Blackerby Ridge and Cairn Peak

Taking in the view from the summit of Cairn Peak. Observation Peak in the background.

Do you ever make an offhand comment to someone, only to immediately wonder, “Now why in the world did I say that?” That’s the way I felt last week, when I casually suggested to my coworker Courtney that we hike Blackerby Ridge to Cairn Peak. Ideally, I like to spread my ridge hikes out to once every seven or eight days at most. I still hadn't fully recovered from the 13 mile, +5,700’ traverse I had just done two days earlier with another friend over Mt. Gastineau, Mt. Roberts, and Sheep Mountain. I don’t have the boundless energy of a twenty-something anymore, and my poor old legs need a break now and then. But I guess the sun was making me crazy. Since we work together, Courtney and I rarely get the same day off when we don’t already have something planned with our significant others. We realized we were both free on Friday and the weather forecast was for sunshine, so we decided to go for it.

If ever there was a classic mountain ridge hike in Juneau, Blackerby Ridge would have to be at the top of the list. So many things are just right about this hike. The unobtrusive trail head on a side street that gives no indication as to what lies ahead. The steep climb straight uphill through the woods, crawling over windfalls and struggling to grab at gnarled tree roots as you pull your sweaty body up the crude trail. This trail is so steep that hikers have placed a fixed line in one spot so you can climb hand over hand up the hardest section. Then the reward as you step out of the trees and into the first open meadow, usually filled with wildflowers and a glimpse of the surrounding peaks and ridges. From there it is a short scramble up to the alpine, leaving the trees and brush and muddy trail behind, and miles of winding mountain ridge ahead.

Fields of alpine lupine and other wildflowers dotted the ridge. Cairn Peak is in the distance to the left and Observation Peak is to the right.

Courtney and I have worked closely together for almost four years, and we know each other well enough that we didn't have to spend much time getting started and settling in to a good hiking pace together. The last time she went up Blackerby, she had a heavy overnight pack, so it was a relief to climb lightly up in shorts, trail shoes, and a small hydration pack. I hadn’t been up the trail since last summer, when Scott and I did a traverse across Blackerby to Cairn Peak, Observation Peak and over to the Juneau ridge, so the prospect of simply climbing Cairn and coming back down was strangely relaxing.

Hiking the mountains in shorts and with light packs is sweet!

As we hit the alpine ridge, we were greeted with a firm snowpack that gave us good footing and allowed for easy shortcuts along the route. Where the snow had melted, fields of wildflowers waved in the breeze, and we were pleasantly sidetracked several times while we took photos and enjoyed the views. Neither one of us was in a rush. Our biggest concern was trying not to get sunburned and staying hydrated, as the temperatures were supposed to climb into the 80’s by the afternoon. A veritable heat wave by Juneau standards!

Mountain goats were easy to spot as we hiked along the ridge.

 

Blackerby climbs pleasantly up and down, with a fairly clear path beaten in by hikers, climbers, and trail runners most of the way. We seemed to be the only people on the ridge this day, and enjoyed having it all to ourselves. We spotted mountain goats several times, and hoped to possibly see wolf, but had to be satisfied with finding wolf scat and prints in the snow.

We had to content ourselves with wolf tracks, although we looked all day for wolves.

After a few hours of steady hiking, we climbed up the final steep rocky slope below the summit. Still in shorts and light shirts, we soaked in the views of the icefield and surrounding peaks. Observation Peak looked huge and distant – did I really go all the way over there last year? We settled in comfortably on Cairn Peak and waited for the clouds to clear off of Split Thumb so we could get a better view. I was relieved to feel like I had paced myself well enough that I wasn't trashed by the time I reached the summit and could enjoy the day to the fullest. Maybe I was smarter than I thought for planning another ridge hike so soon after the last one, because the forecast for the next day was for rain. The sunny stretch of weather wouldn’t last forever.

The final rocky slopes to the summit of Cairn Peak

The clouds were not clearing off Split Thumb fast enough, and we eventually decided it was time to head back. It’s always hard to start moving down. I like to recall the John Svenson cartoon of two climbers sitting on the summit of a peak, legs dangling over a rock ledge, packs and ropes next to them. One of them says, “Ready to head down?” and the other replies, “No”. The next frame shows two skeletons sitting in the same spot, with packs and ropes still there. That’s the way I feel sometimes when it’s time to start back. Maybe someday I’ll just say no.

