By John Wood
Springtime in Southcentral Alaska is ski carnival time. In a celebration of warming temperatures and the longer hours of daylight, from Homer on the shores of lower Cook Inlet all the way up to the Golden Heart City of Fairbanks at the northern terminal of the Alaska Railroad… it’s ski and party time!
Beginning with Eagle River’s “Ski the Beach” on the last weekend in February, the fun progresses on each of the succeeding four weekends. Racing goes from the Tour of Anchorage in Alaska’s largest city, north to the Oosik Classic in Talkeetna, back south to the Kachemak Bay Marathon in Homer, then 600 miles north again to finish up with the Sonot Kkaazoot in Fairbanks. Each race offers multiple choices of distances to ski, with short distances of 5 to 25 kilometers, and longer distances of up to 50km. Each carnival offers an after-ski party.
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I retired from serious cross-country ski competition after the 2023 World Masters in Seefeld, Austria, but have always wanted to complete the Southcentral Alaska ski carnival circuit. So I decided that, before I got too long in the tooth, this was a good year to attempt to ski them all. Although my two artificial knees seemed to be holding up well, the number of small aches and pains that come and go all over my body has been increasing from the point of being annoying to sometimes being downright unpleasant.
In early November, when my APU Masters group began its winter session and there was lots of early-season snow on the ground, I decided that this year’s goal would be to complete the full spring circuit, competing in the intermediate distances. The exception would be skiing the 40km classic option in the Tour of Anchorage, or TOA, which would complete my quest to ski all six of the Tour of Anchorage distance and technique options in successive years, 2020–2025, while in my seventies.
Then, to quote University of Alaska Fairbanks climatologist Rick Thoman writing in the Alaska and Arctic Climate Newsletter, “Low pressure anchored just east of Kamchatka and south to southwest winds prevailed across all of Alaska” for most of the next several months.
Thoman went on to note that this was a classic “warm winter” pattern for Alaska, similar to the mid-winter atmospheric patterns in 1985–86, 2002–03, and 2015–16. This resulted in consistently warm, dry weather that produced little snow and melted what had fallen earlier.
In mid-February, these conditions forced the relocation of the Iditarod sled dog race restart to Fairbanks, the cancellation of the Fur Rendezvous Open World Championship Sled Dog Race, and the shift of the high school state cross-country skiing championships from Government Peak Recreation Area near Palmer north to Fairbanks.
Thoman further stated, “The paucity of 2024-25 snowfall in Anchorage and other Southcentral Alaska locations may be unprecedented in the era of modern records.” Anchorage had lots of snow in late October, then, due to early January meltdowns and lack of precipitation in the form of snow… almost nothing!
Note the paucity of snow in midwinter 2024/2025 (chart: courtesy Rick Thoman)
Mid-February brought cooler conditions but no snow. Rick Thompson writes that “The National Weather Service Sand Lake Office reported snow depth of ‘trace’ every day in February 2025 making this the first mid-winter month in Anchorage climate history that had no days with at least 1 inch snow depth.” Ski the Beach, hosted by the Chugiak–Eagle River Nordic Ski Club, was cancelled, and the TOA was in dire straits. Normally an iconic point-to-point race across the breadth of Anchorage from mountainside to ocean shores, the Tour trail was mostly bare!
The Nordic Skiing Association of Anchorage was determined to hold the TOA in some form. They worked the snowmaking equipment overtime to manufacture enough artificial snow at Kincaid Park, the largest ski area in Anchorage and the traditional terminus of the cross-town Tour route. Their efforts proved successful, as they created an approximately 5-kilometer ribbon of manmade snow that wound around the brown landscape and up and down the hills in the vicinity of the Kincaid chalet and biathlon range.
The Tour was held roughly as scheduled on Sunday, March 2, with the 50km starting at 8 a.m., the 40km at 11:30 a.m., and the 25km at 1:30 p.m. All races utilized the same looping trail of manmade snow, covering ten, eight, or five laps, respectively. Weather was forecast to be partly cloudy with overnight temperatures in the upper 20s, then rising into the mid 30s by late afternoon, promising a great day for racing.
Map of looping Tour of Anchorage course — 50km skis ten laps, 40km skis eight laps, and 25km skis five laps (map: courtesy NSAA)
Sometimes I get stubborn and really determined. Case in point, shortly after I had started my Tour of Anchorage 40km classic ski at 11:40 a.m. the light winds that had arisen earlier during the 50km event had accelerated into strong gusts that eventually topped out at 47mph at the nearby Ted Stevens airport. The clouds parted, exposing the sun, which drove the temperature into the upper 40s. I had waxed with klister for the anticipated mid-30s temperatures and my skis were getting slower and slower.
