Outdoors

On the first Saturday in June — National Trails Day — Juneau’s trail maintenance nonprofit gives volunteers a chance to pick up a shovel and help with trails.

Trail Mix Inc Director Meghan Tabacek stood in the back of a pickup truck, holding up tools for volunteers to see. 

“We have the shovel, the tried and true,” she said. “Not a lot of concerns with the shovel.”

She gave volunteers advice on how avoid the shovel’s few dangers.

“My one concern is, I highly recommend holding the shovel both hands on it like this,” she said, demonstrating proper form to avoid injury.

Volunteers file up the trail with rakes, hoes, and mattocks in hand to pack muddy spots with gravel.

The volunteers came out because they care about Juneau’s trails – and lately their work has felt more vital than ever. This spring, federal funding uncertainty meant that trail work on some of those beloved trails could have been deferred. Now, the situation is more hopeful: trail workers have their jobs back, and funding may still come. 

It was Rachel Disney’s first time volunteering with Trail Mix. Instead of a hand tool, she pushed a motorized wheelbarrow full of gravel.

“Being able to get out and hike and be in the woods was my main reason for staying in Alaska when I got here,” she said. “So I want to be able to make sure that people can continue being out in the woods here.”

Disney said the future of Juneau’s trails means a lot to her. 

But that future has been uncertain. After the Trump administration canceled federal grants and fired federal workers— including dozens of U.S. Forest Services employees based in Juneau—Trail Mix leadership decided to reduce its scope in case its federal funding was canceled.

With that in mind, the organization pivoted to fundraising, and planned to work only on city-owned projects — not Juneau’s heavily-used Forest Service trails.

At the time, job cuts halved Juneau’s Forest Service trail work crew.

Donors stepped in, and Trail Mix raised just over $54,000 to put towards previously scheduled work on two heavily trafficked Forest Service trails and other projects. Tabacek said people often submit complaints about the condition of Peterson Lake and the Amalga Trail that reaches the Eagle Glacier cabin, so the group had planned the work before federal cuts came down.

“The work was already planned,” Tabacek said. “We were already hoping to do it. And so it was really great the community stepped up so we could do it.”

Tabacek planned to use the money to hire fired off Forest Service trail crew, but when she went to extend the offers, she found they had been rehired by the federal government.

“They have one full trail crew of all returning staff,” she said. “Which was really great for them, just because returning people have a lot of experience.”

And Tabacek says it looks like the majority of their expected federal funding will be honored after all. The Forest Service has not confirmed the staffing levels in Juneau. 

But she said, RIFs—or Reduction in Force efforts—still loom for the Forest Service employees. Now, federal rulings are blocking them, but Trail Mix is reserving some of the fundraised money to be able to hire two Juneau trail workers who may lose their jobs in future cuts.

“There is still kind of the omnipresent threat looming over the heads of federal workers that they might lose their job,” Tabacek said.

If there are no more cuts to trail jobs in Juneau, then the money set aside will go towards trails people want to see improve, she said. 

Trail Mix crews are currently working on a reroute trail to Mt. Jumbo, also called Sayéik, and the Thunder Mountain Bike Park.

Juneau is getting a new public-use cabin, this time built by a local trail maintenance nonprofit. The cabin will be owned and maintained by the city but constructed by Trail Mix Inc., which builds and maintains trails around Juneau.

Meghan Tabacek, who leads Trial Mix, said this will be the organization’s first time building a cabin. 

“Not only are we going to build a beautiful cabin that generations of Juneau people can use for years and years to come,” she said. “But we’re also setting up trail workers who hopefully can keep those skills in the Juneau community, or wherever they take off to afterwards.”

The Juneau Assembly approved a grant to the nonprofit last month to take on the project. The money was approved by voters in 2022 in a bond package. 

The cabin will be at Amalga Meadows Park, about a mile out the road from the Shrine of St. Therese. The new cabin will be a short hike beyond the existing Amalga cabin. 

Tabacek said Trail Mix staff will build the trail to the new cabin this summer. Next summer, they’ll build the cabin itself, under the guidance of an experienced foreman who has built public-use cabins before. 

Tabacek said the new cabin will look similar to the first one, with a few improvements.

