Some of our favorite death marches included at least two modes of travel. Maybe boating/hiking or hiking/skiing or even better would be biking/hiking/skiing.
Abe and I set out on many such combination trips. One of the more outright dangerous trips was when we biked back Power line Pass with skis on our backpacks to climb and ski the north facing coulior on Ptarmigan Peak. It only took about an hour to reach the base of the climb. Abe was classic in that gear was usually falling apart or inadequate in general. This being the case when his backpack strap broke soon into our steep climb. So he had to carry his skis on his shoulder. And for some reason he was climbing in his little biking shoes as well.
A couple of weeks earlier a group of university students had a horrendous fall down the very same route. They were all roped together and when one fell, he pulled the rest off like Velcro. So we were here not die specifically and to ski a prized line in general.
The coulior climbs straight for a while then half way up it makes a hard dog leg left, so the entire upper part of the run is over 1000 foot cliffs. When you boot pack straight up something steep it can be relatively easy as long as you don’t look down and as long as you make it to the top so you can easily put your skis on.
The upper half was steep and we persevered to the summit free solo style. Because it was the summer time, the snow was thick and sludge like and it made deep runnels down the fall line, like a very steep river. On the way down we were on the skiers right side of the snow river that was about four feet deep by four feet wide. It came to the point where the river was cascading off the 1000 foot cliffs and we had to jump across. If the snow catches even the tiniest bit of your skis it will suck you in and pull you to certain death.
We turned and jumped one at a time and cruised down the safe lower slopes, conquering another mountain.
The next day we set our sights on a new adventure. The plan was to bike through Crow Pass from Girdwood to Eagle River. The route goes for 27 miles. The first 3 miles climb up 3000ft right to the pass and we planned on pushing our bikes at least this distance. From the pass it descends roughly 2500 feet down to the head-waters of the Eagle River over 12 miles. From the river crossing you follow the river course for 15 miles on flat terrain to the visitor center. We figured we could bike at least 20 miles of the route and still be fresh enough to finish the epic loop by biking 20 miles south to Anchorage and then the final 35 mile push back to Girdwood.
It would be roughly 85 miles of travel for the day but we were up to it. You build momentum from trip to trip as you constantly get stronger and gain experience.
We gained the pass in an hour and we were excited because in theory, it was all down hill from there. Right off the pass it was a bit too steep to bike so we kept walking. Down in the vegetation again and the trail was rocky and rooty. We were able to bike for maybe 50 yards at a time, then more walking.
The river crossing was deep and cold. The river flows out of the frigid Eagle Lake that is ringed by 7000 foot glaciated mountains and icebergs float around. After we negotiated the river we thought the going would get easier. It got harder. It seems that the water was high everywhere. The trail at this point is braided and disappears in a maze of swamp and oxbow ponds. We had to carry our bikes overhead and wade through waist deep water for another 5 miles. The final stretch to the visitor center was brutal. There were too many roots across the trail to really pedal efficiently. By the time we got to pavement 12 hours had passed and we were beat. The next 8 miles of pavement were all right but we were done for the day. Wet and exhausted, we called for a ride home.
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