Bubo scandiacus

Got hypnotized by this Snowy Owl last weekend at the Anchorage Museum of Natural Science.

dreaming

I'm thinking seriously about cycling 853 miles from Deadhorse to Anchorage this summer.

under pressure

A high pressure system has been sitting on Anchorage for over a week now, providing calm weather, blue skies, bright sunshine, no new snow, and bitter cold temperatures.  I've been walking to work everyday in -5°F to -10°F temperatures.  After three weeks of physical therapy, my knee is healing well, and I'm going to try some easy skiing this Saturday.  I'm hoping for a good sunny weekend to get my legs back under me, and then a huge, monstrous, mind-bending powder dump.

fat bikes

 Last weekend I rented a Salsa Mukluk fat-tire snow bike, and spent a few days cruising around on the local mountain bike trails - about 5 hrs of riding spread over 3 days.  Snow bikes have gained a lot of popularity in Anchorage over the last couple years. and with good reason.  These bikes have special frames that accommodate ~3.8" tires running ~5psi of pressure, allowing the rider to float over soft snow.  Most of the Anchorage's mountain bike trails get ridden hard enough by locals that the snow gets packed down into a ~12-18" wide path that flows well and can be a lot of fun to ride.  Generally done at relatively slow speeds, snow biking requires excellent balance.  If your front tire wavers more than an inch or two from the packed trail, it sinks like a rock two or three feet into the soft snow, and the rider goes down fairly quickly.  It isn't easy to get back up either, which can make snow biking pretty miserable in less-than-optimal trail conditions.  Of the three days I rode last weekend, the first day was miserable, and then the second two days were awesome.

 I went out with my buddy Ben for a few hours of snow riding around the Campbell Track airstrip.
The temperature was reported to be -15°F.  It was really cold, so we pedaled hard to keep warm.

We got there right as a snow bike race was ending.  The racecourse we packed down and really fast.

I'm not biting the bullet yet to buy a snow bike, but I just might have to add one to my stable next winter.

steel is real

Two weeks ago I dropped by Anchorage's local bike co-op for an afternoon to start overhauling my old 1977 Raleigh Grand Prix.  Stripping the frame bare, I discovered a number of problems, including rust inside the frame and heavy pitting under the bottom bracket that make the old frame a bit sketchy to overhaul and restore.  A few days later, someone donated this 64cm 1984 Trek 610, and I have decided to claim it as my own.  The wheels and tires were toast, and there a few dings and scratches on the frame, but it still has the original Shimano 600 groupset, which is really exciting.  Everything is straight and true, and my Ultegra/Open-Pro wheelset fits perfectly in the dropouts.  With Reynolds 531CS tubing, the new bike is surprisingly light.  The only bummer is that I have to wait four more months to see how it rides.

 (1984 brochure image is from http://vintage-trek.com/ )

clockwork

“My approach is the opposite tack to simplifying the science,” says  Drew Berry. “Rather than dumbing it down, I set out to show the audience exactly what the scientists are talking about. By building accurate visualizations founded on real scientific data, the animations come alive of their own accord, engage the audience, and go a long way towards explaining what the science is about. The science is rich, detailed and fascinating, and if you can watch it in action you will intuitively get to know how it works.”

Magnum 12.30.11

With blue skies, sunshine, deep snow, and low avalanche dager, yesterday was a magnificent day.

The temperature was -1°F when traveling in direct sunlight, dropping down to -10°F in the shadows. 

We took an early run off the south flank of Magnum, carving through the deepest snow of the season.  Next we climbed in shadow up the headwall between Magnum and Corn Biscuit, fighting the bitter cold.  From the saddle, we ditched skis and booted along a knife-edge ridge, wishing we had brought ice axes, in search of south-facing opportunities off the peak.  Each of us chose chute and dropped in.

We each dropped in off the ridge and threaded a narrow lines between the rocks.

With each turn, a critical wedge of snow accumulates and then engulfs the skis.

They are agents of erosion, rhythmically creating their own mass wasting events.

The skier just holds on for the ride.

Jump-turns lead to parallel turns, and when the slope opens up, the telemark turn gets its chance to shine, cutting wide fresh arcs across the open slope as clouds of powder billow up overhead. 

This is as good as it gets.

Unfortunately, about ten minutes after this video was taken the sun abruptly disappeared behind a wall of clouds, sending our whole world into imperceptible shades of grey.  The light was so bad we couldn't tell up from down, or fresh snow from tracked snow.  Skiing back towards the car, I got disoriented in the flat light, lost my balance, fell awkwardly, and sprained my left knee.  My doctor checked it out this morning, and there are no tears or fractures, but I'm off skis for a few weeks while the knee repairs itself.  Luckily I just started a total overhaul of my vintage steel road bike, so for the next few weeks I'll be sandblasting, painting, degreasing, re-assembling, and tuning up my machine for next summer.  I have faith that this knee injury won't take too long to heal.
I hope to be skiing again by the end of January.