I pushed on into the pain cave, relentless in my pursuit of completing eight laps to finish the 40km classic race, knowing that, when this ski was done, I would have completed all six of the Tour of Anchorage races in consecutive years — 25km, 40km, and 50km distances, in both skate and classic — while in my 70s. I would not be denied!
Fortunately, no one was injured when the row of outhouses in the stadium parking lot was demolished by the high winds during the later stages of the Tour of Anchorage. (photo: courtesy Abby Elbow)
My first lap had been okay; I was fresh and skied away from the other classic skiers in my wave. Soon I began to ski by slower skate skiers who had started in earlier waves.
But then the sun and wind began to play havoc with the set tracks. The sun beat down on the snow in exposed areas, warming and softening the manmade snow. Wind gusts somehow found twigs, spruce cones and needles, and dried grass and leaves to deposit in the tracks. I am used to hopping in and out of the track, but found increasingly slow conditions wherever I tried to ski. I felt I was fit, but the effort became so strenuous I realized that I needed to throttle back and conserve energy if I was going to make it for a full 40km.
lots of bare ground out there just off the race course (photo: Anna Engel)
After four laps I started supplementing the Gatorade at the aid stations with the defizzed Coke I was carrying to drink near the end of the event. This was supplemented by Shot Bloks I carried in my fanny pack.
Even though the Coke gave me just enough additional energy to carry on, the “race” began to take on the aspect of a forced march: drive one ski in front of the other, then repeat. Whenever the trail turned into the wind the strong gusts coupled with the really slow snow would bring my forward progress to what seemed like a crawl. On one occasion I passed a skier whose forward progress had halted and who was hunched down waiting for the gust to decrease. It was a tough day out there!
Finally, partway through lap seven of eight, I ran into the “hot tracks” created by the waves of 25km classic skiers who had started their race about two hours after mine. The snow had become warm enough that their traffic volume had turned the slow, sticky snow into much faster slush and ice, which also absorbed the forest litter that had accumulated in the tracks. Wow, saved! My skis sped up tremendously, which was a good thing because I didn’t have much energy left, and I was able to ski the last lap about 15% faster than the previous ones.
Boy, was I elated when I crossed the finish line! I survived and had accomplished my goal. Turns out that, due to the poor conditions, there were only four finishers of the 40km classic, and I finally won a Tour of Anchorage race! You’ve gotta show up at the start line to win!
The author skis up the back of Gong Hill during the 40km classic race (photo: courtesy NSAA)
As a testament to the snowless winter coupled with challenging race-day conditions, a total of only 221 brave skiers completed a Tour of Anchorage ski race, a far cry from the usual 1000+ finishers. The premier 50km race was won by Hunter Wonders. At age 77 I was proud to be the oldest finisher overall.
This was probably the most exhausting ski race I have ever completed, and it took almost three weeks for the deep-seated fatigue that my body incurred to totally disappear. I was so tired at the finish I could only snack on finish line refreshments before I slowly ambled over to my truck and collapsed into the cab. After a nap I drove home. Celebration would have to wait a few days till I recovered some energy, which coincidentally would be just in time for next Saturday’s winter carnival, the Oosik Classic.
Results: Tour of Anchorage 40km classic
* * *
Talkeetna is a small rural town with a population of roughly a thousand that lies about 110 miles north of Anchorage and is well known for being the jumping off spot for climbers who attempt to climb Denali or one of its nearby peaks each spring. It’s also known as a quirky tourist attraction, and each year, for one glorious spring weekend, it seems that the population more than doubles, because Talkeetna is also home to the famous Oosik Classic ski festival.
The Oosik is a classic-only ski race that is hosted by the Denali Nordic Ski Club. It includes ski distances of, ostensibly, 10km, 25km, and 50km, though actual course lengths may vary by 10 to 20 percent (or more) depending on the ski conditions and whims of the trail meister.
With hundreds of miles of varying terrain generally available, the course is never really in the same place two years in a row. For instance, three years ago the track had to be modified at the last minute to protect the resident moose population due to too much snow. This year, it was modified three days prior to the event due to a “meltdown” on top of a historically low snow year. The Oosik is nothing if not flexible!
Founded by Adam Verrier roughly 25 years ago, the Oosik Classic adheres to a few guiding principles. These include:
(1) Whenever possible, the racecourse should take skiers someplace interesting and fun and different and should provide some technical challenges along the way.
(2) There should be cash prizes for the winners.
(3) There should always be a big post-race party.
Race entry is capped at 800 skiers, and is sold out weeks prior to race date.
The Oosik trails traditionally have been a mixture of traversing the on-land Talkeetna Lakes Park ski trails, and circumnavigating frozen lakes and overland extensions to access adjacent hilly terrain. This year’s historically low snow coupled with recent warm temperatures rendered the planned lake traverses unusable, so the trail was rerouted and shortened five days prior to race day. Due to insufficient snow depth and the high ice content of what snow remained, no tracks were set.
