| Denali 2009- "Summit Bound" with a bunch of 'Nachos' Trip Report |
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| Page Type: Trip Report Location: Alaska, United States, North America Lat/Lon: 63.06980°N / 151.07300°E Date Climbed/Hiked: May 25, 2009 Activities: Hiking, Mountaineering, Ice Climbing Season: Spring | Page By: Kiefer Thomas Created/Edited: Jun 23, 2009 / Jun 25, 2009 Object ID: 523722 Hits: 2827 Loading... Page Score: 90.62% - 45 Votes Loading... Vote: Log in to vote |
Dangerous things happen over beer!Densmore’s Peak, Traleyka, Mt. McKinley, The Churchill Peaks (official) and The Middle-Aged Crisis Mountain; it doesn’t really matter what moniker you throw at it, Denali is a household name and thanks to the early exploits of people such as Dr. Cook, Hudson Stuck, Belmore Brown and Bradford Washburn, it’s become a beacon for many mountaineers and a rigorous test piece for everyone else.
The amount of logistics that go into a typical expedition takes months to successfully maneuver through (and indeed, anything in the Alaskan Range). Group morale and dynamics will often enough ruin and doom an expedition before it even sees 16,100 Ridge Camp.
It is for various reasons that make Denali the epitome of “Other Annapurnas” in the lives of men. Taken on the surface, that’s a fairly bold statement to make. Break that surface and you find out that Denali has a vertical rise of about 18,000ft, boasts a clean prominence of 20,138ft, is 3.5° south of the Artic Circle, is widely known as the coldest mountain outside of Antarctica and has wide swings of success rates as low as 31% (1987) and as high as 67% (1983) by way of its’ easiest route, a thing like that simply cannot be trivialized.
The weather on Denali is highly volatile being exposed to weather systems from the frigid Artic, the Bering Strait and the North Pacific. Bad weather on Denali is the rule.
The only thing one can truly do to better one’s chances of success is to follow that one-word maxim, patience. Being subject to weather patterns from three different areas, storms can last for days on end and because of the proximity to the oceans, snow is typically measured in feet.
All activity can be brought to a stand-still (and challenge ones mental prowess) simply by way of Denali’s notorious winds. This is nothing new for those who have done their reading & research and to be honest, a mountain this close to the Artic Circle, common sense would dictate some of the aforementioned anyway. Between Mt. Everest and Denali, the comparison would be like putting up a heavyweight boxer (Everest) up against a schizophrenic hockey player. Even in the best conditions, Denali is a serious mountain.
The Kahiltna Glacier is the longest glacier in the park coming in at 45 miles long with the Muldrow Glacier located to the north at 39 miles long. Consequently, as far as glaciers go, the Kahiltna is one of the least crevassed. The Ruth Glacier in the south was measured via sonar to see how deep the ice extended. From the summit of nearby Mt. Dickey to the moraine bottom, the final measurement came in at almost 9,000ft! This put the glacier at something akin to ~3,6ooft thick and the Ruth Gorge among the deepest in the world.
So leaving the exposition for a while, let’s backtrack a bit to September of 2008. Gabe Hogan and myself were talking in my place honing our drinking skills with some homebrews that he brought over. We were piecing together scraps, fragments and collateral debris of a few different conversations from the past week. However, I had this one question that overrode everything else like white noise. It was a big question but up until now, I hadn't realized its' scope.
I’m sure you know, it’s when you’re hesitant and excited at the same time about asking somebody an important question...but are afraid to ask because the answer might not be what you want to hear.
“So, ah, Gabe. What are your thoughts about climbing something outside of the lower-48? Say, something like McKinley?” Gabe’s eyebrows freaked out and disappeared into his hairline.
“Denali? Hell, Kiefer, that’s a serious mountain. It’s my dream to climb it.”
“Yeah. And imagine what it would be like standing on its summit.” A smile flashed across Gabe’s face like two snails racing.
“Ok, yeah, I’m definitely interested. Just say the….”
Word is that a lot of people climb or at least attempt Denali by way of a guiding service. I honestly felt that as much as we’ve done, we really didn’t need the assistance of a professional guiding service. Not to mention, you can only go so fast as the lowest common denominator in your group. Taken on the whole, that’s not necessarily a bad thing. However, with an average of 1,200 permits given each season and an overall success ratio of less than 60%, this tells me a contributing factor to such a low statistic can be reasonably correlated to peoples’ lack of preparation, commitment to the climb and ignorance to the seriousness of such an endeavor. But this is McKinley we’re talking about. Gabe and I talked about employing a service to achieve our ends and what it would take, physically, mentally and financially to make this happen.
So from September to around Halloween, we made calls and researched our options: AAI, Mountain Trip, Mountain Madness, Alaska Mountain Guides, RMI and I forwarded Gabe an e-mail sent to me by Bob Covill (CMC) from his 2007 attempt. However, in the end, with heavy hearts, neither one of us was willing to forgo Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Years (basically our families) for the mountain. It was a good slap in the face to our Denali obsession, which, by this point, had gone ‘Rosie O’Donnell’ (a.k.a. large and out of control) on us.
Reality Check: 60-80hr work weeks for both of us, Ramen noodles, $5,700 not including airfare or permits, minimal beer, no frivolous spending, more ramen, no debauchery and still no beer (Houston, we have a major fuckin problem!)
So we killed our “tu-muh” with a healthy reality check, came back down to Earth and went back to looking at mountains within Colorado, only a bit more melancholic, subdued and with a ghostly penumbra in our eyes. It was a hard decision to make. Sometimes the past and the future look the same and that’s not always easy to accept.
Denali was dead.
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Mt. Crosson in the 'evening' hours. |
Mid November
The thought of climbing Denali still hadn’t left me. It lingered like the foam stains on the inside of a beer glass.
“Gabe. I still can’t get Alaska out of my head. I’ve been looking at Mt. Hunter, Mt. Silverthorne, Ham & Eggs Route even Eskimo Pies and I still keep coming back to Denali. Something just doesn’t feel right; I don’t know, kinda hard to explain. It’s the urge. Do you know what I mean?” And indeed Gabe did. And since Gabe and I were on the same page, we knew it wasn’t the Murphy’s talking or his bastard friend, Jameson.
“Dam, Gabe. I truly think we can do this on our own.”
Now I’m not going to sit here and type that both of us were excited and bloated with glee at this new development, we weren’t.
If anything can be said, the two of us became more somber and serious of mind. We threw our sense of humors temporairly in the closet to keep the skeleton's company.
The rollercoaster anticipation of working on a dream was quickly replaced with the grave reality of logistics, gear, training and a singular focus that would rival any slack-liner.
This is not your typical Colorado, drive for 3 hours and arrive at the trailhead for a long day kind of mountain. People lose appendages (and worse) on Denali. General statistics dictate out of 1,000 climbers, roughly 550 make the summit with 3-4 deaths. At times, Denali is known to grant no quarter.
Staring at each other across the small expanse of my room, speaking only in broken sentences and half-formed words, the fifth such meeting we had, these three aforementioned tenants now carried a gravity that we hadn’t felt before.
“We can do this. I want to do this. This will open up the doors to the larger mountains we both want. Let’s do this.” Gabe said in a monotone voice.