Waiting for the clouds to clear off of Split Thumb. Camp 17 is below.

Down the ridge we dropped, still spotting mountain goats, more wolf prints, and endless meadows of wildflowers. If only the hike could end before we had to crawl down through the trees and dirt! That has to be the hardest part of the whole adventure, dropping almost 2,000’ in a little over one mile of steep woods. The best way to deal with that is to turn your mind off, keep moving down one step at a time, and try not to fall headfirst through the forest.

Savoring the last moments on the ridge before plunging down into the woods.

Cold drinks and flip flops never felt so good when we reached our cars. It’s a welcome ritual to strip off muddy shoes and socks and bring out the cooler for a tailgate celebration before going home. It wasn't until I was unpacking my gear later that evening that I realized - we’d hiked up Cairn Peak on the Summer Solstice! I’d like to say that I planned the whole thing with that in mind, but this truly was a last minute adventure. Sometimes those turn out to be the very best kind.

This hike was a great idea!

Blackerby Ridge, named by USFS in 1960 for Alva W. Blackerby, who served 16 years with USFS in the Juneau area. He was killed in an airplane accident in Idaho in 1960 while fighting a forest fire. (Dictionary of Alaska Place Names, Donald Orth, 1967, p. 140).

Cairn Peak, 4,500 ft, named "Cairn Hill" by George R. Putnam, USC&GS, in 1899. The name Cairn Peak was published in 1902 by USC&GS and has been used since.  (Dictionary of Alaska Place Names, Donald Orth, 1967, p. 174).

12.1 miles and 5.365 ft of total elevation gain

Juneau Ridge Hike

The Juneau Ridge, covered with snow in early June

This year’s hiking season has had a slow start. First I was distracted by all the skiing that I could do well into May, and then family obligations took precedence over recreation. When I was finally ready to get out on the trails and just hike, I couldn’t believe it was still snowing up in the mountains and raining hard below. On Saturday, the first of June, I decided enough was enough. I put on all of my rain gear and waterproof boots and headed up the Lake Creek trail. I had a great hike to Spaulding Meadows, stayed relatively dry, and was reassured that my hiking muscles were in working order. Sunday was much dryer, and Scott and I did an easy stroll up the Sheep Creek trail for some bird-watching while we made plans for a bigger adventure the next day.

Monday’s forecast was for partly cloudy in the morning, with rain developing by late afternoon. Partly cloudy in Juneau means a pretty nice day, so we started out early to hike the Juneau ridge, hoping to beat the clouds and the rain.

The first mile up Perseverance Trail is lovely – a wide well-maintained trail with beautiful views. But turn left on to the Mt. Juneau trail and suddenly you are picking your way up a narrow, rocky trail that climbs and climbs and then climbs some more. Trail crews have recently improved this route immensely, but no one can alter the fact that it still climbs about 3,000’ up a rocky mountainside in just 2 miles. It’s never easy, but I know I’ll feel better as soon as I reach the top. I find a pace I can maintain, and try not think about the fact that I didn’t get enough sleep the night before, or that my muscles ache, and my stomach is unsettled. I keep putting one foot in front of the other, look around to enjoy the views as we quickly gain elevation, and wait patiently until the steep climb is finished.

We saw only one other hiker on the Mt. Juneau trail, and very few footprints in the snow going to the top. And there was plenty of snow, starting about half way up the mountain. We picked our way across several steep snow gullies that are usually small streams in the summer, then found and lost the snow covered trail to the summit several times higher up.

The Mt. Juneau trail was easy to lose under the heavy snow pack

When we finally popped out on the top of the ridge, we realized we had hiked past what is considered the top of Mt. Juneau and were already started along the ridge leading to Granite Creek Basin. We didn’t bother backtracking, especially since we knew that the ridge climbs higher in several places, making the summit of Mt. Juneau look smaller the further you go.

The pain of climbing straight uphill was over, and as far as I was concerned the real fun started. There is nothing I would rather do than stroll along a high mountain ridge. The partly cloudy skies were quickly turning to mostly cloudy, and looking over at Mt. Roberts we saw the ridge disappear into grayness. Even with clouds threatening in the distance and a few snow slopes ahead that looked steeper in places than I thought I might be able to handle in my light trail shoes, I felt I was exactly where I wanted to be.