“We’re getting a longer roof over the deck — which, you know, necessary for Juneau,” she said. “Now you can actually hang out on the deck, even if it’s rainy.”

This will be the second city-owned cabin in the Juneau area. There are about a dozen Forest Service and state-owned cabins.  

The sunlight bounces off the glassy surface of Sitka Sound as community herring fish egg harvesters navigate the waters with boats loaded with hemlock branches for the fish to lay eggs on. Surrounded by the whales, and the sounds of lively seals, sea otters, sea lions and countless seabirds, this annual harvest is a cherished sign of spring for people living in Southeast Alaska. After months of gray skies and cold weather, both people and wildlife eagerly embrace this moment.

Steve Johnson, recognized by his Łingít name Ixt’Ik’Eesh, is a prominent community leader from Sitka.

“It’s like the first real taste of spring that we get here,” Ixt’Ik’Eesh said excitedly

Of the Kiks.adi Clan of Sitka, Ixt’Ik’Eesh has been harvesting herring fish eggs for most of his life. His earliest recollection of the harvest dates back to his childhood, a memory he cherishes deeply. Ixt’Ik’Eesh recalls being on the skiff with his father and uncle, surrounded by the vast ocean.

“I remember putting my hand in the water, and I could feel the herring as they ran around it, and just the sight and the smell of it and the beauty of the world around us,” recalled Ixt’Ik’Eesh. “It’s an amazing time of the year.”

He now plays a vital role in educating community members on the techniques of harvesting herring eggs. He has successfully trained around 100 participants in the community harvest program he leads. This volunteer-driven program involves coordinating volunteers to collect and distribute the eggs through a Facebook group. Active for two decades, the program has successfully distributed about 17,000 pounds of eggs, benefiting roughly 20,000 people. This initiative not only feeds the community but has also empowered individuals by providing them with the necessary experience and knowledge to launch their own fishing operations.

“There was a period of time not too long ago where there was just a little over a dozen harvesters left, and that was really scary to me on a number of ways,” explains Ixt’Ik’Eesh.

For Ixt’Ik’Eesh, it is crucial to preserve and pass on the traditional knowledge of herring egg harvesting to ensure it remains a vital part of Łingít culture rather than fading into history.

“This is one of the few practices that we have that have been unbroken by colonization.” says Ixt’Ik’Eesh.

He not only brings valuable experience and oversees a community harvest program, but also holds formal leadership roles for both Sitka and the state of Alaska, serving on various boards and commissions, in addition to being a Council member of the Sitka Tribe of Alaska. Last year, he represented the Sitka Tribe of Alaska at the Alaska Board of Fisheries meeting as a traditional harvester, where he advocated for the protection of Promisla Bay from commercial fishing. He proposed designating the bay as part of the subsistence conservation zone, highlighting its significance as a major producer of herring eggs and a vital harvesting area for locals.

The proposal didn’t pass but that hasn’t stopped Ixt’Ik’Eesh, and his work doesn’t go unnoticed. In a nomination form for the Joint Board of Fisheries/Commercial Fisheries Entry Commission Herring Revitalization Committee, which is a combined board of the Alaska Commercial Fisheries Entry Commission and the Alaska Board of Fisheries to herring across the state. Ixt’Ik’Eesh has been recognized as the number one producer of subsistence herring egg harvesting.

The nomination highlighted his work providing herring eggs to over 10,000 households through the implementation and 20 years of distribution of tribal food security initiatives. Additionally, it recognized his extensive experience, exceeding 25 years, in both subsistence and commercial fishing.

Ixt’Ik’Eesh shared that he is guided by the Kiks.adi Clan principle of sharing. It serves as a powerful reminder of generosity.

“We measure people, and particularly leaders, not by what they have or what they show but by what they give away,” says Ixt’Ik’Eesh. “And so for me, that’s a big part of my upbringing, of my core values, and that whenever we have an abundance of something, we share it.”

This philosophy is reflected in the numbers. According to the Alaska Department of Fish and Game, in 2023, “93% of the harvest was shared with other households within Sitka or in other communities in the state and beyond.” This level of sharing underscores ancestral traditions that prioritize community health and connection.

