The Tordrillo Chronicles—Part Three: Oh, The Places You’ll Go

By John Coleman

Down Day

On our final full day at Tordrillo Mountain Lodge (TML)—a Friday—we awoke to gray
skies and snow falling; the surrounding peaks obscured clouds. We were warned the
night before it would likely be a down day with a low-pressure system moving in. After
four sunny, windless days in the field, I was content with a down day, knowing we had
lucked out with more skiing than some who venture here.

I awoke early and stepped outside to take in the quiet, snowy solitude of our remote
surroundings—the forest peaceful and still in the pre-dawn light. I’d read many accounts of the profound effect the Alaska wilderness can have on people. Now, I understand why.

At breakfast, guide Sam gave us an outlook for the day. It was not going to be good for
skiing, but it was perfect for the lodges down-day activities: Nordic skiing, fat biking,
snowshoeing, skeet shooting, pickleball (the maintenance crew kept the court clear of
snow all week), cold plunge, sauna, ping pong.

Conor and I opted for Nordic skiing—something neither of us had much experience
doing but it would give us a good opportunity check out some of the terrain around the
lodge. We went to the equipment hut to gear up and were met by one of TML’s
founders, former Olympic medalist and World Cup alpine ski racer Tommy Moe, just
returning from a morning ski.

“You should do skate, it’s more fun than classic,” he advised. Conor and I looked at
each other as if to say, “Easy for you to say, Tommy!” (Skate-style Nordic skiing requires more athletic ability and technique than classic skiing wherein your skis are fixed in grooves.) But we took his word on it and got fitted into boots and skis with the help of guide, Brian. 

Coming out of the gear shed—waddling past the main lodge and other outbuildings
toward the trailhead at the far end of the property—Conor and I must have looked like
two ducklings taking to their feet for the first time. There were a lot of laughs, and some
fussing with bindings, but by the time we reached the trail we were mostly able to stay
on our feet. The Nordic track was freshly groomed that morning with a top layer of
powdery corduroy. I can’t imagine XC conditions much better.

A quarter-mile into the trail and the hum of the lodge was replaced by the quiet stillness
of the forest with the snow still falling, at a steadier rate now than earlier in the day. We
skied for about an hour, covering 4K. Enough to get the heart pumping.

We dropped our gear off at the equipment hut and took the fat bikes back to the
lodge—stopping along the way to admire the river that feeds into Judd Lake. In June,
when Alaska gets 22 hours of daylight, the inlet will be teeming with salmon and
rainbow trout. And TML set the bar for spring fishing and skiing in Alaska with its Kings
and Corn package: ski corn snow in the morning, fish for king salmon in the afternoon.
Back at the lodge, we joined the rest of the group in the common area. The Natural
Selection snowboard competition at Revelstoke Mountain Resort, British Columbia, was
on the TV. I settled into a comfy couch near the wood stove. Jay and Victor were busy in the kitchen prepping dinner; surf and turf was on the menu. It was a perfect ending to a packed week. The next morning, we’d board the Otter tour plane and make the short flight back to Anchorage and, from there, back to reality.

Realization of a Dream

It’s been one month since our trip and I’ve had ample time to reflect on the experience.
It was my first time skiing big mountain terrain, and it will always stick with me. The
quality of snow and the sheer scale of the backcountry zone TML has access to is just
mind-blowing. Skiing aside, the week at the lodge was also a great opportunity to bond
with my Mountain Gazette colleague, Conor. We’re a remote team at Mountain Gazette,
so any face-to-face time is invaluable. These kinds of trips solidify existing friendships
and build long-lasting new ones.

As someone who grew up in a middle-class household in upstate New York, heli-skiing
always seemed unattainable—but that didn’t stop me from dreaming. My bedroom walls
were plastered with photos of Alaska big-mountain skiing, torn from pages of Powder.

In college, I studied magazine journalism with the hopes of one day becoming an outdoor travel writer. I began my career writing for newspapers, had a couple stories published in magazines and music blogs, and scored one byline in Powder (thanks, Rogge). But I stepped away from writing in 2010 to pursue a career in graphic design, a career which, circuitously, led me to a job designing … an outdoor magazine. I guess you can say I’m one of the lucky ones who found a career doing what they love in their intended field of study.

So Alaska was really an affirmation that, while a career in graphic design and journalism
might not buy me a house in the Hamptons, it would take me to the places I yearned to
go. Amid personal struggles that clouded my view and threatened to sideline my goals, I kept my dreams in site and pushed through—keeping my late-mother’s words of
encouragement close at hand. 

Sitting atop that peak on the first day of our trip, I looked around. "I made it, mom.”

Thank you again to all the folks that helped make this trip happen: Tordrillo Mountain
Lodge guides and staff for the amazing hospitality, Atomic skis for the 2026 Bent Chetler 120s , Flylow for the awesome 3-layer Knight shell , Vert Outdoors for the toasty SWANY Excalibur gloves, and my friends at Fountain Square Outfitters in Glens Falls, NY, for the Patagonia Nano Air Light Hybrid Hoody .

When In Doubt, Go Higher.