Paragliding high in Eagle River's sky

Here's the next installment in the periodic outdoor adventure series, called Outside the Ordinary, that I write for the Alaska Star. This article was published in May ... it's taken me a bit to get it up on the blog. (The story is below the photos).











By Amy Schenck
Alaska Star

It’s a ubiquitous late spring and early summer sight: brightly colored dots suspended in the skies above Eagle River.

A handful of local residents make paragliding more than a pastime, they make it a lifestyle.

Scott Amy fits this bill. He has been certified to paraglide for almost two decades, and has worked as an instructor for nearly as long. When not soaring with his glider, he can be found piloting planes - and more recently - helicopters.

Scott offered to take me out on a tandem flight April 21 to give me an off-the-ground feel for what the sport is all about.

We met at the McDonald Center in the late afternoon, near a large open landing field, and caravanned to Mount Baldy’s trailhead. Seven paragliders had already launched into the blue canvass above - a sure sign that conditions were ripe.

On the drive Scott gave me a few pointers and explained how to launch: wait for his cue, run until you’re feet are flapping above the alders and keep you’re weight forward, he instructed.

Once in the air, I would need to help maneuver the flexible aircraft through leaning my body weight to the “left,” “far left,” “right” and “far right,” he continued.

We also discussed thermals, the mysterious rising air currents that would keep us aloft - mysterious to me anyway, there’s actually quite an in-depth body of scientific knowledge on how thermals work - as I later learned from talking to Scott and reading a book about paragliding.

To put thermals into elementary terms, the sun hits the ground, the ground heats the air, the heat rises and we, the paragliders, catch that upward lift.

But watch out! On either side of a thermal, cold air sinks toward the ground in a mad dash to fill the space left behind by the warm air.

Throw wind into the equation, and now you have upward and downward currents being tossed this way and that by sideway currents.

The moral: it takes some skill to handle a glider.

At the Baldy parking lot, we grabbed our gear - glider, harnesses, helmets, reserve parachute, warm clothes, water and a device called a vario, which is short for variometer; it tracks distance traveled and tells the pilot the rate of climb or descent. We then headed for the launch site.

Baldy touts convenience. The launch site - a grassy knoll - is but a 5-minute walk from the trailhead.

As we arrived, we waved at a fellow paraglider circling overhead. We then put on our harnesses and spread out our wing. After ironing out a few minor tangles in the line, we clipped into the glider. I waited for Scott to read wind direction and other air movements, and then give the go ahead.

On Scott’s cue we ran forward; a few seconds later wind pulled us backward; Scott kited the wing into the oncoming gust; we once again took a few steps forward, and within seconds lifted softly into the sky - a far cry from the so-called thrill jump many envision when they think of paragliding.

“Wow!” I thought. “Wow!” I thought again, and dozens of more times after that.

Crystal clear doesn’t fully describe the day. The Alaska Range jutted out of the horizon and Mount Redoubt puffed proudly to the south.

We began caressing the side of Eagle River’s landmark mountain, zooming back and forth in search of the magic thermals (Again, magic to me).

A light wind knocked the thermals around, making upward mobility a bit of a scavenger hunt.

Luckily we had a clue: follow the bald eagle swooping easily through the air.

We began to find thermals. When we hit them, we immediately spun the glider into a tight twist, riding the air column up. To spin we pulled one side of the wing in and shifted our body weight “far left” or “far right.”

Scott called it an air dance - a fitting description and great way to think about the sport.

After some time and work, we climbed above Baldy’s peak into the peaceful void beyond, where we heard nothing more than the vario’s soft beep, letting us know when we gained or lost elevation.

Total freedom, total quiet and a totally cool view! Eagle River seemed to be nothing but an ant farm, with Denali the ants’ hill.

An hour or so later we steered the glider toward our landing pad next to the McDonald Center. (I use the term “we” with a note of pride, as Scott let me take control of the aircraft for some minutes.)

