On a mid-April Friday morning the forecast tipped to the good side of marginal. Annie at Talkeetna Air Taxi told us to be ready at 2pm. We loaded our rucksacks, drove two hours to Talkeetna and jumped into Paul Roderick's turbo bird. 

We stopped at Little Switzerland to pick up some pro dog skiers. The pro dogs said, "We skied everything." I saw their tracks. They did ski every big feature in Little Switzerland. Then Paul dropped us off at the Mountain House on the Ruth Glacier. 

At 7pm Cathy and I started skiing down the Gorge. The chubby seasonal snowpack let us ski unroped. Being able to ski unroped makes the Alaska Range way more cool. 

An hour down the Gorge we stopped for cocoa and a catch-up with our friends Silas and Peter. They were having a great trip, scratching up ice-encrusted corners on Mount Bradley.

Peter Doucette's photo of Cathy and I heading toward 747 Pass between Mount Bradley on the left and Mount Dickey on the right.

We camped our first night below 747 Pass. In the morning we looked up Dikey's 5,000-foot wall. Eeep!

Skinning up 747 Pass. In a few places we used the rope with stopper knots. Here Cathy has unclipped and I'm dragging the rope since the avi danger was more eminent than the cracks. 

Second camp, up on the Tail with Denali and the Backside Glacier behind. My favorite part of the trip was sharing this small tent with Cathy. Even better, she didn't like her book. She's more amuzing without a book. 

Skinning above the Tokositna Glacier. Last summer I hiked Denali's Whale Tail with Nik and Dmitry. The fun and views were world-class. Thank you Nik and Dmitry! But if you cover the Whale's Tail with snow, and don't have to hike, then the funness levels goes into the next category. 

Cathy heading toward Tokosha Gap. Tucker Chenowith cooked up the Whale's Tail ski trip four years ago. Tuck said it was the best ski trip he's ever done. Since Tucker is THE MAN, skiing the Whale's Tail went to the top of my list.

On our tour, Cathy and I had one powder run, some beautiful corn and lots of bullet-proof crust skiing. 

My trophy wife of 11 years at our fourth and last camp, just below Tokosha Gap, 4,000 feet above the Susitna Valley.

Cathy skating toward Porcupine Butte at 5am to beat the isothermal slopfest. Tokosha Gap behind. From Porcupine Butte we skied 12 miles of snowmachine highway to the Chulitna bridge. 

A slow hitch on the Parks Highway. Eventually The Prospector took us to the Talkeetna spur road. Then the Baptist minister's wife - a recent transplant from Arkansas - gave us a ride to TAT. She'd just been on a scenic flight with K2 Aviation. "We landed on the summit," she said. "On the Ruth Glacier?" I said, referring to their usual scenic landing site. "No, they landed us right on the summit of Mount McKinley." I went into the TAT office and told Annie to upgrade their scenic options. 

Imagine Bruce Lee backcountry skiing at age 70. That's Tadashi Miura, hitting it hard in Superbowl, with the sound effects to match. 

Ready to put boots on at Hatcher Pass. Efficiency, whole foods and exercise must be the key to Japanese longevity.

At Thompson Pass, Jed Workman told Chuck the heli procedures to translate to the crew. Although Chuck was a heli ski guide in New Zealand for seven years, his head was at rotor level relative to the five-foot tall Japanese. We explained to the Japanese that Jed's long hair and beard meant he was a real Alaskan. They all smiled and nodded and said "ahhhhhh, hairy Alaskan." 

Jed dropped us among fields of untracked powder. We skinned three laps and then skied to the road. 

For educational purposes we stopped at the sledneck fest of Tailgate Alaska. At 9am the fest was still sleeping. 

Tatsuo Mori, Misako Hamazaki and Toshio Naoi atop our last run of the trip--a 4,000-footer of velvet duff on the flanks of the Worthington Glacier.

Yoko Onoda shopping at the Hub of Alaska in Glennallen. They also found great shopping at the Girdwood Tesoro. 

Yoshikazu Inoue introducing me to Tammy. She worked at the hut were they skied in Canada last year. 

Japanese don't like sweets. And the don't like sweet beer. That means every micro brew in Anchorage was eliminated. They settled on ice beers: Nati Ice, Genesee Ice, Milwakee's Best Ice. One ice beer into a 110 lb 68-year old after seven hours of skiing...the van rides back the B&B were lively. Thanks for a great trip Chuck and the Hokkaido Powder Guides crew! I hope to ski with you again soon. Cheers! 