Despite the unsuccessful Promisla Bay proposal and complexities of colonial management systems, Ixt’Ik’Eesh will always be found on his traditional homelands and ocean. This bond is rooted in a deep cultural understanding of his place and calling. Engaging in the labor of harvesting for community members and individuals who are unable to access the eggs is a task that is both physically and mentally demanding. However, Ixt’Ik’Eesh finds joy in this work, as it allows him to contribute to the well-being of his people while honoring traditional practices. The Facebook group plays a crucial role in this dynamic, serving not only as a means of communication and organizing but also as a place to share memories.

“I really like it when people send pictures and when they post pictures of their family meals and their gatherings and people enjoying them and knowing that myself and my friends and volunteers all had a very strong hand in producing that food that’s on their table that they’re enjoying.” says Ixt’Ik’Eesh.

Capturing Community

One of the volunteers aboard Ixt’Ik’Eesh’s boat this season was Mary Goddard, a Łingít filmmaker and artist. She experienced the herring egg harvest in Yakutat as a young girl and remembers her and her mother running to the beach to witness the herring spawn. They’d return the next day to check if the eggs were ready to eat. She recalls pulling seaweed from the ocean, each strand covered in herring eggs. Originally from Yakutat, a Southeast Alaska community about 230 miles from Sitka, Goddard hadn’t experienced the large harvest that Sitka is known for but still felt the same excitement.

“It was fun to be able to just walk down from our house to the beach and grab those herring eggs and eat them for dinner that night,” says Goddard. Her first career path was in acting, which took Goddard across the country to New York City, where she attended the American Musical and Dramatic Academy. But along the way, she fell in love with filmmaking. After spending 15 years in the industry, she returned to Alaska.

That leap of faith led her to found her own production company, MidnightRun LLC. After moving to Sitka, she came to see the harvest as a community celebration to welcome spring. Due to her curiosity as a filmmaker, Goddard herself began harvesting.

Aboard a boat in the ocean loaded with about 30 hemlock trees, Goddard was nervous yet excited because of her role in the harvesting process.

“My role this year was really fun, because I gotta do it from start to finish,” says Goddard.

The process begins by determining the spawning locations and timing for herring, which, according to Goddard, happen during the spring season when dollar-sized snowflakes are falling from the sky. Following this, the volunteer crew prepares by searching for medium-sized hemlock trees that have fresh needles, as these provide a desirable flavor for the herring eggs. Once enough branches are collected, they are placed in the water, secured with weights and buoys. The next step involves checking the branches one or two days later, with the hope that the herring will have laid their eggs on the gathered branches.

“Then a couple of days later, you’ll come back and pull up those trees and if it’s a good harvest, they’re rich and thick, full of herring eggs,” says Goddard.

Harvesting has evolved into more than just a filming opportunity; it has become a chance for Goddard to share this tradition with her son. This season, she took her 9-year-old out on a Saturday to scout for trees in preparation for the harvest. By bringing her community on screen, Goddard also returned home to connect younger generations with their elders, utilizing filmmaking as a tool to generate enthusiasm for traditional practices.

“Being able to teach the youth in a way that maybe they’re already engaged with is one way to ensure that the youth will continue to practice our harvesting ways,” says Goddard.

Ultimately, Goddard wants her son to appreciate the effort involved in harvesting from the land and recognize the value of natural resources like herring eggs. She emphasizes that it is far easier to waste food purchased from a grocery store than to invest the time and energy required to gather and prepare food sourced directly from the earth or sea. Additionally, she highlights the deep connection that Indigenous peoples have with the animals they rely on, underscoring the importance of respect and stewardship in their relationship with nature.

“I want him to be able to respectfully harvest, respectfully take care of his body through healthy food that he knows where it came from,” Goddard said.

“I want him to really care for himself by eating really healthy food, and being connected to community and gratitude, and all these amazing things that subsistence living teaches you,” Goddard continued.

Family tradition

Like Goddard, for Ricardo Worl, known by his Łingít name Gooshdeihéen, this is a family tradition, something he has looked forward to since childhood. Although he was too young to be on the ocean, he was able to contribute to the harvesting process in other meaningful ways. Gooshdeihéen remembers packaging the eggs collected by his uncles in Sitka, often handling boxes that weighed as much as 50 pounds. Surrounded by family, he participated in the enduring tradition of utilizing and processing the resources provided by the land.