When it was time to land we hovered far above an open field, eyeing an orange windsock. And then - in the same way we climbed high - we pulled into a tight spiral, catching cold, sinking air.

Warning: this activity is not for the faint of stomach, as evidenced by a not-so-delightful little mess I left on the ground - thankfully after touchdown. (I hear you adjust to the twirling and spinning after a few flights).

Before landing we shook out our legs, preparing to once again carry our own weight, and then floated onto the ground running.

We rolled up the glider methodically, carefully attending to the strings and removing air from beneath the folds in the rip stop nylon fabric.

Sun still showered the area as we threw our gear into the car and headed home.

Alaska Paragliding and Midnight Sun Paragliding offer lessons and tandem flights in Southcentral Alaska. Learning how to paraglide costs $1,500 and includes about 75 hours of hands-on training, ground work and a couple of written tests. Lessons include three to four tandem flights at different stages, with the first few days of instruction spent on shallow slopes and flat ground learning how to handle the glider.

Scott recommends taking an introductory tandem flight before deciding if you want to invest time and money into lessons.

The schools use several sites for training, spreading from Gridwood to the Mat-Su Valley.

“The training can be done safely, as can the flying, proved by many with thousands of flights and years of flying with no injury,” Scott said.

What kind of person flies a flexible aircraft?

“Most would be surprised to know that the most common demographic is men 40 to 60 years old. There are a few young guys, but for the most part it’s mid-aged professionals and a few fortunate retired folks, from every walk of life you can imagine,” Scott said.

There are about 70 members of the Arctic Airwalker Association, and about 10 of them are women pilots.

In spring and early summer Eagle River paragliders often gain a couple of thousand feet in elevation and take cross-country trips down Eagle River Valley, or to farther away destinations like Turnagain Arm or Chikaloon.

For more information about paragliding visit: www.alaskaparagliding.com, www.midnightsunparagliding.com and www.arcticairwalkers.com.

Backyard playground: Ice climbing in Eklutna Canyon

Below is the next installment in the Outside the Ordinary series that I write for the Alaska Star (scroll past the photos for the article).

Ben looking at his next move

Me on Ripple

Ice screws

Ben repelling

Ben free climbing

Me doing my first-ever lead ice climb

Some people call it plastic. I call it frozen butter. It's the light-blue, pliable ice that makes for great climbing.

On a recent outing to Eklutna Canyon my friend, Ben Corwin, and I found ideal conditions on Ripple — a well-known, full-pitch ice climb.

But our adventure began long before we arrived to the frozen wall.

We pulled up to the Thunderbird Falls parking lot early. The sun barely illumined the sky as we crawled out of the truck and loaded up our packs.

I mentally went through the checklist:

“Crampons, check. Ice tools, got it. Helmet, rope, ice screws, harness, belay device, lunch, water, warm clothes.”

I snapped my gators over my boots and we were off.

Instead of dropping immediately into the canyon, we followed a trail along its southern rim. Ben got beta (a tip) that the first part of the canyon still had open water, so it would be best to descend on a small trail a half-mile or so up.

To make a long story short: Ben and I dropped into the canyon too early, bringing us face to face with open water flowing along a sheer vertical rock face.

This left us with two options: turn around and climb out of the canyon or make a mad dash through the water to the other side of the creek.

We chose the latter, and it went surprisingly smooth. We not only stayed on our feet, but we also maintained dry feet.

We followed a snow-packed trail for a mile farther, occasionally crossing ice bridges and weaving through alders.

Ben let out a happy chuckle as Ripple came into view. The climb glistened baby blue. And even better, nobody else had laid claim to the route, opting instead for climbs farther up canyon.

We walked to its base and ran our fingers along wet ice. A soft “drip, drip, drip” reverberated through the narrow canyon, mingling with the muted sound from the creek as it rushed and rolled below a layer of ice.

Ben is an avid ice climber, who spends the better part of his winter tackling the various routes that cling to Alaska's peaks and canyon walls.