Sitting on the edge of my bed staring at my feet in silence, absently concentrating on the aftertaste of stout in my mouth and biting my lip (bad habit), I looked up at Gabe.
“Ok. So who’s coming with us?”
• Scatterplots
• Brainstorming
• Lists
• Gore Range Brewery
• Personal Experience
• Preference
...all went into the decision making process of who to approach and ask. We set up a group meeting in Boulder at Applebee’s (The Sun was too packed) that consisted of Gabe, myself, Chris Pruchnic, Dan Rush, Colin Miller, Derek Wolfe, Jon Stasney and Mark Yoder. Eight people is a large group. Almost too many one might say. I turned out to be the common denominator with everybody being that, I was the only one who knew everyone else. However, due to time commitments, work and finances, it was expected that some of us drop out. This is indeed what happened. In the end, Derek had to drop because of work responsibilities and Mark and John also dropped due to I believe, group age dynamics. That leaves five people. A prime number but certainly more manageable than eight (imagine food & water requirements for eight people for three weeks!).
After securing our deposits on line with the NPS in Talkeetna and getting the remainder of our permit fees to Chris (group treasurer), Gabe took care of air taxi service and ground transportation (Denali National Park is 238 miles north of Anchorage), I took care of accommodations in Anchorage and Chris handled our food preparations.
However, five people, regardless of the trip or reasons is still an odd number. It makes roped travel a less-then-ideal situation, something that should be resorted to and not initiated with. Something we all wanted was that elusive sixth member. I believe none of us voiced our thoughts on this because the time was getting so close to that 30-day mark. After all, why complicate things so close to showtime? Then seemingly, out of some social mist of acquaintance, Craig Berger became the sixth man. Craig’s been ‘around the block’ more then a few times to where he owns property.
The guy knows his shit and he’s been at altitude multiple times.
Colin and Gabe know him best and their word is as good as gold. We practiced together, climbed together and e-mailed openly and truthfully to each other by way of Yahoo Groups that Chris set up. When your team is spread out from Glenwood Springs to Denver to Fort Collins, any outlet for communiqué is crucial.
Over the next few months, we filled in the rest of the details in regards to group practice, accommodations in Talkeetna and climbing schedule. We were set and confirmed with six people under the expedition name, “Summit Bound”.
We were set to be in Anchorage May 13th (myself a day earlier to attain a few last minute provisions and to sight-see down to Seward) and in two days we would start our trek across the glacier as hopeful travelers looking for inspiration, warmth and ourselves; in many ways, a trip that was both anachronistic and impulsive, at least for Gabe and myself. By seeking the void, we learn a little more of who we are and who we might become.
We planned on ascending the West Buttress Route also known as the Washburn Route in honor of Bradford Washburn who first pioneered it back in 1951. Up until then, the Muldrow Glacier (north side) was the standard way in, coincidentally; both routes merit an Alaskan grade II designation (out of VI). I’ve even seen the West Butt referred to as the Handicap Access Ramp (I like that one).
I don’t know what Alaska Grade II translates into in terms of Colorado mountaineering, but considering 7,200ft base camp is a world of ice, snow, bergschrunds and all life is derelict, I don’t think there is a comparison.
And after talking to the owner of a local outdoor store here in Vail (Bag & Pack) who’s climbed it twice, his observations on the enormity and sheer scale of the McKinley Massif drove home the differences in the ratings scale.
I think the chief magnet of exploration that draws so many people outside of their experience, is the possibility of discovering the tangible that redefines what we DO know. On a side note, the only class VI routes in the whole of the Alaskan/Canadian provinces I know of are Hummingbird Ridge on Mt. Logan (can’t find ratings- has never been repeated since 1965 :eek: ), North Buttress (VI, 5.8, A2, M5, AI6) on Mt. Hunter, the Cobra Pillar (VI, 5.11b, C1+, 50°-55° snow) on Mt. Barrill and the Infinite Spur (VI, 5.9, M5, AI4: same route that Sue Knott & Karen McNeil lost their lives on) on Mt. Foraker. There's probably more but I haven’t come across any in my readings.
The Washburn Route is approximately ~16.3 miles and involves roughly 13,200ft of elevation gain.
Unfortunately, 80% of the attempts on Denali are by way of this route, so isolation on the west side is a hard sell, unless of course one takes the Peter’s Glacier. Could we have taken the West Rib? Probably.
But considering this was a first time trip to the Alaskan Range for everybody, the standard route was a safe bet until we knew what to expect and what conditions are/were like. Like I said, there’s no comparison between Alaska and Colorado mountaineering.Friday, 15th May "Goodbye Basecamp"-“Touchdown!”
Permanent snowfields cover almost 75% of the mountain. The one thing that I noticed almost immediately once the McKinley Massif came into view from the Super Otter as we flew in towards Base Camp, was the abundance of hanging glaciers, serac‘s and seemingly non-ending bergschrunds. :eek: The ‘schrunds’ indicate, at least to me, thick ice. So being someone who enjoys couloir climbing back here in Colorado, I next started to scope out and scrutinize the walls and couloirs. Alaska, at least within the Park, doesn’t have snow climbs; they’re all mixed ice/firn climbs. This was a prominent feature when we stared in awe at the surrounding mountains at Base Camp. The lowly Mt. Frances (10,450ft) looks just as committing and difficult as Mt. Foraker (17,400ft) and Mt. Hunter (14,570ft) is on a level all onto its’ own (known as N. America’s most difficult 14er).
We all chipped in and sped our bags and gear off the airstrip onto the side. I walked over to the Base Camp Managers tent, checked in and grabbed our fuel for the next 19-20 days, about 7 gallons worth for six guys.
It took us about 2½ to 3 hours to prep everything and make ready for the glacier. We would soon know the sheer enjoyment of roped travel although Chris already knew how much fun this part was!
We dropped out of Base Camp and progressed down Heartbreak Hill (a well-named segment) onto the Kahiltna Glacier and followed the previous sled tracks and wands. The descent is a loss of 500ft but most people camp at the NE Fork (Camp-1) since the increase from the low point on the glacier (6,700ft) is almost 1,100ft. This is done in 5.5 miles but keep in mind, you’re also carrying roughly ~65lbs in your pack and pulling another ~60-70lbs in your sled. Other then the sights nothing about it is enjoyable, it’s slow, tedious and tiring travel. But after all, this is what we trained for!
We arrived at an empty site a little ways from the rest of the tents sometime in the early evening (I don’t remember when). This is where instinct took over, I’m happy to say and everyone almost immediately, once we were rested, took to leveling a tent platform, building snow walls, prepping the stoves and setting the tents up for the night. Having years of winter camping experience is invaluable. It got cold fairly quickly once we stopped so insulated layers came out. We had a good view up into the “Valley of Death”. Also known as the Northeast Fork where the routes such as the West Rib, Cassin Ridge and Reilly’s Rib originate. There were no tracks leading up into it and judging by the size and number of the crevasses, I can see why. Denali and West Kahiltna Peak looked beyond incredible.
Staring at the upper flanks some 9,000ft higher, I can honestly say it was intimidating and made me question myself, “What the hell have you gotten yourself into Kiefer?”
Then my sense of humor kicked in and I had to admit, it was sure better then staying home watching Drew Carry butcher The Price is Right.
