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*Mt. Susitna, Living in the Shadow *Barks, Yips, and Howls: A Young Trapper's Adventure * Snowmachine Etiquette in Back Country Alaska *Snowmachine Safety in Back Country Alaska * In Search of Mushings' Holy Land
MT. SUSITNA, LIVING IN THE SHADOW By Michael W. Williams
In recent times Mt. Susitna inspired the story of Sleeping Lady. A story evolved over the last 40 odd years. It leads us to believe the Mountain is the outline of a woman from a tribe of giant people. Covered in her blanket of white she lays asleep waiting for her love to return from war.
Mt. Susitna was once thought by local natives to impart a gift of strength to anyone climbing to its upper reaches. Today it is still a place where impressive numbers of brown and black bears lumber along well worn paths to favorite fishing holes or berry patches. A pack of wolves pursue prey of moose, hare and other small animals. Bull moose browse the high country in summer while cows with their newborns seek the safety of the lakes below.
If the Mountain could speak in words it would tell stories of people from as far back as 10,000 years ago roaming its countryside. Stories of people like Joe Reddington, Sr. combing the mountainside by dog team searching for downed aircraft. Hired by the Army in the 1950s to recover crashed aircraft and their contents Reddington made at least a dozen trips up the Mountain often alone for days and weeks at a time.
There was Tom Krause who lived 4 miles away at Sucker Lake. Tom spent the better part of 60 years living alone trapping, commercial fishing and pursuing a lifestyle many might call eccentric.
Bud Wilkens spent years prospecting for gold in an ancient river bed at the base of the Mountain. Few know for sure if he was ever rewarded for his years of search. He almost lost his life though, trying to walk out of the shadow of the Mountain back to civilization. Sleeping Lady is alluring and ruthless.
Take a little different perspective of the Mountain today. On the northwest side of Mt. Susitna lays Trail Lake. On the north shore of the lake is a patch of land known as EagleSong. It’s this place my family calls home.
In 1994 we traded a 20 year Army career for a life in the bush. My wife Paula and our four children Meghan 12, Lee 8 and twin boys Cody and Micah 6 held a dream to live a simpler life and walk a slightly different path.
We purchased a piece of land that held a handful of dilapidated log cabins reverently submitting to the dominance of Mt. Susitna and the weather it creates. The cabins, remnants of a 1970s era homestead.
Raising a family, making a living and living your dreams often have nothing in common. In our case EagleSong is the glue that binds all of these together. A homestead of the new millennium, still depending on ways of the last. A homestead, just a short mile off the famed Iditarod National Historic Trail. Not unlike homesteads that catered to the travelers of a hundred years ago my family rents cabins and provides other services to the traveler of today’s Iditarod.
A dog lot providing safe harbor for up to 50 weary sled dogs is constructed each winter on the lake. A runway designed to accommodate any of Alaska’s ski planes is tediously tended to all winter. Pilots are held in high esteem here. Many of the planes that land are older than the pilots that fly them. They still deliver food, fuel, mail and dozens of other things that are just a quick car ride for most.
The winter is a collage of trail work, tending farm animals, construction, home schooling, guiding, trapping, hunting and simple everyday living. Electricity requires the diesel generator, drinking water must be pumped and warmth means firewood.
Who will come down the trail today? Anyone? During a typical winter it could be a dog team, snowmachines, x-country skier, snowshoer…even a mountain bike not uncommon. There are times when not a sole from the outside is seen for weeks.
The gems in our winter crown are the races that call EagleSong a checkpoint.
The Junior Iditarod Sled Dog Race where youngsters hone their mushing skills over a 150 mile backcountry course. Some aspire to follow the trail all the way to Nome. Are we looking at future Iditarod champions? Odds are yes.
The Susitna100 Ultra Marathon, a 100 mile race pitting runners, snowshoers, x-country skiers and mountain bikers from around the world against the Alaska winter and each other.
The Knik 200, Joe Reddington Memorial Sled Dog Race, a qualifying race for the 1,049 mile Iditarod Sled Dog Race. Where professional and amateur mushers train their teams.
All the while Mt. Susitna silently intoxicates the senses with its beauty. Seven years ago unable to draw simple stick figures I now use chain saw to carve bears, eagles and wood spirits out of white spruce logs. Shed moose antlers are carved into scenes of nature inspired by the Mountain.
Today the wreckage of airplanes still dot the Mountain. Occasionally, a wheel or ski plane will land on top to take in the view. Since 1994 EagleSong has maintained a winter trail leading up the Mountain opening access to snowmachines, backcountry skiers and snowboarders. A brief window for people from across that steely gray inlet to experience the beauty of this mostly isolated mountain. A mountain viewed daily by thousands, but touched by few.
There is a song that asks “have you ever heard the wolf howl at the new born moon”. In the shadow of Mt. Susitna, I have.
What is it like living in Alaska’s backcountry today? What is typical or routine for an Alaskan family that lives in the shadow of Mt. Susitna some 38 miles from the nearest road? Is it folly or fate? Seven years later, my face weathered with wisdom I say our time here has been a gift of fate. The years to come, well…folly still looms out there somewhere on the Mountain. By Michael W. Williams originally published May 2003 in Grit Magazine It is May 17th, the 4 to 5 feet of ice that encased Trail Lake through the winter finally yields to the sun’s unending attack. Floatplanes absent for the last 6 months start to appear once again and become the only mode of transportation to the outside world.