I skied with Ben and Ken Scissors in the Ortler Mountains in 2010. We kept in touch and they came up for a week of backcountry skiing in Southcentral Alaska with me in late March. After a warm up skills day in the Chugach Front we hit Government Peak at Hatcher Pass. In this photo they're standing on the summit of Government. Between them are tracks from our first run.

It's been a chubby season in Alaska. So chubby we couldn't read the warnings. The Center Ridge Snotel has over 10 feet of snow. 

Skiing the lower-angle ridge from Tincan toward a mini-slab on the uptrack. The winter provided a relentless maritime snow climate with the advisory going from Considerable, to Moderate, to Low in two to three day period. During a normal winter Turnagain has an arctic maritime snow climate. Also known as maritime with an identity crisis. 

These mini-avalanches from surface hoar under drifts were long-running and efficient. This was the first persistent weak layer of the season.

Ben skiing the Tincan trees. 

Ken skiing Tincan trees with Turnagain Arm and the Chugach beyond. 

On top of Manitoba at Summit Lake. Getting ready to ski...

Manitoba's east side for a loopy-tour back to the car. 

Conditions heated up during the week, even for these Grand Junction, Colorado boys. 

Our last run of the week in Magpie Creek near Crow Pass. We then rushed back to the Midnight Sun in Anchorage for brews. Thanks for a super-fun week Ken and Ben! I can't wait to ski with you again. 

On day one we climbed Cornbiscuit at Turnagain Pass, working on skills such as avoiding kick turns, quick stability assessment and blind-folded track-setting. Atop Cornbiscuit we practiced downguiding on a steep powder line on Cornbiscuit's north side. 

On day two we adventured to the Flower Box. None of us had been to the Flower Box. Part of the homework was developing a tour plan for the route. Here's Dan and Aaron feeling the warmth of spring on the rim of the Flower Box with Turnagain Arm behind. 

Day two was student led. It's odd calling Aaron and Dan my students. Ha! Here is Aaron leading to the back of the Flower Box. 

High in the Flower Box we stopped to build emergency shelters. Twenty-five minutes for one person to create a blizzard-proof shelter for five people. 

You pass! The AAA crew inside one of the emergency shelters: JonDavid, Dan, Aaron, Haley and Brian. 

Above the Flower Box we found our first choice route to Wolverine Bowl was too exposed. We switched to Plan B: skiing a 45-degree face into the valley. I demoed a ski anchor to belay Dan as he made a ski cut to sluff-out the face. Customers who are new to Alaskan faces can be freaked by the roaring sluffs. If a guide cleans a face of sluff then customers can enjoy the steep skiing.  

JonDavid, Aaron, Brian, Dan and Haley below the face. We need more guide training!

The last skill was teaching Murphy's Law of A to B tours: If you shuttle a car then you won't get from point A to point B. Since we didn't shuttle a car, we succeeded at getting from point A to point B. The problem was, we still had to get back to our car a point A.  

Thanks AAA for a fun couple days! Fun crew!  

Toshio Naoi examining the balast on his already robust Seth Pistols.

Glopping is the term for snow stuck to your skins. Glopping typically occurs in the spring, when sun heats the snow to its melting point and wets your skins. When you hit cold snow, the wetness freezes and snow cakes onto your skins. Glopping is an awesome workout, but bad for getting to the slopes.   

Skin hot waxing gear: iron & warm wax. Manshed optional.

The traditional cure for glopping is warm glide wax such as pink, yellow or red. If you like purple, and have some extra dollars, then buy Black Diamond's Glop Stopper. But if you're super-tech, and want to beat the glop, then hot wax your skins. 

Michael Silitch rubbing wax onto US Ski Mountaineering team member Nina Silitch's skins for an event Chamonix.

