CLIMBING DENALI

[william hunt]

CLIMBING DENALI, JUST ALEX AND I

Preface:

Because the last time I wrote up a story like this and Alex didn't
write his version, I was criticized by him for making him look bad.
So this time I am explaining my intentions. 2 years ago I wrote up
our epic snowshoeing adventure in the Tetons. Many found this story
to be great fun and to be, as I quote from one of the readers, "pure
mountaineering poetry that hits the 'ol piton right on the head." The
problem was that Alex, friends, and family are more literary oriented,
where as I am engineering oriented, so they read hidden meaning into
the story, which made Alex look bad. This was never my intention, and
is not my intention now. I try to write only what I mean. Reading in
hidden meaning, as literary prose, is beyond the scope of my writing.
I tend to dwell on the facts, figures, and problems, but only because
as a scientist and an engineer this is what is important to me to
remember, understand, and change the stituation for the next go
around. The following story may too make Alex look bad, but that's
not my intention. I am only trying to convey my experience from my
perspective.

Before the Trip:

As planned, we left Bloomington around the beginning of June and drove
out west eventually making it to Seattle by June 15 to fly to Alaska
to climb Denali. We spent what seemed like a ridiculous amount of
time getting all the gear, food, clothing ready, and taking care of
last minute details for a 2 week car trip and a 2 week expedition. It
took several days to do everything, so I continued to put in days at
the office, and spend all my spare time getting stuff together. Some
of the gear didn't arive in time for departure, so it had to be
shipped ahead, like Alex's double boot liners and my glacier
sunglasses.

All in all, we managed to pack well over a 1000 lbs of stuff into my
beat up 84 Volvo station wagon that was wrecked last fall by another
climbing buddy of mine. The food was overwhelming, and I knew it
would most likely be overkill, but I didn't want to spend time trying
to prepare expedition food in Seattle with no place to do it. For the
expedition, we had close to 100 pounds of bulk food like instant
potatoes, instant rice, instant oatmeal, noodles, my modified recipe
Logan bread, various candy, dehydrated vegetables, breakfast cereals,
etc. packaged in Seal-a-Meal or Ziplock bags, in addition to various
"flavoring" packages like Lipton rice or noodles with sauce,
Backpacker's Pantry, Kraft Deluxe Cheese sause, pasta salad mix, etc.
Also, we had at least 100 lbs of "snack" and car camping food for the
2 weeks before the Denali climb, which consisted of candy bars,
cookies, fruit pies, cereals, my homemade WW bread, etc. Alex had
picked out stuff he liked and I picked out stuff I liked which made
for an excessive amount of food. Alex likes candy bars and many other
fairly high fat, low nutrition foods, whereas I like low fat, high
nutrition foods. Alex and I had spent over $300 on food at Sam's
Wholesale right before the trip.

Of course, in addition to all the food, was all the techincal gear,
clothing, and camping equipment. Since we intended to do some
rockclimbing on the way out we needed a full rock rack, in addition to
the snow, ice, and glacial gear needed for Denali. Since I insisted
that we use a 100m rope for the Denali glaciers as this would give us
100 feet distance between us which each of us having enough rope to
separately reach the other person, we also wound up with 2 of my 60m
ropes for rockclimbing. Clothing wise, we were both skimpy on street
cloths although I exceeded Alex for once it actually taking far less
than he. However, in technical clothing, it always amazes me how one
persons mountain clothing can completely fill a 4 foot duffle bag.
Camping wise we went for 3 tents, my TNF Oval 25 and my Wild Country
Quasar, both for Denali, and Alex's Black Diamond Megamid for other
needs. We even agreed only to take 2 Ridge-rests ecah and no
Therm-a-rests. Of course there was even more stuff which wound up
filling up the entire back of the car.

I thought the amount of stuff was amusing, and Alex thought it was
outrageous. I knew it would be somewhat of a pain to get to things in
the car, but "what the hell". As usual, Alex way under estimated the
amount of stuff we would have and I guessed about right. I figured
there wouldn't be any room left in the back of the car and that's
about what happen. It's just one of those differences between me and
Alex. Like the difference in estimating how long it takes to do
something. Alex said he could be ready in a few hours after coming
from Indianapolis to Bloomington. In fact he spent an entire day
doing stuff before he could even work on getting ready. It's no big
deal, but both estimates of stuff and time just become 2 reoccuring
themes on this trip.

Out West:

(6/2 Friday)

We finally left. By St. Loius MO, we were both hungry, and Alex
spotted a Sizzler. Alex likes places that have "all you can eat"
super bars as he can get his money's worth. I actually prefer them
over most places as I can be picky and normally get a satisfying,
nutritional, and low fat meal. After Topeka Kansas the both of us
were finally so tired that I had to stop to sleep at a rest stop. I
slept outside the car for only a short while as the mosquitoes were
bad.

