Just Scraping By
A Ski Tech’s guide to Skiing, Life, and the Secrets of the Universe

By Philip Peterson II
Special to the Turnagain Times

Well all right, it’s that time of year again! Fall is the great season of metamorphosis. It is like Superman’s phone booth where we transform from our thin-blooded, fun-in-the-sun, summer-time selves into the thick-blooded winter action heroes of legend. Well, at least that’s how I think of you all. Now is the time that we begin to yearn for snow. As people come into the shop to say hello, the conversations always start the same way, “Have you seen the snow line?” I think you could use the snowline to scientifically measure the current level of enthusiasm of skiers and riders. As the nights get colder and the snow creeps down towards us, our excitement creeps higher and higher to meet it. I particularly enjoy the way that mid-thirty degree temperatures now seem promisingly cold. Give us a few months and we’ll be cursing the same temperatures as frustratingly tropical.
It is always interesting unpacking boxes at the ski shop, checking out all the new and cool equipment. I found some zebra striped, faux fur covered goggles, black velvet covered poles, and Gore-Tex lined tweed ski jackets. Put these items together and you’d look like a pimp Muppet masquerading as an English professor. Aside from adding a bit of high fashion to my ski attire, I am most excited about the K2 Hellbent and the Marker Duke.
Last year K2 introduced the Pontoon, a ski with reverse side-cut and powder rocker (formerly known as negative or reverse camber). People went nuts, and K2 was listening. This year they are introducing the Hellbent. It’s a huge, fat ski. It’s 122mm under foot and features the new powder rocker design. Besides being a twin tip, the biggest difference between the Hellbent and the Pontoon is the side-cut. The Hellbent features traditional side-cut, making it a more versatile powder ski for your quiver.
The Marker Duke is a big burly ski binding made to take a ton of abuse. It has a release (DIN) indicator range of 6-16. The coolest thing is that the Duke is both a tough resort binding and a backcountry binding. Strap some skins on your skis and the Duke transforms into an alpine touring system similar to a Fritschi or Naxo binding. It has a three tier climbing bar and you can even attach crampon cleats for scary stuff. This binding seems like an ideal solution for backcountry skiers that abuse their equipment, or people that use their touring gear at the resort.
So the big question for the season is “How much snow are we going to see this year?” Alyeska has taken steps to improve the early season situation with additional snowmaking at the bottom of the North Face and at the top of the tram. So with some friendly temperatures we can hope to see earlier mountain openings on both the front side and the North Face. Of natural snowfall we can only hope, pray, beg, and sacrifice (to Ullr) for the clouds to open up and let it come.
To wrap it up, I’ll leave you with a promising forecast from former Alyeska Pro-Patroller and eminent weather prognosticator, Don Haglund, “Well, I love to watch and guess the weather and its fun when I get it right. The jet stream is in the right place below the Aleutian island chain, and the water in the Prince William Sound is pretty warm… so I’m thinking it’s going to be a good high snow year.”

Photo by Brian Burnette: Nels Barber hunts for early season snow above Glacier Valley.

