After almost two weeks of frigid temperatures around -50F, it was a welcomed blessing to see the thermometer rise above 0F this past weekend. I grabbed my ski's, Jack grabbed his harness, and we headed out!
My goal with warm temps and soft snow was to ski all the way up Dachenlee. This is the "holy" mountain with gently rising slopes South East of Arctic Village. The days tally would be 10 miles skied with 1200ft elevation gain.
I wasn't able to reach the final ridge of Dachenlee because of low hanging snow clouds. So I pulled my thermos out and enjoyed a warm cup of tea at one of the Fall hunting camps. Now just a skeleton of sticks and stones. All around the ground was trampled, snow scattered everywhere, vegetation exposed. The caribou had been here in small groups, bedding down, grazing, and moving on.
On the way back to the village, about a mile away we encountered blood in the tracks, literally. Someone had shot a caribou off one of the side trails. The caribou had been most likely been tied to the back of a wood sled, his blood running out of him the whole way back. Rather then follow bread crumbs home, we skied along a line of bright red.
Jack was none to impressed. I think he was hoping for a steak at the end...
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