“I just remember me and my cousins receiving that box excitedly, and vacuum sealing it, sharing it out,” reflects Gooshdeihéen.

As a community harvester, he can now be found alongside his uncles in the ocean each spring. As a nephew, he is expected to learn from their experience. His responsibilities extend beyond merely acquiring knowledge; he is also tasked with engaging in physically demanding work.

“My role was to cut down all the trees, bring them from out of the woods, down to the boat so they could put the trees and branches into the water,” Gooshdeihéen said. “And after the herring had spawned on the trees, my job was to pull the trees up to the boat so we could clip the branches off and pull them in.”

Gooshdeihéen didn’t formally participate in the harvest until after completing his undergraduate education at Whitworth University in Spokane, Washington, in 2021. After Gooshdeihéen returned home to Juneau he enrolled in the Haa Yoo X’atángi Deiyí: Our Language Pathway Project to learn his Łingít language. In the program, Gooshdeihéen expressed that he was interested in reconnecting his language with subsistence practices.

“I found that becoming a language scholar has made me a better fisherman and being a better fisherman has made me a better language learner,” says Gooshdeihéen.

He believes that both elements of the language and ways of living are inherently intertwined, and says he now has a greater appreciation when learning about his heritage.

Although Haa Yoo X’atángi Deiyí ended in 2023, Gooshdeihéen continues his linguistic journey to translate the Łingít language, aiming to contribute to the development of educational curricula. He shares that he is not only grateful for past language speakers but that his community is “lucky that our aunties, uncles, and grandparents documented a lot of our language, so there’s a lot to be translated. ”

Gooshdeihéen is one of the 22,601 individuals of Łingít descent, according to the latest Census data. The Łingít people are the largest group of Alaska Natives with a rich cultural heritage and historical presence in Alaska. According to the Alaska Native Language Center there are about 500 speakers of the Łingít language.

“I’d love to do translation and curriculum development to create some curriculum and language learning resources for future generations,” says Gooshdeihéen.

Gooshdeihéen’s goal and data figures highlight the ongoing efforts to preserve and revitalize the language, which is an integral part of the Łingít identity.

In the meantime, he is enrolled in language classes at the University of Alaska Southeast and coaches the Yadaa.at Kalé ski team, and the cross-country, and track teams at Juneau-Douglas High School. When he isn’t focused on language studies, skiing, or retrieving heavy tree branches from the ocean, Gooshdeihéen enjoys preparing herring eggs by blanching them on the branches, then picking them off and dipping them in seal grease. He has also been experimenting with new methods to enjoy this traditional delicacy.

“But recently, I have been trying new recipes with the row on kelp, where I sort of marinate it like you would kimchi,” says Gooshdeihéen.

Beyond trying new recipes and learning traditional ways of living, Gooshdeihéen is part of a larger network of Indigenous people who are living the traditional ways of their ancestors. Belonging to the Kaagwaantaan clan, Gooshdeihéen shares that having the opportunity to harvest herring eggs with his uncles not only reinforces his connection to the land but also the connection to his clans and community. He explained that when he is out on the ocean, he is amazed that he can “connect with the lands that my ancestors stewarded and do the things that they’ve been doing since time immemorial.”

“I’m doing the same thing in 2025 that my ancestors were similarly doing 10, 15,000 years ago,” Gooshdeihéen continued.

A 2019 study by the University of Alaska Southeast confirms this.

“In northwestern North America, the archaeological record of faunal remains shows that herring were fished for more than 10,000 years and were routinely taken by at least 4,000 BP (Before Present),” the university announcement of the study said.

He is dedicated to continuing his ancestral traditions in other ways as well.

“I made sure I shared a box with my grandparent’s people, the T’akhdeintaan out of Hoonah, and it’s really rewarding, and it feels good to reinforce these clan connections that have been also maintained since time immemorial,” says Gooshdeihéen.

The lessons he learned in childhood remain meaningful as he continues to pack eggs into boxes for his community.

