“Exodus,” what the military seems to have dubbed Christmas break, began on December 18th this year. Two weeks were scheduled devoid of classes allowing BOLC students to take leave for the holidays. While some lieutenants decided to hang around Ft. Leonard Wood rather than burn up precious leave time (pity their souls), I decided to use the entire 16 days of leave, and jumped right into action. On my first day back, I hit the Beach Lake XC ski trails with my dad and Doug. After a couple hours of good cardio, we stopped by Doug’s house to try out some of his home brew, (which by the way is mighty delicious). As a family, we also went to church on post and had a nice candle-lit enhanced service where the candles provided not only auxiliary light, but also the primary form of hearting as the furnace had been turned off.
One of my goals over the holiday was to spend as much time outside as possible, and I accomplished that quite well, going skiing or sledding everyday save Christmas. I was amazed by how many of my friends were home from work and school as well. On the 21st we went to over to Patrick McCormick’s house for the annual winter solstice bonfire, where a number of congregated and schemed plans. The following day, I skied a community relay race at Kincaid with my dad and some friends. That is when the weather started to get real cold. During the race, the temperature hovered in the single digits and breathing hard made your lungs burn. On the 23rd, when Clint, Ian, Michael, and I skied around the Eagle River Nature Center as a warm-up for our upcoming overnight trip to Crescent Pass, the temperatures at the river dropped below zero. We took it slow and easy that day. I learned that long johns and swix pants were not going to cut it for the upcoming trip, so I beefed up my gear list in preparation for our trip.
Christmas Eve at Alyeska is always a riot. Dress up as old Saint Nick and you can ski for free (saving $60 was more than worth making the costume preparations). Michael, dad, and I drove down and before evening getting on the lift, we linked up with a pair of costumed figures we knew, Matt and David Smith. We now had a true Santa ski party going! Due to the cold weather, the slopes were almost all ours too. With a handful of other Santa’s and a few less-spirited individuals to contend with, we tore up the slopes. By the end of the day, I could not feel any of my stiff, white toes, but boy did I have a big smile on my face!
Christmas day was filled with the usual fanfare, opening presents, eating good food, and calling relatives. The signature, not-to-be-missed Tomsen Christmas dish is Alaskan king crab. This year, mom planned well in advance and bought a 15 pound box of king crab at the Commissary when they had it on special. What a feast that was! (Don’t be a gluttonous fool; we only finished off a few pounds worth).
The four days following Christmas were spent on overnight cabin trips with high-school friends. Firstly, Patrick, John, Nicholai, Gina (Nicholai’s fiancée), and I skied up the Eagle River Valley to a hut owned by Patrick’s friends. We arrived rather late after crawling under numerous aspen trees bent over by the weight of the snow. The cabin warmed up nicely however and we enjoyed a fine dinner of bratwurst only topped by John’s pancakes the following morning. This was the first trip that I managed with these guys in half-a-decade (reminiscent of good times floating the Kenai and Willow), so I’m glad we pulled it off.
The following trip, which I devised weeks ahead of time, would take Ian, Clint, Michael, Katrina, and I seven miles up the Carter Lake Trail to the Crescent Saddle Cabin. Lucky for us, the weather warmed up slightly and the trail was well broken it (perhaps too well broken in?) by snowmachiners. The first two miles of trail ascended out of the Trail Lake Valley. The climb was steep and most chose to forgo their long, fumbling skis for the ease of packed snow and boots. Being an adamant skier, however, I retained my skis for even the steepest parts, when even the herring-bone wished to slide and the wood-filled sled threatened to drag me back down the hill. Upon reaching the crest, it was easy skiing all the way to the cabin, much of the time over the frozen surfaces of lakes. The worst bits involved overflow, where slush and water coat the surface of the otherwise frozen lake. Pass through this and your skis transform into a powerful adhesive, collecting incredible amounts of snow on their bases and unpleasantly spiking the coefficient of friction. After roughly four hours on the trail, we reached the quaint, little Forest Service Cabin at Crescent Saddle. Clint and I immediately set to work chopping wood, while Ian stoked the fire. Within an hour we had it glowing red hot and the cabin a pleasant 50 degrees. Another few hours of cooking dinner, playing cards, and enjoying our little retreat and the cabin had hit 70 degrees. The insulation in this place was simply amazing! Before hitting the sack, we jammed a massive log into the stove (it was such a tight fit, we had to remove the bark!), set it alight, and retired soundly for a fine, warm night’s sleep.
The following morning we awoke to clear skies and six inches of fresh snow. The crisp, pristine landscape which enveloped us as we departed the cabin was amazing—almost to the point of being surreal. The blue of the sky and the white of the snow matched each other perfectly. As we skied back across the frozen lake, I could not help thinking to myself, “This is what Alaska is all about. Oh, how I’ll miss it when I’m out in the boiling sands of the Middle East.” The steep climb we had ascended the previous day, turned into a four foot wide downhill alley, barely wide enough, and almost too steep to snowplow down. Having burned all the wood we carried in, Ian claimed the now vacant sled and used it to toboggan down the hill at breakneck speeds. I followed closely behind, managing to face-plant into the snow bank once or twice. The trip was a resounding success.
That night, the 29th, Jan arrived in Anchorage after spending Christmas in Hawaii and Oregon with her boyfriend Chad and his family. After running some errands in Anchorage and going skiing at Russian Jack, the whole family headed north, to Jan’s cabin in Denali. On the night of the 30th, we made Swiss fondue and enjoyed the simply luxuries of a cabin with electricity (and internet to boot)! On New Year’s Eve, we Jan, Dad, and I went for a ski on the network of little trails that bisect the Denali Park entrance’s tundra. We were passed by a few dog teams to add authenticity to the experience. We gorged on another fabulous dinner that night (my sister has become a might good cook in the image of my mother). Come New Year’s, it was time to head south again, back to Anchorage and an awaiting flight to the Lower 48. Not before visiting my Aunt, Uncle, and cousins at their cabin in Talkeetna. This final stop made me realize that perhaps Alaska nickname should “the land of cabins.” And oh, how I love it so!
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