(6/3 Saturday)

Alex climbed on top of one of the pinic table covers which consisted
of a poured concrete top. In the morning, I had been up for a hour or
so before noticed his water bottle up there. So after a few hours
sleep we were on our way toward Colorado on I-70. Several other times
when Alex and I had been out that way we joked about going to
Mt. Sunflower (highest point in Kansas) which is about 20 miles south
of I-70, so this time we decided to go there.

We got off on Exit 1 and headed south on a nice paved road. In about
3 miles while Alex was driving at a high rate of speed, I noticed this
sign "pavement ends". Within seconds we were sliding in mud about 4
inches deep and the car slid gradually to the right winding up almost
in shallow, gradual 1 foot ditch on the right side of the road. Alex
insisted that he could drive the car back out of the ditch. After
moving the car around he managed to get it in further, so I got out
and starting pushing the car. After about 30 minutes and getting
quite frustrated with Alex trying to steer the car back on to the main
part of the road which just didn't work, we managed to back the car
all the way back to the pavement. With my legs covered in mud, I took
over driving down the mud road toward Mt. Sunflower, but after just a
mile I decide to bag it, since it was very slow.

I drove back to I-70 and on to CO. Alex and I had a dicussion about
my "attitude" problem that had arisen at this point. I often get
grumpy if I don't get enough sleep which had been a problem for the
past few nights, combined with the frustrating exercise of pushing a
car and being sprayed with mud, I suppose I was rather unsociable.
This became another reoccuring theme. How lack of sleep for me, made
me less than desirable to be around.

Next stop was Cheyenne WY, for some food. Alex went to Wendy's and
Taco Bell, and I just Light Bean Burritoes at TB. We tried to find a
rock climbing guide book to Vedawoo with no luck. So, off to Vedawoo
we went without one. Vedawoo is a interestesting place composed of
large nodular granite rocks sticking up 300 or 400 feet above the
high, cider, pine, and scrub bush desert like land (8000+ feet
elevation). We climb a few easy trad pitchs and by then it got dark.
We both slept under big rock houses with just a pad and bag. In the
night several small rodents came and visited me. When I awoke, they
were startled and scurried off. They seem like such funny creatures,
just wanting some food that a climber might have left for them to eat.

(6/4 Sunday)

In the morning the do a little 4th classing and some rock climbing
including TR'ing a 5.11 slab named "attack of the spider gods" I
think. It's starts to drizzle on and off, so Alex and I bag the
climbing and go for a run. Running down a dirt road we notice a
Toyota Land Cruiser with CO plates in a swampy area bottomed out and
totally stuck on a big rock. We are amused. Yeah, if you have a 4x4
you can drive anywhere without getting stuck, yeah, sure. Anyway the
drizzle, turns to rain, then to sleet and the wind picks up. Here I
am running along, soaking wet, miles from the car, in freezing
precipitation and high winds in my Nike's AirMax2, running shorts, and
Lowe lightweight alpine jacket and loving it. I must be nuts. Back
to the car we drive to Rawlins WY, with a quick stop at JB's, another
one of those "all you can eat places", then on to Lander WY, and up
into Sink's Canyon to bed down for the evening. We both hiked accross
the creek, but I continued up to a ski hut where the noise from the
creek is partially blocked. It's amazing how noisy a white water
creek is. The evening weather was mild with totally clear skies with
a great view of the stars and even the Milky Way.

(6/5 Monday)

The next morning we got a rock climbing guide book for Sink's Canyon
back in Lander and we went climb a classic sandstone trad route there.
Even with the guide it still proved difficult to find the route.
Since the creek is close by and very noisy we used this pair of 2-way
radios that I bought from Radio Shack. Even though we could see each
other and were only 100 feet apart, we could barely hear each other
when screaming. The sandstone is very soft and gives me an uneasy
feeling climbing it. Normally, I criticize Alex if he spend too much
time leading because of "sewing up" the route, but in this case it was
warrented. The rock was so soft, I don't know what would happen to
the gear on a lead fall. After the rock climb, we did a quick
hike/run up a thousand feet to enjoy the view and take some pictures.
Then it was off to Jackson WY for dinner at what used to be a Sizzler
and is now the Teton Steak House, but still has that super bar. After
we went to the AAC Climber's Ranch in the park only to find it not
open for the season yet, but that didn't stop us from bedding down
anyway.

(6/6 Tuesday)

The next morning it started snowing at the Climber's Ranch at only
6600 feet elevation! I can not get Alex interested in hiking up the
trail toward Grand Teton, so we decide for taking the boat accross
Jenny lake and climb up a ways toward Disappointment Peak to do some
self arrest pratice. Praticing self arrest seems really silly, but
it's funny how if you have not done it in a while how those 50 degree
hard pack snow slope seem really intimidating to throw yourself down
and then arrest. After some pratice, it all seemed so easy once
again. Although the weather wasn't great there were many spectacular
water falls disappearing under the snow on the way, and occasionally
we could see the lake and the shuttle boats. We descended and took
the boat place to the Jenny lake ranger station by 1:00 PM.