No matter how many times I travel this route, I am always amazed at it's beauty

The Juneau ridge never disappoints, no matter what the conditions. The snow was just right for a steady hiking pace, with short photo breaks for ptarmigan and mountain goats. The mountains in the distance looked wintry, still waiting to melt into their summer colors, and the view was stunning, as usual. The steeper snow turned out to be perfect for kicking steps, using our hiking poles for extra purchase. We moved as quickly as we could without actually running. We could see the faint footprints of two runners who had been on the ridge the day before. But we were moving plenty fast and we knew that once we started dropping down into Granite Creek we would move even faster.

Rock Ptarmigan

Semipalmated Plower

Mountain Goat

A brisk wind along with the deep snow pack and gathering clouds prevented us from taking the usual mountainside nap on the highest part of the ridge. We would have to return on a sunny, summer day to enjoy that, but then we would probably have to share the ridge with many other hikers and runners. Today the ridge belonged to us alone.

The Juneau ridge is perfect for a first season hike. I know the route well, and even the snow and threatening clouds couldn't hide the familiar contours. I've hiked the ridge in bright sunshine and in the rain, under clear skies and in misty fog, on warm fragrant heather and cold snow. The one constant any hiker has to keep in mind is to stay on top of the ridge for as long as possible, and to fight the urge to drop down too early, or you risk getting caught on impossibly steep grassy slopes that eventually turn into rock cliffs. Be patient, and you will find the cairn that leads to a faint route across the highest, rockiest section of the ridge, which then winds down into Granite Creek Basin.

Parts of the ridge were only recently uncovered by snow

We took one last look around at the high peaks in the distance, then with a whoop started running and glissading quickly down the snow to Granite Creek. As I mentioned earlier, we are not true mountain runners, but who can resist the urge to run and slide down a 2,000’ snow slope? Later in the summer, the route down will be all rock and dirt, with a few short sections of hard snow. But at this time of year it’s a big playground with an irresistibly fast descent. The best part is when you get down into Granite Creek Basin you don’t have to pick your way across the rocks, brush, and marshy meadows, but head straight across the snow and out. Even the trail lower down was covered in snow sufficiently deep to cover most of the alder brush, but firm enough to walk on without breaking through.

Who can resist over 2,000 feet of running and sliding down the snow?

The snow in Granite Creek Basin was impressive

Before we knew it, we were down on the Perseverance Trail and back in “real world”. The gray clouds still covered most of the sky, but we were so warm we stripped off our layers down to our short sleeve shirts. We encountered a steady stream of afternoon hikers, runners, and mountain bikers. I gazed back up at the ridge now far above us and was seized with an urge to suddenly be finished with our hike. Much to Scott’s surprise, I broke into a light jog. “Are you running?” he asked with a grin. “Not really” I replied, “I just want to move a little faster than a walk.” He laughed at me as he took longer walking strides to match my speed. In less than a minute I was slightly ahead of him and he was eventually forced to run to catch up. We continued in this manner for the remaining two miles, with him leapfrogging me as he alternately walked and then ran to keep up. He finally agreed my easy jogging pace felt easier on the legs than hiking or running downhill, and we made quick progress to the end of the trail.

We were back at the car in a little over six hours, a good time for us “senior hikers”. Ripping off our wet shoes and socks and slipping on our sandals, then enjoying a cold drink while we ate the rest of our snacks felt like heaven. As we drove away, the first rain drops hit the windshield, and we started laughing. The first ridge hike of the season was a success and the hiking season officially off to a good start.

Mount Juneau, named “Gold Mountain” by the miners in 1881. It was also called Bald Mountain as late as 1896. The name “Juneau Mountain” was first used in the mining records by Pierre (“French Pete”) Erussard when he located mining claims on the mountain in 1888. (R. N. DeArmond, Some Names Around Juneau, 1957, p. 28; Donald J. Orth, Dictionary of Alaska Place Names, 1971, p. 480).

