| A Punters Guide to Succeeding (or not) on Denali’s West Buttress Trip Report |
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| Page Type: Trip Report Location: Alaska, United States, North America Date Climbed/Hiked: May 25, 2008 Activities: Mountaineering Season: Spring | Page By: FortMental Created/Edited: Feb 24, 2009 / Sep 23, 2009 Object ID: 492622 Hits: 6760 Loading... Page Score: 92.84% - 130 Votes Loading... Vote: Log in to vote |
It's All About the Journey.....Right?A funny thing happened on the way to the top of Denali. Overwhelmed with both the size and the absurdity of what we had come to do, Paul and I decided to have fun. It wasn’t a conscious decision but one that overtook us at the bottom of Heartbreak Hill. Despite these ridiculous numbers: one hundred pounds of gear each, a giant pack, a giant sled, 13,000 vertical feet and 15 miles to the summit, we had to take a number and get in line.
Ironically, nobody cares if you summit Denali. The ladies could care less, the punks at the gym are sure it’s a cruise, and most of your neighbors couldn’t put Denali in the right state, much less tell you its altitude. So you see, you’re not impressing anyone with your goal; furthermore, you risk embarrassing your family if you don’t come back, “What a shmuck! Killing himself like that! And for what!?” Indeed, for what. So, what is the point? The point is in what you make of journey. With that, if your objective is to solo the Czech Route in under 24 hrs, stop reading. If your goal is to squeeze every ounce of the experience of climbing the West Buttress, with the possibility of summiting, then this guide may be of use.
The Journey Begins There are two paths on this journey. One is the independent path where you and a couple of buddies will have too many beers after a day at a sunny crag and simultaneously shout, “Hey! Let’s drag hundreds of pounds shit for three weeks at altitude in Arctic conditions!” The other is the guided path where in a twisted flash of inspiration you pay someone to make you drag hundreds of pounds shit for three weeks at altitude in Arctic conditions. Either way, there’s no reason to be completely miserable. Relatively speaking, comfort comes with a minimum of training and equipment.
On last year’s trip, we ran into a guided group and were told that 3 guys were sent packing. At 8,000 feet, they said to their guides, “You know, this is just too hard!” That’s thousands of dollars forfeited, and they hadn’t even gotten to the difficulties. Likewise, if you slow the group down, the guides may tell you, “You know, you’re just too slow”, and send you packing. There it is: some level of fitness is required, but it’s not what you think. In short, train for many hours in a day with little in your stomach, at the end of which, train some more until exhausted. Rest. Repeat.
TrainingNo doubt about it. Training for this will definitely put a crimp in the suffering. But, don’t kid yourself into thinking that just because you run 5 miles a day, you can cruise this thing. Even if you run 7 minute miles, that’s just 35 minutes of exercise, with no pack….and no sled, near sea level. Big deal. Summit day is an 8 hour affair. Take the last mile of your 5 mile run, try and shave a minute off it…..notice how you’re breathing: that’s what your lungs will do for the 8 hours it takes to go from high camp to the summit. You can’t really train for that, you can only learn to expect it.
However, there is an aspect to training that can be useful. Instead of your 5 mile run, carry a wet futon at a 4 mph pace for 3 hrs. Afterwards, take a sledgehammer and bust up 20 feet of concrete sidewalk, because a day of hauling yourself, a pack and a sled, up 3,000 vertical feet of snow doesn’t end with a beer and fries at the pub, but with chopping ice to level the tent, cutting a bootwell for the vestibule, and building walls to ward off the winds. Oh, and there’s also the tent that must be set up, the dinner you have to make, and the water you have to boil. You can rest tomorrow.
LogisticsThere are tons of on-line resources like trip reports and personal accounts to help you figure out how to get from your home in the flatlands to Denali Base Camp. Here it is in a nutshell: Get to Anchorage, call the shuttle for your ride to Talkeetna, fly 30 minutes from Talkeetna onto a glacier, start your climb. As for the best guidebook, do yourself a favor and pick up “Denali’s West Buttress” by Colby Coombs. Gear Basics  Cover Version 6, Rejected
Skis: If you know how, ski! Be an adult and use an AT set-up and rigid poles for your sled. The skiers that passed us probably took 20 minutes to get from 11,000 feet down to 7,500 ft. For us, it seemed to take 83 hours.
