1,108 miles so car. A short 70 mile day yesterday balanced out todays 136.5 miler. Wonderful stays in Jackson and Opelousas with Perry and Sarah. Rode the new bridge across the mississippi into new roads, a town that could use some stimulus. Continued my burger king trend on the last day of the cheap smoothie special. From there a long ride through sugar cane, rice and cotton growing on floodplains. 4 mile bridge crossing with no shoulders and a gnarly curb over the achalfalaya floodway. Jarring ride on louisiana side streets through opelousas.
Leaving opelousas chased by hippie dogs and a few big trucks. After a long ride on us 190 the road turned to us 12 and then texas 12 and then I 10. More rice fields, agriculture, oil fields then back to gulf fishing and resorts.
Perry and leps rescued house
Today I went crust skiing at Rainbow Ridge with FXC (shout out to alum Peter Leonard!). Not your typical skiing destination because this isn't around Anchorage.
Not Bend Oregon, but still not a bad sight for the end of May.
Eternal sun: It is around 6am at this point.
Unfortunately it wasn't sunny. Here's a big cornice that some of us tried to hit as a wind lip.
EDIT: Couple more pictures from facebook, courtesy of Ian Wilkinson
a bowl
6:30 am and before the clouds rolled in: really not a bad sight
I am back in Alaska where there is still an impressive amount of snow. Yesterday I went hiking up a mountain that was still about two thirds covered in snow and this morning I went for a ski at Hatcher's Pass. It was a little too mushy for good crust skiing, but it felt pretty cool to be back on skis in late May.
Last Friday the team got together to celebrate the end of the ski season, recognize the seniors, and hand out awards. It was a mild evening in the quiet of the Greylock Quad, and the grill was kept busy for several hours to meet the appetites of 40 hungry skiers. When it came time for Coaches Ed Grees (alpine) and Bud Fisher to hand out awards, summarize the season, and recognize the seniors there were as many big laughs as heartfelt speeches, with a smattering of tears on the side. . . .
BBQing in the Greylock Quad on a warm spring evening
the jokesters
Coach Fisher hands out academic awards
Coaches Grees (alpine) and Fisher hand out awards
Senior Erik Anderson
Senior Hannah Hausman
Senior Holly Whitney
Senior Dimitri Luthi
Dimitri receives a plaque and a trophy for the Ralph J. Townsend Award
By the time the ski season ended this year I was, unsurprisingly, ready for winter to start. So it was with high spirits that I shipped off to the southern hemisphere, arriving at the beginning of their fall. I packed flannel, warm pants, and even some ski gear in anticipation of cold weather running. I did not, however, check the weather before I left for Buenos Aires. Suffice it to say I was not prepared for the 90 degree heat that greeted me when I walked off the plane. A month and a half later, temperatures dropped to more reasonable temperatures in the 80's, but I was suffering due to the fact that I didn't bring any shorts . It only made sense, then, to go searching for Winter in a place I was sure would have snow, Patagonia.
I set off on my trip with high expectations of solo hiking, and the chance to spend some quality time with myself. After two days alone, I learned, shockingly, that I am not a solitary creature. It was very lucky, then, that I met up with ski team alum Sarah Tory for a couple of days of hiking around Mount Fitz Roy. Almost all the hiking was accessible right from El Chalten, so Sarah, her partner Alex, and I ended up pitching our tents at "la casa de Jesus", where a local resident reenacts the Stone Soup story every night. Mount Fitz Roy and some surrounding peaks
The hiking was spectacular, but we quickly learned that Patagonian weather is fickle, and cycles through a two hour sequence of sun, snow, sleet, and rain, with high winds throughout. The glacial lakes and jagged peaks, though, made the weather all worth it. After three days, I decided to leave El Chalten, and head over to Chile to do a longer hike, the "W" in Torres del Paine. I felt a little sad about doing my first big run/hike without Phil, but since he had other plans, I had no option but to attempt it alone. I'll spare everyone all the details of the hiking, but here are some of the more impressive sights.
The beginning, right off of the catamaran. Glaciar Grey Paine Grande
It snowed 30 centimeters the second night
On the last morning, I got up before the sunrise and hiked to the base of Las Torres, arguably the most famous view in Patagonia. Thanks to some incredible luck, we had blue skies for the whole sunrise.