We went in the office to get a back country permit for the next few
days, I told the ranger we wanted 4 days in Garnett Canyon Meadows.
He said normally that would be too many and unreasonable, but
considering he had no one in his log book and knowing that the snow
was deep up there he said that's no problem. This year they had
started something new, where they would ask climbers to volunteer
information about what route they were going on, when, etc. We were
pretty vague as we didn't know ourselves, since it was so dependent on
the weather. We said, well we might do the Owens Spalding, or this or
that. He wrote that down "Might be on Owens Spalding". Actually it
was good that we started this discussion as we learned that they had
really excellent 8" x 10" photographs of the routes which we looked
at. Upon leaving the office Alex and I got into 2 discussions. One
was about how I was embarrassing him in the rangers office. I really
have no idea what I was saying, but Alex though it was terrible. I
was just talking about some of our other trips. Mabey some of it was
because I wanted to hike in to the Meadows today. Alex said "No one
would hike in in these conditions". I said "That's silly, just
because it's snowing on and off and visibility is poor that's no
reason not to hike in on a well marked easy to follow trail". Alex
said 95% of people would agree and all I could think of was that we
are not 95% people, who cares, and why is my partner being stubborn
about hiking in a little snow.

So giving in to Alexes wishes, we went back into Jackson and climbed
indoors at the Teton Climbing Gym. How silly can you get! Here we
are in alpine heaven and we are climbing plastic, indoors! Anyway,
after a few hours of arm torture on the overhangs in the gym, a quick
shower at the gym, dinner in Jackson at the Teton Steak House of
course, then it was off to the Climber's Ranch for sleep.

(6/7 Wednesday)

The next moring the weather was better, so off to the Lupine Meadow
trail head we go. for the Grand climb. Alex says it will only take
1.5 hours to get ready and I estimate 3. He says 70 lbs packs and I
say "No way, not with tech gear for rock, camping gear, and full
winter gear for snow; come on, get real!" It took 4 hours to get our
80 lbs packs ready, and I know they were 80 lbs as I weighed them.

Since, I always overheat my feet in my double boots, I decided to hike
in with in my Nike's. I must look really silly in Nike's, running
shorts, lightweight Capilene top, OR expedition mittens, and Leki
Super Extreme skipoles carring a stuffed Gregory Denali backpack. Who
cares, it works great. Hiking up from 6600 feet, I get way above the
snow line, up to 8900 feet in the running shoes and my feet are still
warm. At that point we discover that we have gone up the wrong trail,
and must descent a ways to go up Garnett Canyon. We decide to
traverse off trail instead on decending back to the trail branch, so I
put up the Nike's and get out the doubles, and full shell. We wind up
decending quite a ways anyway sometimes in deep snow. After reaching
the right trail we hike up to the Meadows at 9200 feet where we find 2
other tents on the snow. I check out the "cave" at the end of the
Meadows, but the spot at 9200 feet is much more level and plenty safe
from avalanches. The 3 hour ascent seemed really quite easy, even
with the detour and heavy packs. We setup the Megamid and bed down.

(6/8 Thursday)

During the night it starts snowing, and when I awake at 5:00 AM there
is several inches of new snow. Since we aren't climbing up in this
weather, I decide to go back to the car and get a snow shovel, snow
saw, plus a few other things. Thank's to using running shoes for the
entire round trip, I did the decent in 1:30 hour and the ascent in
1:46 and am back by 10:00 AM. In one of the other tents is a guide,
who was qutie surprise when I told him that I had already done the 1/2
mile vertical round trip. He said, "That's takes motivation". Their
group decided to bag, and so they left us some food. I got started
building a Igloo for fun and pratice since I had never built one
before. After 1 hour of sawing blocks and placing them, around noon,
I get Alex motivated to get out of his sleeping bag, and for the next
3 hours we work on the thing together. With 7 man hours invested with
have a 6 foot diameter Igloo with 1 foot thick walls. After dinner
Alex decides to bed down in the Igloo and I the Megamid. By 10:00 PM
with ever increasing snowfall, I wind up shoveling out the Megamid as
it has been squished into a very small tent.

(6/9 Friday)

By morning the fresh snow fall was approaching 2 feet, and it's was
still snowing hard! During the night several avalanches come down
around us. Every bit of clothing I have was soaking wet, even my
sleeping bag. I concede that it's time to give up climbing Grand
Teton. So we loaded up our backpacks and head down. I find the
descent with my pack harder than it should be, and when I return to
the car I weighed my pack just out of curiosity and found it to be 93
lbs. No wonder the decent was slow taking 3 hours. Then again, I
always seem to have trouble with decents. I guess that why I prefer
ascents. It's crazy, but true, I would rather climb up with 90 lbs
than down.

