Hatcher Pass: In the world of crust skiing

I couldn’t shake the mild feeling of incredulity as I loaded my skis into the car. I had just mowed the lawn the night before, and nature — and my brain along with it — had seemingly thrown the switch to summer.

I was off to Hatcher Pass for some crust skiing, the end-of-season gift available to cross country skiers when the snowpack has consolidated after numerous thawing and freezing cycles. I’ve been told that, if you catch it right — usually in the morning when it’s still cold and the snow is crusted over — it can be an incredible experience. Groomed trails are unnecessary, and huge areas are wide open to skate skiers. I had never gone before, and as the snow receded further up the mountains each day, it was now or never.

After a half-hour drive, I parked near the fee station below Independence Mine at about 8:00 am. There was one other car in the parking lot, but not a single person could be seen. The mountains glowed in the low-angle morning sun, and although snow was still winning the battle where I stood, large swatches of vegetation, dirt and rock prophesied its inevitable disappearance.

I put on my boots, which had gathered quite a bit of dust since their last use, and grabbed my skis and poles. I stepped on the snow and broke through to my knee, making me question if the crust would even support my distributed weight on skis.

My fears were unfounded. After popping into my bindings, the crust held easily, and I just stood there for a moment, marveling at the gorgeous view. The frozen snow glimmered in the sun and the sky sang in that deep blue that is only revealed in the mountains. Regardless of how the skiing would be, I was glad that I came, which always seems to be the case with Hatcher Pass.

The skiing was fantastic. In fact, this was easily my best skate skiing experience of the season. The snow was remarkably fast and by the time I turned off the established track and headed up an incline on a whim, I was hooked.

I paralleled the road to the mine on the east side, gaining elevation quickly and stopping more often than I would like to admit to catch my breath. I made my way onto a flat-ish shoulder, and enjoyed the gentle undulations of the terrain. Sweat rolled down my face despite the fact that I wore only a t-shirt and light pants — the low-30s temperature felt nothing short of warm.

I looped down towards the old mine buildings, the crust noisily sliding beneath my skis, and stopped in their midst to enjoy a moment of perfect quiet and solitude.

Some joyful birds interrupted the silence and a ground squirrel skittered along the top of the snow, frantically disappearing beneath one of the buildings. As the rising sun heated the snow, the crust began to melt and get a touch slushy, foreshadowing its end. I was thankful for that added bit of friction provided by the melting crust, however, as I careened down the hill back towards my car. The lack of metal edges on cross country skis and a personal disdain for snowplowing makes my descents look like awkward and ugly dances, typically laced with near falls and profanity. This one was no exception, and while I probably achieved a personal record time for this particular descent, I certainly would not win any awards for form.

We are on the tail end of the crust skiing season, but as I clicked off my skis, I knew that I would be returning in the next few days before the snow has been completely defeated by the oncoming warmth of summer.

As I walked across the still nearly empty parking lot to my car, I noticed Kikkan Randall’s not-so-subtle pink Subaru parked nearby. The Olympian was also out there somewhere enjoying the fleeting crust, undoubtedly with more grace and skill than I had demonstrated.

For more information about the world of crust skiing, check out Tim Kelley’s blog at crust.outlookalaska.com. There are many places to find crusty snow in Southcentral, but I would bet that none are better than Hatcher Pass.