Alyeska Ski Vacation

I have heard about Alyeska for years since my aunt and uncle and their family have spent some time here, so when airline prices went up, up, up, our vacation to Colorado got shelved in favor of something closer to home. Doug and the kids had never downhill skied or snowboarded before, but the kids were enthusiastic about a ski vacation, so we set up a 4-day trip to Alyeska.

Alyeska is located in Girdwood, which is about 30 minutes south of Anchorage on the Turnagain Arm off Cook Inlet. The top of the mountain, at 3,939 feet, gets 635 inches of snow each year, while the base gets, on average, 197 inches. We are used to having more snow where we live east of Homer than just about anywhere else we visit on the Kenai Peninsula, but they do have more snow in Girdwood than we do at home, and it felt like a truly beautiful fairyland driving the streets of the village, with lamplight shining on snow-laden spruce trees and the snowbanks piled high.

Day 1: Douglas and Aurora took snowboarding lessons, Denver took alpine lessons, and I bopped around and got a feel for the lay of things. I have my own skis that a friend gave me (thanks, Lorraine!), and my lift tickets came with the room, so I was free to ski all I wanted. It had been 18 years almost to the day that I last downhill skied in Colorado at Keystone, but the snowplow turn felt like second nature despite all those years. I was still a bit tentative on the green (easy) slopes, but enjoyed the long, gradual Blueberry Hill and Sitzmark runs. After a couple runs, I decided to take the tram to the top of Mt. Alyeska. It was a cloudy, overcast day, but just a few hundred feet up we went through the clouds and broke out into the glorious sunshine which you see in the picture above. It was a different world up there, and though Turnagain Arm was covered with clouds, the mountains all around the Arm soared up, creating a stunning vista. It is above treeline, so it was all snow, snow and more snow. It made me kind of nervous thinking about skiing down it since I could see just how far I had to go. I was used to Keystone (the only other place I'd ever downhill skied), where it was 4 miles from the top to bottom and there were plenty of trees to break things up. I took the tram back down, feeling slightly embarrassed to be carrying my skis back down the mountain rather than skiing it.

Day 2: Douglas and Aurora took the Level II snowboarding lessons, and Denver and I hit the easy slopes. After 2 runs down, Denver beat me to the bottom every single time. Picture what the alpine ski racers look like, crouched down in a tuck and on a single-minded focus to get to the bottom of that mountain as fast as possible. That's exactly what Denver looked like in his cute blue snowsuit that is patched up with duct tape. "No fear" comes to mind as I watched him, and my mother instincts on one hand wanted to yell at him "Stay in control!" every single run, while on the other hand I wanted him to feel the confidence and joy of skiing well, which he was. Three hours of skiing tuckered us out so we were ready to hit the hot tub. Meanwhile, Aurora and Douglas learned the "S" turn on their snowboards, each of them at one of the two "Magic Carpets"--conveyor belts that take beginning skiers and snowboarders to the top of their practice area.