After tossing all the wet stuff in the car we head toward Idaho with a
quick stop at Taco Bell in Jackson WY. Getting into Idaho Falls, I
give Steve Reiser (rec.climbing friend) a call who lives nearby in
Rigby, while Alex is eating at a Wendy's. We go over to his place and
chat for a while and he loans us a rockclimbing guide to Massacre
Rocks and City of Rocks. By 10:00 PM we leave Steve's place and head
toward Massacre Rocks. I am very sleepy, hungry and can barely stay
awake, but Alex wants to drive to Massacre Rocks that evening. Alex
stops at Potatello to try to check his Email, but misses the time the
building is open. We head on toward Massacre. By 1:00 AM, I am in
such a zombie state and trying to sleep, but not able too in the car,
that I don't comment to Alex not to drive the car down this rutted out
dirt road leading to Massacre. The car bottoms out and ripped off
part of the exhaust system, but part is dragging in the dirt. I get
out, and unbolt enough of it so we can continue. Further down the
road there is a spot with deeper ruts filled with water. Alex drives
right down the center and the car is bottomed out and the back tires
are not touching anything solid. I get out and goto to bed in the
field next to the car. Apparently later another climber come by and
Alex got a ride further down the road with him.

(6/10 Saturday)

The next morning I awake around 6:00 AM and find Alex is not around.
Getting in the car I find all the wet stuff from the Grand trip is
already smelling, so with nothing else to do I unload all the wet
stuff and put it out in the dry air and desert sun. By the time it's
all out there is so much stuff strewn all over it really looks funny
all over the sagebrush. Several other climbers show up and ask if
this is a garage sale. Even more climbers show up, one with a tow
strap, and pull my car out. I park the car just off the side of the
road and about that time Alex shows back up. It's already 11:00 AM.
We pack up the stuff, prep a rock climbing day pack including 3 quarts
of water each, and off to the crag we go. The basalt cliffs at
Massacre stiutated in the sandy desert just north of the snake river
prove to have very nice rock climbs indeed. We blasted up many bolted
routes, and I find all the 10's and 11's I try easy, except one
11d/12a called "cartoon volience". It was a bit tough in the heat of
the day with my hands sweating like crazy. Another truely nice
5.11a/b climb called "pretty woman" the guide book called sustained.
I laughed after the climb thinking about how un-sustained it was,
compared with Red River Gorge 5.11's. Alex lead up this 5.8 bolted
crack (purist trad climbers would be appalled) that had a rattlesnake
buzzing away somewhere near the base in a pile of big rocks. Alex was
a bit freaked about the approach and first few feet of the climb. We
could hear the snake but didn't ever see it.

Several other climbers around had noticed our use of helmets when none
of the others had any. As I explained to one woman, as I have many
times before, I wear a helmet on lead because of ground fall, rock
fall, and hitting overhangs. When belaying, it's good for rock fall,
equipment fall, and being pulled into the rock. Since the rock here
was so clean I decided not to wear my helmets for TR's and belaying.
No sooner had I relaxed using my helmet and I was belaying Alex on a
5.10b lead, he dropped a quickdraw which hit me in the stomach only
because I was leaning back otherwise it would have hit me in the head.
All of this was bringing back flashbacks from last autumn when a lead
fall of mine resulted in 12 stitches in the top of my head because of
not wearing a helmet. My helmet has become my best rock climbing
friend.

After a solid afternoon of climbing we downed all the water, so we
headed back to the car for the last two half filled quarts. Once back
we deicde to go for a quick 3 mile run and we really get inspired when
a lady climber we met early come running by the car. Now throughly
hot and sweaty, and totally out of water we jump in the car and start
driving toward the City of Rocks. If I knew we were going to the
desert on this trip I would have brought what Alex calls the "desert
master", which is a 3 gallon Rubbermaid jug. The car is noisy with no
exhast system past the catalytic convertor, but since we are driving
mostly in wide open country side it draws zero attention. We head
through Burly ID. for dinner at guess what, JB's of course! Then we
are off to a high pass (about 8000 feet) near Cache Peak (10340 feet)
to sleep for the evening.

(6/11 Sunday)

In the morning I do a couple hours of hiking/climbing around to enjoy
the view of the semi-lush streams and high desert like area with spots
of snow overlooking at least 50 miles of Idaho farm land, no doubt
potatoes. In the far distance about 150 miles away in a massive range
of snow capped mountains. After returning to the car, Alex awakes and
we drive up the road toward the high pass. Quickly we run accross
huge snow drifts that block the road, so we retreat to the lower pass.
Crossing over the lower pass to Elba we drive south toward City of
Rocks. We fill up our water bottles at a neat old hand powered water
pump, and then off to Elephant rock to several trad and bolts routes.
All of these routes were truely delightful to climb ranging from 5.7
to 5.10. The granite wasn't anywhere near as hard on our hands as
Steve was saying it would be. In fact it was much easier that the
sandstone we are both used to at the Red River Gorge. I guess, if you
are used to abrasive standstone, granite doesn't seem bad, although I
admit it's much more abrasive than the smooth quartzite at Seneca
Rocks, WV.