A pair of sandhill cranes returned to the southeast marsh a few days earlier. They will raise a single offspring after a very noisy courtship. The silence of late spring is broken by sea gulls returning to nest on the south shore of the lake. They are followed by over 40 other species of birds, all with a purpose.
By late May a dreaded hatch of tiny gnats engulfs Trail Lake. Only two positive things to be said of them: they don’t bite and the hatch lasts a relatively short 10 days. Violet-green and tree swallows arrive a couple of days prior to the hatch. With aerial proficiency they will feast on this tiny bounty. With haste they will build their nests, hatch their young and be gone by early July.
And so it goes at EagleSong on Trail Lake. EagleSong, 40 roadless miles northwest of Anchorage, Alaska has been home to the Williams family for 8 ½ years. Part remote lodge, a large part traditional Alaskan homestead seasoned with the feel of an Iditarod Trail outpost from the 1920s, it is a unique place to live. It is where my wife Paula and I choose to raise our 4 children, Meghan, Lee, Cody and Micah. Our neighborhood is defined not by street names, but by boundaries much more natural. Out our front door is Mt. Susitna, known these days to those that live in Anchorage as “Sleeping Lady”. A dominant feature on the west Anchorage skyline, She is the matriarch of our neighborhood. Out the backdoor is the Iditarod National Historic Trail. Once the life line to interior Alaska gold fields today it is awakening once again to offer winter recreational opportunities to mushers, skiers and snowmobilers. Our closest neighbors live 13 miles away and are seen only in the winter months when overland travel is possible. Outsiders tend to think of bush Alaska as small isolated villages, but there are still a number of families scattered around the backcountry living as we do.
In May and June brown and black bears pass through the yard looking for anything they can call food. Occasionally they are a problem, but most of the time they move on without incident. By July they will gather on Sucker Creek ½ mile away to gorge on the king salmon that return to spawn. This bounty is resupplied in August by pink, chum and silver salmon.
EagleSong assumes the functions of a lodge during this time. Anglers will come to fish for salmon, rainbow trout and arctic grayling. Over the last few years flyfishing has emerged as the dominant method for fishing these remote mountain streams. Some come only for a quick visit as
By early September thoughts would normally turn to moose hunting, but the last 2 years have brought no outside hunters to pursue these massive ghosts of the forest. Bears, wolves and a couple of severe winters have depleted the moose population. We now apply each year for one of only 120 or so subsistence permits to take a moose either in September or in the winter between November-February. Surprisingly to some a 1000 pound moose on the hoof yields only a 5 month supply of meat for 4 growing teenagers. Nothing from this opportunity is left to waste, though. It is 5 months of food, the hide will be tanned and turned into craft items to be sold and the remains will be used as bait on the winter trapline.
September also brings a sense of urgency. Only a few weeks until snow returns. The countryside becomes a blaze of yellow and red. Within a couple of weeks it is gone, blown away by the coming winter. The white of winter slinks down the mountains. We make our annual expedition into the mountains in search of shed moose antlers from the previous year. These will be carved into scenes inspired by our surroundings and sold to those seeking a piece of Alaska.
Typically, by October 12th the lake freezes over. It only takes a couple of days to completely freeze. Some years is happens overnight. It is now that Trail Lake begins to speak to us. As the ice thickens with the coming cold it sometimes sounds like a mystical whale of the deep. Other times it sounds like a massive sheet of tin being shaken by giant hands. As the ice thickens and the snow creates a winter blanket the sounds become muffled and eventually cease. Air traffic has disappeared; some of the planes will return later having exchanged their floats for skis.
All but the hardiest of birds have long departed and the bears seek out dens to sleep away the harshest part of winter.
We are now alone, isolated from the world. Ice not yet thick enough for ski planes to land and rivers still flowing make overland travel unsafe for dog team or snowmobile. Our isolation varies from 6 weeks to over 2 months. It is for nature to decide. Until then the family is all that matters.
With November comes trapping season. Marten, otter, wolverine, wolf, fox, coyote and beaver will be our focus as the winter progresses. Moose begin to come down from the mountains and concentrate in the lower drainages. This draws the attention of the 2 packs of wolves that make this area home. Currently numbering over 45 wolves they are frequent visitors to EagleSong, the homestead. Their howls trigger a number of emotions in us. Mostly they instill a sense of contentment and inner peace to be able to live our lives in the untamed backcountry of Alaska.
By December winter is in full swing. With an average winter snowfall of over 10 feet we become EagleSong the Iditarod Trail outpost. With the mountains to our south the sun only appears for about 3 hours a day, if we are lucky enough to have clear skies. This is the time to once again begin establishing some of the 65 miles of winter trail we will maintain until April. Time to clear summer deadfall and new growth, grooming after each new snowfall. First the Iditarod is opened back to the road system. Once again it will provide a 38 mile lifeline for EagleSong. That is followed by other connecting trails and finally a trail to the 4300 foot summit of Sleeping Lady.
