Spring of this year affords us a pleasantly unique combination in the four corners: near-record snowpack/coverage and a record low lake powell turned temporary river. The skirafter in me is incapable of ignoring such local liquid conveyance - off to the desert!
The plan involved a ski over the Abajo mountains and across the Dark Canyon Plateau to access the bottom of Cataract Canyon. We started up the snowpacked road in Monticello, but a doctor from Blanding gave us a lift up to the winter trailhead on his way to a midafternoon backcountry sledding break.
In the regional context of four corners mountain ranges, the Abajos are somewhat unremarkable to look at. What I wasn't prepared for was the caliber of long range views from them - Ship Rock, Chuskas, Sleeping Ute, La Plata, La Sals, Henrys, and even Aquarius, Southern Wasatch, Canyonlands and the Book Cliffs.
After receiving our required March dose of desert wind on the Abajos ridgeline traverse, we dropped onto the plateau and transitioned to boat sleds.
Trip Video (click to play)
About 50 miles of skiing delivered us to the first appealing crack in the Earth - Fable Valley.
Most of Fable is just over 6000' evelation, but in this year we were able to ski over half of it - supportable crust through a sage maze.
The severe drop from Fable Valley into Gypsum was a different story, but most of the snow was left behind at this point. I've never descended Gypsum canyon before - absolutely stunning with a spring drizzle and some light runoff, but the description of it as 'non-technical' was only technically correct.
The number and scope of the falls walk arounds in Gypsum is now the benchmark against which I will compare all other canyon routes.
At the risk of descending into a technical gear discussion, which is my nature, I still can't believe how far we as a community and sport have come over the past decade. Ignoring food, at this point my pack weighs about 35lbs with winter camping gear, ski and packraft kit.
This Paleozoic semi-jasper replaced coral has more patience for skiraft gear discussion than most.
Of particular interest on this route, in this year, in the context of a rapidly diminishing Lake Powell, is the re-emergence of rapids in lower Cataract. The rumors are true! Gypsum canyon is the only whitewater we'll have for 36 miles of river, though some interesting nick point / lake sediment incision features above and below the Dirty Devil are far from boring.
After surveying the headwaters of Dark Canyon by ski, its brown foamy waters are ready to burst into life sometime in the next few weeks.
The best thing to do on a long tiresome route like this one is to start your recovery before it's over. Hannah and Molly joined at the North Wash launch - the river has been incising so severely that even unloaded rafts would be a challenge to haul up to the lot from the river. A resupply of food and company was most welcome!
The original goal of this route was to link all the way through a ski traverse of the Henry mountains, but weather, snowpack and body+gear conditions all conspired to draw this one to an early close on the flank of Mt. Hillers.
While the main focus of my packrafting since 2017 has been technical whitewater, I have tried to not lose sight of the reason packrafting became a thing in the first place - exploring complex landscapes where paddling is a useful component, not necessarily the center piece. Starting in 2020 that original concept transformed from background inspiration into primary interest in the form of skirafting. My first skiraft trip, naturally, featured class IV packraft approach and exit to a Colorado Rockies wilderness ski adventure. On that trip the whitewater was more remarkable than the skiing, but the very best element wasn't any individual component but rather seeing so much varied landscape in combined fashion.
With that thread in mind, I've since pursued ski-packraft landscape traverses in Colorado, Utah, Arizona, Wyoming and Idaho. Heading up to Alaska was the next goal, and our first skiraft trip in the 2022 spring season focused on the Kenai mountains' Harding Icefield in south central Alaska.
The core of the Harding Icefield features several hundred square miles of ice and mostly easy travel - low gradient and few crevasses. However, gaining access to the Icefield is another story, now that the singular easy and convenient route - Exit Glacier - has degraded in recent years. On our north to south traverse of part of the Icefield we used packrafts for a lake crossing on the front end and an easy river exit on the back end.
A short crossing on Skilak Lake leads to a skirafter's convenience - a very short distance on trail between water and snowline over which we had to carry packraft and ski kits on our backs.
First camp above Skilak Lake
The small price for avoiding a cracked up glacier entrance is one steep pass and easy gliding for 20 miles through a precipitation-shadowed part of the Kenai mountains.
We gained the Harding Icefield via Iceberg lakes which delivers us straight to the accumulation zone on the Skilak Glacier, just above the higher gradient and cracked up mess of the lower glacier.
A short moraine descent delivers us to ice. After a few miles as a rope team it makes sense to blow up raft-sleds and travel unroped.