After sepending most of the afternoon climbing at that rock, we run
into to climbers, one a mountain guide with Exum in Jackson WY, who
have both just gotten back from Denali. They explain how the weather
in May was bad and very few parties summited. They were lucky at the
end of the month and made it. However, the weather was also bad at
base camp and many climbers there didn't have sufficient caches to
hold them for the 7 day wait to fly out, so they dug up other parties
caches and used them. When our acquaintances got back to base camp,
they found their cache gone, but fortunately the weather was good and
they got to fly out that day.

After finishing up climbing on Elephant rock, Alex and I were looking
for a place to camp out, when Alex brought up how I embarrassed him in
front of the other climbers. Apparently, I do this often, and I don't
understand what I say that causes the problem. Alex said my social
conversation skills were poor and I agree they are poor, but still I
didn't understand why he was so bothered. It must be that I bring up
subjects, that Alex sees as problems, but I see as amusing difference
between us, but the result is that I have embarrassed him again. I
tell Alex I'm not trying to embarrass him, I'm just saying what's on
my mind. I also let Alex know that I really wanted this trip to be
more alpine climbing oriented, and not rock climbing. He points out
we have done 1/2 rock and 1/2 alpine up to this point. Well, I would
argue that a bit, but it seemed futile. I wanted 2 things out of the
pre Denali part of the trip, alpine climbing, and for us to stay up as
high as we could to get as much acclimatization as practical before
Denali, because I didn't want to sit around on Denali acclimatizing
and I knew it would be very hard to keep Alex and even myself from
ascending too fast. So, I felt frustrated since Grand Teton was just
snow camping and I felt like I was being dragged to every crag Alex
wanted to visit. I suppose combined with lack of sleep I was not much
fun to be around. I really did enjoy the rock climbing that we had
done, but I was longing for alpine since I have done so little, and
especially after all the rock climbing this spring and last autumn's
marathon rock climbing (58 days out of 100, 30 all day long)

After a lengthy discussion, it was decided that I wouldn't talk to
others on this trip. This seemed to be unreasonable for me, but Alex
says that I dominate the conversation, which is funny because I
thought he dominated it. Alex also told me that I explain things in
too much depth, which is true, but as long as people are listening and
interested I don't see any harm. He said they are just trying to be
nice. So, I decided that I wouldn't talk to others anymore on this
trip, except that this wasn't fair to me, so decided that I would only
talk to others when Alex wasn't present. This seemed a bit harsh, but
as long as both of us are happy with the arrangement, I suppose it's
OK.

(6/12 Monday)

Very sleepy the previous evening, I bed down right away at 9:00 PM. I
finally get up around 6:30 AM and to my great surprise Alex awakes by
7:30 AM. It was rather funny that evening, because neither of us knew
where the other was sleeping, but we were both within 50 feet of one
another. Alex seemed a bit upset that I didn't have dinner with him
as he fixed lots of noodles, but he ate all the spaghetti sauce.
After looking the car in the morning and seeing at least a pound of
raw noodles all over the place it did seem Alex had some trouble.
Anyway, I explained to him that I was very sleepy and just wanted to
sleep, which was the truth. Somehow, Alex just doesn't seem to
understand that if everyday I get up 2 to 5 hours before he does, do
things waiting for him to awake, and then he keeps me up until he is
ready to go to bed, why I am sleepy all the time. He thinks I will
just adapt to his schedule, but it just doesn't happen. I always get
up early and thus must go to bed early, or else I get sleepy and then
grumpy, and who wants to have a grumpy climbing partner?

We head over to Decadent Wall and do a couple trad routes and a sport
route, all are quite nice. On top of Decadent Wall the view of City
of Rocks is really good, but I spot another nearby rock with a 3rd
class approach that's even better. So, after climbing there we hike
up the other rock for a magnificent view of the "city". Realizing,
that we must get going as it's already the 12th, we need to be in
Seattle on the 15th, and I would really like to get the exhaust fixed
on the car before driving another 800 or so miles, we head back toward
Burly. Fortunatly the exhaust repair place is right accross the
street from JB's, so we get a big meal while waiting for the repair.
It takes longer than expected, but we are on our way toward Rainier by
5:30 PM. Around 9:30 we stop and Alex has another huge meal at
Wendy's and I have a baked potato. By 11:00 PM we are both tired, but
I take over driving. After midnight near Yakima, I'm not sure if I
want to drive anymore, and Alex is snoozing, but thanks to getting
frustrated trying to find a gas station on Hiway 12 (one leading to
Rainier National Park) and having to back track to find one, then
having to prepaid at the pump, the station not taking credit cards,
the pump overflowing, then having to wait 15 minutes for one car at
the Taco Bell drive-thru across the street just so I could get a
couple of bean burritoes, gave me the motivation to stay awake and
drive until 3:00 AM just outside Rainier National Park. I found a
nice, quiet place to camp in the midst of the dense pine forest, a
mile from the Hiway 410 off a forest service road. Bed at last!

