Words Jason Robinson Photos and Captions Carver Culbeck awake, well rested, on the floor of the relatively homey Juneau Airport. I arrived in Alaska late the night before from Seattle-Tacoma International Airport and will be flying to Haines in a couple hours to link with Iñaki Odriozola and Garrett Warnick, aka Inyo and Worm, for another one of their adventures. This trip is the culmination of their entire season spent pursuing backcountry freestyle snowboarding via split-boards. The plan is to take a ski-plane out into the backcountry to camp out for a week, or two, or three. I I have my camping gear with me, so, upon arrival, I didn’t call a cab to bring me to a hotel. I stepped outside to enjoy a hand rolled cigarette in the brisk southeast Alaska night air. I sat with the feeling of excitement you only get at the beginning of a trip, when so much is still unknown and the possibilities seem end-less. My thoughts settled back on the present task at hand: where would I make camp? That’s when I was greeted by a man named Virgil. We got to talking, and I told him I’m here to camp on a glacier to snow-board. He explained to me that he’s lived up here, homeless, for the last 10 years. Virgil is a short, wiry man, probably in his early 50s. He gave me no reason to doubt his stories of building nu-merous rogue log cabins in the surrounding forests to live in over the years. When the authorities would discover his dwelling and give him the boot, he’d mosey along and build another one some-where else. Currently, Virgil is at the tail end of a yearlong resi-dency at a nearby hotel that he said Uncle Sam got for him. “They give us snacks and all,’’ he said. “I’ll go grab you some.” He came back in under 10 minutes with a couple of juice box-es, fruit gummies and a small bag of potato chips. “You told me you were a snowboarder,” he said, and grinned as he handed me an odd-looking deck of cards. “These cards have everything you need to teach someone how to snowboard.” He also explained that if I have a flight in the morning, no one will kick me out of the airport if I sleep inside. Enough said. Before leaving, he bestowed upon me what seemed to be his life’s motto, complete with a sort of physical rendition where he had me walk along to really emphasize his point. Walk behind me, I’ll protect you. Walk beside me, I’ll respect you. Walk in front of me, I’ll wreck you. I laid out my sleeping pad and bag on the floor of the airport and began flipping through my newly acquired “Snowboarding Train-ing Cards,” which include 120 individual snowboarding lessons. I wondered if “How to Cross a Bergschrund” is one of the lessons provided within the deck. Drifting off, I found myself wondering how Virgil’s mantra applies to me and my current situation. I mean, I would be doing a lot of walking on this trip and would most likely be well behind the rest of the crew. Did that mean they would pro-tect me? A comforting image that put me right to sleep. FLYING FROM Juneau to Haines through heavy cloud cover, I’d have no idea what lies to my left if I weren’t already aware. Without the jaw dropping peaks visible to mind surf, I’m pushed toward an introspective in-flight experience. I reflect on my first visit to Haines—2013 I believe. Driving along the Chilkat High-way, Absinthe Films’ Justin Hostynek told stories about the early AK days as the sun set behind a snow-caked Cathedral Peak. I re-member feeling that I was exactly where I belonged; I had found my place in the world. HAINES 065
The Snowboarder's Journal The Snowboarder's Journal 22.1: Page 65