Day 3: Douglas and Aurora practiced their snowboarding technique for a couple hours. In the afternoon I took Aurora down the Blueberry Hill run, and was totally impressed by how well she did. Day 1 saw her falling a lot, but she managed a decent sized hill 2 out of 4 times without falling. Again, my mother instincts were to be protective and "Oh my gosh, she's going to fall!" but Aurora popped right back up again and on she went. Since I know nothing about snowboarding, all I would be able to do is help her up anyways, so I was really hoping she knew what she was doing. I am in awe of that girl, though!
Douglas didn't feel like attempting a bigger hill on his board, so he watched each of the kids as I took the other out. Denver was a kamikaze skier again today. More awe on my part. Never mind that he's only skied a couple times--I was learning from him! He has naturally great technique and got the telemark turn down pat. How does he manage to be so good? I am jealous! I think part of it is just that lack of fear that I once had--and that got me in plenty of scrapes.
The big accomplishment of the day was by ME! I took the tram up to the top first thing when the slopes opened at 10:30, determined to ski down. There is a blue star route--one level above the green easy slopes--that goes from the tram on down to the bottom. Since I learned to ski when my boyfriend at the time took me to the top of Keystone and said, "Ski down," I figured that I should be able to ski an easy slope. I hardly got a wink of sleep last night I was so keyed up about it. It was one of those things I wanted to do simply because I feared doing it. I am a firm believer in "Feel the fear and do it anyways." So, I felt the fear and did it anyways, and I am here writing about it, so I obviously survived!
There were a few major challenges for me on this run down Main Street, The Weir, Ego Flats, Cork Screw, Switchback, Klondike and Cabbage Patch. First of all, I was the first one down the slope that day! All the other people who had gotten out of the tram took the more difficult runs, so here I was, trying to figure out where the runs went in fresh, ungroomed snow. It would be one thing if I were an experienced skier, but I am not. When I last skied I was with someone who told me where to go, what to do, etc. I just had to ski. This time I was all by myself with no one to guide me. In one place I followed the sign that said "Switchback", but it appeared to be pointing in a narrow trail through the woods. That didn't seem right, so I skied back out of the woods, and further down I saw my turn.
My second challenge was that my legs got incredibly tired. I was using way more energy than one needs to, partly because I was so tense and partly because my technique was terrible. So by the time I got down to the Klondike, my quads were shaking from fatigue, and the final run, the Cabbage Patch, was the steepest part of the whole run. Well, I made it down to the Day Lodge in 17 minutes from the time I started, and let me tell you, it was the longest 17 minutes I've been through in quite awhile. Denver was raring to go when I finally found him, so I managed another 3 hours of skiing for him before I begged off to head to the hot tub.

There were no lines at the lifts, the slopes weren't very crowded, the weather was perfect, the staff were nice, and besides Chair #3 on the easy slopes breaking down for an hour on Day 2 (very frustrating for Denver), it was a good skiing/boarding experience. Aurora is now plotting how she can earn money to buy a snowboard, and Doug thinks he'll actually "ride" again sometime. Alyeska Resort is at the base of the tram and Chair #7 which takes one over to the main slopes. The beds and pillows are immensely comfortable, which is not something to take lightly! The hot tub is delightfully huge, and the pool is nice. There is a beautiful, posh exercise room which I was too tired to check out, but which tempted me each day. The greatest disappointment was that the resort advertises a skating pond right outside, but they weren't maintaining it, so we'd hauled our ice skates here for naught. There are also cross-country ski and snowshoeing trails all around (50 kilometers worth!), but again, I was too tired after skiing the slopes to torture myself like that!

Overall, this was a nice, comfortable vacation, and was less than the price of 2 plane tickets to the Lower 48. We were each happy with what we did, and we're already trying to figure out when we're going to come back again.

Hitting the Wall

Huh? You ask. Am I playing too much raquetball, or skiing till I drop? Nope. Let me explain.

As the days have been growing darker and darker and our daylight has dwindled to about 6 hours, I have been cruising along happily, so impressed with how well I was dealing with it. "Gee, what's the big deal about it being dark in Alaska? No problem." I've even considered blogging about how much I like the darkness: it is comforting like a blanket in a way, surrounding me. Well, last week I "hit the wall." The lack of light finally started to bug me--really bug me. It might have been the rain we had last week. The roads were icy, icy, icy and the snow wasn't that great for skiing. I got to the gym most days and ate pretty well--just a handful of potato chips each night. But I didn't spend any time outside, and I think that's what did me in.

I blogged about the lack of sunlight last year, but I think it may be something I revisit each year--as many Alaskans do. Everyone is affected, though some more than others. Even people who have lived here all their lives notice it. A key factor is sunshine. The sun has been hiding for weeks it seems, besides the weak (though beautiful) light of sunrises or sunsets. I recall noticing the darkness in Marquette, Michigan one winter (and moved to Arizona after that winter!!) simply because the sun never came out. The lack of light is not just an issue in Alaska; many people in the Lower 48 deal with it as well, as I did that one winter in Michigan. But it is more pronounced here--and in some places in Alaska much more than others.

What "hitting the wall"has reminded me is that I really have to take care of myself...and I really need to get outside to catch what rays there might be. It takes a conscious effort to stay sane and stay happy in Alaska, but it can be done. This was my wake-up call!