The season begins slowly, but it is in full swing by early February. President’s Day weekend brings with it the Susitna 100 Ultra Marathon. For days we work the trails to support this 100 mile human powered race. In a 48 hour period we will host well over 100 people from far flung parts of the world. A week later we will be a checkpoint for the Junior Iditarod Sled Dog Race. This is a 150 mile race for young mushers. The 2 day event brings dozens of ski planes full of spectators to the 1500 foot airstrip maintained on the lake by EagleSong. For a few hours we become one of the busiest winter airfields in the State. The following week will be the internationally renowned Iditarod Sled Dog Race to Nome. Once again, our cabins and airstrip will be used by those following the race.
Outside the races EagleSong is a flurry of recreational and commercial dog teams, x-country skiers, snowmobilers and ski planes. In the Alaskan tradition hot coffee is always ready for the taking. Paula is known by many as “Mrs. Coffee”. A large bonfire burns bright and warm each weekend to welcome winter travelers. It is a place to gather, share experiences and marvel at the beauty of backcountry Alaska.
By late March our attention turns to the increasing daylight and approach of spring. Numerous snowmobile trips hauling a variety of freight will consume us until the rivers once again begin to awaken in mid April.
Isolation once again, with rivers opening and lake ice unsafe for ski planes we tend to spring time chores. It is also a time to slow the pace of life slightly and to savor the next few weeks of family life with no outside influence. Next winters firewood must be cut and hauled before the snow leaves us. About 14 cords will be cut, split and stacked. The entire family will work for about a week to accomplish this task. There are white spruce logs to cut and skid for use in the coming construction season at EagleSong. I will set aside a few choice logs for chain saw carving. These carvings will be sold in local markets this spring along with bowls carved out of birch and spruce burls harvested from deadfall during the winter
As May rolls around the cycle starts again. EagleSong is a place where time is counted by the seasons and natures varied activities. It is a place where calendars and watches have little meaning. Nature dictates our life cycle allowing us to live by a different calendar and fortunate we are for that opportunity.
By Michael W. Williams
The Piper PA-14 ski plane sets down gracefully onto the winter airstrip and taxis to the front door of our Bush Alaskan homestead. We recognize the plane and pilot. It’s Carl, a frequent visitor in the winter. In the back seat though, is an unexpected passenger. Out steps Santa Claus with a sack full of presents. Our four children are surprised and excited. Santa has come to visit in a most untraditional mode of transport. Untraditional maybe, but not unusual for a family that depends on small planes the way most families depend on their minivan.
In 1993 I was wrapping up a 20-year military career in Anchorage, Alaska. A friend of mine offered to fly my wife and me out to look over a semi-abandoned backcountry homestead that was for sale. It was located some 40 road-less miles northwest of Anchorage at a place called Trail Lake. The terrain is heavily forested and mountainous and floatplane is the only summer access. One pristine Alaskan summer morning we loaded into his Maule on floats and headed out to take a look. This was the birth of our dream “EagleSong Lodge” and the cultivation of our relationship between small planes and their pilots.
When retiring from the military you are authorized a retirement move at government expense. In the spring of 1994 my family and I chose Trail Lake as that move. How do you move couches, appliances and other household items to a lake so far from river, road and runway? The answer was a DeHavilland Turbine Otter on floats. Twelve loads by an Anchorage air taxi had us in
Our relationship with small plane aviation has grown strong over the years since. We live year round at EagleSong so transportation is always a top priority. In the summer floatplanes bring lodge guests, supplies and mail to our door. If it won’t fit on a floatplane it doesn’t come until winter.
Winters are long and cold in this part of the world. Trail Lake will develop 3-5 feet of ice by winters end and we average 10-12 feet of snow. As soon as there is 6 inches of consistent, solid ice I build a winter airstrip on the lake. After years of refinement we now build and maintain a 1500-foot airstrip in the form of an oval. This essentially gives us a runway/taxiway setup right out our front door. It is meticulously lined with approximately 25 – six-foot tall scrub spruce trees for depth perception on the featureless snow. Unlike many parts of the U. S. that has been carved into geometric shapes by roads and towns; a straight line of spruce trees draws the attention of passing pilots. Few straight lines occur in nature. If you see one in Bush Alaska, chances are it’s man-made. A commercial windsock is located in the center of the oval. What started as an airstrip for our personal needs has gained a reputation as being a reliable winter airstrip in an area where few exist. The oval shape reduces time spent grooming by eliminating needless overlapping of the groomer. We groom the airstrip continuously throughout the winter. Over time it has attracted a number of instructor pilots conducting ski-plane instruction.
EagleSong caters to pilots, x-country skiers, dog mushers and snowmachiners in the winter. It is the latter that demands a steady supply of fuel. Over the years we have learned flying in fuel is the most reliable, cost effective and timely way to re-supply our tanks. A variety of planes have been used to do the job. An AgCat and AgTruck were used for a few years and met our demands. Built with 300-gallon internal tanks they carried a decent payload and were cost effective. Unfortunately, these crop dusters were designed to take off with a load, but not land with it. A crop duster on skis fully loaded was, over time, asking too much. Neither plane remains operational today. We are now supplied by the workhorses of Bush Alaska, the DeHavilland Beavers with a slide-in 220-gallon tank, or Cessna 206 with 165-gallon fuel bladder. Not as cost effective, but you go with the options available to you.