* * *
Race day for the 2025 Oosik, Saturday, March 8, dawned with a light overcast that gave way to sunny conditions as the day progressed. Overnight temperatures had dropped into the high teens and were forecast to rise into the mid 30s in the afternoon.
By 9 a.m. the Toko wax representatives were setting up their wax benches in the staging area in preparation for waxing hundreds of pairs of skis with klister for the cost of a donation to the local junior Nordic program. Other vendors had set up tents and the after-race hot meal tables stood in readiness, as did a long row of port-a-potties discreetly placed nearby. Race officials were making final preparation for the 10:30 a.m. start of the 4km junior Oosik. Volunteers directed cars trickling into the start/finish gravel pit area were directed to the limited on-site parking.
By 11 a.m. Junior Oosik finishers and their parents were everywhere with smiles on their faces. The gravel pit was buzzing with activity, the parking lot was full, and new arrivals were directed to offsite parking in Talkeetna, whence shuttles delivered skiers back to the start.
Toko technicians busy waxing skis prior to the start of the Oosik. Ira Edwards is at far left. (photo: courtesy DNSC)
The trails had frozen from the recent warm spell and were therefore composed of hard and fast, abrasive, transformed snow and ice. The course was mostly flat, with a few sharp pitches. Most of the 25km and 50km trails were the width of one large snowmachine drag (which kept skiers’ “herringbone V” narrow on uphills), totally ample and totally Oosik! Some of the most competitive skiers used either no wax or doublepoled on skate skis, while most everybody else used either varying amounts of klister or the ever popular waxless skis.
In keeping with his duties as a board member of the Denali Nordic Ski Club, the author dropped the flag for the start of the 50km racers at noon, then grabbed his skis and lined up in the 25km wave that started shortly thereafter. At the drop of the flag off went about 400 participants in the 25km race, most out for a good time but a few out for prize money!
10km participants at the Oosik start (photo: DNSC)
I knew that I needed to start conservatively, so I didn’t make a mad dash for the narrow trail that exited from the start area and consequently found myself behind a fallen skier on the sharp uphill leading out of the pit. As I waited many skiers passed around. When I finally got going, I hit the gas, knowing that the trail further narrowed after about 4km and I didn’t want to be behind slower skiers with little room to pass.
Just after the 4km mark when the trail narrowed, at the second sharp pitch up, a skier in front of me struggled with his herringbone and fell in a ball of skis and poles. The trail was totally blocked, and skiers were piling up behind. I was third in line. Quickly sizing up the situation, I took my skis off and ran up the hill around the congestion. I put my skis back on and off I went!
A couple of kilometers from the finish, my fatigue from the Tour started to get the best of me. As I was struggling to maintain my form a very polite, soft voice from behind said, “Excuse me sir, could I please go by on the right.” I pulled over and a friend’s 13-year-old daughter doublepoled by and gradually pulled away. Youth will be served!
The final tally for the 25km was 362 finishers, of which the top three finishers were aged 15, 46, and 13. At age 77, I was the oldest finisher overall and placed 22nd, which is primarily a testament to the number of folks just out for a good time as opposed to trying to ski fast.
At 693 official finishers for all distances, the Oosik was the largest ski carnival this year in southcentral Alaska, and the country’s second-largest classic marathon behind the American Birkebeiner. The premier 50km event was won by Eric Packer.
Results: 25km Oosik Classic
* * *
Early the following week the Kachemak Bay Marathon in Homer was cancelled due to low snow conditions, so I had an extra week to rest and recover from the exertions of the two previous weeks. I tried to keep my workouts easy, and only started to feel like my old self was coming back on my Wednesday workout on the Spencer trail at Hillside, 11 days after the Oosik and three days prior to the Sonot. Coach Galen Johnston had my masters group working on hill technique; looking back after the Sonot, I was grateful for this final tune-up.
* * *
The Athabaskan phrase “Sonot Kkaazoot” means to slide your feet across the snow. This phrase became the name of a ski festival in Fairbanks that has been held in late March since the late 1980s and is the last of the major spring ski events in southcentral Alaska. The traditional Sonot start was in downtown Fairbanks under the Cushman Street bridge, from which the trail would follow the Chena River out to Birch Hill ski area for roughly 10km, rack up another 30km skiing all those trails, then return. In recent years, the spring river trail has become unsafe, and in 2022 the “all–Birch Hill” Sonot courses were introduced.
Partial breakup on the surface of the Chena River in the 2016 race. The groomed trail went through the foreground of this photo during the outbound 10km. (photo: Stella Wisner)
And what a course! The Birch Hill ski trails have long been known as one of North America’s championship-caliber courses and regularly host events such as Junior Nationals, Arctic Winter Games, NCAA races, and SuperTour Finals. The Sonot 30km and 50km courses ski these competition trails, and more!