I, on the other hand, hadn't ice climbed for five years, and wasn't certain I even remembered how.

As Ben and I prepared to get on the ice, the Saturday crowds rolled in.

Most of these climbers greeted us with a friendly smile or hello as they passed us by to find ice farther up canyon, except for one. This one disruptive climber hopped onto Ripple without asking us, crossed our rope and sent ice chunks crashing down — not only rude, but also unsafe.

Fortunately, the climber soon left, and with him — our disgust.

It didn't take Ben long to ascend and set up an anchor. He worked with ease and precision.

Then I was up — literally and figuratively.

Maybe it was the pliable, plastic ice or perhaps it was the technique I learned in the ice climbing class I took years ago; whatever the case, ice climbing felt easy.

I looked for the little depressions in the ice, sunk the ice tool in those spots, kicked in the picks on my crampons, kept my heels down, sang a little song and found myself at the top of the climb. Ben lowered me with the rope and I gave a broad smile.

We spent the morning on Ripple, taking turns climbing and belaying.

It was a balmy day, and there didn't seem to be much of a hurry to anything.

Ben made an off-handed comment that I should lead a climb. Somewhat to my own surprise, I didn't hesitate. I felt so solid on the ice that leading a climb was the natural next step.

We reviewed how to use ice screws, which a lead climber places incrementally to secure themselves. Then we loaded my harness with enough ice screws and quick draws to ascend the short pitch. I tied myself into the rope with a figure-eight knot, listened for Ben's assurance that he had me one belay and swung my tools into the ice.

I made each move with confidence and focus. I even stopped for a few minutes mid-climb so that Ben could tie off the rope and get out the camera.

I arrived at the top with a huge sense of accomplishment, having completed my first-ever lead climb on ice.

I dug out fruit snacks and Nutter Butters for us to chomp on while cleaning up and taking down the climb.

We packed up and headed home, winding along the river all the way back to the car. We even avoided the open-water crossing from the morning.

“Another great day in Alaska,” I thought.

The Web site www.alaskaiceclimbing.com is a great source of ice climbing information. It includes detailed descriptions of dozens of climbs in Alaska.

To buy all the gear needed to ice climb brand new would cost several hundred, if not thousands of dollars.

For beginners interested in learning how to ice climb, I would recommend finding a competent friend, going out with a guide or taking a class. Various local organizations and companies offer classes and guiding services, and they generally provide gear.

Editor's note: Eklutna Canyon is owned by Eklutna Inc. and therefore requires permission to access the land. I learned this after my trip when doing Internet research to add some finishing touches to my article. Routes in Chugach State Park, accessible from the Eagle River Nature Center, provide good local-ice climbing alternatives.

Aiming for a good time

Here's the next installment in my Outside the Ordinary series for the Alaska Star. Joshua took the photos.

It wasn't a typical turkey shoot. People were dressed in camouflage, the targets were foam animals and it took place in a forest in Chugiak.

But it was what I expected: a fun-filled day out with bowhunters who wanted to practice their aim.

Dan Branvold, the club's president, and his fianc?e, Barb Frost, emerged from the crowd to greet me.

Friendly and welcoming, Barb chatted while rummaging through her truck to get me the equipment I would need to participate.

Barb handed me a 25-pound bow, pulled an arm guard over the sleeve of my coat and laced a finger guard around my hand.

Grabbing arrows, we headed toward a practice range, where Vikki Gross, who has been part of the Cook Inlet Archers during its almost 20-year existence, and MJ Larson, who's been shooting with the club for eight years, joined us.

The three women bow hunters proceeded to give me my first archery lesson.

Talking through each step, and laughing a lot, we started with how to plant my feet and ended with how to release the arrow.

OK, now give it a go, they said.

I notched the back of a arrow in the bow's string, lined my feet up — turning my legs and shoulders perpendicular to the target, while squaring my hips — tightened the muscles between my shoulder blades, turned my gaze to the target's center, pulled the string back until my index finger brushed my lip and opened my hand.