Alaskan pilots are similar to the bald eagles we see overhead each day in the summer. Both, when they see something of interest, will drop from the sky to investigate. That trait has resulted in dozens of new friends. You never know who or what type of airplane will show up. From the smallest of planes such as Taylorcrafts, Super Cubs, and Huskys to DeHavilland Beavers and Otters, all types of Cessnas, and even amphibians like the Grumman Widgeon, flutter from the sky. Coffee and conversation are always available at EagleSong. Alaskan small plane pilots are a generous lot too. They often arrive with the day’s newspaper, a bag of fresh fruit or vegetables, and occasionally a hot pizza. There have been a few occasions when a much needed repair part has mysteriously fallen from the sky when neither float nor ski plane could safely land. I suspect those stories are best left for another time and place.
Some members of the famed Iditarod Air Force are within our newfound circle of friends. A few years ago EagleSong became a checkpoint for the Junior Iditarod Sled Dog Race. Iditarod pilots bring race officials, trail markers, and supplies to us in support of the race, and back haul dropped sled dogs. During the race dozens of ski planes loaded with spectators come to watch the race pass through. For a few brief hours EagleSong becomes one of the busiest winter airstrips in Alaska.
Small plane traffic is critical to our survival at EagleSong and we hold these pilots and planes in high esteem. They are business associates, guests and friends. In return we have developed EagleSong into a destination for recreational pilots with a groomed airstrip, tie downs, engine pre-heaters, float docks and emergency fuel.
We are proud to be here when a pilot needs a “port in the storm”. When traveling northwest of Anchorage the closest weather reports come from the village of Skwentna some 65 miles away. Roughly halfway between Anchorage and Skwentna is EagleSong and Mt. Susitna. Often weather reports from Anchorage and Skwentna do not depict conditions being generated by the mountain. Snow squalls, thunderstorms, and fog can spawn from the mountain and be very localized.
One chilly day in late September a few years ago you could step outside and just feel it was going to be one of those days. A large fog bank was forming about 3 miles to the east of us and seemed to stop its advance over the top of EagleSong. We watched as plane after plane, heading for the Anchorage area flew over, prodded the fog bank and then retreated. Late in the afternoon we could hear the distinct sound of a radial engine only a few hundred feet overhead. For 30 minutes we listened to it; circling, then fading away, and shortly after returning. Finally, a DeHavilland Beaver landed and taxied to our float dock. It was a young air taxi pilot ferrying hunting gear back to Anchorage from west Alaska, where he had been working the summer flying a Cessna 206. Looking to move up to the Beaver, his chief pilot felt that since the run to Anchorage was without passengers it might be a good opportunity for him to log some solo time on the Beaver. So, for over two hours he flew over remote backcountry and mountains only to end up 40 miles from his destination staring into the face of our growing fog bank. Low on fuel and loosing daylight he sought shelter at EagleSong. He was obviously relieved to find a warm cabin and hot meal, but at the same time a little uneasy about having to land short of his destination on his solo flight with the Beaver. Of course there was no question he had made the right decision. A short time later another Beaver flown by a seasoned old timer from another air taxi landed after facing the same unyielding fog bank. It was gratifying to observe the two pilots size up the days events later that evening. It would be two more days before the fog bank would lift. Sometimes, there’s nothing more pitiful than two pilots standing around waiting for the weather to break.
Over the years, we’ve seen the ominous side of aviation too. A Cessna 206 with an electrical fire, a Helio Courier with a disintegrated engine valve, a TaylorCraft with an iced up fuel vent tube, and an Aeronca Sedan with a cracked cylinder have all sought sanctuary at EagleSong. All very tense situations, but handled successfully by experienced and well-trained pilots.
Never has our dependence on small planes been so obvious as during the terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001. We watched in disbelief as Air Force F-15s intercepted a Super Cub and Cessna 206 destined for Anchorage. The seriousness of the day was briefly broken by the sight of the two F-15s trying to slow down enough to signal the Super Cub, traveling at 60 knots, to land. I could only imagine what was going through the cub pilot’s mind. Like eagles on a sparrow, they were diverted, and like all air traffic in the U.S., were grounded. At that moment we knew no matter how serious the illness, injury or other emergency; we were truly isolated.
