resurrection pass

Finally I made it to Anchorage for Thanksgiving! For years, Toby and Darcy have skied the 41 miles over Resurrection Pass on Thanksgiving weekend with good friends and a full holiday meal. This was my first time joining the tradition. Seven of us started out from Hope, three of us skied all the way across, two joined from Cooper Landing. The snow was sometimes thin, the downhills fast and scary. But the sun was out, the skiing was fast, and the food and company couldn't be beat.

snowgo

I'd been on a snowmachine exactly twice before I bought one this fall, on a whim, for $600. The first time was several years ago at Arctic Man, a Burning-Man-like gathering for slednecks in the middle of the Alaska Range. The event is centered around a race involving speed skiing and snowmachines, but basically people go to hang out, drink, and ride around on anything with an internal combustion engine. Tens of thousands of people camp out in a glacial valley without even a payphone in the summer. They ride snowmachines up a mountain to watch the race.
I went as a reporter with the News-Miner. The paper rented one snowmachine for me and John, the photographer, and since he had more experience, he drove. His response to any threat -- of bogging down in deep snow, mostly -- was to gun it. Knowing what I know now, his instinct or training was probably right, but at the time it seemed like a jerky ride. After tipping over repeatedly on overworn trails, I tried driving and promptly tipped us over, camera gear, notebooks and all. The thing I remember most was struggling to breathe with the air fouled by a thousand two-stroke engines. 
The second time was last winter, testing out my friend Mark's new-used Polaris. I took it up to 30 miles an hour, nervous as ruts in the snow tugged at the skis. Ian took it up to 60.
I still consider snowmachines kind of stupid, at least for recreation. Moving under your own power is more rewarding, and while it won't get you as far, certainly allows for a deeper appreciation of the landscape, without any of the smoke and noise. "I'm not usually like this!" I wanted to tell the one hiker we passed on the trail this weekend in the White Mountains. (Mark and Ian and I went about 25 miles on Saturday, out on a mixed-use trail from Wickersham Dome until the ruts and tussocks and slush made the riding less fun.)
So why do it? I guess to experience something that's such a big part of Alaska life, used for hunting, trapping, and travel. To open the door for new explorations, or at least gain the skills to make them possible. 
And, I'll admit, it's pretty darn fun.