Historical Athabascan and Tlingit trade routes

One of the special boxes was sent to Val Adams, a Gwich’in and Koyukon Athabascan from Beaver, who lives in Fairbanks, Alaska. Her friend, Sara Beaber-Fujioka, whom she knows through church, sent the box from Sitka. Beaber-Fujioka’s late husband was a fisherman who also harvested herring eggs and through his knowledge and relationship with Alaska Native traditions, also packaged and sent similar boxes.

“Harvesting and sharing food was central to his life, and so we had been harvesting and sharing herring eggs as this amazing abundance that we have in Sitka,” says Beaber-Fujioka.

After her late husband’s passing, Beaber-Fujioka and her daughters decided to carry on the legacy. She says that being able to share this abundance with people she knows will carry forward the joy of giving, especially among elders, is Beaber-Fujioka’s way of giving back to the community.

Adams chose to share the mail by distributing the eggs among the elders in the Denakkanaaga program, a nonprofit organization that provides cultural programming for elders living in the Interior.

“It’s our traditional way,” says Adams. “It’s our custom to share, especially delicacies such as this.”

Sharon McConnell, the executive director of Denakkanaaga, emphasizes that this generosity illustrates the historical trade relationships that existed before Western contact. As noted by Sealaska Heritage, Łingít people have always historically traded amongst themselves and neighboring communities for goods that couldn’t be found in the region. Łingít’s offered, “greenstone for tools, clams, mussels, red and yellow cedar, dried halibut and salmon, seal oil, herring eggs, seal meat, hooligan oil, and berries.”

“Through the decades we’ve traded with other tribes throughout the state of Alaska, and the bonds have been made between Native people in different regions of Alaska, and one is between Southeast Alaska and Interior Alaska,” says McConnell.

While the box of herring eggs didn’t cross the vast landscape through the rivers, mountains, and lakes on a trade route, the eggs were still enjoyed by the elders. McConnell shared that everyone loved it as the elders enjoyed the eggs to their liking, such as eating them raw or blanching the eggs before eating.

“For those in Southeast to share it with us, it’s very meaningful and very appreciated,” reflects McConnell.

The 2025 herring egg harvest in April serves as a reminder of how traditional values continue to foster unity among diverse communities of Alaska. This annual harvest, deeply rooted in Indigenous practices, reflects a respect for nature and a commitment to sharing resources. As the herring spawned, various clans, each with their own histories, came together to participate.

Goddard shares that the act of gathering isn’t only a means of food security but also reinforces the community aspect of this practice.

“I don’t think we were meant to do it on our own, or especially in our cultures, we weren’t meant to do it on our own,” Goddard said. “We’re meant to rely on each other, and I think that is something like the herring egg harvest really represents.”

ICT originally published this article. ICT is an independent, nonprofit, multimedia news enterprise. ICT covers Indigenous peoples.

Leaders in the Iditarod Trail Sled Dog Race are on their way to Unalakleet Tuesday, about three-quarters of the way into the competition. Jessie Holmes is in the lead, chased by Matt Hall and Paige Drobny. Those leaders and most mushers are racing with sled dogs that are bred for these long-distance competitions.

Then, there’s Justin Olnes.

Olnes said 11 of the dogs on his starting team of 15 came from the Fairbanks animal shelter, or from other rescue organizations throughout Alaska — including his lead dog, a 3-year-old female named Fly.

“She’s truly an extraordinary dog,” Olnes said. “It’s just so cool that she also happens to have been a puppy that we adopted from the shelter, along with her brother, Tippet, who’s also a very good dog. But sorry, Tippet — I just have to say, Fly is something else. She is a very good, headstrong leader. I don’t think she’s reached her full potential, and that makes me really excited.”

Olnes and his wife, Kailyn, operate ReRun Kennel just outside of Fairbanks. And their mission is to promote dog mushing while providing homes for rescue dogs in need. Olnes said racing with rescues can be kind of a gamble.

“When you go to the shelter and you see a dog that may have potential to want to race, you’re looking at its confirmation, its attitude, its build,” Olnes said. “Beyond that, you may not know much. So, you’re only going to find out by adopting that dog and giving it a go.”