The arrow whizzed away — moving in the general direction of the target, but veering substantially to the right of the burlap bag.

Close, I thought.

I gave it another try and once again the arrow buried into the shallow snow to the right of the target.

My third arrow also flew smack-dab to the right, and that's when I realized I have something to be proud of: I'm a consistent shooter.

With a deep breath and a good dose of giggles, I took a few steps closer, all the while trying to digest the many tips flying my direction.

And then (drum roll, please), I drew an arrow back, released it and bam — I heard the satisfying thud of the arrow burying into the target.

With a little success on my side, the four of us set out on the 25-target course that wove through the 13-acre Carol Moench Archery Range in Chugiak.

The targets were realistic-looking foam animals, placed throughout dense woods. The course was purposefully set up to reflect hunting conditions, so not all shots were clear or easy.

The first animal we aimed for was a red fox perched on top of a hill.

Two of the ladies hit foam; the third split a small birch tree that obstructed the target — an impressive feat in and of itself, even if it was unintentional.

I took my turn last. Positioning myself close to the foam fox, I took aim and wha-la. I tallied 5 points! A target hit is worth between 5 and 12 points, depending on where the arrow pierces the foam.

We moved from one target to the next, ducking under trees, slipping on snow and, all in all, having a very good time.

It was obvious that most club members aim to enjoy each other's company just as much as they aim for the target.

The archers told hunting stories, talked about the strange rift between compound and traditional bow hunters (both are invited to participate with the Cook Inlet Archers) and explained the nuances of various bows.

Club competitions always happen, no matter the weather, they said. Only once has a competition been canceled, and that was because there was so much snow, the city couldn't get out to plow.

This means they've shot in negative 30 degrees, howling wind and every other kind of weather Alaska serves up. Along the way they've learned some tricks for staying warm, including carrying hand warmers in their pockets or muffs.

Normally, the competitions are mixed, with both the guys and the gals forming groups of three to five to go through the circuit. On that particular Sunday, the ladies formed their own group to be able to give me instruction.

My shots continued to be hit and miss. It didn't help that I closed my eyes just as I was releasing the arrow — an unconscious reflex caught on camera.

My habit of shooting to the right of the target persisted, so I started compensating by aiming a little bit to the left. That helped.

After a couple of hours, I found my arms starting to feel limp; my aim corresponded.

I decided to head out, but not without hearty thanks. Hanging out with the Cook Inlet Archers was a great way to spend a Sunday morning.

For information on the Cook Inlet Archers contact Dan Branvold at 677-1306. Shoots cost $20 for members, $25 for non-members and $15 for youth. The fee includes a hot lunch. An annual membership cost $25 for a single and $35 for a family. The Cook Inlet Archers have about 100 members.

Amy's articles

Here's the links to a few of the stories I wrote up for last week's edition of the Alaska Star. The first link takes you to my next installment of Outside the Ordinary. It's about my day of packrafting on Crow Pass. The second is a commentary I wrote that laments - to a degree - that I'm missing out on this year's windfall permanent fund dividend ($3,269 for each Alaska resident). The third is a little blurb about how Sarah Palin hysteria crossed paths with the Star.

Lightweight rafts open up backcountry possibilities

Singing the dividend blues

Alaska Star newspaper sold on eBay
aadfljkhadfljhads

Packrafting Crow Pass

Last weekend Brad, one of Alaska's packrafting gurus, took me out to show me how to packraft. We climbed up over Crow Pass from Girdwood and packrafted out the Eagle River to the Eagle River Nature Center -- a 26 mile trip total. It was a great day!

I wrote up a first-person account about the trip; it'll come out Thurs. as my next Outside the Ordinary column.

Packrafts were developed several years ago by an Alaskan. It's been a well-know, well-explored niche activity in Alaska for a while, but it's just starting to catch on Outside (our term for any place not in Alaska). Basically packrafts weigh 4 to 10 pounds and can be carried in a backpack, along with a lightweight, breakdown paddle.

