying to be aerodynamic. On day three those two teams are only 10 seconds apart after 27 miles. But in the end Streeper owned the event (67 miles 3:45:43.2), winning by 94 seconds.

We did actually make it to the library. And then we continues south of town to Tanana Lake City Park where we walked along the shore for awhile. This is as warm as we have felt things, the temperature may have reached 30F and it feels like there is a promise of Spring in the air.

In the evening we made our last trip to Chatanika Lodge and Poker Flats. The lodge was hosting a wedding reception with an interesting combination of formal wear and flannel. This is Alaska!

After dinner we said our farewell to Shirley, who runs the lodge, and then spent the rest of the evening in the glass room on the rocket range. There was not much auroral activity tonight, but it is a warm place to watch the stars. Home and bed at 2:00.

Monday, March 20

This is the Spring Equinox and my last "Adventure Day" in Alaska.

I really think this whole Alaskan adventure should, by all rights, end is some spectacular swoosh on a mountain top. But, of course, the only stories which really end on mountain tops are tragic, and this one isn't. So I am going to save this outing to the very end.

Tuesday, March 21

This is packing and moving day. We moved here with two duffle bags and a shoulder bag each, two boxes which got shipped, and a bag of ski that Alex brought in early January. The only thing we have acquired is the StarLink and a few books.

Down at the post office we ship the ski bag (3 pairs of skis plus odds 'n ends - 20 lbs), and three other boxes (23 lbs, 28 lbs and 51 lbs). Then we head to re-cycling and the transfer station.

Don stops by and we turn over the keys to the cabin. Then we check into a hotel near the airport.

We have been invited out to dinner by one of the grad students - Nepalese food is great!

Finally we drop the car at the airport and collapse back at the hotel.

At 1:00am the Aurora is active. I feel like such a local. While other hotel guest are bundled up tight to see and be awed by the northern lights, I've rolled out of bed and am barely dressed. In fact I am standing in the snow in my slippers.

Still, I think is was a special encore performance just for us!

Wednesday, March 22

It is a short night and we catch the hotel shuttle to the airport at 5:00am for a 7 o'clock flight. We have told ourselves that we can always sleep on the airplane. Except for the fact that the flight was spectacular! First there was the great braided rivers, the Tanana and then the Delta. Then the Alaska Range, then the Wrangell Mountains and the St. Elias Mountains!

We have caught them in the moment of the perfect morning light. The majestic peaks are clad in snow. The great rivers of ice flow in grander. We see moraines and kettle lakes and the whole of glacial geology illustrated in a misty morning light picked out in amber and gold!

By British Columbia the mountains are lost in clouds.

We spend Thursday and Friday in Oakland with Will and Sophia, on Saturday we flew to Boston, and on Sunday we finally arrive in Hanover, which I guess is now our new home.

I am writing these "reports" based on a leather bound paper journal which I have been updating every morning while in Alaska. I see I have written one hundred twenty-three pages, and only have five blank ones left. So maybe it was the right time to come home.

But I did promise you one more story.

Monday, March 20

This is the Spring Equinox and my last "Adventure Day" in Alaska.

I dropped Kristina off for her last day at the Geophysical Institute and then headed to Murphy Dome. It feels warm at home, so I am a bit uncertain as to what I should wear. However it is not quite as unnerving as that first trip into the unknown - I first walked on Murphy Dome on January 6th.

At the trailhead on Murphy Dome it is not really very cold - but the wind is howling! So I wear my heavier layers.

I head west, across an alpine tundra where I am told you can pick blueberries in the summer. On my return trip when passing these fields, I was set upon by three massive dogs; a St. Bernard, a Husky and a Barrel of Brown Fur. But dogs, even if barking loudly, who break through the crust of snow and sinks in up to their shoulders, are not very threatening. I could easily ski away from them. Instead I wait for their human to catch up with them, and then talk with him for awhile.

Most of the time I am on a snow-machine trail. At one point there is a long steep climb so I have strapped my skis to my pack and bare-booted it up. Near the top of the slope the wind blew off my fedora and when I stepped off the trail I sunk in up to my waist. I had to put my skis on just to retrieve my hat!