(6/13 Tuesday)

We both get up around 8:00 AM, drive to Paradise in the park, and get
ready to hike up to Camp Muir. In our usual expediency we get signed
in, load our modest 60 lbs packs, and actually start up the trail by
1:00 PM. They have had record snow falls this year totally over 700
inches and it's obvious as the snow is 6 feet deep at the trail head
in places. Again, I go for Nike's, running shorts, and ski poles in
weather that's half rain and snow. The combination again works well
and my feet are just the right temperature, although my feet are
totally soaking wet all the way up the 4500 foot all snow climb to
Camp Muir. Alex isn't in any hurry to get up there and neither am I
but minimal clothing necessitates moving along with minimal stops.
After the first 800 feet I lose track of Alex and just push ahead.
Along the way, one descending climber, seeing how I am dressed, ask
"Are you training for something". I respond, "Not really", although
technically this time Rainier is just a warmup for Denali. At times
my leg hairs have lots of frozen droplets of water in them which looks
really cool. I think to myself, I am crazy; I am climbing up snow,
it's snowing, and I am in running shorts and running shoes, but I am
perfectly comfortable at this high level of aerobic exertion no doubt
awash in endorphins. Anyway, I plod along, taking a quick break for
food and water, and soon reach the Muir bunkhouse door. Once inside,
I am greeted my many other climbers, who after one look at my attire
ask "So what was the time", I look at my watch and respond "3 hours 20
minutes". One climber asks "Aren't your feet cold?" I repsond "No,
there are just right. The full air sole of my Nike's keep my feet
insulated and the slush that get in the top keeps them wet but not
cold". He then asks, "So how do you train to climb up here that fast?
It took me twice as long". I respond "Biking and running". I quickly
change into full shell and double boots as the temp is around 20F. My
unusual approach leads into an interesting conversation with one group
of climbers that had been waiting 5 days for good weather to summit.
After an hour or so Alex shows up, and when he come in the other
climbers greet him. Alex comments "Now I'm in trouble, as you already
know my name". Oops, I think, I've talked to much, so I'll let Alex
take over. Quickly there after we fix dinner and bed down. Alex and
I decide that if the weather is good we will go for the summit,
otherwise we will just practice crevasse rescue systems.

(6/14 Wednesday)

The weather is more of the same, so we choose a good night's sleep and
in the morning we go out to a nearby crevasse and pratice. As
expected holding the other persons weight is not a problem because of
the friction over the lip and ascending out using 2 ascender setup as
a Frog system, like I use caving is also easy for both of us.
Although, I knew from last year's expedition that I wouldn't have any
trouble with ascending out of a crevasse with the Frog system, I just
wanted to be sure both of us had the systems working good, before
Denali. We packed up and head down to Paradise. On the descent, I
chose double boots and my poor feet were overheated part of the time,
because I couldn't handle putting on frozen socks and frozen running
shoes. It took me far longer to descend than Alex, which is typical,
I don't like descending. Alex got a shower at Muir before I arrived
and then we drove toward Seattle. We got a motel room at the Travel
Lodge right near the airport and Alex found the address of a Sizzler
with, of course, a large "all you can eat" bar, in fact rated #1 in
Seattle. Back from totally pigging out I crashed immediately.

(6/15 Thursday)

I am awaken at 3:00 AM when Alex comes in, but quickly go back to
sleep. I get up at 6:30 AM and start unloaded the car and start the
organizing food to go into the 5 haul bags for Denali. Surprising
enough, even with all the eating out we did, we managed to eat up most
of the snack food that wasn't specifically for the Denali. Alex gets
up within a hour or so and I ask what he did last night, assuming that
he went to a night club, we he admitted he had done. Oh well, good
for him, as I wouldn't have enjoyed doing that. I can't handle the
smoke. Alex gets laundary done and takes care of a few other things
and I get more expedition stuff organized and ready to go. I comment
that the baggage weight per person on the plane to Alaska will be over
200 lbs. Alex finds this impossible to believe, but it's true. You
can't pack a Denali expedition with enough tech gear to do the West
Butress and the West Rib, Denali base camp cache, plus off the
mountain personal stuff in a carry on bag!