Some of the world's hardest climbing
I also got an unbelievable view of the sun rising through the valley. Sequentially:
This winter three Alaskan alumni participated in their first 24 hour (+) races:
Fiona Worcester ('09, the author of this post) , David Hansen ('10), and Dylan Watts ('06).
In January, I completed the 100-mile Susitna 100 ski race, a backcountry race on snow machine trails that started across the bay from Anchorage at Point MacKenzie, and headed north for 53 miles before turning back. Eighty-three finishers biked, ran, and skied the race, and I was the 1st female skier, 4th female overall (3 female bikers beat me), and 4th skier (three male skiers beat me).
The race required bringing at least 15 pounds of gear, including 3000 calories of food, a sleeping pad, a sleeping bag, and a bivvy sack (and not including my water). The race also required a headlamp and a red blinker light, as about 12 hours of the race were in the middle of the night, and we needed to be visible to snowmachine patrollers. Rather than using a backpack, I elected to pull a sled, a homemade aluminum frame built on top of two kids' Fisher RCSs attached to me with a sanding pole and a waistblet. I also wore an insulated camelback and a front fanny pack, for quick access to clothing, food, and water, without removing my cumbersome sled. My focus was on the following: staying warm without sweating, staying hydrated and fed, and to not stop moving.
Me and my rig! My dad took this near the start.
Coming up on one of the male skiers (the trail was narrow).
The course follows the Iditarod Trail in places, and I encountered seven dogsled teams, some practicing for the 1049-mile saga to be held later that month. I also passed icefisherman, a few, sparse cabins, and skied on portions of the IronDog course, a famous Alaskan snowmachine race (Todd Palin has won it twice, I believe). The course was an out-and-back for the most part, with five checkpoints along the way, where we could rest, warmup (or dry out as the case may be), snack, and fill up on hot water.
Aid station
Mount Susitna: "the Sleeping Lady"
My favorite parts of the race were also some of the most lonely. At about 3:00am, I was traveling toward the dreaded "Dismal Swamp", a 7-mile stretch of wide open space in which you can see your destination, but you never have the sense of getting any closer. The stars were some of the brightest I had ever seen, and I turned off my music, imagining I could hear the Northern Lights that were dancing across the sky behind me, pointing me home. I could see Mount Susitna, "the Sleeping Lady" looming, backlit by constellations I should learn to keep me company on such lonely nights.
The view behind my sled back up the Susitna River
The last checkpoint of the course was a Mardi-Gras themed station where I dined on jumbalaya, served by the two motherly checkpoint workers. Unfortunately, upon awaking from my 15-minute nap (my only sleep during the race), I realized I had tweaked my left knee badly and I could barely put any weight on it. My pilot bindings had given out at mile 55, and, I must of caught my tip and twisted my leg while skiing tensely, trying to keep my skis from catching on the uneven trail. As dawn came, I left in temperatures just below zero, and double-poled the remaining 18 miles to the finish line.
I did not quite make my goal of 24 hours, finishing in 26 hours, 50 minutes. But there's always next year!
The sun rising as I doublepole/limp to the finish.
David Hansen and Dylan Watts competed in the SKAN 24, a 24-hour ski race held at Kincaid Park, in Anchorage, Alaska. The object is to complete as many laps of a 6.4km loop as possible in a 24-hour time frame. The race also included team events (with 2, 4, and 8-person teams) and 12-hour and 6-hour event, but the Williams boys decided to go the distance with 24-hour solo races!
David demolished the field, posting a record 37 laps in 24 hours, 22 minutes (if you start the last lap before the time is up, you may complete it). His total distance skied was 236.8 km, or 142 miles. These loops were not flat, and included some of the more difficult terrain at Kincaid!
I was out at the race supporting my East High Ski Team boys (they won the 8-man division, with a distance of 448 km [268 miles]) until I went to bed for the evening. They reported that David pretty much kept up the same steady pace throughout, not stopping often. Dylan Watts opted for a different strategy, stopping to rest and change clothes often, and even sleeping at times, but skiing quickly while on the course. Dylan was the second male solo finisher, with a total distance of 185.6km, or 112 miles.
Below is a piece done by a local news station; David is featured prominently. Hear his thoughts during the race! :)