Juneau Ridge, local name reported by D. A. Brew and A. B. Ford, USGS, in 1965. (Donald J. Orth, Dictionary of Alaska Place Names, 1971, p. 481).

Over 12 miles and 5,000 feet of total elevation gain - a good start to the hiking season

Spring Cross Country Skiing

Eighty minutes. That’s all the time it took Scott and me to go from our ordinary, everyday routine of work and home projects to a cross country skiing paradise.  One hour and twenty minutes of easy hiking on packed snow through the woods up the Spaulding Trail gave us full access to rolling, open meadows just begging to be skied and enjoyed. Sometimes the trip is faster, but we had all day so we were in no rush.

Easy hiking up the trail with light skis

When I first moved to Juneau in the early seventies, there was no Eaglecrest, and no trail grooming at the Mendenhall Campground or Eagle Beach. Cross country skiers had to find their own way, and that often meant hiking to reach good skiing. I learned to delay skiing gratification, patiently trudging uphill to the Dan Moller bowl or Spaulding Meadows and then packing in my own trail once I reached the snow. I didn’t mind it, because that was what I did for fun. I didn’t have much money to spend on entertainment, but I did scrape together enough to buy cross country ski equipment. It turned out to be a good investment. It gave me more than a full day’s worth of fun every weekend from November to at least the end of May. Best of all, it gave me a lifetime of enjoyment, as I’m still hard at it forty years later.

Cross country skiing in Spaulding Meadows - what's not to like?

Just a few days ago, Scott and I made the hike that I’ve done ever since the first winter I lived in Juneau. The trail is better traveled these days, and improvements have made it wider and smoother in spots, but it is essentially the same as I remember it from the first time I traveled on it. Years of experience have taught me it’s often easier to hike up the trail rather than try to ski it, unless the snow is very deep. But the skis go on my feet as quickly as possible once I reach the top of the trail as it breaks out of the woods and into the main meadows. Then I’m free to travel in any direction I choose, keeping an eye on the clouds, the weather, and my map and compass, combined these days with my GPS. The open meadows are not a good place to lose your way in a white out or storm, and I’ve done both. It makes for a good story to tell, but can be a bit stressful when you’re actually stumbling about in a blizzard with no visibility and no sign of a trail.

The weather was not a serious factor today. Sunlight filtered through light clouds and a cool breeze gave just enough chill to the air to make us keep an extra layer of clothing on, even after our vigorous hike uphill. We skied quickly up into Spaulding Meadows on our lightweight, waxless touring skis, following old ski and snowshoe tracks in the deep snow and occasionally making our own way when we wanted to strike out on our own.

Ski in the trail or out of the trail - either way it's fun

After taking in the views across the meadows and checking our watches, we decided we had plenty of time to travel over to Auke Mountain.  A clearly marked route left by other winter travelers made the traverse to the Muir Cabin easy, and we enjoyed kicking and gliding on the trail, gazing at the beauty of the surrounding mountains and Lynn Canal in the distance. The downhill runs in the untracked snow put big grins on our faces, and the uphill climbs on the packed trail seemed effortless.

Visibility and navigation was not a problem this day

The Muir Cabin was warm and welcoming as we took a short lunch break inside, and then continued to ski to Auke Mountain to explore the hillside and get in some turns in the soft snow. We watched the weather go from partly cloudy and breezy to clear and warm, then back to cloudy and cool. The sun kept teasing us to stay out longer than we’d originally planned, and then it would hide behind the clouds while the sky threatened, convincing us to head down before we were caught in a storm.

But wait, there's more! Heading over to Auke Mountain to do a little exploring

As our legs started to tire out from miles of skiing, we turned towards home, traveling back past the Muir Cabin and down the Muir Trail, joining the Spaulding Trail and out to the car. We took our skis off just below tree line, finding it easier and faster to hike down with our skis on our backs rather than trying to pick our way down the steep trail on our skinny skis.

Hiking down the Muir Trail keeps equipment and knees from breaking

We were home by mid-afternoon. A quick trip up, a few hours of easy skiing, a little bit of exploring, and a pleasant walk down made for a relaxing day off. I learned to cross country ski up in Spaulding Meadows forty years ago, and it always gives me a great deal of pleasure to go up there every chance I get. If you’ve never been up there, or if it’s been a while since you have, now is the time to do it. The days are longer and the snow should last at least until the end of April, if not longer. Maybe I’ll see you up there when you go!