Ultralight equipment falls victim early on
Given the balance of carrying and towing packrafts over paddling them, it was convenient that our trip coincided with the release of Alpacka's newest boat, the Refuge. It's by far the lightest packraft they offer that features cargo fly storage and a whitewater deck. The lighter tube and floor construction held up just fine on ice snow and river, though one of the stern panels did get heavy rash from a ski edge on a descent. A smattering of other ultralight equipment across the camp-clothes-ski-paddle spectra all held up well aside from one snapped carbon ski pole. Aside from the Refuge, my stand-out gear selections for this type of trip were my Voile skis (Objective BC: ski mountaineering capable, light at 1.1kg and fishscales are very efficient on low angle terrain), Aquabound Whiskey (drops almost a pound off my breakdown Werner, and I still feel comfortable up to class III or IV), and the MSR reactor stove which is an absolute boss at fuel-efficient snow melting.
Trip Video (click to play)
Our original intention with the middle half of the trip was to go after some combination of side objective skiing and/or pushing far south on the Icefield to rivers like the Sheep or even the Wosnesenski. However, as we made progress over the first and second day on the Icefield itself in fair weather, the forecasts were deteriorating. We made the decision to pull off two more long ski days and descend towards the Fox River.
Stable weather persisted in advance of the incoming pacific storm, but a healthy marine influence edged in from the Resurrection Bay side, up to and over the crest of the Icefield.
towards the last pass before our descent, relying on compass/phone navigation
Fortunately the final pass before dropping onto the Chernoff Glacier was clear for the steeper packraft-sheparding descent.
Skating and gliding for 10 miles down the Chernoff Glacier was very simple and fast - even the toe had snow cover and no cracks. Between the end of the toe and the point where we thought we could start paddling was barely over a mile. However, the combination of complex terrain and brush meant that mile would take us almost the entirety of the next day.
My personal constraints on the trip had forced us into the very early end of the window to pull this trip off, and that finally took a toll in the form of low flows emanating from the glacier itself. We had to walk down river along braided bars for miles before enough flow from adjacent melted out boggy terrain yielded boatable flows.
For flatwater paddling, skis mounted along the side tubes is simple and works well enough. The refuge with its shorter length and narrower tubes is less willing to swallow skis inside the tubes like other packraft models can, so on trips with rapids (not this trip), I make sure my heels and toes can be removed (plates and inserts).
On roadside runs and on expeditions with heavy whitewater, we never compromise on safety gear: spare paddle(s), type V pfds, full drysuits, throw bags, whitewater helmets. However, as a packrafter it is tempting to at least have the conversation about bringing less-capable ultralight gear or even leaving some of it behind. It is not a universal opinion that I hold, but I do feel comfortable having those conversations with my team with the idea that overall kit weight and bulk is itself a safety consideration on long backcountry trips in environments that are potentially severe and are hard to extract from. When I consider a down-grade or eliminating a piece of safety equipment, I always critically evaluate the following: (1) Am I, or my teammember, paddling at least 1 or 2 grades below my capability (e.g. Class IV paddler in a Class II environment), (2) For each piece of gear (e.g. mountaineering helmet vs. whitewater helmet), what are the specific scenarios and potential consequences that come in to play for that specific gear item choice on our specific itinerary, and what is the risk of that happening on this trip, and (3) Is the weight savings advantage worth that gear downgrade?
Another strategy that I adopt when I'm evaluating safety gear choices for a trip is to look for reasons to bring that gear from a packrafter's perspective - can I come up with a secondary use to justify bringing it? For example, can a spare breakdown paddle be used to anchor a tent in the snow, or set up a pyramid shelter? Can a throw bag also play a role in a rope team crevasse rescue kit? Can I use pogies as ski mitts, or will my drysuit be useful as a camp layer in a downpour? Can a breakdown paddle shaft be used as a ski pole?
On this trip, after a conversation as outlined above, all four of us left behind helmets. Two of the four of us left behind a drysuit, and only three of four of us brought pfds. There were good justifications for bringing along what we did and for leaving what we did.
Onward. An absolutely stunning landscape with simple skiing and paddling in a complex landscape allows for the combined adventure of a lifetime. A week later Michael and I set out on our south to north skiraft traverse of the Talkeetna mountains (blog post incoming). Next year we set our sights on the Wrangell range - seemingly the ideal combination of big mountain environment surrounded by challenging whitewater.