In contrast to today’s world of jumbo jets and high tech airports the need for small plane aviation in Bush Alaska has changed little in the past 75 years. Although I’m not a pilot, my life, livelihood, and life’s dream would be markedly diminished were it not for the small plane aviators of Bush Alaska.  Barks, Yips, and Howls: A Young Trapper’s Adventure By Lee A. Williams Originally published February 2001, Alaska Trapper Magazine
It was a brisk January afternoon, the kind with no sounds, flat light and an evening snow shower looming. My dad and I were breaking in trail because of a heavy snowfall the night before. On our snowshoes we packed down a hill before attempting to summit it on snowmachine. At the bottom of the slope we crossed a drainage that was being used by a family of otters as a highway. Halfway up the steep incline we heard a faint sound off in the distance. Barks, yips, and howls emanated from up the stream that the drainage ran into. Minutes passed and we assumed that the pack of wolves had moved off. Then a mass chorus started up with every member of the pack howling as loud and strong as possible. Then, as quickly as it started up, it stopped. For a few seconds we stood motionless until we realized what had taken place. We hastily pulled off our snowshoes and started our machines. Moments later we were on the river searching. A half-dozen bends up stream we found what we had been looking for. In mid-river there lay a dead moose, freshly slain, as the stream clearly showed. The cow was a small thing, a mere day’s feast for a large pack of hungry wolves. Our engine noise had scared them into the brush, but they had managed to open her up before we had arrived. We dismounted our machines, leaving the engines on to keep the braver wolves back. Upon closer examination we found a small, gray box attached to a well worn collar that was around her neck. It was an old Fish and Game radio collar that was put there, by the looks of it, some years ago. A small ratchet quickly removed the device which we strapped onto our snowmachine, on top of our snowshoes. Ever since I attended Alaska Trappers Association’s Wolf School I’ve been waiting for just such an opportunity. Realizing that I had a perfect wolf set, and no traps, we made haste back to our cabin. Once there I gathered all my equipment: two MB750’s, a hatchet, shovel, gloves, cover material, pliers, and trap setters. By the time we had gotten everything together and ready to go it was pitch black and spitting snow ever so lightly. Our return trip was quick, but colder, as is usual with the winter darkness. Once we arrived back at the scene we found the cow, but less whole. Working frantically, though carefully, I go the trap beds dug while dad found a suitable drag. After getting a large old birch in place we attached the trap chains to it, and set the large leg holds. Once I laid the traps in their beds I disguised them using clumps of moose hair that had been ripped off by the wolves. By this time the precipitation had escalated in size and intensity. I put the final touches on the set, making sure no steel was exposed. With that said and done we left, much to the delight of the pack. The next morning was warmer, likely because of the continual snowfall. I hastily got through breakfast, anxious to see the results of the previous day’s episode. We negotiated the winding trail to the river as fast as possible, not wanting to loose anytime getting there. Once on the large slough we proceeded upstream until we found the fallen beast. And there, lying next to it was a cream colored wolf, as big as any Great Dane or German Sheppard. It was caught in the steel trap, the first ever of its kind to blunder into one I had set in the five years I’ve been trapping. Since I was 10 I have been trapping smaller fur bearers such as marten, ermine, otter, and beaver. I’d have to admit though, it was hardly through my cunning or experience that this had happened, but rather to luck, training, and a case of being in the right place at the right time. I was fortune as well that I had the right mentor to show me the ways of trapping in Alaska. If it weren’t for Vern Epps of Trapper Lake I would never have been able to have the slightest skill to go along with my good luck. The next day the traps were empty, but the wolves were still around, barking and yipping in a half-mile circle around the kill. But the following day, my luck improved considerably. I had caught another member of the pack, almost an identical “sister” to the first. She was a dark cream with a thick coat and a weight of about 95lbs. A few days later we sent an inquiry to Mark Masteller from Department of Fish and Game, Palmer, about the small moose. They were puzzled because the last radio collar study done was well over a decade ago. He called up the retired biologist, Ron Modafferi, whom had done the study on movements and seasonal ranges that this moose was collared for. With the help of old records and the numbers on the radio collar, Mr. Masteller sent me a map showing about 40 plotted locations in 4 years of the study, which were all in a 10 mile radius of her tag site. The moose was tagged on 10 March 1987, and at the time they estimated she was 4 years old. That would have made her 17 years old at death! After another two days the pack lost interest in their stolen prey and disappeared upstream to pursue other game. For the next two weeks all that visited the carcass were scavenger birds and voles. Before long though, I had found another fallen cow taken by the now smaller pack of wolves. I had a wonderful success on that set as well, but that’s another adventure.
Snowmachine Etiquette in Back Country Alaska By Michael W. Williams Originally published December 2000 in The Mat-Su Valley Frontiersman
As the sport of snowmachining grows in Alaska so does the potential for conflict. The media is full of stories about banning snowmachines from one area or another, lawsuits to open or close an area, conflict between user groups and mishaps involving snowmachines. I believe this negative attention is sensationalized at times, but we all know dirty laundry sells in our society. On the other hand, legitimate criticism can be healthy for the industry and sport. It has potential to ultimately make it stronger, more balanced with nature and more harmonious with other trail users. Manufacturers are working to develop cleaner and quieter snowmachines. Here in Alaska a significant amount of labor and funding is being expended to develop safe, reliable trails and to identify sensitive habitat. I honestly believe, though that the greatest impact comes at the individual level. With over 20.000 snowmachines in the Anchorage, Palmer, and Wasilla area alone you are a force to be reckoned with in voice and deed. A simple positive act multiplied by thousands will be noticed and heard. Let’s call some of these acts “backcountry etiquette.” Here are several to keep in mind when traveling around Alaska