To hot wax your skins, start by warming your waxing iron to its lowest setting, well below the temp you would melt wax into a ski base, but still hot to the touch (around 50° C). Skin your skis as normal and put them on your waxing bench. Rub on an even layer of warm temperature red, pink, or yellow glide wax such as Swix’s CH8. Colder temperature waxes are harder and require higher iron temperatures that may damage your skins. If you’re fancy, or have a big rando race purse hinging on your glide and no-glop factor, then use high-flouro wax such as Swix’s HF8. Rub the wax in a continuous streak from tip to tail making several passes to get a thin, even layer. Applying too much will stick the fibers together and defeat the purpose. Always rub with the grain of the hairs to avoid ruining the directional integrity of the plush.

Michael ironing Nina's skins.

Slowly pass the iron down the whole skin, taking about seven to ten seconds per pass. Move slow and steady, just long enough to melt the wax. Remaining too long will burn and shrivel the hairs and ruin your skins. Take extra caution if you’re using a Salvation Army-style iron and set the temperature to LOW. Apply a second layer and check for an even finish.

The hot wax should last for several days before another coat is needed. This may seem time-consuming, but consider the alternatives: scrapping, glop-stopping, repeat, tear some hair out and haring-bone to the summit.

Adios Doug. Don't forget about us. 

Camp Hilleberg at 2,800-feet on the Tanaina Glacier. Our hope was the lower elevation would be warmer.

The Neacolas provide. A full moon and northern lights.

And some Freezing Unlimited, but that didn't faze Yannis.

Our strategic base camp is that speck below the Tanaina Coulies.

Yoel skiing between icebergs in a drained glacial lake to access slopes on our first tour.

Benjamin topping out on Tanaina Coulie One.

Skiing Tanaina Coulie One. 

Benjamin, Yoel and Yannis below Tanaina Coulie One, après descent.

Sunshine and powder in the Neacolas!

Yannis in Coulie Four. 

We moved camp up glacier for several nights to ski some different peaks.

Not everything is steep in the Neacolas. 

Finally something besides blue sky!

Alaska Alpine Adventures has the best backcountry cuisine you'll ever taste. I supplemented AAA's gourmetness with Joe's mega-high calorie quesadillas for big days of touring in sub-zero temps.

Practicing crack rescue while waiting for Doug to bring in his Bush Hawk to pick us up.

Flying over the Cook Inlet platforms back to our car in Nikiski.

Thanks for an awesome trip guys!!

Six years ago Cathy and I met my parents in El Chalten, Argentina, to trek and to see the legendary towers. Mom saw El Chalten in a different way than Dad, Cathy or I. She absorbed this emerging tourist town. She saw the dreadlocked locals, the visiting pantheon of the world's hardest climbers, the gnarled gauchos, the towers and raw weather. My mom recognized El Chalten as one of the great mountain towns. Now my Mom and Dad spend six months a year in a micro duplex behind the Chocolateria in El Chalten. Living the retired dream like nobody else. That tower behind their house is Fitzroy. The climber high camp is a six-hour hike from their house.

Mom spends her time gardening and operating a gardening store called La Hoja Verde. Here she is with her employees Buyi and Val. Next door Mauricio serves fine coffee and cookies. 

Dad gets out for regular trekking and mountaineering trips between house projects. Topping his mountain list this year was a 2766-meter peak visible from their house called Cerro Huemul. Late one morning Dad and I started walking from El Chalten with light mountaineering gear. Nine hours later we bivied under a rock, halfway to Huemul's summit. From our sleeping bags we watched the alpenglow fade and stars emerge around Cerro Torre. 

On the summit of Cerro Huemul above the South Patagonian Icecap. We spent the rest of the day descending 2,000 meters back to its base, then we hiked until 1 am back to El Chalten. 

A few days later my Dad showed me his favorite early-season ski mountaineering peak. The 2146-meter glaciated summit of Cerro Vespignani is located 36 kilometers up the Carraterra Austral from El Chalten. 

We descended Vespignani, took the bus back to Chalten, had a beer and 15 minutes later Dad was out working on a new greenhouse next to Mom's store.  

Cathy and I also visited my Mom and Dad in El Chalten three years ago. Cathy was bent on attempting a tower. I was indifferent, not wanting to go to that place of my past. But she talked me into it. High on the Fonrouge route on Guillaumet, a 12-pitch 5.10b, I felt that orange granite and the foggy abyss and realized these mountains are different. That mountain lust began knocking again. 