Boots: I (and most Americans) use plastic double boots. This is still the stone age. Countless Euros use killer-sexy La Sportivas with the integrated zippered overboot. Sleek and hot…like those Catalunian ladies we ran into at 11,000 feet. However, cheapo, used, E-bay plastic double boots large enough to accommodate socks and liners will work fine.
Vapor Barrier Liners: I used VBLs to keep my boots warm and dry. The people who hate them have never tried them or they’ve misunderstood how to use them. I’ve never looked back since wearing them and I don’t go anywhere in the winter without them.
Overboots: You’ll want them. I used the OR low overboots, my buddy used the OR high overboots. They both sucked. Crampon straps cause the inner fabric near the sole to bunch up and get caught by a passing crampon when walking. Very dangerous. Perhaps the 40 Below units are better.
Gloves: Most gloves in harsh winter conditions seem to work in reverse: instead of keeping fingers warm, they seem to keep them cold. Get used to it! You’ll need two pairs (or more) of good quality liner gloves. Spend your money wisely here as they make direct contact with your skin 24 hrs a day for several weeks. Next, you’ll want something that looks like ice climbing gloves for climbing, and anything requiring dexterity. Personally, dropping $150 on a pair of gloves with padded knuckle guards, drawstring gauntlets, Velcro straps, snot fur, and heated leather seats means you spent too much time in the john looking at gear catalogs. Two pairs of relatively simple gloves will work fine. Snowboard gloves, snowmobile gloves, who cares. Make sure they stick well to an ice axe and ski poles.
Expedition Mitts: Get them. You might not use them for climbing but for sitting around in your tent, waiting out weather, and where you’re not generating any heat out of your hands. Also very useful getting out to Denali Pass before the sun hits the slope. I even napped in mine.
Pants: Dark nylon zip-offs on the lower glacier. It’s a thousand frikkin degrees down there in the sun. Wear shorts, for cryin’ out loud, and you won’t feel useless by the time you get to 11,000’ camp. Lightweight fleece and a pair of Mountain Hardwear lightweight insulated pants were sufficient for the rest of the mountain.
Sleeping Bag: I had a 10 year old Marmot -20˚F synthetic bag that had lost a lot of loft. My partner had a brand spanking new Marmot Col EQ. The Gold-colored MemBrain outer of the EQ shed my drool with aplomb. On the coldest days, I wore most of my clothing inside my bag and draped by MH SubZero parka over my feet and stayed warm. At night, our breathing condensed on the inner tent fabric where it formed giant frost feathers. Wind and whatever, would shake these onto our sleeping bags. By morning, my buddy’s bag would have a fine layer of snow crystals on the outer sleeping bag surface; mine would be wet. What does that mean? For a multitude of reasons, my chintzy sleeping bag let pass enough of my body heat through the bag to keep its outer fabric above freezing and melt whatever ice formed on it.
Booties: I wore them in my bag at night, under my overboots in camp, and when spending interminable hours melting snow. Very useful. We never had to waste fuel boiling up water to keep our feet warm.
Hats: On the lower glacier, we were happy with the lightweight OR Desert hats with the neck shield. I sewed my own WindStopper balaclava for cheap. I also had ear warmers that, when pulled down, worked as a neck gaiter. I wore that a lot; many times, it’s too hot for a hat, but the breeze makes your ears cold.
Goggles, Glacier Glasses: My goggles totally sucked; and my buddy’s weren’t any better. My face generated enough heat and moisture that it would constantly freeze to the inner surface of the lens, impairing my vision. Most goggles are made for the lazy-ass downhill resort recreator whose only sweating is done lifting his snowboard out of the BMW. I still haven’t found suitable goggles for hard winter use. My old REI Glacier Glasses worked great. I made a nose shield with synthetic Chamois and a bit of wire that worked perfectly well. However, nose shields look really, really dorky in photos, and aren’t necessary if you use a good sunblock. After all, you don’t use cheek shields….
Shovels: We brought 2 burly metal backcountry shovels; a BD Transfer and a Voilee with the integrated snow-saw which was very useful for cutting out shaped bootwells at the tent entry. I saw only one plastic shovel….it looked like an edelweiss: lonely and delicate. Even the solo Japanese climbers used little metal folding army shovels.