Driving East End Road

As one leaves Homer and heads down East End Road, the world changes from that of cityscape to that of glorious panarama. Even after a year and a half of driving the 20 miles to town, I still notice and feel the transition to another world as the road climbs higher, narrows and winds around canyons.
If you go far enough, the narrow, frost-heaved road turns to gravel and you enter the Russian village of Voznesenka. And if you are daring and continue on, the road narrows even more down what the locals call "the switchbacks" which lead to the "Head of the Bay"--the mud flats at the head of Kachemak Bay. If you were to make your way past a no tresspassing sign up that way, you might feel transported to another country as you enter Kachemak Selo, one of the trio of Russian villages at the Head of the Bay. The dirt lanes and fences separate homes, children play in the dirt and 4-wheelers roar by.

Most days we drive the relatively tame but still beautiful East End Road out of Homer. The sense of neighborliness and courtesy on the road is not dead. When I get behind a slower-moving car, I sigh and sink into my seat and remind myself to enjoy the scenery (if it's light out!). Yet just a day ago two cars pulled off and let me pass--just me, and no other cars behind me. This is not an uncommon courtesy; it seems to happen at least once a week . It still startles me. Yet when I am the one going slower, I will pull off as well--following the example of my courteous neighbors on East End Road.

My favorite pasttime while driving East End Road is to pull out my camera and take pictures of the awesome beauty! Needless to say, this is a dangerous enterprise since I'm usually driving, or I stop in the middle of the road. When the section of road you see here is covered with snow or ice, it quickly becomes treacherous. But I am irresistibly drawn to take pictures so I can share the changing moods of Kachemak Bay, the Kenai Mountain Range, the glaciers. Just over these mountains is the Harding Icefield, the largest icefield entirely in the U.S. I dream of flying over it, of hiking it, of exploring it as I drive this road.

If you Google "East End Road Homer Alaska", you will learn of homes for sale and of local murders. But there is much more to this road than can be summed up in a map. Locals like to tell stories of only 10 years ago when the paved road ended at McNeil Canyon School at Mile 12, and one had to take a 4-wheeler or snowmobile to the villages. Now the pavement extends all the way to Mile 20 or so. The road was inaccessible--or nearly so--in the spring with the frost heaves. The grandfather of our landlord helped build this road. The father of our landlord drove down the mud flats to Homer once a year to get supplies--the only time they would get to town.
I find a mystique in driving East End Road. We have been contemplating "moving to town," but the thought hurts each of us in a different way. I would miss a 30+ minute commute over--I will say it--one of the most beautiful places on earth. I don't say that lightly. There are many glorious places on this earth, but something about the Homer area has lodged itself inside us like a shard of glass--or a magnet. Even if we leave, it will always be there, drawing us back.

The B&G: Adding to the Quality of Life

This unassuming building holds a quality of life issue for us: the Boys & Girls Club of Homer provides after-school care for kids every school day plus summers for only $20 per child per year. It is the old middle school, and has an art/music room, computer lab, homework corner, gym and kitchen. Staff plan activities in each of the areas daily. And each day they serve a substantial snack to the 30-50 (a very rough guess!) kids that visit.

Quality after school care is an important consideration for people who work, and we feel very blessed to have a "B&G" in Homer. Our kids ride the bus 14 miles from their elementary school in Fritz Creek into town (free--it's part of the route), and can have fun running around the gym, doing homework, chatting with friends or whatever suits their fancy till 6 p.m. It is a relief for us to have someplace our kids can go when we're working or in meetings. Plus, having them get a ride into town from school is an added benefit.

The Borough owns this building and wants to sell it to Kachemak Bay Campus for $1 (the college holds classes upstairs). However, the problem is that it is an old building with asbestos, and some major repairs are needed. No one wants to take over a potential money drain like this. Burning the place down for fire crew practice has even been considered (after the abestos has been removed, of course). It is a dilemma, and it sure makes me wonder what's going to happen to all the kids who come here. Many parents cannot (or would not care to) afford child care, daycare providers are scarce, there are not many alternate buildings for the B&G to occupy, and budget cuts have already cut the hours provided.

Despite these woes, the B&G's doors stay open, and we fully appreciate each time our kids have a safe, fun, comfortable place to go after school. Having a Boys & Girls Club in Homer has definitely added to the quality of our lives here, and we certainly hope it will continue to be able to provide this valuable service.

The Glory of Sunsets!

