Hanging Valley

12/6/2026

Following a wind event that blew most of the snow off of the common faces within Turnagain, we were left guessing as to where we could still find soft snow. Considering Anchorage got the brunt of the most recent storm and also avoided the winds better than further south, I ran the idea of Hanging Valley past Jake DeKraai. Jake has years of experience in the arena that is the Chugach Front Range, with a special focus in steep and tight hallways. He immediately agreed that Hanging Valley had the ingredients for success, but uncertainty still lurked. With Jake’s approval on the site, all we needed was a few more skiers to round out the crew. I phoned the regular cast of Aaron Maves and Brian Peters, who were both quickly in.

We departed from Anchorage early and found ourselves at the Harp Trailhead in no time—there’s a reason Jake and I live in the Muldoon area, and it is not for shopping options such as Video City. From the parking lot, we found a well-traveled trail that wrapped around Harp towards Hanging Valley. Rather than turning into Hanging Valley, the trail continued onwards, heading back to Eagle Lake (in the wintertime, this route avoids the meandering hills of the South Fork Trail). Seeing that nobody had gone back to Hanging Valley since the most recent snowfall was bittersweet. This meant we’d certainly be scoring first tracks down any of the couloirs, but it also meant putting a trail in through the shallow snow resting on top of stubborn alders just waiting to collapse under our feet.

Just as we traveled underneath the south face of Harp Peak, we began to see moose on the hillside. The closer we looked, the more moose we saw, crescendoing with a sizable moose appearing behind a large bush less than 50 yards in front of us. In awe, we all took a long break to enjoy a snack and take many photos of the moose haven we had found ourselves in. Eventually, we took a roundabout path to advance beyond the moose blocking our path, and the next thing we knew, we were rounding the corner into the upper bowl of Hanging Valley.

Given the time of year and low snowfall across the state, we knew our skiing options might be limited. As we entered the upper bowl, however, we were thrilled to find the westmost couloir in good shape. Barring a few shallow rocks, the entire line looked like it would be fantastic skiing. We marched towards the couloir, and soon enough we were transitioning to bootpacking. Eager to use my verts, I stormed up the apron and started the booter before Aaron Maves could catch up to me and take over the task of leading the climb. He was just as eager as I was to use the verts; it was the first day they proved useful since he had bought the tools. Jake and Brian followed closely, complaining that each step collapsed a few extra inches underneath their weight. High clouds obscured the sun as we climbed, only leaving the giants of the Alaska Range to be seen in the distance. We reached the top of the couloir around 3pm, our moose-watching to blame. With daylight running out quickly, we took a few photos and began the process of getting all of us down the corridor safely.

Aaron skied first, proudly taking it top to bottom without stopping. Jake followed and slashed overhead pow on each of his heelside turns, also riding all the way to the bottom of the line. I dropped in next. I felt powder underneath my feet, but with the high clouds and setting sun I could not see the snow at all. Accepting that visibility would be poor, I checked my speed and switched to the art of skiing braille. Unlike the stronger men in front of me, I stopped and took a break where the couloir opened into the apron. I knew there were shallow rocks that I could not see from my vantage point above, so I skied carefully and slowly beneath my resting point. I was happy to see Brian adopt the same strategy as me, but knowing he skis every day for work patrolling at Alyeska makes me wonder if he only took a break to make me feel better about my stamina…

We exchanged knuckles at the bottom of the ski line and tucked our tails, knowing we didn’t have time for a second lap. The near-solstice sunlight had gotten the best of us, so we began our long traversing side-hill out of the valley. We made it most of the way out of the valley before needing to reapply our skins. While it was only 5pm, we found ourselves underneath headlamps following the Harp trail back to the trailhead. Eventually after each of us had taken ample branches to our faces, we emerged into the Harp parking lot in the dark. The night sky filled with stars, but our bellies hardly grumbled, a sign that midwinter was upon us. We all wished we had time for more skiing, but the quality run we claimed alongside the once-in-a-lifetime moose experience left us feeling satisfied with the day.