Joe Stock

The First Ski Traverse of the Neacola Mountains, Alaska
Favorite Packs: Aether 85, Torque

Next time you're in Anchorage, go downtown and have a pint at Simon and Seafort's grill, and watch the sunset. As you dip into your Alaskan Amber, look across Cook Inlet. You'll see a big glaciated mountain called Mount Spurr with a tiny pompom of steam venting from the summit. Stretching left from Mount Spurr are the Neacola Mountains. A ragged and lonely range of ice and granite. A range that most Alaskans have never heard of. In early April, Doug Brewer loaded Andrew Wexler, Dylan Taylor and I into his DeHavilland Beaver and flew us from Kenai, over the Cook Inlet oil rigs to Lake Chakachamna below Mount Spurr. For six days, we skied through whiteout, icefalls and snorkel-deep powder to a food cache in the center of the Neacola Mountains. We base-camped near the cache for ten days while exploring the granite walls, skiing more blower powder and fighting storms and crippling negative temperatures. When avalanche conditions stabilized, we got first descents of The Gorilla Finger, a 2,600 vertical foot couloir, and Immortal Technique, a 3,000 vertical foot couloir. One day we racked up 10,000 vertical feet of skiing. From the cache, another five days of touring took us through more glaciers, past countless untouched couloirs and down to the lowlands of alder "hell bushes" - so thick we often crawled on grizzly trails, dragging our skis

behind. Our last night on the traverse we slept in the open on a gravel bar by the Tlikakila River. We armed ourselves with ice axes, rocks, and clubs to ward off hungry bears. Fresh tracks 12 inches across surrounded our bags. We survived the night and touched Lake Clark the traverses end the next morning. Twenty-two days after leaving the north end of the Neacolas, Doug landed his Beaver on a gravel bar and flew us back to Kenai. Our Neacola traverse was about 100 miles and 20,000 vertical feet. We skied 57,000 total vertical feet. We found the Neacola Mountains to be a heavily glaciated version of the North Cascades. These low elevation Alaskan glaciers are melting fast, like all glaciers around the world. Along our tour, we compared ten GPS elevations to 1958 USGS maps and found an average elevation drop of 70 feet. We used Osprey Aether 85 backpacks on the traverse and they worked great! At only 4 pounds 15 ounces, they are light, yet they are the most comfortable pack we've ever used. We especially liked the minimal excess features, yet the features we needed, like ski straps and isoform harness, were there. Keep up the great work Osprey!

Mount Chamberlin—Skiing from the Highest Summit in the Alaskan Arctic

Brooks Range, Arctic National Wildlife Refuge, Alaska

I had to pee five minutes after climbing into the Helio Courier bushplane. Ten minutes later, I felt nauseous. I chatted with the pilot Sean, but mostly looked out the window in that ethereal stage between endless planning and realizing I have no idea of what lies ahead. We flew north from Fairbanks, crossing the limestone White Mountains, Yukon Flats, the bushtowns of Venetie and Arctic Village then up into the scree-laden slopes of the Brooks Range. As we drifted down the Hulahula River valley, we saw the first grizzly, a mass of furr-covered muscle lumbering down the tundra. The flight lasted two and a half hours,   The Wrights Air pilot landed Matt and I on a gravel bar along the Hulahula River, just down from Katak Creek. This would be our base camp for the next ten days. Not far away, in 2005, grizzlies had eaten two people. We came prepared though: pepper spray, bear-proof food canisters, a battery-powered electric fence, a twelve-gauge shotgun and a .44 handgun. I’d never shot a gun, but as they say, you just have to run faster than your partner.   Photographer Matt Hage and I had never been to the Arctic Refuge. Located in the eastern end of the 500-mile long Brooks Range, the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge contains the highest concentration of high Arctic peaks outside of Greenland. Matt and I came to ski Mount Chamberlin, the highest peak in the Brooks Range at 9,020 feet.   No logical person ventures to this region for good skiing. During winter, minus fifty-degree winter temperatures turn the measly arctic snowpack into knee-deep depth hoar. When spring arrives, the snow becomes knee-deep isothermal slop and mosquitoes swarm in black clouds. Matt and I went to 9,020-foot Mount Chamberlin for a crazy adventure.   As the drone of the Helio Courier faded away, we took stock of our situation. We were at 1,500 feet, 12 miles from the base of Chamberlin and on the opposite side the mountain from our plans. We also saw no snow. “Here goes the adventure!” Matt said.   Over the next two days, Matt and I cowered under crippling packs to establish a high camp within striking distance of Chamberlin. As we hiked, we watched three grizzly’s run from our scent. We also questioned our sanity to lug ski gear into dry mountains.   At 5,000-feet we set up a high camp in the green tundra below the summit pyramid of Mount Chamberlin. Three days of snow and rain crushed our supplies and we returned to the Hulahula for more armaments. The next day we returned to 5,000 feet, hoping for cooperative weather to ski Chamberlin.

On our seventh day, we left the micro tent at six in the morning, skinning up a dying glacier through clouds and mist. At 7,000 feet, we scrambled through snow-coated boulders and kicked steps up a 45-dergree snow face to a winding summit ridge of snow. A hundred feet below the summit and still unroped, my foot punched through the roof of a crevasse into a cavern of glittering crystals. We tied together with a Dyneema rope, thirty feet apart, and continued kicking steps up the twisting snow arête to the summit of the Brooks Range.   Maybe we should have center-punched the Chamberlin Glacier; ripping turns between gapping crevasses, taking the proud line. But reality stayed with us. We knew that rescue was laughable in this lonely corner of Alaska, so we clicked into our skis and skied 40-degree snow-coated glacier ice along the glacier’s margin. Past the last crevasse, we carved hero corn for a few glorious turns until the snow deteriorated into isothermal slop. We struggled down through the erratic snow for the final 2,000 feet to our high camp. We felt lucky to have any skiable snow. Matt and I camped for three more days at 5,000 feet, venturing into the midnight sun for skiing photos and into the daytime mist to document the Katak Glacier before its imminent death. We then slogged back out to Hulahula landing strip and waited for the Helio Courier.   Special thanks to The Hans Saari Memorial Fund and Osprey Packs for making this trip possible.   To fly into base camp we used Transporter 95 travel duffels. These bags weigh less than three pounds so we weren’t lugging around extra baggage. They also have quick deploy shoulder straps, which become essential during mad airport dashes.   On the mountain, we used Variant 52’s. These packs proved to be the ultimate combination of comfort, low weight and function. On the approach we had them loaded with 70 pounds of ski gear and food and they still carried well—incredible for a pack weighing less than four pounds. On summit day, we stripped down our Variants to small ski packs.