Broke on the Hope Highway... no regrets

By Sourdough Dru
Special to the Turnagain Times

It’s not what you’re thinking. I got bucks I just buggered my leg a bit on “The Road Less Traveled.”
The “Hope Highway” not the broke highway. I have been taught “prayer is the fervent desire to do rightly.” Busy-beeing thankful that family and friends are seeing to my condition. Grateful I have a family to take care of my sorry self cause I am crutching’ it for a while. I broke my leg. Sometimes life just seems well—hard! Kudos to my man. A favorite construction phrase of his: Adapt and overcome.
Me, I’m like a cave man (well, I do like Cave Man TV—as Timmy calls campfires—appropriately so). Always thinking the worst about the human condition I struggle with positive thought and demeanor.
“You Earthlings,” says Tito, our favorite elder and this writers’ personal Guru. Hi Tito!
And I say ‘that’s the price of livin.’ I begin and often end moments as the effervescent pessimist. How do I not get overtaken by my own negative thinking? I listen to my working (and hard) husband hero! Living Large! He writes notes.
On his office wall, three words: work is entertainment... On our son’s door; a flow chart…...The harder you work the better you feel. The better you feel the harder you work…..The harder……
“Let me tell you a long, windy story,” my neighbor, the late one-eyed Jack would quip. Here on a road of hope to Hope on the skinny shoulder of the road, my dog and myself on the bike. Riding’ on Monday at 6:00 p.m. Aug. 27 (time being relative—scientists agree time to be an invention of “man”) up the top of the hill almost to Resurrection Creek Road (I prefer to call it Resurrection regardless of the newer sign declaring it “Palmer Creek Road”).
Oh Sh....ip! I looked away—the dog, a passing car, the ditch and a 180 on my red Schwinn!! Right off the edge of the earth (it felt like it anyway). Broke my leg on the Highway of Hope and didn’t know it. Damn dog!
Impulsively I’m up limping precariously in the ditch. Stretching and rubbing my knee. I hear Schreeeeeechhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!! And the pull of a parking brake!!! Bless the girl and guy that stepped up to the plate and stopped (Just knowing people care, perfect strangers, is more than comforting, it’s healing).
The young couple witnesses the wipeout, and return offering assistance and support. I stretch my leg more and obsess about my green glasses. The two help me look.
Shortly Kent and Melany Bowman happen along and join the search. Five of us looked around for 20 minutes or so. I told everyone thanks and assured all I was okay, they could leave, and I’d finish searching on my own. Shortly afterward, I gave it up too. Kent commented “you’ll feel it tomorrow.” Someone had moved my bike up to the road. Limping, stretching and rubbing my right leg, convinced I was bruised but not broken I hopped on my Schwinn again and forged on. Half a mile up Resurrection Creek Road it registered, “leg I am pickin’ up what yer putin’ down! We are flaggin’ the first car down we see.”
God sent me the first vehicle, my 28-year-old son, Andy, in his little blue pickup. “Mom you mean you pulled an ET on the Hope Highway on your bike?” Entertaining this thought, I picture our somewhat large Australian-shepherd-Newfoundland mix, squeezed into my bike basket. The rising bright full moon at dusk in the background, Hunter’s paws hanging out squished like a sardine in the confines of the metal basket. Big globs of Hunter’s grey, black and white fur defined by wire squares; rolling off and up up and away into a perfect ET sunset.
“I’ll buy you a beer at Tito’s,” Andy offered.
“Yeah, libation sounds good to me.”
He laughs. “You look like you could use a pain killer!” So at Tito’s we applied ice and were served up lots of sympathy and of course the distraction of “BS” (applied liberally!).
On the way home, Andy stops and finds my glasses in about two minutes, calculating a landing spot for them by the position of my fall.
My big boy got me home and up the stairs. Brought me ice, the phone, more beer and tucked me in.
“Mom I’m just down the road, call me if you need anything.”
“I’m fine I just need to put er’ up and ice er’, son.”
“Mom! Call me!”
Four hours into the night, barely able to hobble to the kitchen to get ice, I realized seeking a doctor’s care was appropriate.
Biking was over earlier than expected. The next morning, I relinquished my care to my rescuer older boy, Andy. He took me to the doctor and insisted on taking me for tests and bringing me food and comfort, concern and love. My bone doctor said I had a typical football injury, and it was serious.
Yes, yes the perfect fall it has been. Window open, a cool delightful breeze; cottonwood leaves blowing groundlessly. They attract my attention to yellow, tan, green and burgundy, feathering differentiating degrees of shadows across a wave of almost barren trees swaying in a now winter breeze. Joy of winter has arrived with some fluffy flakes already declaring termination of summer.
My view has changed. Yes, seeing most of the outdoors through windows has brought me wonderful moments. Opportunity! A gift, an opportunity to experience touring our local scenic routes with my husband! The Six Mile Creek canyon, years missed because we’re too busy! I would have never gone there on my bike! Why, when you can drive there?
We roll through Porcupine Camp Ground at the end of the Hope Highway. The middle of the hill grabs me. The fisherman and visitors are long gone from the banks of Resurrection Creek. The Fireweed too. But “the late” One Eyed Jack is still there; on the hill, facing traffic for a good view, in “his spot”. Jack looks over Turnagain Arm and the mouth of Resurrection Creek. To friends passing by he says “here have a pull” as he holds out his bottle of Schnapps.
Directly on the other side of the road, from their homestead “the late” Carl and Emma Clark are still there too. Their kind and gentle souls look out the window. Carl pointing to a wolverine hide on his wall as he did the first time I entered their home. Explaining: when; where and how he shot it while Emma smiles shyly and ever so graciously at me.
Wonderful local drives my squeeze has taken me on in his Chevy “Beaver” pickup from my gift shop to the new handicapped porta-potty down the street have all been a blessing. Running my gift shop would have been impossible with my limping load had Hope Incorporated not donated them this year. Thank you, thank you Hope Incorporated. I know, I know “thanks for sharing!”
Opportunity to see the world from a different perspective, a window has opened for me.
Many people are permanently handicapped. My leg is healing and my heart is refreshed.
No regrets. I’ve had mine. Grateful I’ve ridden that ride. And I’ll do it again. Not just now on my bike. I’ve fallen in love with my life all over again here in Heaven on earth. Unbroken, I am still riding the trail off the Hope Highway—but in a new way.
And the neighbor kid who helps me (bless her heart), she says the fireweed was high and the snow will be so. I learned a new Alaskan Rule! Headline: “Sourdough learns new wives tale, from a young whippersnapper!”
So I’m hopeful it will be a good snow year and I’ll be skiing by February! (the doctor says “maybe”). Joy of this season has already arrived. A few fluffy white winter-fall has stuck to the ground just enough to excite dreams of a new season.
In my life, I know now “The myth of Time.” Often a stream of memories. Life is good. “Life cannot bring negative growth or development, age, poverty, or any of mans’ ailments.”
Broken of fear, I have been taught, “prayer is the fervent desire to do rightly.”
Grateful of all blessings, I am not afraid of time anymore, this human measurement of life. I’ll just grab it and cherish it with all I’ve got!

Sourdough Dru writes from Hope and owns a gift shop downtown.