Sleds: They are provided at the airstrip. However a minor on-site improvement can make a world of difference. When we were gearing up at base camp, I bolted to the backs of each sled a hinged back-up brake. When resting on a slope, we could let our respective sled slip back a few inches until the brake engaged thus relieving the harness of the weight. Wing nuts made for easy removal when we ran into ice at Squirrel Point. Roll-up “magic carpets” are OK for easy slopes but you’ll be hating life on the side slopes, and everything is a side-slope to one of those things.
Duffle Bag: Go to a thrift store and get one of those flimsy duffle bags for your sled. Get it in any color but black or dark blue because, with glacier glasses, you won’t see shit when looking for those extra black liners or those black gloves inside a black bag. Sew a couple of compression straps to the exterior so that it doesn’t flop around after shedding gear at caches. Leave the heavyweight, expedition duffle at home.
Sleeping Pads: Two inexpensive, roll-up, closed-cell foam pads per climber. Having two really does help.
 Like Sleeping Inside a Drum
Stove: I brought a very old MSR XGK and an extra fuel pump. For high camp, we put extra fuel into a clean and dry Gatorade bottle. White gas is the only way to go. I also made a hanging kit for the stove such that the many hours spent melting snow weren’t such a chore. See:Hanging Your Stove
Radios: Cheapo (Family Band) “Walkie-Talkies” that can be purchased at Target are used to listen to the twice-daily weather reports from Base Camp. They can be used to report an emergency to any ranger on the mountain as well as to listen in on the latest rescue.
Piss Bottle: Two quart flexible nalgene with wide mouth. Period.
Not Critical, but…….Camera: Imagine hunting without a rifle. That’s climbing without a camera. Sure, it can be done, but it’s nice to have something to bring home. My camera runs off lithium AA batteries. Bring extra memory cards to shoot video of the flight into Base Camp, your friend pooping into a tiny plastic bucket, as well as the grind up the last few feet to the summit. Take only Hi-Res photos.
Music: I brought a Sony 1Gb Walkman fully loaded with music; my buddy, an iPod shuffle. I also had an earphone splitter such that we could simultaneously listen to the same music. My Walkman also has an FM radio. I could listen to NPR and weather reports from Talkeetna.
Journal: I kept a daily journal so that I could remember names, where we were and what we were doing at what time. Years of experience taught me that the moment is fleeting and it’s memory is no better.
Books: We each brought a book. Bring your reading glasses otherwise you’ll have to wear your expedition mitts while holding your book at arms length.
Butt-Wipes: Clean dishes, wipe off your face, wash your hands, and wipe your ass with these modern miracles. A full large box of unscented wipes split into a six baggies so that they don’t all freeze into a useless clump is enough for two. Bring a bottle of alcohol hand cleanser and you’ll have a perfect set-up for keeping yourself diarrhea free.
Kite: A small packable foil kite for rest days and crappy weather. Makes everyone who sees it smile!
Girlie Mags: I hadn’t thought of it then, but if I’d brought any, I could have traded with any team a load-carry to a high cache for a few hours with …. well, you get the picture.
Frisbee: Down at base, it can make the time pass as you wait hours, maybe days for your flight out.
Wiffle Ball and Bat: Weighs nothing, hours of fun trying to each Euros the finer points of the sacrifice fly.
Chess/Checkers: Find out how stupid your partner really is.
Playing Cards: Play poker outside, in the wind, with mitts on. Drop a card, take a shot. Film it. Wet your pants.
Altimeter: I had a Polar integrated altimeter/Heart Rate meter. Whatever you bring, remember to pack the manual as you probably still have no idea how to program the barometric trend feature on your watch.
Mirror: A small mirror will astound you with how horrible you look after two weeks without bathing.
Small set of binoculars: This is seriously BIG country out here. I didn’t have them, but I wished I’d had. There’s drama on the fixed lines, in the Messner Couloir, on the West Rib, down on the glacier. There are potential lines of endless blue ice, deepest crevasses, etc. Binoculars to see it all sure would have been nice.
Satellite Phone: Sure it’s expensive, but you can call your wife from 14,000 feet. Or that guy who bailed on your trip because his girlfriend wouldn't let him go. Imagine calling him as he's shopping for "lady" products…. The Sat-Phone also made it possible to reliably hear the NOAA weather forecast anytime of day, unfiltered by park staff. Beware, the Sat-Phone also makes it possible for others to find you! Rent them in Anchorage.
