Cold snap nips toes but fails to cool heels on Bird Ridge

Brian Stoecker/Turnagain Times Brooke Pollock belies the bitter cold below the Bird Ridge.

Brian Stoecker/Turnagain Times While descending the frigid Bird Ridge, Brooke Pollock’s frosty lashes appear fit for the Christmas cover of Vogue. But unlike a model in Maybelline, Pollock’s mascara constituted 90 minutes of steaming sweat and frozen breath. During her ascent, the temperature fell to the negative double digits.

By Brian Stoecker
Turnagain Times Correspondent

It’s minus 7 in the Bird Ridge parking lot before noon, as the usual suspects straggle in for their weekly winter ascent. Tim and Yarrow hit the trail as Brooklyn Pollock waits for Beau. He arrives and they depart, soon after greeting the lone snowshoer. By design, they are getting a head start on the Big Dogs (Clint, Barney, Matt and others) so all may arrive at the 3,500 ft. summit in concert, 3.5 miles into Alaska’s latest cold snap.
With nary a cloud in the sky, the weather is bittersweet. Beautiful yet biting. A week earlier, at the onset of the big chill, with temperatures hovering in the low teens, some in the high-octane group hiked shirtless, describing the conditions as “perfect”. There is no such description or attire today.
Considering the cold, the hikers appear under dressed and ill prepared. Some have day packs with perhaps water, a windbreaker, extra gloves and a hat. Usually the pack is more for shedding clothes than hauling extra. They don’t wear boots, only winter running shoes with layers of socks. Some carry ski poles to aid in both climbing and descending, and the occasional glissade. There isn’t an avalanche beacon among them, however, they steer clear of the trouble spots. Usually. And though the group may be scattered across a mile of the ridge, none remain at large by the end of their two hour trek.
Ellen Brown, the snowshoer, is the matriarch of the ridge.
“I first hiked Bird Ridge in 1985, pregnant,” said Brown. She was 33 years old and has returned regularly ever since.
“In 2000 I discovered winter ascents. Now I prefer those to summer. It’s easier on my knees to descend on snow with snowshoes, rather than pounding the rocks,” she said.
A few years ago, renowned local mountain runner and Ironman, Jens Beck, suggested that it would be “cool” to have hiked the ridge on every calendar day. Brown isn’t obsessed with completing the quest, as she frequently ventures elsewhere in July and August. But she was curious enough to plot her climbs on a spreadsheet. She now has 361 ascents on 251 different days of the year.
Brown is the de facto mentor of 20 year old Pollock, a University of Rochester (N.Y.) junior. Now home for Christmas break, Pollock is on a tear, bagging as many peaks and trails as she can before returning to school. Of her mentor, Pollock says, “I want to be Ellen when I grow up.”
By mid-mountain, some climbers reconsider the summit, as temperatures fall well into the negative double digits. The lingering effects of a frostbite episode on Burns Glacier (near Portage) in 2003 left Beau permanently vulnerable.
“You can never be too certain how cold your feet are getting,” said Beau. “The last thing I need is to start losing appendages.” Two-thirds into the hike he opts out. Pollock presses on. Of the ten that started, only she and three others (Clint, Yarrow and Tim) reach the summit.
Regardless of how hot and sweaty the hikers are while climbing, their extremities may become very cold in these temperatures, due to the plodding pace while climbing. Minutes into their rapid descent, the effect is reversed. Occasionally they seek further relief to their frigid faces, by sticking their heads in the miniature snow caves, melted out by a series of geothermal vents along the ridge.
Currently, most of the snow above tree line is windblown and heavily packed, allowing people to slide down areas where it’s not particularly steep. Those conditions are a mixed bag: More sliding, but the snow is rife with rigid wind lips. Pollock calls them “butt moguls”.
Back in the trees, the trail is packed. But off-trail, the snow is deep and light, with the brittle consistency of accumulated frost. Most hikers stick to the trail, but the likes of Pollock and Brown will grab a little more play time, bounding through the powder en route to the powwow in the parking lot.