this winter. When encountering other trail users head on (especially mushers) yield the trail to them. Headlights rob people and dog teams of valuable night vision. Engine noise can make it difficult for a dog team to hear the musher’s commands as they maneuver around you. Shut your machine down and take a few moments to enjoy something uniquely Alaskan. When overtaking other trail users from behind stay well back until the other user yields the trail to you or you have adequate room to pass without interfering. Winter races are becoming increasingly popular. Snowshoers, x-country skiers, foot racers, snowmachiners, dog mushers and even mountain bikers pit themselves against each other and nature on winter trails, especially in south-central Alaska. Race organizers are redoubling their efforts to publicize race dates and routes to reduce conflict among trail users. As these races push further into the backcountry trail markers become increasingly important. Make yourself aware of these events, make every effort to leave trail markers undisturbed, and reduce speeds on race routes in congested areas. Wilderness races are not without danger. Be observant when encountering racers. You may make the difference to a racer in a distressed situation. This should be self-evident, but please don’t drink and drive. On a snowmachine YOU are the designated driver. I had the opportunity a couple of years ago to accompany a State survey crew along a section of the Iditarod National Historic Trail west of the Susitna River. It was late May and almost all the snow had given way to the spring warmth. I had traveled the trail in the winter for several years, but I had never seen it without snow. The first thing that struck me was the amount of trash on the trail. Years of winter accumulation were obvious everywhere. Many of these areas are extremely difficult to access in the summer, so the litter continues to accumulate. When you see trash in the winter please pick it up. Don’t add to the accumulation. Be aware of winter runways. You will find them all over backcountry Alaska during the winter. Winter runways are quite vulnerable to snowmachines. Most ski equipped planes land at speeds in excess of 45 mph, have little directional control on the ground, and have no brakes. They depend on a runway that is flat and straight. Alaska Statute Section 02.20.050 makes it illegal to interfere with a winter runway, and that includes driving a snowmachine on it. If you should find yourself inadvertently on a runway, there are a few simple rules to There may come a time while traveling in backcountry Alaska that an emergency forces you to seek shelter. There are numerous recreational cabins, homesteads and trappers cabins scattered around the State. Although I can’t speak for all of the owners, I know that many of them do no object to the use of their cabins in a bonafide emergency. If you find yourself in such a situation use what is needed and replace what you can. If you use firewood put back more than you take, if possible. Make an attempt to contact the owner when you return home and offer thanks and compensation. At a minimum a note of thanks should be written and left behind. For many cabin owners knowing their cabin helped someone in need and that the user treated the cabin with respect is often thanks enough. Daily travels in backcountry allow me to observe Alaska wildlife’s’ struggle to adapt and survive. Wind, overflow, sub-zero temperatures, extreme snowfall; the challenges are many and deadly. Wildlife can be quite vulnerable to the mobility and speed of snowmachines. They should never be chased or overtaken by snowmachines. Wildlife may not be able to recover from the stress of eluding a snowmachine, not to mention it is inhumane and illegal. There is a good chance you will come across a trapper’s trapline while traveling in the backcountry. Regardless of your views towards trapping, the trapline is not the place to express them. Trapping is an Alaskan way of life and it is illegal to interfere in anyway with a trapline. If you witness someone interfering with a trapline, or you believe a trapline is being operated illegally, contact the local office of Alaska Fish and Wildlife Enforcement or Alaska State Troopers. The vast majority of snowmachiners take pride in their sport and act accordingly, but there is an enemy within our ranks. Their numbers are few, but their acts of uncaring and indifference to the environment, private property and other trail users will bring us to our knees if left unchecked. We must police our own or I assure you it will be done for us and we won’t like the end result. You hear it time and again that “we do it differently in Alaska.” The sport of snowmachining in Alaska is still in its infancy. Protect our unique opportunities here in Alaska. Make this a sport that develops a proud heritage. Simple acts of courtesy multiplied by thousands will make a difference. Practice a little backcountry etiquette this winter and see what a difference you can make.
Snowmachine Safety in Back Country Alaska By Michael W. Williams Originally published January 2001, in Making Tracks The Newsletter of the Anchorage Snowmobile Club
After a 20 year Army career my family and I were at a crossroads, pursue a longtime dream or continue what had become a comfortable existence. The pursuit of a dream and a new life became our destiny. We have spent the last 7 years living in the bush at the base of Mt. Susitna. We purchased a piece of property there with some rundown cabins on it and called it EagleSong. Slowly, sometimes painfully slow, we have been building and developing EagleSong Lodge. A cornerstone of our business has been the development of trails to draw on the winter recreation boom in the Mat-Su Valley. Most of our winter days now evolve around trail development and maintenance, guiding, supporting various winter backcountry races and tending to the needs of our guests. I now log thousands of miles on snowmachines each winter. The snowmachine to me is what a tractor is to a farmer. You can often find me grooming 30 miles or more of trail at 2:00A.M. or cutting brush on isolated trails long before the first snowmachiner can cross the Susitna River. I am often asked what I carry with me in the form of survival equipment since I spend so much time traveling alone. I’m asked this often enough that I thought an article on the subject might be appropriate. I’m not a survival expert by any stretch of the imagination, but 7 years of trail and error and observing others has given me some insight. I must start by saying that the thoughts and ideas that I express in the article are things that work for me. The way a person prepares and responds to an emergency situation is governed by many factors. The way you ride, type of snowmachine you drive and where you travel have the most obvious impact on your equipment list and techniques. Some of the things I outline may apply or be adapted for your personal use