 FreeCharge 12V Hand-Cranked Generator,
Mad-Libs: Sullenly waiting in line with 20 other climbers is no way to spend an hour waiting for the crapper at 14K camp. A couple of these things will get everyone’s bowels loosened up. Here’s an example:
The Camping Trip
It was a cold, loose night. Mike and Sylvio humped around the campfire, repairing songs and eating carrots.
Soon they got tired, climbed into their anchovies, and eventually fell asleep. Suddenly, they were both wide awake. There was a loud barfing sound outside the tent. Sylvio grabbed Mike's ass cheek and held on for dear life. Mike started chanting, “Lions and newspapers and snowballs, oh my!” over and over again.
Then into their tent fell their friend Nancy. Nancy had been thirsty and had gone into the house for some Grappa. Now the Grappa was on the floor of their tent. But they all had a good laugh and went back to sleep.
It turned out to be a very brown camping trip. And maybe next time they'll even leave Sylvio's backyard.
GeekFest Altimeter Watch, GPS, Heart Rate Monitor, OxyMeter, Hand-Held Weather Station, MP3 Player, Digital Camera, Solar Panels, Short Wave Radio, Sat-Phone, and Walkie-Talkies. If that weren’t enough crap for us propeller-heads to drool over, add tiny little Remote Temperature Sensors to the list. I brought two: one for inside my shirt, the other clipped to my pack. They collected temperature data every 2 minutes such that I could later download and compare ambient and skin temperatures. Why? Because I could.You May Still be Bored  Are you Sure We buried it Here?
Join the West Buttress Communist Party: Getting to the top is People’s Work. Carve a commemorative monument to your effort!
 Owner Financing Available, Inquire Within
Redecorate Your Home: Show off your inner Martha Stewart with these delicately crenulated wall features. A simple flick of a snow saw will turn any boring old block wall into a Magic Kingdom!
Food: Bring food that tastes good. It’s hard enough to eat when you’re tired, cold, and altitude addled, why make it harder by eating crap? Accent foods that worked for us: large block of Romano or Granata Padano cheese, various small salamis, dried chipotle chilies, peppered olive oil. Things that were pretty awful: freeze-dried Mountain House Desserts, the 17th freeze dried dinner and all others beyond that. Things I’d wished I’d brought: Vince’s dried salmon, home-made jerky, a nice Port, garlic, more oatmeal packets and a good mix of dried fruits, instant coffee and powdered milk, and sugar. Keep in mind that some things can be cached on your way up. Finding a box of Rosemary Olive Oil Triscuits in one of your caches on the way down can really brighten up your day!
Drink: Energy drinks are good. Hot carb-replacement drinks are even better. Don’t bring too much of anything that makes you pee. Speaking of pee….it should be normal colored. Any darker and you’re dehydrated, any lighter and you’re saturated. Either way, it could lead to problems.
Booze: Bring something nice! You can trade some Courvoisier for lots of Vodka from the Russians…it goes well with Tang. You might not want to bring booze any higher than 14K camp, unless you're a Russian, in which case you'll need it to maintain a pulse. At the end of the day, or just before getting into your bag with the tunes, a little nip of brandy really hits the spot. Chouinard was right.
Drugs: We brought everything, we used almost nothing other than ibuprofen for some sore joints. Be careful with anything you take at altitude as few people understand interactions between medications and prolonged exposure to reduced oxygen partial pressure. Save the altitude drugs for altitude related medical emergencies. If you have to take the drugs to summit, then you really haven’t summitted. Find lower peaks….I saw some around Denali.
Something to Think About: The Human Body Sucks: Climbing Denali is very difficult on your cardiovascular system. Between the cold, the altitude, and the sustained effort, a “cruise” like the West Buttress, can reveal a body’s deepest defects. For the younger set, this might not be an issue. As you age, however, blood vessels thin and heart muscle weakens in odd places. You’d likely live to a ripe old age with these un-diagnosed health problems but up high, you will be found out.
