Parke's Back Yard

No matter where in the world I go, I always enjoy coming back to Anchorage. It's the place I chose to live when I graduated from college over thirty years ago, and I haven't gotten tired of it yet. I especially enjoy being on the Alaska Airlines jet on final approach to ANC when I know there's a lot of snow on the ground. And that was the case when we returned home from Utah last week.

Here's a graph I saw in the Anchorage Daily News last week. I liked this graph.

Nevertheless, if you're a member of this ski team, you're not going to be in Anchorage for long before you need to get on an airplane and go ski racing somewhere. And this week, the destination is Colorado - where rumor has it that there's never been a more snowless winter in the Rocky Mountains than they're having this year. Ski races are being cancelled, or relocated, and this weekend's race, which was supposed to be in Minturn, will now be in Frisco. I have to admit that I was not looking forward to leaving snowy Anchorage to come down here for a rollerski race around a parking lot or some such nonsense.

My house, in its best light - covered in deep snow.

But the situation in Colorado is a lot rosier than I had imagined. While it's true that we're scratching around on small loops, and every one of us has hit a few rocks with our skis the past couple days, it's hard not to enjoy the warm sunshine, and there's nothing wrong with the quality of the (admittedly meager) snowpack. 

Here's the forecast for this weekend. Not too shabby.

So today, we skied at Breckenridge Nordic Nordic Center. It was pretty good!  Yesterday, Hedda and I were skiing together at Frisco Nordic Center when we crossed paths with someone named Scott who used to ski for the Colorado Buffaloes in the 1980's. He told us the skiing was good at Breckenridge, and just like that, the Seawolves found ourselves at Breck this morning.

Erling

Erling again. Do you sense a theme here?

Hedda and Dashe

Naturally, Parke was our guide today, since he grew up in Breckenridge and knows all its nooks and crannies. He took us out for a little loop that topped out at about 10,878 feet above sea level. (That's 3,316 meters to you Euros and Canadians.) 

(Here's my GPS watch to prove it.)

Constance, Marit and me

Chase, Garrett and Corbin at 10,878 feet above the sea.

All things considered, I'd say we're surviving and thriving at almost 11,000 feet. This weekend we'll be racing way down low at 9,000 feet. The air down there is going to be so thick and packed chock full of oxygen!