while others will not apply to you at all. I won’t cover avalanche dangers and equipment here. There are many experts that cover this subject better than I ever could. I encourage you to evaluate your riding habits, then seek expert advice and training from one of the many organizations that specialize in backcountry preparedness. With all that said, let’s start by looking at the snowmachine you ride. Does it have underseat storage, a cargo rack, saddlebags or a dash mounted bag? How much gear will you physically be able to carry on your snowmachine? Pulling a sled can increase your carrying capacity, but creates a host of other problems and I don’t know of anyone that pulls a sled continuously. Many snowmachines today have little, if any, storage space or even a hitch for a sled. The more remote you intend to ride, the more gear you will require. So how do you carry equipment? Underseat storage is great if you have it. Items that need to stay with your machine all winter (tools, duct tape, baling wire and spare parts) can be stored there. You might want to consider adding saddle bags, dash mounted bags or a small backpack that you wear. On long, isolated trips a sled may be in order. I have back rests on most of my snowmachines and I’ve found multi-pocketed fanny packs can fit nicely draped over the backrest and not impede its use. You can strap them to a cargo rack too. A day pack strapped to your machine works equally well. I prefer a fanny pack or backpack because there may be a time that you have to abandon a dead or stuck snowmachine and you can strap a fanny pack/backpack on and comfortably carry your survival gear with you. I also carry a dry bag, the type commonly used in rafting. They come in many sizes, the better quality bags are unbelievably durable in the cold, they float and you can get models that have shoulder straps, so again you can take it with you if you must abandon your machine. I keep my sleeping bag, changes of clothing and anything else that must stay dry in this bag. Some of the things I carry in my fanny pack are a small first aid kit, compass/GPS, flashlight, spare batteries, disposable heat packs, high energy food bars, metal cup for melting water and small sewing kit. I’ve attached an insulated pouch for my water bottle and partial roll of toilet paper sealed in a ziplock bag tucked handily in one of the outer pouches for quick retrieval. I also carry a nifty little devise called a pocket chainsaw. It works great for cutting firewood or extracting your machine from alder patches and it takes up very little space. In my book, the ability to start a fire in an emergency is one of the single most important things to accomplish. A fire can warm you, dry your clothes, heat food, melt snow for water, and signal help. Make sure you have several different methods for making a fire. I carry 2 or 3 lighters, matches in a waterproof container, a magnesium bar with flint attached and a film canister packed with cotton balls saturated in Vaseline. The cotton balls work great as tender for getting a fire going and you can use them on chapped lips too. Steel wool works well as tender for starting a fire too, but it is tough on the lips. If you need a fire to warm yourself and/or dry clothes think about building 2 fires about 8 feet apart and stand between them. You will warm and dry yourself more quickly. I also carry a small can of Sterno (you know – the break stuff you use to heat fondue). It comes sealed in a can and stays ready until you need it. There is nothing to clog up, break or go wrong with it; simply light and use. You can melt snow, warm yourself or heat food quickly without going to a fuss of starting a campfire. One of the most common problems you can encounter in the backcountry is overflow. It is especially debilitating if the temperature is extremely cold. The track of your snowmachine can be frozen solid in a matter of minutes. That is why I carry a geologist type hammer. It’s a hammer on one end and has a point on the other end. If you find your track coated in ice and unable to move, use the hammer to gently chip the ice off. This simple hammer has made a difference for me on numerous occasions in some extreme conditions. Since I drive such heavy snowmachines (645/670 lbs dry weight) I have added a collapsible cable winch that stores neatly in a plastic storage box kept under my seat. Another thing I find extremely versatile is a 1 ¼ inch nylon ratchet strap. It can often be used alone to winch out a stuck machine, used as a tow strap to pull a disabled snowmachine home, or as a snatch strap to jerk a snowmachine or sled free. Of course, they work well for strapping down gear too. Don’t skimp on the strap size if you buy one or more of these. Get a strap that is a minimum of 1 inch in width and 1 ¼ inch is preferred. I always carry a collapsible shovel too. What about a shelter if you become stranded? I carry a small poly tarp. It is compact, versatile, inexpensive, and light weight. You can stretch it out between trees as a cover, drape it over a pole and make a tent, or pile snow around and over it to make a snow cave. I now carry a lightweight, compact bivy sack for shelter, but I still carry a tarp as well. Consider carrying a pair of snowshoes with you. As a rule of thumb each hour riding away from the trail head equates to a day of walking back. They make some very lightweight and compact snowshoes now. I carry a pair made of aircraft quality aluminum and hypalon. A few years ago I added waterproof aerial flares to my list. I keep a couple in my fanny pack and a couple in a ziplock bag in my jacket pocket. You can use them to signal for help, start a fire, and they have even been known to turn a threatening moose away. Don’t be lulled into a false sense of security because you have all your gear neatly strapped to your machine. You could easily become separated from your machine and gear in an avalanche or by breaking through the ice and submerging your machine. You can be left dependent on what is in your pockets in the blink of an eye. Consider carrying on your person a couple of fire starters, a knife, high energy food bars, cell phone in waterproof pouch, waterproof aerial flare and anything else you feel you many need. I know this is a tough one, since you only have so many pockets and you don’t want to feel like a pack animal when you are out enjoying your sport, but consider the alternative. The items I’ve listed may sound excessive and for some it will be. The objective is to give you some ideas and to make you think about your personal safety. I continue to refine my list of emergency gear by observing others, looking for new or improved equipment and ways to make the gear I carry serve more than one purpose. Don’t be dependent on your riding partners for your survival. It is quite easy to become separated in the backcountry and the gear your partner is carrying will do you little good. Don’t become complacent – be prepared! Safe travel my friends.