We stayed up for a little while drinking hot tea and talking. We were all pretty jazzed. In a way, it almost didn't feel real. But as usual, the temperatures forced a retreat to our bags and we gladly accepted our Mountain Hardwear, REI and Western Mountaineering cocoon’s, which would become our homes for the next 15 days.
Short Video from Camp-1 at 7,800ft
Journal Entry (unedited- all entries are un-edited)
Day 1- Friday: We were postponed leaving Talkeetna due to weather. The TAT had their offices and hanger and bunkhouse across the road and hostel-type accommodations across the street/RR. When we woke, it was drizzling and overcast w/a low ceiling.
We had break at the Roadhouse and called TAT at 7:00am. We finally left Talkeetna at 11:45 and landed at KIA at 12:15pm.
The flight in on the Havilland Otter was breathtaking and even that doesn’t describe it.
I felt like a little kid marveling at all the neat animals at the zoo! I was ecstatic beyond words looking at the mosquito and bear infested marshes. I can see why Dr. Cook said any expedition to McKinley is a maritime endeavor.
The glaciers and lower snow-capped peaks, my God! It’s beyond anything I’ve ever seen. The ridges are all snow and serac. Ice covered knives and bergschrunds that would swallow an RV. And the real gem…Denali.
It completely silenced me in awe and dare I say, fear. The sheer vertical rise it lords over the rest of the Alaskan Range is impossible to understand until one sees it for themselves. It left me speechless. I looked over at Dan. I don’t know which was bigger, my eyes or my mouth. The severity of the trip finally hit home.
The plane flew in close to some ridges and peaks that must have been carved by Gerber. The amazing part is not the snow…it’s the ice, seracs and running bergschrunds. There’s nothing like this in Colorado. I’d be lying if I didn’t say I had multiple excuses running in my head to not go. It’s intimidating.
Plane banked hard on the turnaround to the landing strip.
We descended through the clouds and landed (smoothly) at KIA (7,200ft). We all pitched in to unload as quickly as possible so that the plane could again take off.
We were a bit disorientated at first. The reality of everything was mind-boggling. I walked over to the ranger tent, talked to a ranger standing outside and checked in with Lisa. We grabbed our fuel…7 gallons…It took almost 3 hours to get out of Base Camp & off towards Heartbreak Hill. Lugging an average of 133 pounds each. This small incline is gonna be a bitch on the way out.
The first few days are nothing more then an exercise in stamina and mental endurance. It’s roughly 9 miles of snow slog and grade-A winter camping. One of the books said snow on Denali is industrial strength.
We arrived late today shortly before 8:00pm. The sun gave the impression of something closer to 5:00pm or so. The night was a bit of a blur to be honest. I was so wrapped up in the scenery. I’m tired and cold. Time to call it a day. Saturday, 16th May -Move to 9,800ft
We woke; I think sometime around 9:00am…a good alpine start!
And to be honest, it didn’t get much earlier then this either. We found out at 14-Camp that any earlier, the temps were brutal and weren’t afraid to show their teeth. Don’t get me wrong, the temperatures were well within what we have here in Colorado but the humidity certainly played a part.
The only thing of any substance this morning was that I volunteered to throw our ‘shit-bag’ into a near-by crevasse. I tied in and Gabe belayed me out to a marked crevasse. I inched my way out to where I was within easy viewing distance, basically 3-4 vertical feet of the far wall. I threw the bag in…waited…waited…and after four seconds I finally heard the plop. I turned around and looked at Gabe. I had a HUGE excited smile on my face that said “get me the fuck out of here!” Yeah, that got my heart racing for a few minutes.
Camp-1 lies at the bottom of Ski Hill. The glacier at this point starts to rise noticeably to about 10,000ft or so before leveling off. There is one more rise of about 1,000ft to the 11-Camp, which is where a lot of people spend the next couple nights acclimating.
I had a lot of trouble negotiating Ski Hill and the side hilling that was necessary to skirt a covered but marked, large crevasse worked my legs and shredded my patience. My sled kept tipping over and wouldn’t stay right side up. Believe me, the language that came out of my mouth would have made George Carlin & Sam Kinison blush. It was aggravating, irritating and physically exhaustive work.
A team of four Italians that we rode up to Talkeetna with a few days earlier passed us on this stretch. It was all I could do to keep from unleashing on one of them who decided it was easier to just ski over my rope instead of side-stepping it. It’s a wonder there isn’t more altercations between climbers due to differing international climbing ethics.
It wasn’t a particularly long day but it was a hard one, physically. The sleds were throwing tantrums and for some reason, sled management wasn’t what it should have been. So we decided to stop at 9,800ft instead of continuing on to 11-Camp. Any outward appearance of skill or proficiency that day was shattered in aspect.
So we called it an early day, stopped and built a great campsite. This is also where the saws came out for the first time to cut and align blocks. For some reason, every night that we spent, no matter what elevation we laid our heads at, we always had a great kitchen area.
Gabe would end up being the Master Chef cooking or boiling water for probably close to 90% of the trip. Fact, we’re still looking into getting him a custom MSR patch that says XGK Expert. The stoves got more finicky and hard to prime the higher we went but Gabe was always on top of it. Having three stoves was a brilliant move.
We ate well and out of the 15 nights we were on the mountain, I slept the best this night. No waking, no stirring, nothing, just a good, deep sleep.
Two Italians or Austrians were camped just below us and a group of six people were above us. They spoke English but I couldn’t decipher the accent. We had good views down glacier and stellar views of Mt. Crosson and Sultana Ridge on Mt. Foraker. Dan and I witnessed the tail end of a small avalanche coming off Mt. Crosson, but certainly not the last.
It was a good site that promised an easier tomorrow to 11-Camp.
Day 2- Saturday: We got up late. It was cold. The view up into The Valley of Death was intimidating. The whole spur glacier was entirely crevassed horizontally. There were no tracks leading up into it. Since there hasn’t been any new measurable snow and this was the gateway for Cassin and The Rib, I think conditions speak for themselves.
I threw our shit-bag into a nearby crevasse hole. Gabe belayed me. It took a few seconds, maybe 4 or so until I heard a splot. That scared the hell out of me! I gave Gabe a look of excited fear that must have said, “Get me the fuck out here!” What a place.
We moved to 9,800 camp. Really tired today. Problems with the bloody sled. I think the low was -9° according to Craig's therm. Sunday, 17th May -Now we’re getting somewhere!
Again, we woke when we couldn’t take the bright intensity of the sun any longer. We only used alarms a couple days on this trip. Everyone did their normal routine and since there were no crevasses where we were camped, we were forced to carry the poo-bag with us to 11-Camp or I should say, Chris was ‘the man’ in this endeavor. But he carried one of the CMC’s, so it was fitting & logical anyway.
Now, a bit of a digression on wildlife on the glacier…is that there isn’t any. Any animal you might encounter up there remarkably got lost or was blown in by a storm or high upper winds.
As we were breaking camp this morning, we discovered a dead sparrow in our (Chris’ and my tent) rear vestibule. The poor bird had frozen to death over night. What happens is that Sparrows and Finches get blown into the Central Alaskan Range and due to the sheer energy expenditure of staying aloft with no food on the upper mountain, the birds become trapped.