Tour of Anchorage

Things were not looking good for me in the weeks leading up to the Tour of Anchorage.

I gave an informal skate ski lesson to a friend one night after work and had to loan her my headlamp so she could see the trail in the dark at the Mendenhall Campground. We started out slow, doing little drills and practicing technique, but soon we were able to go faster and faster as she loosened up and got the hang of it. I was doing great skiing behind her, able to see just enough from the headlamp she was wearing, but I did not have a clear view of the track right in front of me. Suddenly my ski base grabbed at a spruce cone lying on the snow and stopped me dead. I slammed face first on the ground and jammed my arm up into the shoulder so hard it took my breath away.

A moment of panic seized me. I’d been training all winter for the 25 km Classic race at the Tour, just a mere three weeks away, and now I worried that my arm was – what? broken? dislocated? Turns out it was none of the above. It was just very, very sore, and certain movements made it hurt.

I was scheduled to do a long training ski the next day at Eaglecrest. I was hoping to get in about 25-30 km of classic skiing, which meant I’d be out there for two to three hours. My arm hurt before I started, but by some miracle the back and forth motion of classic skiing did not bother it. I tried double poling and that didn't hurt either. I couldn't swing my arm out sideways without wincing, but that motion wasn't required to ski. I was safe.

Training for the Tour of Anchorage involves long hours on the groomed trails

Then the Juneau crud wormed its way into my system. I’d been feeling great all winter. I got my flu shot, took my vitamin C, drank plenty of lemon tea, and made sure to get my rest. So where did the sore throat and tired feeling come from? The timing was awful. Not only was the Tour getting ever closer, but I had an action packed weekend of Nordic skiing planned with visiting PSIA (Professional Ski Instructors Association of America) demo team member Megan Spurkland that I absolutely could not miss. I sucked down even more hot tea and vitamins, but I was starting to worry again. I skied for two full days straight during the clinic, absorbing as much about skate and classic skiing as I could from Megan and the other instructors who participated. Then I celebrated a fresh snowfall by skiing powder with my friends on Sunday, probably not the smartest tactic to recover from a cold. By Sunday night I was ready to collapse.

I gained a wealth of knowledge about skiing from Megan Spurkland

But the uphill drills didn't give me much time to rest the weekend before the race!

We were scheduled to leave for Anchorage on Thursday, so I had a few days to rest and try to kick the cold out of my system. I felt a little better as the days went by, but my throat and chest still hurt and I was just so tired most of the time. One thing that helped was talking to a friend who was a former cross country state champion runner. She told me some of her best races were right after she’d been sick. She might have just been making that up to help me feel better, but I don’t care because she did cheer me up and gave me hope.

When we got to Anchorage we had a few days to ski before the race on Sunday. Each year when we go up for the Tour we enjoy exploring the miles of groomed ski trails all around the city in the days before the race. This year I skied so slowly and gently I’m sure Scott was worried if I’d be able to race.

The worst part of it was that I was moving up into a new age group this year and had a good chance to finally win a gold medal instead of the silver I’d won three times previously. I’d trained hard for four months, doing longer and longer skis, interval training, hill training, and refining my technique. I tried to be philosophical about the whole thing, but it would be a bit of a disappointment to not be able to see it through.

Enjoying the trails around Anchorage, but trying not to push it too hard

Sunday morning I woke up and . . . my throat felt fine and my chest didn't hurt! It was too good to be true. I felt rested and strong, and at the same time nervous and excited about the race, which was an excellent sign. I ate a good breakfast, storing away energy for the hours ahead. We geared up and headed over to the race start.

Getting the wax right is critical to having a good race

The 25 km classic race starts at 9:30 a.m. at Alaska Pacific University, followed by the 25 km skate race. Over at Service High School, the 40 km and 50 km skate races had already started beginning in waves at 8:30 a.m. The trail for all the racers merges just outside of APU, and within a short time over 1,100 skiers would all be working their way across town towards the huge finish arena across town at Kincaid Park. It’s quite a feeling to be skiing along beautifully groomed trails with so many people.  As I pushed off with the rest of the skiers in my start wave, I thought “Well, ready or not, here I go”.