Some people become El Chalten tower addicts and return year after year. This is Mikey and Kate's fifth season in Chalten. They're strolling out after 29 hours of climbing and rappelling on Aguja Rafael. Kate later told me "...we had to run to make it to Senyera in time for food. It was getting quite dark and we saw a puma on the trail! Then these dogs were growling at us... Pretty classic 48 hrs..."

Cathy and I ventured up the Torre Valley for a couple nights at Niponino, a climber camp in the rubble below El Mochito, which is below El Mocho, which is below Cerro Torre. The summit of Cerro Torre is perhaps the most unattainable location on earth. This Argentine summer Cerro Torre further established itself as the most unattainable summit on earth when the Cesare Maestri bolts were chopped. 

Niponino attracts the most hardened and talented climbers in the world. 

Back in El Chalten, Cathy spotting Bishop strong-woman Lisa Bedient.

Hmmmm, I never get this much attention when I boulder... 

Joel Kaufman. 

Poincenot and Fitzroy from my Mom and Dad's house. While in El Chalten I wondered if I could live there. Probably not right now, I think. I'm too close to that balance point in life, where I still crave those intense experiences on alpine walls, yet I'm not sure if I want to go back to that place in my life again. Living in El Chalten and seeing and feeling the presence of the walls every day could be tormenting. But maybe when I'm my parents age. 

Then I could live in El Chalten like them. 

 Living the dream in one of the world's great mountain towns. 

I guided Aconcagua three times for Alpine Ascents International in 2005 and 2006. This winter Garrett at AAI offered me a private with JP Bailey, a Canadian living in  Manhattan. From previous trips I'd grown to appreciate the quality AAI offers when guiding the Seven Summits. On Aconcagua, AAI's recipe for success was developed by mountain legend Willie Prittie (imagine a high altitude version of Willie Nelson). Following Willie's recipe, and if the clients are healthy and strong, clients will get to Aconcagua's summit. Without Willie's recipe you'll probably join the 70 percent who don't summit. For comparison, Denali has a 46 percent no-summit rate.

I tore myself from the Alaska Wonderland and spent three sweaty and sleepless days in Mendoza preparing food for our 21-day trip. I packed the food and gear into mule loads, each able to withstand three days of mule treatment, which is equal to a turbo-charged paint shaker.

JP and I got to know each other over steak and Malbec at Francis Mallmann in Mendoza. The next morning we drove two hours to Penitentes, a 70's-era ski resort at 8,500-feet between Mendoza and Santiago, and unloaded our stuff at Grajales, our outfitter for the trip. Here's Pollo of Grajales weighing our loads. 

Then JP and I started the three-day trek into base camp. JP retired several years ago and spends his time travelling the world. Brazil is his favorite. 

We hiked with light backpacks in the sun. Easy walking through a Tibeten landscape. The movie Seven Years in Tibet was filmed near here. 

While we strolled, the mules and arrieros worked. 

It's a tough life for beasts of burden. The trail was lined with bones. It appears that Andean Condors don't like mule muzzle. 

The most unique part of the journey is hanging with the arrieros (mule drivers). These guys are real cowboys, with spurs and knives crammed into the back of their pants. Here we're sharing Argentina's legendary asado (barbecue) with arrieros at Casa de Piedra.  

Vegetation on the approach is covered with spikes. These pretty flowers have glass needles instead of spikes. 

After the approach JP and I spent three days at Plaza Argentina, the base camp at 13,800 feet. JP is explaining to Annita, the Grajales manager at Plaza Argentina, that she is beautiful, doing an incredible job, and that we'd like to further our five-day steak-eating streak. 

Bring your shoes! Base camp has bouldering.  

The Buff is Aconcagua's ubiquitous gear. By recycling breath moisture through the fabric it is possible to avoid turning your throat into 80-grit sandpaper from pressure breathing the dry, dusty air.  

Camp II at 17,700 feet at Ameghino Col. Success on Aconcagua is achieved by going slow, balls slow. We used the basic altitude recipe of climb high, sleep low and ascending 1,000 feet per day with a rest every three days. This means using the daily progression of carry a load, move camp, carry, rest, repeat. AAI uses two extra camps to achieve this progression. 

Acclimatizing is about patience. Movies and books help. JP educated me on essential guy movies. On his Ipad we watched The Lord of War, Seven, Troy, Connair, Black Hawk Down and Blow. I also read The Lost City of Z, I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell and No Angle. 