Because of this, they have little to no fear of humans. It’s not uncommon to be stopped either on the trail or at camp and have these little guys hopping around & investigating your sled, pack or spread out gear around the tent looking for food.
Our dead little friend was probably doing just this and found an alcove to take shelter in our vestibule but ultimately, succumbed to the temperatures. Ravens are the only bird that can fly in and out, cruising on the high ripples of wind. It bothered me.
We packed up our belongings and moved up to 11-Camp. This short segment only took us two-three hours or so. Mt. Capps looked difficult despite it being an 'easy' peak.
 Gabe approaching Washburn's Thumb
11-Camp was a virtual town; main street running straight through towards Motorcycle Hill and a confusing spider web of side streets going off in all directions. Colin & Dan started to unpack and everyone else started to improve the old tent site. The site of 11-Camp sits in a small basin protected by Motorcycle Hill to the northeast and a huge slope directly northwest. Upon arrival, this slope was entirely snow covered. I made a remark to Chris that it looked like it would make a fine snow climb save for the huge crevasse directly at the fall line. Then the winds through the night dusted off the new powder and revealed mottled ice underneath. Windy Corners small glacier and a route variation called the ‘Trans-Canada’ sit directly to the east dropping off severely into camp by way of a huge serac. The thing was almost 50% ice and 50% snow. It was amazing and menacing at the same time.
A few of us were still sore from continual adjustment in our packs and sleds.
The plan was to unload and cook a good dinner (of course) and make a carry to 14-Camp the following day. Since we’re all coming from Colorado, we wanted to minimize our time lower down on the glacier and make speed for 14-Camp. No one felt any effects from altitude, which was to be expected but no one wanted to dawdle either.
11-Camp was a good place. And it seemed like a good spot to introduce to everyone our hidden 7th member, Stephanie!
While coming back from Estes Park (crevasse course at CMS), I called up Stephanie to see if she wanted to meet Gabe and I at Oskar Blues in Lyons for beer and food.
So sitting there, Stephanie came up with a sheer brilliant idea, why not ‘spice’ things up a bit? So Gabe got online and bought a blow-up doll that we affectionately named, Stephanie! All I’ll say is that she was a huge success! Very popular among the guys!
So far, temperatures haven’t been all that cold, not at least, what we were expecting. Mornings still have some bite but that’s why we have insulated layers.
Day 3- Sunday: We woke and broke camp & hiked up to 11 camp. A few of us are hurting. The continual adjustments in the sleds and packs are taking a toll. We had a good site. Cold morning today. Day warmed up nicely though. Craig and I threw the Frisbee around for a spell. As we were packing up, I discovered a dead sparrow in the rear vestibule of Chris’ tent. Froze to death.
Don’t know why, but I took it a bit hard. The birds that get blown off course up here truly are at their energy limit, in plain survival mode. Sad.
The plan is to use heavier meals down low (chix, ramen, couscous) and dehy up higher.
So far, so good.
Only day 3 and I’m fuckin tired of wearing sunglasses 24/7. Pretty much when we’re NOT inside the tent and don't EVEN get me started on sunblock.
Better get used to it pal. 11 camp is a cool place. Monday, 18th May "-Carry to 14-Camp"-First carry to 14-Camp
All I got to say is good riddance to the sleds! Since I’ve never climbed in South America or Nepal (not yet), having porters must be a Godsend. We roped up again, not really changing partners too much. We had Team Alpha (Chris, Dan & Gabe) and Team Nacho (Craig, Colin, myself). It was Craig’s idea to start referring to everyone as nachos. I’m not going to even try to explain that one. As long as it makes everyone smile, let’s go with it.
The carry to 14-Camp was an easy day, although it was extraordinarily windy. A few times at the top of Motorcycle Hill and rounding Windy Corner, we were knocked around. I can see how the winds up there can be demoralizing and defeating. It’s hard to fight through it. The top of Squirrel Hill was all ice but relatively flat. Dan and I looked over into the deep gorge on our left and saw a huge avalanche! Something must have fallen off a small hanging glacier at the top. It was incredible to see!
Once we reached 14-Camp, it was amazing to see everyone! When we checked in at NPS headquarters in Talkeetna a few days previous, there were 321 people on the mountain. When we checked out, I believe there were 374 people on the mountain. The success rate when we checked in on the 14th was 33%. When we checked out on the 28th, it had risen to 44%, still pretty grim but par for the course.
14-Camp was another town. The one striking feature was the pit toilet. Right there, dead center in the middle of camp right on Main Street. It was oddly funny but the pee-hole next to it was a sight to behold, a deep dark yellow cavernous hole that was just plain gross. I haven’t seen any references to any of this stuff, so I’ll be the first! You could throw a Chihuahua into it!
We didn’t stay long. Our gear cache was probably 5-6 feet deep and we generously filled it. It’s what the Park Service recommends anyway.
We walked back down to 11-Camp and spent that evening eating, drinking and talking to everyone. Tuesday, 19th May
-Hardest day of the trip
This was the day that a few of us were looking forward to. It seems once we reached 14-Camp, we would be within striking distance of the summit. We roped back up, team alpha took one sled and Team Nacho took one sled. The winds were still up to their usual riddles and games but not as strong. Despite whatever loads one is carrying, the winds pretty much force you to keep moving. Its one thing if it’s calm or slightly breezy with single digit temperatures but 30+ mph winds suck the warmth & motivation out of you. I can see why some people have said part of the challenge of Denali is overcoming the mental quicksand. It feels like you’re trying to reach up into the ether and grab what secrets are hiding, flying around on the cold currents to overcome the mental fatigue.
I volunteered to take the sled up Motorcycle Hill. I wasn’t looking forward to it but I was feeling pretty dam good. We didn’t stop for long at the top. However the one good thing was that the Koreans were ahead of us.
We’d been leap-frogging them for a day or two. Coursing up Squirrel Hill, which involved a traverse to gain access to a ramp, I found out what exhaustion was. The footpath was narrow to begin with on what was probably a 35° slope. Our sled flipped multiple times along this stretch. Colin, who was tail gunning was forced to walk 8-10 steps up slope to keep the rope taught and the sled right side up by applying counter-force to the slope. It worked for a little while then we lost our cooking board and a sleeve of tent poles!
We watched helplessly as they slid all the way down the slope to a small rock fin that guarded the precipice of upper Peter’s Glacier. Talk about demoralizing. We needed those poles. Craig had to untie and walk down and retrieve them since Colin and I were already directly engaged with the sled.
So I took Craig’s coil, Colin shorted the rope between us and we powered the sled up to a shallow depression at the start of the ramp. Craig came back with the poles and reported we had lost one. We had no idea which one. Was it to the North Face Mountain-25 or the Mountain Hardwear Trango-4? We’d find out. I had my EV-2 buried at 14-Camp in the cache. So if things looked grim because of this loss, we still had my 2-man tent to rely on. Craig tied back in and we motored our way to the top of Squirrel hill and finally to the icy flat stretch between the zenith and Windy Corner.
Halfway across the flat stretch, the back of my legs and butt actually started to go numb. I was reaching my physical threshold. I couldn’t go anymore then a few meters before I had to stop and breathe/rest. I was mixing songs seamlessly in my head from Neil Young, Ministry, Sisters of Mercy, Tom Waits and quotes from Family Guy.
