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Anyone willing to make the trade was in the right spot if they were in Juneau during and after the holidays.

Diane Greentree was one of many Juneau residents very pleased with the conditions.

This was Greentree's third trip in five days skiing from Skater's Cabin to the glacier's face on the dry snow covering the frozen lake.

"Awesome," or some variation, certainly was uttered throughout Juneau by downhill, cross-country and skate skiers, snowboarders, skaters, hikers and everyone else enjoying winter sports best played in cold, clear weather.

However, Juneau at sea level and next to the ocean is not Vail at 7,500 feet in the Rockies so we all know the trade for cold, dry weather over the holidays would be balanced by another storm from the Gulf of Alaska carrying all the attachments associated with warmer weather.

•••

A cold wind outside, a good book inside and both mixed with a general inertia made starting a winter hike up the Mount Roberts trail difficult. But not impossible.

When I reached the metal stairs at the head of Sixth Street that mark the start of the trail, I saw a single set of tracks in the otherwise unmarked snow. Someone else thought a winter hike was good idea.

Once I was on the trail, the trees stopped most of the wind gusts. They did, however, dislodge avalanches of soft snow, like a mini blizzard, from branches.

Then in the midst of this winter solitude I heard noise behind me. "A great day to be out," said Eric Twelker, who was making an afternoon hike.

Evan, Janeann and Eric Twelker had picked hiking instead of skiing because their Christmas skate skis still needed some adjustments. They didn't appear disappointed.

"It's a beautiful day," Janeann said. "We had to go somewhere! And this is a great winter hike."

The great winter hike was made easier by the frozen footsteps of hikers who had followed the trail when the snow was softer. All steps ended at the overlook at the top of the tramway. From there, only ski tracks led higher. To hike on meant having to break trail and that meant, in some wind-blown locations, having to plow through thigh-high snow. It was more like swimming than walking.

Above timberline, the winds had compacted the snow enough to support a hiker's weight. At the same time, the wind was strong enough that the old admonition about being blown off your feet seemed a very real concern.

Up ahead in a gully somewhat protected from the wind was the first-of-the-day hiker who had now turned skier.

Tom Faverty, a second- and third-grade teacher at Juneau Community Charter School, said he made the winter hike to work off all the turkey he had eaten over the holidays.

Despite the wind that limited him to only a short ski, Faverty was enthusiastic about the high country.

"Did you see the blue cloud?" he asked. "That's the unusual light created when snow blows near the surface. Did you see the sun shinning through the snow crystals being blown over the ridge?"

I missed them both, but had seen enough to know the off-season hike had been a great afternoon adventure.

•••

Familiar summer campsites provide unfamiliar winter experiences. A high wind warning for Juneau added another reason to spend a December night camping in the woods.

From the end of Douglas Highway, a short walk through the woods led to Stephens Passage. I was surprised, upon reaching the beach, to hear barking. Several sea lions noisily worked their way north just offshore. I walked to the waterline for a closer look and saw a river otter heading to the beach. Despite the windy conditions, a surprising number of gulls and crows soared overhead. I wasn't going to be alone on this night.

Stephens Passage looked rough, cold and unfriendly. A good time to watch moving water from solid ground. Surf broke on the beach. Further off shore, gray swells topped by breaking waves ran north. In the middle, the water looked whiter, probably because the wind was blowing spray off the whitecaps.

I found a protected level spot for the tent with a view of the water under the trees. Once the night's lodging was erected, and before nightfall, there was still time to silently stand and take in the view of this great gray day.

Peaks to the south above Admiralty Cove, to the west beyond Horse and Colt islands, and to the north on Shelter Island blended into the sky swirling beneath their summits. Behind me, underneath the trees, night's blackness already had replaced the fading gray.

It was 4 p.m.

It was too dark to do anything outside so I went into the tent and climbed into my sleeping bag. A cozy night in a storm sounded fun. I felt like a kid in a pup tent. My candle lantern dangled from a cord near the tent's top and produced a soft, warm glow. The light from my headlamp was cold blue. One light for mood. One for reading.

My book detailed a Denali ascent. I could "hear" the storms on the climb by listening to winds outside the tent. Nature sounded even more powerful when I turned off the lights and lay in the dark.

Dawn's early light didn't return until 8 a.m. Sixteen hours is usually more than enough time in tent, but on an occasional off-season camping diversion it felt just about right.

•••

Like a wish, the forecast for snow on Christmas morning came true. While skiers watched the snow and thought of mountains, I saw the snow and thought of water.

I loaded my kayak instead of my skis to take a short, off-season paddle on the calm waters. Christmas tides seemed to be celebrating the season to the max. The afternoon high tide was 18.4 feet.

In the gentle snow, I moved quietly over the smooth waters in Harris Harbor, under the bridge, to the front of Juneau and slowly paddled along the pilings on the calm waters.

At the rock dump, a tug pushed against a barge at the AML dock. The tug and shore crews worked to unload the barge on a day that was a holiday for most.

After paddling along Sandy Beach and through the Douglas Boat Harbor, I began the return to Harris Harbor in front of the homes along the Douglas shoreline.

"Christmas gift?" someone called from their deck as I paddled past.

"No," I laughed.

"I thought it might be your first time out in your new boat," he said.

He returned to his beachfront home bright with Christmas lights. I kept paddling along the shoreline in winter.

I love off-season.