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| Ketchikan, Alaska |
It feels good to be waking up early again. It's not that I haven't been up and at 'em in the last couple of years, but I certainly wasn't finding myself in the early morning darkness, skis underfoot with miles of future skin track ahead of me. After winters in Michigan, Florida, and a season on crutches, I fully expected this winter in Ketchikan to be yet another in my self-imposed dry spell. I stand corrected.
The Ketchikan area isn't known for its skiing. It's on a temperate island. The nearest lifts are hundreds of miles away. The mountains top out at 3,500 ft. and can require exhaustive bushwhacking approaches through muskeg and low brush. However, even the longest laundry list of cons can be navigated with the right people, and I've been fortunate to find other people in town willing to get after it (More importantly, I've found people willing to lend me the gear that I neglected to bring up here, skis included).
I'm reminded that there are classic lines that haven't been guide-booked and blogged about. All mountains have their own gems, sometimes buried deep within, and they all have lessons to teach. Maps are fun to look at, but contour lines are just lines until you've traced them with your feet.
I'm looking forward to tomorrow morning and another rad tour with Derek (
here's his blog) of his devising. I'll be posting the evidence here.