My hours of training kicked into gear as soon as I hit the trail. I tell my ski students – focus on your technique and the speed will come, so I tried to do the same. I thought about extending my glide when I was striding up hills, keeping my weight fully balanced on one ski at a time, driving my foot through and then kicking down in a powerful flexed position, hips forward, leg extended back, and arms poling strongly. And I double poled, doubled poled, double poled on the flats until I thought I couldn't double pole anymore. Luckily a good two hours of the ski clinic the previous weekend focused on proper double poling and I had a dozen tips running through my head as I tried to find the fastest way to move along the trail.

The time flew by quicker than it ever had before in the Tour. I felt fast and for the first time I realized the 25k skate skiers had not yet started to catch me. All the skiers who were able to catch and pass me were very good classic skiers – mostly men and a few younger women who looked like junior racers. This was encouraging because in past years I’d been caught and passed by skiers who had sloppy technique but were just super fit and could probably take off their skis and run past me if they wanted to. I wasn't looking at my watch, but I began to hope that I’d hit my goal time of 2:15, three minutes faster than last years’ time of 2:18.

I started the final climb up to the finish area. The Tour of Anchorage is famous for the brutal 5k climb up into Kincaid Park. It must be torture for the 50k racers, but we all struggle to make it up those hills that come at us one after another at the end.

I saw the last hill in front of me. It’s a challenge to stay in the classic track that climbs steeply up to the finish arena after 25k of racing, but it’s a sign of your technique and fitness, not to mention your wax job, if you can maintain your kick and glide to the top and not step out or herringbone up the hill. A friend who had already finished cheered me on from the side and Scott was at the top of the hill yelling encouragement. I was going to make it!

Everyone is a hero when they finish their race!

They do it right at the Tour, and as you go around the large outdoor arena, whether you are a top hotshot 50k skate ski racer or an old lady classic skier like me, they call out your name and where you are from as you approach the finish line. You can’t help but feel happy. Then your timing chip comes off from around your ankle, you’re handed a commemorative zipper pull for finishing, and you’re done. Warm clothes are found and plenty of energy food is provided by the race officials. People mill around the finish area, watching everyone come in and comparing notes on the race. There’s hours of socializing with old and new friends, other racers, spectators, and volunteers. I love this race.

This is just a fraction of the hundreds of skis piled around the finish area

Juneau skiers did well at the Tour and competed in all the events – 25k skate and classic, and the 40k and 50k skate races. Several racers either won medals in their age group or placed in the top 5.  Scott won a silver medal in his age group and broke the two hour mark for 25k. I won my gold and set a new personal best of 2:12, well under my 2:15 goal. Should I shoot for 2:10 next year? Or should I just go for broke and try to get under that two hour barrier? Maybe if I don’t get sick and avoid crashes at night I could do it.

We did it!

Whatever happens, I will have fun trying. And now I’m going to go play in the snow – Spaulding Meadows is calling my name, and there are some ridges around Eaglecrest I need to visit on my fat skis.

Winter Dreams

The heavy rains of the past week kept many Juneau residents inside. I was scheduled to teach cross country ski lessons at Eaglecrest last Saturday and Sunday, so I spent two full days skiing and it wasn't too bad. My students were eager to learn, and when I wasn't teaching I enjoyed the nicely groomed Lower Loop trail, working on both my classic and skate skiing. Scott and I made a few runs on the mountain Sunday morning, but were defeated by the low visibility and wet conditions. I'd rather beat myself to a pulp classic skiing 20 or 30 km than sit on the chairlift in the rain.

When I didn't have to be at the ski area to teach, I started thinking about the rest of this winter. We've had a great start, and I've done my fair share of training for the Tour of Anchorage in March as well as working on my teaching and skiing skills. I will continue to spend many hours on the groomed trails, rain or shine, until the Tour is over and lessons have stopped, but I must confess that I've started to dream about other places to go on my skis beyond the Lower Loop, Mendenhall Campground, and Mendenhall Lake.

A winter dream come true - new tracks in soft, fresh snow

Here is an alphabetical list of many of the places a person can go on cross country skis. Maybe some of these will fuel your own winter dreams and give you some ideas of fun places to go cross country skiing.

