Winter's Last Hurrah

Buried in snow

We had begun to think spring early in April when a massive 1000 mile wide weather front moved up the Pacific Ocean and stalled over South Central Alaska. We got up in the morning to snow falling furiously, blowing about and building up. It was the first Thursday of the month, the day the train runs up the tracks, turns at Hurricane and runs back down. Because it’s the one day a month that allows a round trip, it’s our custom to invite friends whose schedules don’t work for overnight stays. They come for lunch, have some fun in the snow, then catch the train out on its return trip.
The plan was to pick up our passenger at 10 and head up the highway until around 8 we got a phone call. Another friend had left early and was driving to Talkeetna to meet us at the train when conditions got so bad he decided not to go any further. He called to tell us there was a complete white out and the plows were nowhere to be seen. He suggested we change our plans.
For us that wasn’t an option, not only because we had a friend looking forward to the trip but also because it was our last opportunity to get things ready for bear season. We also had to get supplies in while we still had snow to haul them or face the prospect of carrying them in our back packs when we could no longer snow machine. Then there was the snow machine waiting at the trail head that we had to get back to the cabin along with the sled we brought to town on our last trip.  And there was the bear proofing to be done. The bears would likely not be out in this snow but once it passed it wouldn’t be long before they were wandering about looking for mischief. The cabin needed to be shuttered, the bird feeders taken in, the snow machines secured.
We decided to brave the blizzard. We called our guest for the day and told him that we would pick him up an hour early if he was still up to the trip. Half way to Talkeetna we found out what our friend’s phone call  was about. White out conditions almost obliterated the road. You couldn’t see more than five or six car lengths ahead, you could barely make out the edge of the road. You most definitely couldn’t pass. Ahead of us cars followed a lead car

Loading the  train

somewhere up there going less than 30 mph. Nail biting time. It took us an hour to go the distance we normally would do in half that. If we kept that pace we may not make the train. Of the long caravan we followed we were the only car to turn at the Talkeetna cut off road which gave us the chance to make up time. We pulled into the train station with a ten minute cushion. By the time we got off at our flag stop at least a foot of fresh snow covered the trail. Since we only had one machine waiting I started off on snow shoes while Dan went ahead with our guest on the sled. In a short time I heard the loud revving of the engine. He wasn’t getting up the hills. Our guest would have to walk to the top. Fortunately he was spry and in condition.
When I reached the hills Dan had already gone over them with the snow machine so it was an easy climb and when I got to the top Dan was already coming back for me. With an extra hand to help we had the roof raked the fire started the water tank filled the propane turned on and I had caribou sausage and cheese quesedillas on the grill. We skipped plans for fun in the snow. Conditions were not good for snow machining off the trails and cross country skiing loses its lure when the snow is wet and blowing. We sat by the fire and told stories instead until it was time to bring our guest back to the train.
The snow kept coming all night. The next day it was still snowing. We woke to one of those beautiful winter wonderlands, everything draped in soft fluffy white. Then around 2 in the afternoon the sky began to lighten. By three the sun was  breaking through, sparkling in the still falling snow crystals, glistening in the snow-coated trees. We were treated to a last crescendo of winter beauty. By four it had warmed to 40 degrees and our beautiful white world began to disappear in the drippy mess of weeping trees.
Saturday’s sun was up early. Once past the spring equinox we have more daylight than dark. It was a perfect winter day with no wind and 20 degrees, ideal weather for a last snow machine romp. We would head for the upper lake and see if the Roberts were in or over to McKenzie Creek. Then we heard a snow-machine coming up the trail. Of course we had to ask our visitor to stay for lunch and while we sat and talked the temperature climbed. By the time we finally got going  the snow was wet and melting. I wasn’t 20 feet into the trip and I got bogged down in wet heavy snow. Twenty more feet, bogged down again. A half mile further stuck again and this time I needed Dan’s help to get out. We weren’t exactly having the fun we planned. That moment that comes every spring had definitely arrived. That’s when you say OK winter is over time to move on. We gave up on our last hurrah and went back to the cabin.

Snow from the shed roof

We spent the time shoveling instead.
Heavy wet snow can be a problem.
We’ve had two disasters in the past when
snow wasn’t shoveled on time. One year
the bridge span broke under heavy wet
snow and another year the wood shed roof
collapsed.
On Sunday we closed up for the bears. All the windows got shutters held closed by boards screwed into the log walls. We’ve never had a bear get passed them. We took down all the bird feeders to keep from attracting bears. We put the snow machines in the shed and laid toboggans over the seat. For some reason bears love to chew up snow machine seats. We turned off the gas. And when all was done we had a lovely quiet snow shoe trek to the train.