Surprisingly enough I find my leg muscles are getting sore. I have
this problem sometimes after long mountain descents. No doubt this
adds to why I don't like descents. The usual soreness manifests
itself when I walk down stairs, a little on the level, but almost
isn't noticeable going up. I suppose the descent from Rainier must
have done me in. It's totally weird!

We get out of the Motel at noon and head to REI for some last minute
shopping. After we head to UPS and I ship back to IN a few things I
don't need for Denali, but want back at home after the trip. Since,
as planned after Denali I will fly back to IN, and Alex back to
Seattle where he will do another month of climbing a drive the car
back. Then it's off to a grocery store, where we get more food!
Mostly, we get food that will add seasoning to our massive amount of
bulk items. After Alex drops me off at 6:00 PM in the airport parking
garage where I do the final pack on all the stuff into 5 XXL duffle
bags and one XXL haul bag. I have to get a porter to get the stuff to
the ticket counter and we have a hell of a time getting all the stuff
through the elevator doors. Fortunately, I get a cool agent and he
checks all the bags with no excess baggage charges. By 8:00 PM I can
relax, call my wife, get something to eat, and wait for the 9:30
flight. By 9:00 PM Alex hasn't shown up yet, and I am getting a bit
concerned that he may miss the flight. At the final boarding call I
decide to board the aircraft, and leave his ticket at the gate counter
so he can get it whether or not he makes it in time. Within 2 minutes
of actually departing Alex come down the isle and sits down. I say
"No doubt, you have a good excuse". Alex explains how it was hard to
find his friends house, and how he left his Aveolite liner, that he
had shipped ahead there, at the house and they had to go back and get
them, and then how he got directed to the wrong gate at the airport.
Could this happen to anyone but Alex?, I suppose it could happen to
anyone, but Alex excels at being late. After a uneventful flight, we
arrived in Anchorage AK at 11:30 PM, and our ride with Talkeetna
Shuttle Service is waiting. We load up and we are on our way to
Talkeetna AK in a steady rain. The lady is very nice and we talk with
her while dozing in and out.

(6/16 Friday)

We arrive at the K2 Climber's Bunkhouse at 3:00 AM, unload, at bed
down. We know we are far north as it didn't get dark at all all night
and by 4:00 AM it's definitely get lighter. The bunkhouse equipped
fully with full kitchen, big eating/living area with a wood burning
stove, full bath with washer and dryer, and sleeping for about 25
climbers on bunk beds upstairs. I sleep downstairs as someone
upstairs is snoring loudly. The only really annoying thing here is
the mosquitoes. Fortunately, they aren't like the Houston TX, ones I
grew up with that swarm straight to you and bite. These just wander
around and occasionally bite. Of course, there are plenty of
mosquitoes inside the bunkhouse too, because climbers leave the front
door wide open. They just didn't grow up in Houston, or they wouldn't
leave that door open.

After a few hours sleep I wake up and check with the K2 office about
flying in to base camp. I'm informed that the weather has base camp
socked in. The bunkhouse has a phone that directly connects to the
office, which is nice, but you can't make any other calls on it.
Anyway, I need to start getting stuff ready to fly in, since we are
not ready yet. All the new food we bought still needs to be stuffed
into the haul bags, plus they all need to be adjusted down in weight
as the total is over 150 lbs now.

To add to the fun of getting ready my leg muscles are even worse. I'm
hobbling down the staircase in the bunkhouse feeling like a cripple.
Here I am about to fly into Denali to climb up 14000 feet vertically
and I can barely go down a staircase. Alex thinks it's amusing, and I
agree, it's ridiculous. Oh well, who needs to go down anyway.