Packrafts open up the backcountry in a whole new way -- all of the sudden you can combine walking trips with river trips, mountain traverses with white water adventures. Try it once, and you'll never look at a map in quite the same way.

Check back next week for the play-by-play of our adventure, aka my article.

The hut on top of Crow Pass

Bear tracks

Raven Glacier on top of Crow Pass

Fall colors and water falls

A very cool bridge crossing

Brad, stopping to take in the view, as we descend toward Eagle River

Getting the raft ready to launch

Me on the river

Check out those class I rapids ; ) It was a really peaceful float out. The views of the huge cliff faces descending off of craggy Chugach Peaks, splashed in fall colors were... well, spectacular!

Star articles

Here's the links to some of the articles I've written recently. All were published in the Alaska Star -- the paper that, as the editor, I pour my energy and inspiration into every week.

High-tech treasure hunting in the Chugach mountains
This is my latest Outside the Ordinary column. It's about geocaching.

http://alaskastar.com/stories/061208/new_20080612008.shtml


Blaze destroys home
This story ran on the cover of the paper. It's about a family whose home burned to the ground. The family has seven children -- four biological children and three foster children -- and the dad is in the military.

http://alaskastar.com/stories/061908/saf_20080619009.shtml


Recalling history: Alaska veterans share their war stories
This is about a local lady who is interviewing veterans and putting together an oral history project. Eventually she wants to see her work lead to a veterans museum.

http://alaskastar.com/stories/061208/mil_20080612017.shtml


Back with family after tour in Iraq
An interview with two local Alaska guardsmen who recently returned from deployments to Iraq.

http://alaskastar.com/stories/052908/new_20080529001.shtml

Disc golf and driving delays

Here's the link to two recent articles I wrote for the Alaska Star... the publication I'll be joining on Monday as editor.

This is the next installment of my Outside the Ordinary column. This month's topic? Disc golf.

http://alaskastar.com/stories/042408/new_20080424002.shtml

And this is a look at a huge road construction project and how it will affect commuters.

http://www.alaskastar.com/stories/050108/new_20080501002.shtml

Mushing photos

I figured since the Alaska Star editor failed to print some of the cooler photos from my dog mushing excursion (see my blog entry below)... I'd publish them here in this blog! It was a great day and a super fun experience!

Dog mushing story

Aside from the fact that the editor botched my second paragraph with her "corrections", chose the most boring photo out of the five I sent her, couldn't come up with even a decent headline...Oh and spelled my name incorrectly...Grrr... I thought this article turned out pretty well...

http://www.alaskastar.com/stories/032708/new_20080327004.shtml

Recent publications: muzzleloading

Check out the most recent edition of my monthly column called Outside the Ordinary...

http://alaskastar.com/stories/010308/new_20080103018.shtml

It's about a day of muzzleloading with the Mount McKinley Mountainmen Muzzle Loading Rifle Club. Also for a pretty cool multi-media slideshow of the day that Joshua and I put together go to...

http://www.jjbphoto.com/Muzzleloader.html

Published articles

Check out these stories...

They're freelance articles I wrote for the Alaska Star. The first link takes you to the first article in a new monthly outdoor column that I'm writing for the paper. The second examins the lack of snow in this far north state.

Up next in my outdoor series... hanging out with the old-time Alaskans who form the McKinley Mountainmen Muzzleloading Rifle Club and learning how to shoot a muzzleloaded rife... well, learning how to shoot in general... I'd never shot a gun before last Saturday. It was super fun! I'll link you to that article when its published the first week of January.


"Adventure is all about attitude": http://www.alaskastar.com/stories/120607/new_20071206027.shtml

"Lack of snow hitting outdoor recreation enthusiasts hard":
http://www.alaskastar.com/stories/120607/new_20071206028.shtml