The first 16km of the 30km and 50km Sonot skis down and up the flanks of Birch Hill. The next 14km profile (not shown here) is similar to the above. No rest here! (photo: courtesy Nordic Ski Club of Fairbanks)
* * *
When I loaded my truck parked in front of Wedgewood Apartments in Fairbanks at 8 a.m. the sun was just peaking over the hills and the temperature was 5 above. It was Saturday, March 22, and I was signed up for the 30km Sonot, the last of the Alaskan spring ski festivals and the last stop in my quest to ski all five (now down to three) races.
When I arrived at Birch Hill ski area, which sits on top of a prominent hill just to the north of Fairbanks, the temperature registered 21 degrees, and with the sunny skies came the promise of higher temperatures by the 10 a.m. race time.
It was good to get on real snow again! No artificial snow and no ice, just real honest to goodness, natural, made-in-the-clouds snow. What a joy! My skis felt good, and my body felt effort-ready for the first time since the start of the Tour a long 21 days ago. This would be the first time that I had skied most of these trails and I had studied the daunting course profiles.
When the flag was dropped by the starter and announcer, legendary skier Bob Baker, I positioned myself mid-pack in the wave of fifty or so 30km skiers and drifted back a bit as faster skiers passed me on the initial steep downhills. (Note that I always ski tricky downhills conservatively to protect my artificial knees from nasty spills.)
You may notice from the course profile shown above that this course contains no flat sections. Adding up the statistics, the 30km race is 30,707 meters long and has a total climb of 1036 meters, including 5 A-Climbs and 21 B-Climbs. [This is more climb per kilometer than the 5km course used for distance races at 2023 U.S. Nationals in Houghton. The 67m A-Climb at the 23km mark is a nice touch; if you think that’s excessive, may I interest you in the 116m hors catégorie climb that falls 38km into the 50km. –Ed.]
It felt like my ski time was 5 percent screaming downhill barely in control and the other 95 percent grinding back up to the top, only to plunge back downhill on another trail section. And so it went, down then up, down then up, broken by aid stations strategically placed every 5km or so. The tight pack of racers quickly spaced out.
Shortly after I started and on the first long downhill, a blue spandex suit covering a young lad passed me like I was snowplowing (okay, I was only braking to go round a hairpin corner). He disappeared down the hill, only to reappear as we V1ed up the lengthy uphill that followed. This pattern repeated itself numerous times over the first 20km, after which the little guy began to tucker out and I slowly pulled away.
And so on it went, up and down, always cycling back in and out of the stadium area. Occasionally, when the looping trails approached each other, I had a glimpse of the lead train of 50km skiers composed mostly of collegiate skiers locked in serious competition. When they lapped me about 2km from the finish they were V2ing up grades I was struggling to V1 up!
At about the 25km mark I had the satisfaction of passing a series of younger skiers on the lengthy Heartrate Hill who had pulled over to rest. To my dismay I was forced to do the same on the final grade up into the finishing stadium and was unceremoniously passed by a 20-ish-year-old young lady who skied steadily by. Youth will be served!
At the finish line I chatted with Bob Baker who was discussing my 1980s vintage Bill Koch ski pants and shirt, my red tie, and my rakish hat over the stadium PA system. (I am sure he wore Bill Koch gear 40 years ago too!) I was introduced to the young skier in the blue spandex who turned out to be Bob’s grandson Oliver Chythlook… the youngest 30km contestant and the winner of the U10 age group, who gave the race’s oldest skier a run for his money for at least 20km of the 30km course. Give him another year and I won’t stand a chance!=
Turns out I finished in the upper two-thirds of the 30km finishers (33rd of 51) and was the oldest finisher in either the 30km or 50km. I was about an hour behind the winner, the current NCAA 20km women’s champ Kendall Kramer, who won the 30km race by 13 minutes. She can really fly!
A total of 152 brave souls finished one of the three Sonot distances; the premier 50km event was won by Peter Hinds.
Results: Sonot Kkaazoot (all races)
* * *
Well there you have it; another ski season is in the books. My regular tweaks and occasional angry body parts have held up well and my two artificial knees came through with flying colors. My results were good — two age group wins and overall winner of the TOA 40km classic (YAY!). However, the river of time flows ever forward, so I am still not getting any younger (darn!).
But this low-snow year left me with some unfinished business in Chugiak and Homer. Next spring, as the days grow longer and the temperatures rise, Ski the Beach and the Kachemak Bay Marathon will beckon. And, assuming my body parts hold together, here I come!
You’re reading this on Nordic Insights, one man’s labor of love dedicated to publicizing American skiing. We started with nothing and now we’re going to the Olympics. You can read more about our first three years here, and donate to the Olympics fund here. Thank you for consideration, and, especially, for reading.