We stopped at a campsite below Windy Corner and sat for 15-20 minutes. I was done. Colin had to take over for a while from this point on and he & Craig would end up sharing the sled duties for the last mile. Craig extended a hammer-gel to me and asked if I wanted it. I stared at it for 10 seconds before I realized what it was. I took it, didn’t say anything except that it actually did taste like apple pie.
The winds were still blowing but it wasn’t all that cold. I seemed pretty content watching some Italians take pictures of the terrain.
Before we set out from 11-Camp, Squirrel Hill was one of two spots along this segment I wasn’t looking forward to. The other was still coming up, the narrow traverse around Windy Corner. I was hoping, once I regained my composure that it wouldn’t present any problems
…but it did.
I took point, Colin pulled and Craig was on the end. We successfully managed the climb to Windy Corner but we had a plethora of people, four different roped teams and three solo people behind us. We caused a bottleneck on the traverse. I was starting to feel better but now Colin was hurting. Craig took the sled and we slowly made our way to the gear cache area at 13,500ft on the other side of Windy Corner. It took us a bit over an hour to hike the last .6-mile to 14-Camp. Colin was finished and Craig and I needed some time of just sitting.
This last section is heavily crevassed and the trail crosses three of them with a substantial snow-bridge to the left of a huge, deep crevasse, easily six to nine meters across. By at least by this point, the Kahiltna Glacier was finished.
I broke the news to Chris that we lost a tent-pole. Both tents are labeled as 2-man but the EV-2 is a tight fit. The Mountain-25 has room to spare, albeit heavier. So Chris and I preferred the North Face. We inserted one of the body poles from my EV-2 and we were fortunate that the pole did in fact, fit. We took some time digging out and building up the snow walls, constructing blocks and Gabe took to boiling water for food and drinks.
We didn’t do anything the next two days, Wednesday & Thursday other then rest and acclimate and talk to everyone at camp. Between our ‘friend’, Stephanie and the word ‘Nacho’, which had now become synonymous with our expedition name (we carved letters out of the snow and christened our camp, Nacho). We were a bit known around 14-Camp.
A lot of people climb Denali with big-mountain experience.
Hearing the stories from some of them, lyrics from a favorite song of mine by Sarah McLachlan kept replaying in my head, “There’s always a million reasons to feel not good enough”. Like I said, the mountain plays games with you and it‘s not always in a standard fashion.
After talking with a Russian named Artur Testov who summited Denali in winter, January of 1998 with another attempt in January of 2008, it humbled me enough to keep me more on the quieter side for the rest of the trip. Colorado is an appetizer compared to what’s out there and the enormous talent that I was sharing 14-Camp with made me feel at times, that I was in over my head despite being in my element. Even the Italians were contemplating climbing down the West Rib to the bottom, traversing to the Japanese Couloir and starting the Cassin Ridge that way. If it weren’t for the blow-up doll and our ‘Nacho Camp’, I would have felt like a phantom among a legion of strangers.
We met two guys, Mark from Anchorage and Thomas from Valdez who turned out to be two super-cool cats. We passed them a few days prior as they were taking a teammate (Todd) back down to Base Camp who was suffering from AMS but we met up with them again at 14-camp. For the rest of the trip, Thomas, Mark, Val, Cindy, Jaroslav and our group shadowed each other. We summited the same day and later, the next week, drank with them back in Anchorage, getting absolutely demolished (the liver is evil, it must be punished!). This was also when we met back up with Mark Yoder and John Stasney who were waiting for good weather!
They were holed up for almost a week at 11-Camp due to weather. It was a surprise and good tidings to see them again! They were shocked and incredulous that one of their team members, a Dr. Gerald Myers from Centennial, Co whom they met off of Summitpost would take off by himself earlier the previous day for the summit.
He hasn’t been seen since.
Rest in peace, Gerald.
Day 5- Tuesday: Moved to 14 camp.
Thus far, the HARDEST physical day of the trip. Fuck. Utterly, completely exhausting. Near my limit. Colin not looking good either.
We took two sleds to 14 camp. Alpha team and Nacho team. I started off with the sled to
Motorcycle Hill, Squirrel Hill and just under Windy Point. Craig pulled up Windy Corner & beyond to the 13,500 cache site. Colin pulled for an hour and Craig finished. Holy shit. Our fuckin sled wouldn’t stay right side up. Flipped multiple times going to Squirrel Hill and the traverse of Windy Corner. Colin REALLY worked his ass off steadying the dam sled. Poor guy. Pretty consistent high winds. Hard to stop for long.
Back of my legs and butt feel like they’ve been worked all night by George Michael and Boy George. UGH!
Lost Chris’ tent poles mid flip. Luckily, they got snagged by some rocks. Craig unroped and chased em’ down. Colin and I powered the fuckin thing to a flat spot at the bottom of a shallow gully and waited for Craig. Craig returned with all but 1 pole. Didn’t look forward to breaking the news to Chris. A bit surprised actually that everything wasn’t INSIDE of the duffle. He took it pretty good.
Dam good thing we listened to Colin and brought a spare tent. Haven’t seen Colin this exhausted before. He looks bad. Worried.
Could REALLY go for a beer right now. Hell, could REALLY go for a woman right now! Shit, who am I kidding, so tired, I wouldn’t be able to do anything.
Note to Self---back at base camp, make sure to ‘office space’ the shit out of that sled.Friday-Saturday, 22nd-23rd May-Gabe sets a personal altitude record & we lose a member
We found out the previous day that Colin wasn’t feeling good and today, as we were prepping our packs for a gear carry to 17,200 Camp, he still wasn’t feeling good. It had been 4-5 days since Colin felt well. The culprit was digestive and intestinal problems more than likely due to AMS. Roughly 30% of the climbers attempting Denali unfortunately are affected by this condition. I swear, there is no rhyme or reason to when and who AMS decides to effect. We started up the 35° snow slope towards the fixed lines. We stopped at the bottom of the lines and saw Colin stop far below us, rest and turn around. We debated among ourselves and concluded that he simply needed another day or two to acclimate and hydrate. If it came down to it, one of us would hike back down with him and see him off back at the airstrip.
It was something we’d address and talk about once we got back down.
This was my first time on fixed lines as was Gabe’s. So with a little direction from Chris, we were off. Getting up over the bergschrund (15,400ft) was a bit tricky. Placing the ascender as far up the line as was possible (given the length of the cordalette) with the left hand, cocking the left foot up on a hold almost waist level and swinging the axe into the ice with the right, I mini-jumped, pulled myself to a pseudo-standing position and finished by swinging my left foot over to another hold, sliding the ascender up further, re-swung the axe higher & pulled myself up to a more level place and continued up the line. Looking down into the ‘schrund while doing this had a tendency of focusing you on the task at hand!
The second time went by much more efficiently once you got the hang of it.
The low to mid 50° ice headwall took a bit of time to get up but the views of the ridge were delicious once the saddle (16,200ft) was reached. We were well above the clouds. It reminded me of the way the clouds moved in and banked up against the coastline a few years ago on Tenerife while climbing Teide.
