Issue link: https://bluemagazine.uberflip.com/i/26434
stormy weather blues and taking turns at experimental cooking. Jeff made chili con carne. Travis experimented with ice cream. Finally the sun broke through the thick weather. We quickly packed our supplies and made for a second, higher camp. We traversed up the base of the mountain until we found a large moraine that could serve as a natural avalanche barrier. We dug into the snow and domed out a sleeping space for three. As the sunlight hit the tips of the Kenai Mountains, then fell below the horizon, we sat inside the snow cave in a tight circle, sipping hot cocoa and planning what to ski first. Protected from the elements, we awoke the next morning well rested. But a moderate blizzard changed our plans, forcing us to take sanctuary in the snow caves for another two days. When the wind final ly blew the heavy clouds east, we stuffed our day packs with food, extra clothing, avalanche rescue gear and crampons and began to ascend the unnamed peaks above us. There were no snowcats, no helicopters, no chairlifts-just our breathing, the swish of our turns and the mountains. For a while our world became immeasurable. The Gulf of Alaska, visible to the south, met the horizon somewhere near infinity. A wide open play ground lay below us and we were the only ones there to play. During the following weeks we skied on and off, going to the cabin on stormy days for supplies. One day, the roar of a distant avalanche brought us back from our blissful gliding. The snow quality had changed and had become very unstable. It was no longer adhering to anything. Making it back to the safety of our knoll was scary enough. Stranded at the snow cave, we watched swathes of snow rip away from the face of the mountain and careen past us to the valley below. The rumbling sound w .as unnerving, the cascading force incredible. We had to keep reminding ourselves that we were in a protected place. We stayed in the snow cave for two days as the weather con- tinued to sour. When the storm finally broke and travel was reasonably safe, we made our way back to the cabin. The next morning we packed up, and headed out. As we sat on the shore, smiling huge grins and passing around big bottles of beer, we toasted the realization of our pipe dreams. The mountains we just left seemed so far away, as we cruised across Kachemak Bay back to Homer the next morning. The chances of us, or anybody else, skiing those lines ever again are slim. I felt fortunate to have snowboarded through such an enchanted realm. We came to Alaska to glissade through fresh powder down some of the most rugged mountains on earth-to lose ourselves in spontaneous moments of creative play. This we achieved. Photo by: Brian Litz www.atomicski.com