I have always kind of pooh-poohed those who go ga-ga over sunsets (boy, that sounds really juvenile. I can't believe I wrote that, but I'm going to let it stand.), but the past few weeks have offered sunset after sunset that I have just sighed and gone "Woooooooow." Santa came early to our home last week when Douglas returned from Anchorage, and the new camera (to replace the one we lost while hiking in Kenai in August) is quite portable, so I took it out with me as I skiied, sledded and drove around this week. Enjoy a couple of shots.

Gas Price Woes

We're all relieved that gas prices are going down (besides the oil moguls), but now the injustice of it all seems to hit. Gas prices were 35 cents per gallon lower in Anchorage than Homer last week, and from what I hear prices are at least a dollar per gallon lower in the Lower 48. Considering we get our fuel from an oil refinery just up Cook Inlet (Nikiski), it seems like our fuel prices ought to be lower than elsewhere. It's a quick boat ride from Nikiski to Homer, while most states in the U.S. don't even have a refinery in state.

Rumblings are that Tesoro is recouping losses elsewhere by keeping Alaska gas prices abnormally high. In most places in the state (Anchorage excluded), Tesoro is the only gas station available. That monopoly allows them to charge what they like for gas, and we have to take it since we have no choice. Obviously, the competition in Anchorage has driven prices down to a somewhat less inflated cost.

So while I am delighted gas is no longer $5.00 gallon (it was pretty darn close, but I stopped looking after it hit $4.50/gallon), of course $2/gallon would be much easier on my wallet! To all those down yonder: count your blessings!

On Becoming a Good Cook...in Alaska

If anyone had told me I would be writing about becoming a good cook 25 years ago when I chose woodworking class instead of home economics in middle school, I would have thought them completely crazy. I was the person who ate ramen noodles raw (uncooked!) because I was too lazy to cook them. I now live in rural Alaska where one needs to cook if one is to be healthy and not spend a fortune on processed food from the store. Here is my journey to this point where I now consider cooking one of my hobbies, and what role living in Alaska has played in that transformation.

"You're a good cook!" is a phrase I now hear regularly when people come to visit and I get to feed them, but it is a title that I am uncomfortable with. It doesn't quite fit how I see myself, though it is definitely something I want to be. I guess if enough people tell me that, I might start believing them. However, it comes down to one's taste, and that is one of the first things I have learned.

When I look through recipe books now, I no longer assume that just because someone else says something is divine that our family will find it so. In fact, I find some cookbooks next to useless because they are filled with things that we would not like, or even if we would like, I do not care to prepare. I always thought the problem was me, but my growing awareness of and experiments with food have taught me that there are just some foods that do not appeal to our taste buds. Rather than being upset with my family for not liking a food, I make note in the cookbook and do not make it again, moving on to another recipe that we might like.

A few things set me on the trajectory of cooking more. The first was a well-supplied kitchen. I will admit it, I am cheap. The pots and pans in our kitchen are all wedding presents from 15 years ago or hand-me-downs from someone else's kitchen. We invest in a cheap teflon frypan every year or two, and that has been the extent of acquiring anything in the kitchen. When we moved to Alaska we lived with the people we were renting from for 2 1/2 months. Along with seeing someone else cook, I inherited their kitchen supplies. It was an eye-opener for me to realize how useful some things could be. For example, a wire rack is called for in cooling baked goods. I doubt I ever would have bought a wire rack for myself, but now I find myself pulling it out several days a week! Or how about the joy of drinking from glass glasses instead of plastic cups covered with scratches and cracks? Juice tastes clearer and colder when drunk from glass, and is worth it for the pleasure it brings. Serving dishes and serving spoons always seemed excessive wastes to me: "Plop the pot down on the table and eat up" was my attitude. But again, I feel better about eating and enjoy the experience when it is nicely arranged, so I began to use the serving dishes our landlord had in their cupboards.

Filling our freezer with meat--moose, beef, salmon, halibut & clams--was the next impulsion to learn to cook better. I doubt I'd cooked more than one steak in my whole life before coming to Alaska. Ground beef and boneless, skinless chicken breasts were my forte. Being given all this meat meant I had to cook it! Google saved me! Every time I pulled a package of meat out of the freezer I would run to my computer and figure out what to do with it! Brisket, t-bone, top sirloin, roasts were all strange words to me. Marinade?? Rub?? Huh? It has been a learning curve trying out different recipes to find what we like--and what cooks the way the recipes says it should! I have always been the type who wanted my meat charred or I wouldn't touch it. I have discovered that meat is better with a little pink inside, and I've coached my hubby in grilling it right so that it is more edible--actually, a delight--to eat. I regularly use my herbs and spices now...and use them up! Just a year ago I didn't even use them, much less how to!