There was quite a crowd on the ridge and amazingly, there were our shadows taking a smoke break, the Korean team, it was borderline laughable!
We made it to High Camp, dug a cache and sped out of there. It was cold, windy and just generally unpleasant.
The descent of the fixed lines was straightforward and mellow allowed by a partial arm repel backed up with a safety ‘biner tied to the harness and clipped at every anchor. This allowed an easy ‘walk-down’.
We spent the remaining day drinking and talking, discussing Colin’s situation and hydrating.
Unfortunately, the next day, Saturday, Colin wasn’t feeling any better. We stayed in camp taking another acclimation day. Colin, as much as he wanted one of us to accompany him down, didn’t press it. He found two Mexicans who were heading down, one of whom was a doctor and since they spoke English and Colin a little Spanish, he was comfortable with this decision. Although I can’t say it rested well on the rest of us, especially Dan. But in the end, Colin descended; things would have only gotten worse.
Day 8- Friday: We got up on the late side today. The weather was acceptable so we all geared up today and made a cache run to 17.
I hate to say it but Colin still isn’t feeling good. Lots of GI probs. He turned a little below the fixed lines & unloaded his gear to Craig. Feel bad for the guy. I would feel like shit.
Amazing how altitude effects us. I mean, here we are at 14,200ft, basically the same elevation as Shavano & he’s not entirely immobilized but definitely suffering from some form of AMS. There’s no rhyme or reason to it. And he’s been up Chimbo and Coto. I have no idea what tomorrow will bring. Can only hope for the best.
The gear carry to 17 was a fuckin blast! It took us 7 hours roundtrip. It wouldn’t have been that long but we got stuck behind the Koreans again. Shit. If I were a snail, I’d be pissed! S-L-O-W.
The headwall was a blast. Tiring but super cool.
Prolly topped out near mid 50's towards the top. The bergschrund was maybe 80° but well stepped. Only 4-5 feet or so. A bit tricky to get up. Used axe, ascender and front teeth on both feet. The ice had some good steps chopped into it from all the crampons. Very nice.
It was a ghost town at High Camp. Extremely cold and breezy. Maybe somewhere around 2° to -5° not including the wind. On the way down, around Washburn’s Thumb, it turned noticeably warmer. Interesting.
No dinner tonight. I’m cold. Shit, I’m cold! Time for bed.
Tomorrow rest day.
Day 9- Saturday: Man, some strange-ass dreams lately. Chris has been having them too. Apparently he has his own Sushi-Boat! That made me laugh!
Woke this morning with “The Gnome” from Pink Floyd running through my head. Good song but weird. Yesterday, I could remember only fragments of a dream of playing with Opie, an old landlord’s dog and “Eastbound and Truckin” from Jerry Reed. Not gonna even guess at that one.
But, man. Last night dream was fucked up! I rarely remember anything but when I do, wow! Extremely vivid and detailed.
I was in a large suburban house. I was the only occupant. I walked over to the garage which was exactly the same size as the house. My cousin David was in there working on a truck. He hands me a carburetor and says some technical stuff. I look at it quizzically and hand it back.
I say to him verbatim,
”It’s nice David but I don’t understand any of it.” Next thing I know, some girl runs into the house all-crying. Kinda looks like Herimone from Harry Potter. She says a bad man is after her. It worries me. I suggest we break all the mirrors in the house so he can’t get her. So we proceed to break everything!
I turn around to smash a curio cabinet and a black arm swings out of nowhere and knocks me out cold. Then I wake up outside in the gutter with “The Gnome” playing in my head. Talk about random!
Then I critique it closer & come to the conclusion that I can’t keep any material possessions (prolly don’t care about them) and that I can’t keep or protect those I care about or love. Like the house, my life too, is empty & big.
I’ll die a pauper. Fuck that’s depressing.
On a lighter note, Dan likes the sleds SO MUCH he keep dreaming of pulling ice blocks in the sled. Now THAT sucks!
Colin isn’t doing any better today. Dan and him went to the med tent this morning to get a pulse-ox reading. It was 85 and 93 when he pressure breathed. Very high departure between readings. Sounds like the AMS is similar to what it was yesterday.
Dan put him on Acelazolamide today. He’s been taking multi-vits and emergency-c. I gave him some concentrated B-Vits and more emergency-c today. Dam, I hope Colin improves. It’s gonna suck if he has to turn.
We’re talking about moving to high camp tomorrow. Not certain if that will happen though. Fairly certain though that Colin probably won’t go any higher.
The line of people climbing to the headwall today is about 90 deep. Amazing! It looks like a scene out of the Charlie Chaplin movie, “The Gold Rush” where everyone is climbing Chilkoot Pass.
Lots of downtime today. We’re not too ambitious or talkative today. Kinda somber really.
Colin ended up going down. A team of 2 Mexicans, one a doc, took Colin down with them. He should be back in Talkeetna soon and on to Colorado. I get the impression he’s also homesick. A lot of options today. Too many to list.
We’re getting ready to make the move tomorrow to High Camp. Everyone ate good and drank plenty tonight. No one seems to be joking or in a gay mood.
Gabe has been a freakin rock star on the stove. He’s not buying shit back in Talkeetna. Sunday, 24th May-Move to High Camp
We woke early, sometime around 7:30am and it was cold! It was one of the few days where we set an alarm. Our team didn’t exactly set any speed records on breaking camp on this expedition. From the horde of people ascending the way yesterday, we knew we’d have to get up early & get to the fixed lines before the storm of other climbers did the same.
Thomas and Mark were already halfway up the slope.
Saturday, there were so many people going up, we numbered at least 72 on a single count, it looked like a scene out of the old black & white footage from the Gold Rush of everyone heading up Chilkoot Pass. With the forecast being favorable for Monday and possibly Tuesday, everyone was just setting themselves in position for a summit bid, us included. The scenery above 14,000ft is so complete and sublime. You‘re almost afraid to blink for fear of missing a second.
 Craig & Gabe on the Summit Ridge
I felt a bit sluggish today.
I didn’t have the energy or pep I had on Friday. But the climb to High Camp went smoothly and without incident. We stopped at 16,200, dug up our cached rope and continued up the ridge roped up. What a difference 48 hours can make. The ghost town that was High Camp on Friday had turned into a circus today! There were no free campsites. We choose the furthest wall, closest to the edge overlooking 14-Camp and set to work building snow walls, leveling the ground and retaining the existing wall as much as we could. It’s amazing how much slower things take to finish at this altitude. It took a long time to have two sites big enough for the 4-man and the 2-man tents. The snow was lousy, which didn’t help.
We really didn’t do too much else. We encountered Mark & Thomas again as well as Cindy and Val. Familiar faces do a lot to restore one’s motivation!
We ate well, drank well and hoped Monday would bring us to new elevation records. Monday, 25th May "-Summit Day"  -Summit Day, we lose another
The weather widow according to the nightly NPS reports was looking to be Monday and Tuesday. A massive low pressure was moving into the area late Tuesday night and would last for the next 4-5 days dumping 6” and more of snow and scouring High Camp with 70mph winds and 14-Camp with 40-45mph winds. Unbelievably, we still passed people on our way down, completely aware of the forecast that were still climbing towards High Camp.