Dan Moller Trail —Climbs steadily up through woods and meadows to the Dan Moller Bowl, known toold-timers as 3rd Cabin, site of Juneau's first alpine ski area equipped with arope tow. Recommended for intermediate to advanced skiers, this area is a fun place to practice telemarking. The trail back down is full of whoop-de-doos. Also open to snowmachines. Experienced backcountry travelers can cross over Mt. Troy and down into Fish Creek and Eaglecrest Ski Area.

Dredge Lake — Easily accessible classic skiing on almost flat trails.

Eagle Beach State Park — This area is truly a gem, with short, easy trails for anyone to enjoy in a remote park setting and unparalleled views of the Chilkat mountains gleaming with snow across Lynn Canal. These trails are groomed on a somewhat regular basis.

Eagle River Trail —A little more challenging than skiing up the Herbert River trail, but worth the effort when you reach the Eagle Glacier cabin and lake.

How cold does it have to be to safely ski tour on the frozen Eagle River?
How about -15 F.?

Eaglecrest lower nordic loop — A 6k loop with twists, turns, uphills, and downhills, but still skiable for all levels. This trail was widened, straightened, and improved over the past couple of years, and Eaglecrest is doing an excellent job of keeping this trail groomed for skate and classic skiing.

Eaglecrest upper nordic loop — Also known as Hilda Meadows, this is a more challenging loop accessible by hiking up one of the lower Eaglecrest alpine runs (Trickster or Sneaky) or getting a ride on the Hooter chair lift (not recommended for beginners!). Not always groomed – check with Eaglecrest before heading up.

When the Upper Loop at Eaglecrest is groomed, it can be great skiing.

Herbert River Trail — This popular summer hiking trail becomes an easy ski tour in the winter when the snow cover is adequate. Most fun when the river is frozen and there is good snow cover all the way up to Herbert Glacier, but skiers should be aware of the danger of possible open water and overflow.

Ski touring along the Herbert River Trail

Mendenhall Campground and Mendenhall Lake — A good area to spend time with family and friends for a casual Sunday morning outing or skate ski 'til you drop! Groomed daily for skate and classic skiing by the Juneau Nordic Ski Club volunteers. Please join and support winter trail grooming. Go to jnski.org for more information and for up to the minute trail grooming reports.

Peterson Creek Trail —This trail is challenging at first but then opens up into nice meadows and finally leads to the USFS Peterson Creek cabin. You can drop your overnight pack at the cabin after skiing up the trail in the morning and then spend the afternoon exploring the Auke Mountain/Spaulding meadow area in the woods andmeadows above the cabin.

Auke Mountain meadows heading down towards Peterson Lake

Spaulding Meadows —Hike up the Spaulding Trail a few miles, then put on your nordic skis and spend the day in cross country heaven with rolling meadows surrounded by mountain views. I recommend hiking up and down the trail which can be steep and narrow in spots. You can try going up the Muir Cabin trail, which branches off the Spaulding Trail about one mile up. This leads to meadows which are closer to Auke Mountain.You can make a loop by skiing out Peterson Creek trail (a very full day). Lake Creek trail is another way to access Spaulding Meadows, but this trail is maintained and used by the local snowmachine club, so be aware of motorized traffic on the trail and move out of the way of snowmachines as they pass.

Spaulding Meadows is the most beautiful place in the world to cross country ski

There are many more trails to explore and enjoy in Juneau. Keep in mind avalanche safety when you venture on the slopes. I strongly suggest that you avoid the Perseverance /Granite Creek Trail area during the winter, as well as the Sheep Creek valley area, unless you are educated and properly equipped to properly assess and deal with hazardous snow conditions.

The City and Borough of Juneau provides an Urban Avalanche Advisory can be found at www.juneau.org/avalanche  This Web site targets the Mt. Juneau urban avalanche zones but is a useful reference for general avalanche danger in the Juneau area.

Sweet dreams and safe skiing!

Thank You, 2012.

Thank you, 2012. It was a wonderful year.