Camp III at 19,200 feet with Cerro Ameghino and Aconcagua's shadow beyond. Each guyline is rocked down to withstand over 100 pounds of wind force. Due to logistics and weather we made this our high camp instead of the traditional AAI Camp IV at 20,600-feet. Summiting from Camp III made summit day long. 

To the summit! Behind JP is the Polish Traverse that we just spent four hours climbing. Above this point we climbed at the rate of three breaths per step for 2,500 feet. 

Summit! Yeah! Party like you're running with a sock in your mouth!

Descending at 21,500 feet at 7:30 pm. The route follows this trail to the Canteleta (couloir) that ascends 1,000 feet to the summit. 

Looks more Fried than Chili out there.  

The morning after summiting we packed up and crossed to the Plaza de Mulas base camp on the Normal Route, passing a mule that had a bad day at 19,000 feet. 

JP descending to the city of Plaza de Mulas. 

We could have stayed at Grajales in Plaza de Mulas and walked 16 miles out to the highway the next day. But we needed a shower and a bed ASAP.

Thanks for an awesome trip JP! I really enjoyed hanging with you. Good luck on your Seven Summits bid! 

Cheers!

Weekend material near Anchorage-Turnagain Pass. 

Good weekends depend on good people. Cathy, Jeff Conaway (our neighbor) and I went to Turnagain last Saturday. We found sun, an inversion for warm +10-degree F temps and off the hook skiing. 

Cathy on our first run from Magnum. Jeff calls this run TC. I've never had a TV so Jeff was educating me about the Magnum PI cast. 

Second run, into Goldpan, or is this Superbowl? Sorry Viking...

Jeff a body length ahead of his sluff. Ski fast or get out of the way. 

Across the way another posse of amigos was having a good time. Here's Jeremy Wood taste-testing snow quality. 

We confirmed there is no better place on the planet. 

The next day Cathy and I skied with Paddy Sullivan. He's still riding the granola sticks but that's okay. Anyone who can rip 2,000 vert non-stop on smelly teles is a noble man. It's now also okay, after this day of touring up Spokane Creek and down Bertha Creek, that Paddy swiped our Spanish tenant. Awesome skiing with you Paddy!

"Don't feel any pressure Paddy, but do you mind skiing right now? The light has 20 seconds left! Now! No pressure, but right NOW!" Thanks Paddy!

Now I'm in Mendoza, Argentina hanging in the Alpine Ascents guide apartment with this guy. Dave and I worked together in the Cascades in 2006. He enjoys Turbo Truffles and baristas. Tomorrow I leave for Aconcagua for three weeks with JP from New York. Tonight JP and I drank malbec at Francis Mallmann and agreed that Sarah Palin is...well, anyway, JP and I will have a good trip. 

Come spring I'll be back in the weekend contest. Watch out. 

That's what Turnagain has reminded me over the past few days. 

Jeff Conaway, Peter Thurston and I headed back Wolverine Creek to visit a new part of this mystical land. We skinned with our eyes up, looking at the mountains that hung in a soft haze of ice crystals, like a 100-year old painting. Wolverine Creek is one of eight main drainages on the non-motorized side of Turnagain Pass.  

At the head of the valley we skied lower angle slopes to keep the roaring sluffs at a manageable level. 

Peter lived in Girdwood back in the day. Now he lives in Salt Lake City, where the snow isn't happening. He came up for a month of Alaska's finest product.  

The next day I returned with my wife Cathy, Gretchen and Ben. Gretchen and Ben just returned from a semester down south expanding their brains. They were sooooo glad to be home. 

Ben's PhD had taken him to Juneau. He skied Eagle Crest ski area during breaks from the confuser. Back home he skis between glide cracks on the south side of Eddies.  

We finished the day with a 2,000-foot chute on the north slopes of Eddies. Since there was no light in the chute I took photos of the alpenglow on this thing. Yeah this thing. This thing is starting to bug me. 

Then I spent a day with Kevan Dee on a Tincan grand tour. Kevan grew up on a farm in northeast Colorado. Now he sells drill bits on the Slope, three weeks on, three weeks off. Kevan knows that AK rules!

Kevan on the summit of Tincan, ready to leave the light and drop into Todd's Run. Kevan saw the light in this Grimms' fairytale land and never wants to leave. I hope you don't Kevan. That was a blast!