Chris and I noticed a general weather pattern that seemed fairly consistent the last few days in that, winds were generally at their hardest in the morning and tapered off as the afternoon progressed into the early evening hours.
So as we roused ourselves Monday, we didn’t bother joining in the chaos of High Camp that morning due to three reasons, 1.) We wanted to wait for the winds to die down as they had been (the snow devils and spindrift coming off Denali Pass and the upper ridge were massive). 2.) We had no interest in joining the ‘congo-line’ of people heading up the ‘Autobahn’ towards Denali Pass and lastly, 3.) we were all running low on water.
Due to the dry quality of the snow, it took almost three hours to melt enough for everybody.
Like I said before and basically reiterating what Dan had mentioned days earlier, patience is the name of the game on this mountain.
We did however, keep our slow preparations going for our summit departure and at 1:00pm, we set out for Denali Pass.
Between High Camp (17,200ft) and Denali Pass (18,300ft), there’s a moderately steep traverse known as the ‘Autobahn’. Most falls on Denali occur along this precarious 35°-40° traverse. It is anchored for running belays (pickets) and at busy times, it’s prudent to use them.
Some of the most dangerous and reckless behavior I’ve seen occurred along this stretch on the way down. People, roped up mind you would traverse this section with nothing more than a pair of trekking or ski poles.
Going solo, this is fine. Do these people actually think a pair of ski poles is going to stop them AND their roped partner in the advent of a fall? Unbelievable.
What at first, on the ascent, I thought was a solid snow/ice slope turned out to have multiple hollowed sections that I discovered during the descent. A few holes, in all likelihood created by fellow climbers, went down as much as 3-4 meters.
It actually unnerved me a bit.
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Haliku topping out on the Horn |
We were holed up at Denali Pass for about an hour with four others waiting for the wind to die down. This is where Dan came to the sad conclusion that he wasn’t able to continue due to his feet swelling. It was at the point that a few of his toes were starting to go numb. Being the EMT of the group, no one questioned his decision and coming so far, it was a decision that was hard to make if not admirable.
People were turning back and heading down while we were there. Two of the group we were sitting next to tied in to our rope with Dan and proceeded back to 17-Camp. Gabe, Chris, Craig and myself covered all exposed surfaces and pushed on around the pass into the wind hoping for a reprieve.
People were still coming down the line was mixed between those who turned because of the wind and those who had successfully summited. What we found the further away from the pass we climbed was that the wind lessened little by little. By the time we reached a few hundred feet below Archdeacon’s Tower, the wind had almost completely abated, a prime example of the Venturi effect.
The route from the Pass to the Football Field (19,500ft) went by smoothly and was as straightforward as they come. All morning I hadn’t been feeling ‘myself’. I was slower then the group and lagging behind all day up to some flats near Archdeacon’s Tower. I left the group, told Craig to continue, that I’d catch up and dug a hole to perform some ‘business’. The dehy. food I had the previous night hadn’t digested. I only make mention of this because it seemed, in hindsight, small meals and snacking are of more benefit to your body then ‘loading up’. Afterwards, I felt great! Back to my normal self. I did indeed catch up to the others as they were shedding their packs on the crest of an iced over crevasse. Looking up at Pig Hill across the Football Field was a bit disheartening. We knew Pig Hill topped out at a little over 20,000ft on Kahiltna Horn and I have to say, this last hill climb just made you shake your head in disbelief. It’s arguably the hardest section past High Camp due of course, to the altitude.
I was feeling good, so I slowly pulled away from the pack and eventually passed two Brits on the hill. This affirmed the previous months of training (3-4 days a week on the treadmill & 2-3 nights a week hiking up Vail Mountain after work to Eagles Nest) to virtually no training for Orizaba. In my mind, the difference was quite clear. Then I saw Thomas and Mark coming down! We stopped and chatted for a few minutes then I moved on and took a good rest at the Horn waiting for the others. It’s unfathomable that LaVoy, Browne and Professor Parker made it to ~20,250ft wearing multiple layers of wool, leather and fur and were turned around due to an increasing blizzard back in 1912. I don’t know if the men of the bygone days had more ‘grit’ and ‘tack’ in their bowels or if advances in clothing & technology have allowed current explorers to achieve more with less, probably a little of both I’d assume.
The summit ridge is NO PLACE you want to be in high winds. It is exposed, narrow, corniced in a few spots and as Chris pointed out, hollow by the sound our points made in a few areas. The summit ridge is a very aesthetic and beautiful line. I didn’t believe Thomas’ opinion of the ridge earlier when he said,
“From the horn, its all gravy!”
But it wasn’t bad. Along this stretch, Gabe and I pulled away from the others. My emotions did get a hold of me for a minute near the summit and I did tear up.
Prior to this expedition, I read two guidebooks (Secor & Coombs) and two novels from the early days of exploration on McKinley ("To the Top of the Continent" by Dr. Frederick Cook (1906) and "The Conquest of Mount McKinley" by Belmore Browne (1913). But a quote from Hudson Stuck's novel, "The Ascent of Denali" (1914) has stayed with me,
“The view from the top of Mt McKinley is like looking out the windows of heaven”
--Robert Tatum, 1913
And I can understand why he said this. After laboring for 13 days or more on a singular goal, looking down on the multitude of peaks, some climbed, some unnamed, witnessing the boulevards and terraces of wadi ice first-hand, hanging glaciers & serac’s poised to unleash a maelstrom of violence, this all hits you simultaneously. It’s almost too much for the human psyche without being affected by it.
Craig and Chris came strolling onto the small but broad summit and joined the rest of us. We shared it with some familiar faces; Val and Jaroslav were also there as was a lone person from Poland, one guy from Mallorca and eventually, the two Brits reached the precipice as well, a long way from Manchester.
We reached the summit at 8:50pm and was ours for a solid 30 minutes or so before reason took over and gave us the nod to get moving.
The descent went surprisingly fast. I was in my own little world for a while so the scenery passed by without notice.
I eventually passed Gabe and sped down the Autobahn passing a few others anxious to get back to camp. Walking along this section at 11:30pm, still buzzing from standing on the summit, the entire slope glowed orange and red from the sunset. It was completely surreal and something I hope to experience again before I die.
Dan was ready with fresh water and a thermos of hot water. I greedily drank a cup of hot water, munched on some gorp, absently shed my layers of equipment and clothing and hopped in the tent. I passed away into sleep just as the others were coming into camp…
“But tonight, the lion of contentment has placed a warm, heavy paw upon my chest.”
--Billy Collins
Day 11- Monday: It’s late. Somewhere after midnight. This is gonna be short.
We successfully summated tonight at 8:45pm. Got hung up at the pass due to high winds for an hour or so. Got tired of waiting and pushed through it. Don’t understand, a lot of people turned around. Gotta expect winds, man. Comes with the territory.
Dan turned at the pass. Feet swelled and toes went numb. Like he said, sounds like a circulatory issue. We have the same boots, Nuptse’s.
Good weather on top. Stellar, perfect weather. Summit ridge exposed. A fall would be bad. Long day. No dinner tonight. Passed a group of two roped climbers, two solo people and lower down, two teams of three. Felt terrific on the descent. No effects from the altitude. Some couloirs on the North Peak look like they’d be good climbs. Need to buy technical points. Time to get serious about ice.