In Search of Mushings’ Holy Land By Michael W. Williams
If Alaska’s official sport is dog mushing, then what part of Alaska is considered the Mecca of dog mushing? Taking a team across thin ice may be easier and less dangerous than answering that question. Upon what criteria would one base a decision? Is it simply the largest concentration of mushers in one area, or does it include other factors such as community support, trails, or number of mushing events? This question might best be left to debate by mushing scholars.
I do know that over the past five years the lower Susitna drainage, the west Susitna area of southcentral Alaska in particular, has experienced a steady growth in mushing activity. This growth can be directly attributed to the increased popularity of the sport, improvement in the winter trail systems/trailheads, and the growing number of lodges and B & Bs catering to mushers.
The west Susitna area offers a more remote trail system and generally logs more snowfall than the east side. The Susitna and Yentna Rivers are at the heart of this region. The Yentna River meanders off to the west, offering an almost “highway” like trail to Skwentna where mushers can pick up the Iditarod Trail to the Alaska Range and beyond. The Susitna River provides access from Willow at its north to the community of Alexander Creek and on to the Beluga Lake area at the river’s southern end. Numerous trail systems intersect both rivers.
One such trail is a section of the Iditarod National Historic Trail that intersects the Susitna River about ¼ mile below the confluence of the Yentna River. This section of the Iditarod basically parallels the Yentna River and is the overland route to the Alaska Range avoiding lengthy travel on the river systems. Although used by the Iditarod Sled Dog Race for a number of years it was abandoned in favor of the Yentna River in the early 1990s. The abandoned trail was never very popular with Iditarod mushers. It was surveyed and marked by such mushing prophets as Joe Reddington, Sr. and Burt Bomhoff, but received only modest brushing and maintenance. Much of the trail traversed old growth forest, numerous small streams, and pockets of wintering moose.
In 1993 EagleSong on Trail Lake was opened. EagleSong immediately started reclaiming and upgrading the first 13 miles of abandoned trail west of the Susitna River. In 1996 EagleSong received a state trail grant to do further improvements. More clearing was done, reflective trail markers and signage was added in both directions and the trail was widened and straightened in places. Beyond the project area only token grooming to Rabbit Lake and on to Skwentna was accomplished.
Simultaneously, a 12-mile connecting trail that would link the Iditarod Trail with the lower Yentna was progressing from campfire talk to actual ground work. This trail, so creatively named the “Yentna Cutover”, intersects the Yentna just below Yentna Station, with another spur intersecting about 11 miles further downstream.
In 1997 trail grooming on the Iditarod between EagleSong and Skwentna ceased. The Iditasport Ultra Marathon had stopped using it in favor of the Yentna Cutover. There was not enough trail use to justify the expense of maintaining that stretch of trail. Although, there is talk of re-establishing this section, the Trail remains essentially abandoned today.
Professional, commercial and recreational mushers did not overlook the move of the Junior Iditarod. Soon a number of Iditarod and Serum Run mushers started using the trails for training. Commercial mushers are using it as part of their wilderness excursion packages and recreational mushing traffic has increased markedly.
With a popular trail system in place connecting the Susitna and Yentna Rivers attention was turned to Mt. Susitna and the establishment of a trail to the summit. Why? Perhaps it was for the view. It is one place where one can take in Cook Inlet, Denali, Anchorage, Wasilla and the Chugach, Alaska and Talkeetna Ranges from a single vantage point. Or is it simply because it was there? Whatever the reason, this trail has caught the interest of a number of mushers who express interest in taking their team up the trail to the 4300-foot summit, but none have done so to date. It is doubtful, but unconfirmed, that any musher has taken a dog team up Mt. Susitna since Joe Reddington, Sr. in the late 1950s when he worked for the military reclaiming downed aircraft.
Mushers interested in exploring the lower west Susitna area can access it from the Willow, Big Lake and Point MacKenzie vicinity. There are a number of trails leading to the Susitna.
The Willow, Knik and Big Lake communities are musher friendly with ample space available for mushers and their dogs and accessibility to trail systems without the need to truck teams to the trailhead. Each community has active trail grooming programs and aggressive trail committees securing legal access for additional trails. I’m not willing to step onto the ice declaring them the Mecca, but this area must be considered a major component of the holy land of mushing. Knik even boasts such shrines as the Mushers’ Museum and just up the road the Iditarod Sled Dog Race Headquarters.
As with most trails in southcentral Alaska these trails are popular with other denominations of trail users. If you are looking for a path less traveled, consider using them Monday-Thursday. Traffic is only a fraction of that seen on a typical winter weekend. Local businesses welcome inquiries on trail conditions and upcoming local events. Whether you are looking for trails that offer a short workout for your team or you are interested in extended runs, you owe it to yourself to make a pilgrimage to the lower Susitna area.
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The reclaimed stretch of Iditarod and the newly established Yentna Cutover has today created a very popular 34-mile long trail system. In 1998 this section of trail caught the attention of the Junior Iditarod Trail Committee. The following year the Junior Iditarod Sled Dog Race was moved from the Yentna River to the newly restored Iditarod, thus eliminating all but 1 mile of river travel to the checkpoint at Yentna Station and creating a new checkpoint at EagleSong.