Poop: Just for grins, try the following at home. Put on all your cold weather gear as though you were going to hang out on Mt. Washington's Alpine Gardens in winter. That's boots, pants, overpants, gaiters, jacket(s), gloves, hat, and goggles. Now get an empty 1-gallon paint can and try to take a dump into it....without getting any on you. If the task isn't already emotionally consuming you, it certainly will on the mountain. The Rangers will give you an Alpine Crap Can that you must keep with you up to 17,000' (that's right, seventeen thousand feet). Your turds must somehow make it into this can where it is periodically emptied into marked crevasses. The best technique may be the "doggy style": poop on the snow, let freeze, pick up with baggy, put in can. Keep yourself scrupulously clean, afterwards, and you and your partners won't have to worry about sudden weight loss. Climbing the West Buttress: Take 100 pounds of gear, put half in a pack, the other half in a sled. Drive out to a ski area on the coldest day of the year and spend the next 6 days hauling all that crap to the top of the beginner slope eight times. That level of effort gets you to 14,000’ camp. Now comes the hard part. Take 40 lbs of gear, put it in a pack, and go up the double black diamond twice, followed by a haul up the longest intermediate run; all while breathing through a soda straw. That gets you to 17,000’ camp. To properly simulate the level of weakness you’ll feel, eat a bag of Doritos, drink 3 cups of water, and sleep two hours. That will be your rest day. Now you're ready for summit day; the hardest day of your life, unless you’ve given birth. On this day, put 10 lbs of gear in a pack, climb up one double black diamond run, sideways, followed by one very long intermediate run, while breathing through a tightly rolled 20 dollar bill. Sounds preposterous, doesn’t it!?
No part of the West Buttress is technically difficult although there are many places where an unroped fall could kill you. Extreme fatigue, altitude, and cold conspire to warp judgment, resulting in terrible accidents on otherwise moderate slopes. Your sharpest tools for this adventure are your wits and your ability to keep them under trying circumstances. Here’s a personal anecdote:
It took Paul and I almost three hours to get to Denali Pass. A serious case of high-altitude periodic breathing (Cheyne-Stokes) kept me from getting into a rhythm. Bouts of excessive panting, at the most inappropriate times also made it impossible to rest. At Denali pass, I decided that six more hours of this was pointless. Paul and I unroped and he continued to the summit. As for me, it seemed as though a huge weight had been lifted from my shoulders. For the first time that day, I relaxed and enjoyed the scenery. On my way down to camp, I took my time, enjoying the exposure, chatting up ascending climbers, and filmed them trudging and panting; it’s footage I now treasure. Seven hours later, Paul picked up the rope we had left at Denali Pass and helped a fallen climber, too uncoordinated from fatigue, down from the slope. Knowing when to turn back is a skill too.Souvenirs: You’ll return from Denali with three things: photos, a journal, and a quickly fading memory of your time on the mountain. Your journal will be a very personal account of what happened; will your photos be as personal?
 Snotcicles! I have Snotcicles!
Obviously, the most personal photos will be of yourself and people you know. Don’t skimp on the head shots, particularly those snot encrusted, sun baked, wind-blasted faces riddled with fatigue. Poignant close-ups at moments of failure will also earn a spot close to your heart.
It's The Little Things Too  Yep, -10 in the Vestibule
 Weird Clouds Above the Headwall
Big Mountains + Little Camera = Dang!  Yes, It really Looks Like This
 ...Wait! There's 12 more!
Slow down, a little, and get that shot of the icefall. Take a couple of shots as you walk past so that you get all of the angles. Extreme close-ups are good too, especially when people are used for scale. It’s ironic, but without a sense of scale, your pictures will mean little even to you. Take panoramic shots with your telephoto lens for stitching together when you get home. The detail will look awesome on your monitor as you scroll across the image.
Digital SLRs seem too cumbersome and delicate for spontaneous use. Although they excel at picture detail, having a small digital camera at the ready makes it easy to capture the absurdities you’ll encounter. A traffic jam on the headwall? Nobody’s gonna believe this! Click. Got it! Sixty people heading up on summit day? That’s unbelievable. Click. Got that too!
A fossilized turd at Denali Pass? Click! Are You Seeing What I'm Seeing?  Looking Down, Just Past Squirrel Point
You could simply add a graded amber filter to your image when post-processing. It’s either that or hand everyone at your slideshow a pair of ski goggles.
Taking decent pictures is easy! With today’s gear, images are practically free. Take as many pictures as you can; they weigh nothing and they’ll make your memories rock solid.
Alex Lowe said that the best climber is the one having the most fun. These are useful words to climb by, after all, what keeps us coming back to the mountains isn’t being gripped out of our minds, but laughing our asses off in recounting our adventures. I guess that makes us pretty good!
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Mount McKinley (Denali) > A Punters Guide to Succeeding (or not) on Denali’s West Buttress