While, sure, there are some risks — or just genetic and behavioral question marks — Olnes said there’s also big benefits to having a more eclectic kennel.

“You get a little bit more variety in your kennel, so you’re not pigeon-holed by whatever line you’re breeding,” he said. “And that variety means that you have dogs that are capable and adept at different things, and you can kind of mix and match as you need.”

Olnes said there have been a lot of racing success stories among the dogs he and his wife rescue. But even the ones that don’t make the cut get important jobs.

“It hasn’t panned out all the time,” he said. “In that case, we might find something else for that dog. Some of those dogs that we have just run shorter distances, or we use them to socialize with dogs that we foster.”

When Olnes arrived at the Galena checkpoint on Friday, he said he and his dogs experienced plenty of twists and turns on the first 400 miles of trail — including a sandstorm. But they’re in good spirits.

“Well, as many folks talk about the Iditarod Trail being an emotional roller coaster — that’s definitely been the case so far,” he said. “But overall, it’s been a great experience. It’s amazing country, and I’m very happy to be out here.”

Olnes’ team isn’t leading the pack this year, but his main goal is to finish in Nome with all dogs healthy and happy. Secondary to that, he said, he just wants to showcase all the talent and potential that was previously hidden away in Alaska’s shelters.

Juneau’s Peterson Lake trail is known for being a bit wet. It winds through muskeg to a lake, where a U.S. Forest Service cabin hosts overnight visitors. 

“The trail over time has just gotten soggier and soggier,” Trail Mix, Inc. Director Meghan Tabacek said. 

Trail Mix is Juneau’s trail maintenance nonprofit. While making her way down the part of the trail that her crews have been tending to, Tabacek pointed to some of the changes they’ve made. 

“The great thing about this job is there’s always no shortage of trails that need love,” she said.

The trail can be slow going on a rainy day — or most days in Juneau — with deep pools of rain and mud in between tree roots. There are sections of wood planks that have eroded and rotted in the 10 years since they were installed. Trail Mix has been replacing those with gravel. 

Peterson Lake Trail is one of many that Trail Mix’s trail crews have spent countless hours improving for Juneau residents. Now, the work may be on pause due to federal funding and job cuts. 

But Juneau’s trail maintenance nonprofit wants to hire fired U.S. Forest Service staff to make a new trail crew — if it can raise enough money to pay them.

The plan would allow skilled trail workers to continue their work this summer, after half of the Forest Service trail crews were fired last month by the Trump administration.

In the past, the organization partnered with Forest Service trail crews and had two of its own crews funded by the federal government dedicated to working on Tongass National Forest trails. 

In the recent federal firings, Juneau’s Forest Service crews were halved. And Trail Mix isn’t planning on being reimbursed for its work on Forest Service trails. 

Tabacek wants to keep those fired employees’ trail work skills in Juneau, and she said Trail Mix can be a landing place for those who lost their jobs. 

Still, she said, those jobs should be reinstated. 

“This is not an ideal situation for us, for anyone,” she said. “We understand and we know that the best place for federal workers is to continue being with the Forest Service.” 

Tabacek said, as she understands it, the Forest Service is planning to keep all remaining trail crews on cabin maintenance, leaving Trail Mix to maintain Juneau’s 250 miles of trail.  

But the organization’s remaining funding sources are funding city trails, not national forest ones. 

So Trail Mix is campaigning to fundraise $170,000 dollars — enough to hire five trail crew staff for the season. As of Thursday, community members have donated just under $12,000. Tabacek said she knows they have a long way to go, but she’s optimistic.

Nearly 90% of Juneau residents use the trails throughout the year, according to a 2016 City and Borough of Juneau survey. 

Juneau’s nine Forest Service cabins also see heavy use. After last month’s Forest Service firings, Quinton Woolman-Morgan’s crew is down to one person.

“And you can’t do it by yourself,” he said. “The projects are just far too big.”

He maintained Juneau’s cabins for three seasons. He was fired last month, in a wave that suddenly left dozens of Juneau-based federal workers without a job. 

Woolman-Morgan said the job involves a lot of pumping out the bathrooms, among other maintenance.

