The Skillet Glacier on Mount Moran is a coveted ski descent. It is hard to get to in the winter, yet it is a 6000 foot continuous descent beginning in a tight couloir almost at the summit of Mount Moran (12,605′). This defines aesthetics.
This Spring, Dan and I realized we would both be spending the summer in Jackson while working in Alaska for Alaska Mountaineering School. We also concurrently noted that there was lots and lots and lots of snow falling in the Tetons this Spring. So, naturally we figured it might be a perfect opportunity for a summertime Skillet descent. Somehow, despite working for the dark side (Exum), he still was able to get his act together to follow through with all the bar talk.
Alas, we found ourselves in a canoe- heading to Moran. We talked about getting up early. But thats about as far as we got with that plan. However, by six am we were rolling. We enjoyed a perfect 1300 foot run down from the Thumb to the base of the Skillet. The good skiing ended there. After slogging in the summer sun for another 4000+ feet, conditions were sloppy to say the least. It would have been the perfect opportunity for a canoe descent. Nonetheless, we had fun. It was a silly, sunny time until Dan got caught in a slough and lost a ski. After twenty minutes of probing the debris, he finally spotted it in a basin 500 feet below. Whew. That was close. We were psyched to be able to ski down to below 8000′ on a little channel of snow before having to pack the boots and skis for the final walk down to the boat. Upon arriving at the boat, we were greeted by some friendly fisherman who were happy to celebrate with us. Aaaaaah summer.
A good burger at Billy’s did the trick before I had to start packing for a 5 am start to guide Disappointment Peak the next day. They say if you never slow down, you’ll never grow old. I figure I’ll stay 16 forever. 
Women’s Rock Weekend was a hit. Hosted by International Mountain Climbing School, this event attracted women from all over to climb on North Conway’s granite cliffs. I showed up a bit early with Kirsten Kremer, a friend who was another guest guide for the event. We were lucky to get a few pitches in right away the afternoon we arrived. It was the next day, however, that we learned that its not all roses and peaches in North Conway. We had been for-warned about the bugs- we wore long pants in anticipation, but we did not suspect them to be quite so extreme. Noseeums are evil! It all starts out great. After a bit of getting our bearings, we head up the Prow of Cathedral. About half way up the route, however, it becomes clear that we have entered a battlefield. Apparently, one bites and draws blood. The scent of blood seems to call in every other noseeum for miles around until you have a layer of them feeding off of your poor, unsuspecting self. At the top, we discussed calling it a day, but on the way down, we found too many good cracks that we could not pass up. So alas, we lost the war and returned covered in big red welts.
The wounds turned out to be very convincing tools when explaining to our groups on Saturday morning that bug spray is essential. Luckily, the rain did not strike until everyone got to the top of at least one climb on Saturday. Then it came in hard turning our path into a river.
Saturday night turned out to be a rad party. The beer and wine were flowing and Kremer put on a slideshow that made us all want to set everything on fire. Sunday turned out to be another fine day despite the threat of more rain- we all got just enough climbing in and tons of bonding. Women who had never climbed before were tying there own knots and sending. Some women jugged there first pitch, others learned how to rescue themselves in the event of an accident. Nights were filled with wine and laughter. I wish it lasted a week.
There are a few things that keep me coming back to Alaska- but the one that I could not do without is the smell of sweet greenery when flying off a glacier after a couple weeks or more. As you slowly peel off hats and gloves and down jackets, your senses become overwhelmed by the smells of living earth. And they smell so much better than dirty socks! Necessarily though, submitting to dirty socks and the land of snow is a prerequisite. So, I was lucky to find some work in Talkeetna after skiing in Valdez for three weeks.
Alaska Mountaineering School hired me to take two brothers: Mark and Steve for a twelve day climbing adventure in Little Switzerland. We flew in after a storm deposited two feet of fresh snow and large cornices on all the North and East facing ridges. We quickly reviewed essential mountaineering skills: traveling roped on a glacier, digging pits, crevasse rescue, and anchor building. But the weather was too good so we set to climbing some of the safer classic routes in the area. I realized that I had a great team on my rope on the third day as we were approaching the summit of Little Arapile. We were situated just below a difficult rocky section. I asked them if they wanted to get gnarly and do some mixed climbing or if they wanted to head up the easier snow to the left. Mark looked at both options and just nodded his head towards the rock. So we went. And they sent.
We managed to all crawl on top of the tiny block of a summit and revel in the fabulous views of the Alaska Range before heading over to the Plunger for another radical ascent that day. Again, Mark and Steve, despite my doubts were eager to try a pitch of 5.9 rock in their plastic mountaineering boots- and we all sent! This set the mood for the trip, and we had many more excellent summits: Italy’s Boot, The Lost Marsupial, and the Hobbits Footstool. This is in addition to building some excellent emergency shelters and sending lots of overhanging seracs. We had just enough bad weather to truly appreciate all the great weather. The views took our breath away and instigated devious planning for future adventures. Mt. Russel, anyone?