The ski touring in Spaulding Meadows was exceptionally good last winter

We started the year by skiing and skiing and skiing some more. The Eaglecrest lower loop cross country trail held together well into the spring, and I skied a full loop over the entire trail as late as May 17. The mountain was even more amazing. A friend and I skied from the top of the East ridge all the way to the base of Ptarmigan chair in soft spring snow on June 6.  There was so much snow that in January I did my all-time favorite nighttime cross country ski trip on my beater waxless skis, skiing from the door of my house, down the unplowed street about a ½ mile, and then to the end of the Airport Dike Trail in a blizzard.

Night skiing on the Mendenhall Refuge by the airport

When the snow finally started to melt off of the trails, I started hiking. Some people claim it was a particularly wet, rainy summer. I guess it did rain a bit at the beginning. I remember starting out slow, with short hikes to Point Bridget and the Salmon Creek dam in rain gear and rubber boots. Once I got used to the idea that it was o.k. to be out in the rain and that I wasn’t going to melt, I became bolder and went for longer outings in my waterproof gear, including several loops from Spaulding trail over to the Muir cabin.

Wet stairs on the hill climb to the Salmon Creek dam

We started getting some breaks and I was ready. We celebrated the first dry day of summer with a Mt. Juneau ridge hike, glissading off the ridge into Granite Creek in a personal record-breaking time, and then slogging out through knee deep snow down to Perseverance Trail. When Scott made the mistake of leaving town for a few days on business, I took off for a solo Gastineau-Roberts-Sheep traverse, again traveling so fast over the snowpack on the ridge that it felt more like a short, easy day hike than a 12 mile mountain ridge route. Then I started getting more ideas for hikes.

Firm snow along the Juneau ridge made for fast hiking in June

I ran up Sheep Creek trail to the summit of the Powerline Ridge and peeked over into the Sheep Fork valley and up at Hawthorne Peak, filing away plans for future adventures. We had a beautiful day up on the Grandchild Peaks with a friend, and thanks to the snow we were able to get all the way around to the highest point along the ridge. Mt. McGinnis was next on the list, although we almost didn’t get started due to the fog and clouds. But we went anyway and got so close to a group of mountain goats near the summit we could have hit them with a pebble.

This mountain goat didn't seem to mind while we took his picture

Another favorite summer hike is Mt. Jumbo. We used to do it every 4^th of July, followed by partying with the crowds in Douglas. This year I went near the end of July and was amazed to find myself mostly alone on the mountain on a beautiful, sunny day.

Looking at Juneau from the summit of Mount Jumbo

We took a business trip to Utah in August and hiked up hot, dry mountain trails that started at 7,000’ and left us gasping for air and water. When we returned to Juneau, a chance encounter with a friend led to a crazy adventure the very next day scrambling almost 5,000’ up a virtually unmarked route through thick brush and steep slopes to the summit of Mt. Bullard.

A crazy hike with crazy people on Mt. Bullard

I felt the short summer season closing in at the end of August and decided to go for one more classic ridge hike. We picked an epic traverse on a blue sky day – hiking up Blackerby Ridge, over Cairn and Observation Peaks to the Mt. Juneau ridge, then out Granite Creek and Perseverance trail, almost 17 miles and over 8,000’ of total elevation gain.

Observation Peak

I think that one finally did me in, as I came down with the crud that was making its way around town and I felt sick with a bad cough for a few weeks after that. But I rallied for a hike with Scott up Twin Summit Ridge on the last day of summer to celebrate our wedding anniversary.

Twin Summit Ridge

We returned from our annual fall vacation a few days early thanks to Hurricane Sandy. That gave us the perfect opportunity to take advantage of a cold, sunny day. We quickly put together a plan to go up Spaulding trail, across the length of Spaulding Meadows, and out the Montana Creek trail as a final note to a busy hiking season.

Looking at Windfall Lake from the far end of Spaulding Meadows

2012 ended exactly the way it started, because five days after our late October hike, I started skiing and haven’t stopped since then. I skied especially hard the past few days, carving turns on my fat boards in the fresh, deep snow in the mornings and hitting the cross country trails for an afternoon workout, until finally my legs gave out and demanded a day off.

Floating through new, soft snow on the west side of Eaglecrest

So I’m starting the New Year by enjoying a day of rest, and dreaming of new adventures in 2013. I am extremely grateful for my health, my family, my friends, and for this beautiful place that I am lucky enough to call home. Here’s to a safe, healthy, Happy New Year to all!