“If a bunk bed is not fixed, or a staircase isn’t fixed, it’s kind of an unsafe thing,” Woolman-Morgan said. “And we’re always out there replacing windows, painting. Everything gets really weathered.”

The Forest Service hasn’t released a plan for how the work that was done by fired staff will be maintained. 

Out on the Christopher Trail near Gold Creek, Gooshdeihéen Ricardo Worl surveys the work he and his Trail Mix crew did last summer. He said the Tongass is an especially challenging place to build trails. 

“Southeast Alaska is both a beautiful and a really unforgiving and challenging place to build and maintain trail,” he said.

He’s an avid trail user in Juneau who’s worked on trails with Trail Mix for the past two summers.

But Worl said that hard work isn’t always noticeable to the people who regularly use the trails. 

“You know it’s done right when people don’t notice it,” he said. “When you can go about your daily life like, ‘Oh, let’s go into a cabin this weekend,’ and not have to second guess it.”

Worl grew up in Juneau — hiking, biking and skiing local trails  — and he said they are an integral part of Juneau’s community and culture. 

And trail work, he said, is essential. He hopes residents will step up to support it.

Alaska State Troopers say three heli-skiers are presumed dead after they were caught in a massive avalanche Tuesday near Girdwood.

Troopers said in an online dispatch that the avalanche caught the skiers at about 3:30 p.m. near the west fork of the Twentymile River, about 8 miles northeast of the Girdwood airport in an area only accessible by air. Guides from the heli-skiing company they were flying with immediately tried to locate them.

“Using avalanche beacons, the guides identified a probable area where skiers were buried between 40 feet and nearly 100 feet deep,” troopers said.

Troopers spokesman Austin McDaniel said the heli-skiing flight was operated by Girdwood-based Chugach Powder Guides. A person who answered the company’s phone Wednesday declined to comment. A Homer lawyer specializing in recreation and adventure law, who told the Anchorage Daily News she was acting as a spokesperson for the heli-skiing company, refused to comment to Alaska Public Media.

Troopers have not yet released the skiers’ names.

McDaniel said in a text message Wednesday morning that none of the skiers are thought to have lived.

“Based on the information provided by the operator, unfortunately, we do not believe that any of the three missing persons survived the avalanche,” he said.

No other recovery efforts were made Tuesday due to avalanche risk and limited daylight, troopers said. The scene will be assessed Wednesday to determine whether further work to recover the skiers can be safely conducted.

Tracey Knutson, the lawyer acting as a spokesperson for Chugach Powder Guides, gave the Anchorage Daily News a detailed account of what happened in the slide, from the heli-ski company’s point of view.

Knutson told the ADN that the skiers were on a regular run for the company and that witnesses saw all three skiers activate avalanche airbags when the slide started, at an elevation of about 3,500 feet. One person who was in the group and not caught in the avalanche was safely rescued, Knutson told the ADN.

Three guides reached the debris, which had slid about 2,800 feet, and detected three signals from beacons the buried skiers wore, Knutson told the ADN.

The Chugach National Forest Avalanche Information Center reported considerable avalanche danger in the area Tuesday at elevations above 1,000 feet. Its forecast noted the possibility of human-triggered avalanches, with up to 2 feet of wind-blown snow atop a frost layer. The forecast advised avoiding steep slopes.

Knutson refused to answer any questions from Alaska Public Media, including about what safety measures the guides took, how they decided to take clients skiing with “considerable” avalanche danger in the area or what decisions led to three skiers, an uncommonly high number, getting caught and buried. She said such questions were inappropriate as the recovery effort was still under way.

According to the Alaska Avalanche Information Center, the state’s last avalanche that killed three people occurred on Bear Mountain near Chugiak in February of 2021. Troopers said at the time that three climbers ascending a technical route of the mountain were found dead, beneath what appeared to be a recent avalanche.

In its Wednesday forecast, Chugach National Forest avalanche forecasters said the Twentymile River slide was accompanied by other human-triggered avalanches Tuesday. Staff offered their condolences to friends and family, urging people to “avoid traveling on or below steep or consequential terrain” due to dangerous avalanche conditions.

Calls to the forecasters went unreturned Wednesday morning.

This is a developing story. Please check back for updates.