Summit temps estimated between –5° and 5°
Blood red sunset. Tuesday-Wednesday, 26th-27th May-We get our first taste of Denali weather
Knowing that some serious weather was moving in, everyone was anxious to get down as low as possible. It felt like we had cheated the mountain in terms of having stellar weather and we knew it. Our experience with Denali’s infamous weather thus far had been very atypical. Being stuck at 17-Camp or even 14-Camp was not on the agenda. Although true to form, we woke somewhat at leisure Tuesday morning and even though we didn’t set any speed records breaking camp, we moved with sold purpose. Though now, Craig wasn’t feeling well. The previous summit day had seriously tapped his energy reserves. He had to dig deep to keep going and because of reaching his threshold, I think this enhanced a bit of AMS.
Craig would not be his normal self until the morning of the 28th.
We hiked/climbed back down to 14-Camp and dug up our cache. By the time we reached camp, it had started to snow lightly. Now we had a predicament on our hands. There was five of us but enough gear and food for six. Plus, the food we had would last for another 9 days! We had to get rid of it. That’s what we did. Dan and I loaded up one of the sleds and pulled it around camp announcing free-food, a common practice. We probably gave away close to 80% of what we had. Though I’m sure having that storm roll up in the next day probably helped.
To prove further what a small world it really is, before we left for Alaska, Chris and I had received an e-mail from a guy named Matt who works for Corporate Vail Resorts in Broomfield. Through a small network of friends that include Barry and Donna Reese (who forwarded our e-mails to each other), there might be a chance we’d run into each other since we’d be on the mountain at essentially the same time. After all, stranger things have happened.
To cut to the chase, while Dan and I were giving away food, I lingered around this one group in particular talking to one of the guys. After 10 minutes or so, we exchanged names, looked at each other suspiciously and smiled.
“Matt! How the hell are ya!?”
What are the odds of running into someone you’ve only e-mailed once and have never met on a mountain with 350+ people on it? It was absolutely amazing. So we stayed and talked for another 15-20 minutes until I got called back to lend a hand in packing.
And to boot, a friend of mine who works at Bag & Pack in Avon, Co. told me a co-worker of his named, Ron was also planning on being on Denali a short while after us. I talked to this guy on the phone a couple of times but we couldn’t get any training climbs synched. To cut to the chase, while giving away food, again 14-Camp, I kept talking to this guy cause he seemed pretty cool. Eventually I asked him where he was from,
“I live & work in Avon, Colorado.” He said while cutting snow blocks.
I looked at him in a scrutinizing manner for a few seconds, said nothing, then,
“Ron!” Then he stopped what he was doing and looked at me with a shocked expression,
“Kiefer?” Then of course, we had to start another ‘sewing circle’.
I swear, once I can see but twice? That almost goes way beyond coincidence.
We packed up everything and headed out for 11-Camp. And wouldn’t you know it. Once we reached Motorcycle Hill, guess what? We got stuck behind our good Korean friends again! I mean seriously, how does that happen? What a day.
Unpacking all our gear, digging up our cache, making a site for the night, it looked like one massive schizophrenic yard sale.
Upon waking the next morning, we woke to fresh snow, winds and some cold temperatures. The clouds had blotted out most of the surrounding features at camp.
We picked up Greg at 11-Camp. He was a guide with one of the companies looking for a rope to tag along on, needing to get back down to Base Camp. The whiteout down the glacier lasted the entire length. The only reason we made it back to Base Camp this day was because of Chris’ GPS. If we didn’t have it, we’d be spending another night on the glacier. The whiteout was all encompassing and disorientating. I haven’t experienced anything like it here in Colorado. I had similar conditions on Snowmass Mountain back in March but nothing this complete. To drive home the confusing atmosphere further, somewhere below Camp-1, we astonishingly ran into the Korean team again (seriously!).
They too were heading back to Base Camp…only they were moving UP the glacier back to Camp-1. They had NO IDEA of where they were. This was a bad place to get lost. We post holed a few areas a lot deeper then what was comfortable. I held my breath more then a few times. Looking back, we had a regular ‘conga-line’ of people following behind us, including Val and Cindy! In total, I believe we had 17 people in our line. From a bird’s point of view, we must have looked like a giant, drunk caterpillar! To anyone on the ground, we must have looked like an ambush of ghosts waiting to happen.
But we did eventually make 7,200ft Base Camp again. I checked back in with Lisa (BC Manager), we set up camp (ALL next to each other), celebrated with lots of beer and schnapps and hoped that the weather would cooperate for a departure the following day. There were now six less statues holding court in the garden of dreaming and from start to end, after a total of 14 days on the mountain, 11 emaciated pounds lighter (personally) and a noticeable difference in my belt size, our McKinley expedition had reached its end.
Time for some R&R in Anchorage and down on the Kenai Penninsula!
Craig Burger's Picture album
“One cannot conceive of grandeur burial than that which mighty mountains bend, crack and shatter to make.
Or a nobler tomb than the great upper basin of Denali.”
--Hudson Stuck (Archdeacon, Climber)
Rest in Peace, Gerald Thoughts...Impressions & thoughts:
• Of the three air taxi services that fly climbers onto the glacier: K2, Talkeetna Air Taxi and Hudson, I cannot recommend more highly using TAT. Having two Super Otter planes in their fleet, TAT has the [only] capacity to fly using IFR (instrument flight rules-GPS). The other two services use only VFR (visual flight rules). So what does this mean?
This means that when the weather is inclement, cloudy or bad, the other two services must postpone any flights on or off the glacier until visibility improves. Using IFR, the pilot has the ability to navigate through these conditions so long as ground conditions are marginal and upper winds are manageable. This means the WORLD when you’ve been sitting on the glacier for a few days waiting for the weather to break and all you want is to get back to Talkeetna.
• Bring extra tent poles, guy-lines, cordalette, duct tape and spectra. It’s amazing how useful these mundane items are when the situation calls for it.
• Use sunblock with zinc oxide. After 14 days of using regular 50-spf sunblock, I still looked like a light-complected Jamaican.
• If possible, do not bring any food onto the glacier that has water or moisture in it. IT WILL FREEZE unless you sleep with it.
• Practice peeing in a bottle lying side-ways before hand! I don’t have to comment what a catastrophe this can be.
• When it comes to food, calories! Calories! Calories! Fat and Carbohydrates are your friends!
• Bring one more stove then you think you’ll need and know how to use the service kit. If your stoves all break or stop working, game over.
• A –20 bag is plenty warm enough (for most people). If you need to, you can always buy a liner.
• Learn the following knots: Clove, Figure-8 on a Bight, Overhand, Prussik, Butterfly, Girth and a Munter can be useful.
• Practice with a sled first…before you land on the glacier. This will save a lot of headache.
• If possible, do not bring sleds past 11-Camp.
• Small moist towelette squares (the ones restaurants give out with buffalo wings) seem to work better than wet-wipes. The packs of wet-wipes freeze solid.
• In regards to training beforehand, my personal opinion is that good cardio is more important followed by a strong inner core.
• Bacon! Let me repeat, B-A-C-O-N. Bring plenty!
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Alaska Range > Mount McKinley (Denali) > Denali 2009- "Summit Bound" with a bunch of 'Nachos'