The desire to be healthy was the next impetus to learning to cook. My aunt and cousins are health food fanatics, as are a number of other people I have met up here, so it has provided a community of sorts to learn about how to eat good food. I have a hard time picturing eating in Michigan the way we eat here. It just doesn't fit somehow. Up here, it is not unusual to eat the product of a hunt, dig clams, fish, pick berries and all the other subsistence living activities that make for healthy eating. It is much more deliberate and conscious here: the more we put away, the healthier we will be. We barely touch the surface of subsistence living (it takes time, skill and special tools), yet we are part of the history of this place--the roots of life in Alaska--when we put things away for the winter. And we are all so conscious of the food we put into our bodies now. My husband, a lifetime McDonald's and soda addict, has given up both of those--a miracle I never thought I would live to see. We belong to an organic food co-op to take advantage of organic food at lower-than-local prices. Living in Alaska has changed the way we see and experience food.

The sometimes outrageous prices for food has led us to seek more economical means of feeding our family. Anchorage food prices are comparable to the Lower 48, but as you head south on the Kenai Peninsula, prices get more expensive. The same item in Homer could cost $1-$6 more than in Soldotna to the north. Buying in bulk has become a way of life to make up for the long periods between trips to Anchorage, so we learn to cook and eat what we have, becoming creative as we run out of things and anticipate the next trip to Costco. A week ago, all our meat was nearly gone (2 steaks and some ground moose left in the freezer!). We kept holding off getting groceries, knowing my husband was going to be in Anchorage this week to re-supply. It will be such a relief when he returns with the Durango loaded with food to last us till the next trip to Anchorage.

The long distance from restaurants has definitely made a difference in my motivation to cook. In Michigan if I didn't feel like cooking, we would just run to town and get some fast food. No sweat! With a 30 minute drive to Homer (more in the winter) and few restaurants that are open evenings, it is simpler and less time consuming to pull a steak out of the freezer and pop it on the grill. Actually, I have learned to think at least a day or two ahead, keeping a running menu in my head so I can thaw the appropriate vegetable or meat. I have thaw times down to a science, so I know exactly when to take something out of the freezer to have it thawed by time I'm ready to cook it. Meals are planned around my schedule, so if I'm not going to be home till late, dinner may be brisket, stroganoff, a roast, or stew in the crockpot. Days that I am home I can cook something that requires more prep time. Leftovers are coveted as we all negotiate who gets what for their lunches the next day.

Two attitudes had to change in order to overcome my dislike of cooking. The first attitude was my abhorrence for dirty dishes. I joke about when my husband and I were first out of college and we would go for 2 weeks without washing dishes (just wash enough to eat). We finally hired someone for $5/hour to come in and wash, dry and put away our dishes once a week, because by golly, I wasn't going to be one of those wimpy women who does all the cleaning and cooking. I no longer hoard my dishes, not wanting to dirty them. It makes cooking so much easier if I actually use what's there! Now we've got kids old enough to load and unload the dishwasher, and we've come to a fairly comfortable medium of who washes/cleans up.

The other attitude that had to change was this: I have always seen cooking as a subservient thing--a lower status--in the home. I've gotten over my control issues, image issues and low value issues, so cooking is now something I can truly enjoy--without the negative connotations. Now I can say, "I like to cook," and be proud of it rather than embarrassed at what someone might think. Of course, all the other factors above led to this. We're forced, in a way, to cook, so it was either change my attitude or be unhappy. Changing my attitude was easier than being unhappy in this case.

As I often say, not everyone in Alaska has the same experience I have had. Not everyone that moves up here becomes a good cook--or even cooks that much. But the special chemistry that has worked between me and Alaska has given me a new hobby that fills me with pleasure as I cook, eat, and feed my family well. It has become a labor of love. And my greatest joy of all is seeing my kids interested in cooking: trying experiments with food, making up recipes, tasting different spices, and sharing time in the kitchen as a family. What an awesome gift to give them: the love of preparing food.