On the snow-machine trail "Delta" in the distance

Wind packed snow up "Delta"

Sheltered behind a spruce

Lynx, Wolverine & Ray Mountains

Minto Flats

Denalia in the distance

Crushy Snow

Climbing a steep section

From that blueberry field on top of the dome there is a steep drop to the west. The crust is so hard that I can make these long zig-zags down the slope. But it is also so hard that I feel like I am just barely in control; I can just scratch the icy snow with the steel edges of the back-country skis. I haven't got a really good Telemark turn going, mine are pretty wide, but I've got things under control. The wind has sculptured the snow into hard ridges and as I ski I skid a bit sideways. I hop over a crest of snow, plough through an inch of powder in the trough and then I am on to the next wave.

After tumbling off of Murphy dome I am back on a snow-machine trail heading west along the ridge line. There is a bump on the ridge line about every mile, a hundred foot climb here, two hundred foot drop there. The bumps are not named on the map, so I named them. The one nearest to Murphy is Alpha, then Beta, Gamma and finally Delta, about half a dozen miles out.

Beyond Alpha there is a shallow dip and then we really only skirt the edge of Beta. But from here there is a magnificent view of the Alaskan Range, 100-150 miles south and west. There is then a long downhill which is fun. The snow-machines have churned up that crusty ice into pea-gravel, which is very noisy under my skis. Also it is very easy to get going too fast, and very hard to control in the narrow trail, so I have a gentle snowplow going for about half a mile.

Gamma is just a small bump on my way to Delta, my ultimate goal. But it is hard work climbing, so I strip off my coat and ski in just my flannel shirt and thick wool sweater.

The snow-machine trail doesn't go up Delta, instead it curves to the north before finally dropping into Mentos Flats. So I leave the trail and make my own way to Delta.

Except for the dips between these bumps, this country is wide open tundra.

It is a steep climb and the crust is very icy. I tried walking without the skis and find myself wallowing in a meter of snow. So with skis on - often side stepping - I inch my way up the last 500-600 meters to the summit.

There is a radio mast on the east edge of the summit, so I ski another 400 meters to the far side where my view west is vast.

To the west in the foreground is Minto Flats, a state game refuge 30 miles across, full of winding streams, miles of spruce bogs and hundreds of ponds. There are a few villages out there; Minto, Rampart, Minto Hot Springs, Tanana, Big Island, each with a population of about one hundred. Skirting the north edge of the flats is Elliot Highway, here a barely maintained dirt road. But if I look straight west it is 370 miles / 600 km to Norton Sound, an arm of the Bering sea. And between where I sand and salt water there is not a single road.

The wind is pretty furious here on Delta, so I find a dwarf black spruce with a little bit of a snow bank and hunker down behind it. At first my camera is not working because of the cold. So I put its battery in my armpit to warm, make myself a bench out of my skis to sit on, put my coat back on and settle down with a cup of tea.

Lynx Peak and Wolverine Mountain on the other side of the flats are enchanting. Beyond them, the Ray Mountains. And beyond them, there is a vast Alaska that I know nothing about.

In ten minutes I'm starting to cool off and it is time to move, and my camera is working again. When I climb back to the peak Denalia is calling me from 160 miles away to the southwest! But it is really windy!

At the southeast edge of Delta there is a little drop-off and ravens are having fun soaring above the up-draft. Native Alaskans have an attachment to ravens, and when you watch a pair of them so playful, so engaged in their landscape I can see why.

And then it is time for me to head back. It is about a kilometer to the snow-machine trail, most of that on a wide open slope, with the last hundred meters among very sparsely spaced dwarf spruce, the tops of a krummholz forest buried in snow.

I double pole over the lip of the peak and head down. There is a few centimeters of powder on top of the hard crust giving me just enough control. I have perhaps the most delightful run I've ever had in backcountry skiing. Wide swoops and long graceful curves down into the end of an Alaskan Winter.