About 10:00 AM I get Alex up and we go over to the NPS ranger's office
to sign in for the mountain. After a little paperwork and paying the
$125 remainder of the $150 per person climbing fee, we are shown a
video about mountaineering Denali. The video is amusing, and I
certainly hope no one who goes to Denali doesn't already know
everything on it. After the video the ranger came in and started
asking us questions. We were a bit surprised at his first question,
"What is the 1st signs of HAPE?". Alex responded since he's the 3rd
year medical student, but I too knew how to answer that question. He
went on with questions about HACE, AMS, etc. He then started in on
our clothing, and ask us if we had overboats and down clothing (IE
8000m suits). I told him I had overboots but not any down clothing,
as it was my personal experience that only my hands and feet get cold,
and that I had never had a problem keeping my body warm in either -30F
temps or above 20K feet. I admitted that I hadn't combined them
together, and I certainly did realize that altitude reduces cold
tolerance, but considering the large margin I had with my synthetic
clothing in both of the extremes I had been I couldn't imagine that
I'd be cold while exerting here on Denali. I also commented to him
that my experience with my feet was that normally while exerting they
overheat in the doubles anyway, and that both Alex and I had well
above average VO2 max's which means we both can produce more heat,
longer to stay warm while climbing. His comment was "Well, it lower's
your chances of summits without down clothing". I thought, what
difference does that make, since I have no intention of trying to
summit on a bad or even marginal weather day. I assume on a good day
the temp will not be much below 0F. Anyway, I didn't see why he made
such a big deal about the down. On with the questioning, he ask about
our crevasse rescue system. He seemed impressed with the setup I had
both of us using, especially using a 100 meter rope. He also seemed
pleased that both of us realized that with only 2 people self rescue
(IE person in the crevasse gets himself out) was of primary
importance. He then ask about snow shovels, and snowsaws. Alex
answered incorrectly that we had a Life Link shovel, which went over
badly, because Life Link shovel have a polycarbonate blade. I
corrected that, we had a Life Link saw and a Voile shovel. He was
trying to convince us that we needed a certain type of steel
construction work shovel to dig out the tent pits. Well, I'm sure it
would work better, but the weight of such a shovel is outrageous. The
questioning went on and on, and finally he ask which route we were
doing and then I started asking him about the standard campsite
locations and the bad campsite locations, and any other hazardous
areas I should know about. After all of this interrogation he seemed
satisfied that we wouldn't be immediately doomed once on Denali. I
wonder how the Gestapo compared? I mean really, I'm on vacation here.

We call back K2 and it's still "no go". That's OK, because we have
plenty to do anyway. I start working over the food and Alex and I
both get our personal gear ready. As a guideline for food Alex and I
use 3 lbs per person day for a standard hard day. Knowing that we
will have some rest days the food will undoubtedly last longer than
that, but we consider that a safty margin. For many this seems like
too much food, but this works out to about 5000 cals/person day which
actually isn't quite enough for hard days. Going by that and that we
wanted 16 days of food to be carried from base camp, we needed 96 lbs
in 4 haul bags to go up. I rearanged the food accordingly and dump
most of the remaining food in a 38 lbs haul bag to stay at base camp.
That way even if the weather has us pinned down at base camp for many
days when we try to leave the mountain, we will be well fed.

On the gear side we pare things down a bit, but decide to take in a
large base camp cache with the extra tent, repair stuff, etc. We
debate about whether to take the ice tools and helmets for the West
Rib should we really want to try to do part/all of it after the West
Buttress, and finally decide to take the gear. Alex really starts to
get on my nerves about the excessive weight of all the stuff. I
respond "This is an EXPEDITION, if you don't like the weight, don't do
them!". Anyway, I have my personal stuff down to the bare minimum,
but some things I will not compromise on that Alex complains about the
weight of, like the film, camera, baby wipes, and ski poles. At least
the heart rate monitor he doesn't seem to care about the weight, since
it only weighs a few ounces, but thinks it's silly to take. It
doesn't seem fair, that I don't complain about the medical books he is
taking just to read, but I guess the weight is comparable. Anyway the
question is brought up again "do we take the ice tools, helmets and a
few extra ice screws should we want to do the lower part of the West
Rib?" After some debate we deicde to take the extra gear.

I give my parents a call as my wife told me in Seattle that my mother
was "on the rampage". I find out that she has seen the TV reports of
climbers dying on Denali and she is upset and worried. I try to
convience her that I will be careful, and that it's not like I haven't
been up a few mountains before. I don't even bother to try to explain
that this climb is much less extreme than Mt. Logan's Hummingbird
Ridge last year. After a while she seems better, I guess, mainly from
just hearing my voice, but I know she is still worried. So, I have
the news media to thank for making mother grey haired (actually she
already all white).

By afternoon, we are more or less ready and go have vegetable pizza at
the McKinley Deli. I'm not too fond of the pizza, but it's OK. It
makes me miss Miquell's pizza in the Red River Gorge in KY, where I
can get a really good low fat vegetable pizza. We notice in the
Anchorage paper sitting at the table that 3 Taiwanese climbers died
very recently on Denali. Just then a Asian looking climber comes into
the Deli and ask to see the paper. It becomes apparent that he is one
of the team with the fatalities. We find out from him that they were
training for Mt. Everest next year, but now they don't know what will
happen. A truly grim story at best.

By evening it's still "no go" for a fly in. This time the bunk room
upstairs has 2 more annoyances. One climbers is smoking and the body
oder smell from clothing and gear is really bad. The smoking climber
is from that Taiwanese party, so I wouldn't dare ask him to not smoke
inside. He needs all the comfort he can get. It's much easier for me
just to sleep downstairs, and nicer for me anyway.

(6/17 Saturday)

I get up early at 5:00 AM, get some breakfast, and then K2 calls and
says they can fly us in. The mad rush begins to get the sleeping gear
packed back up, get Alex up, and get all the stuff outside waiting for
the truck to take us over to the airport. We get our stuff over to
the airport on to the tarmac and store our stuff to leave in Talkeetna
like street clothing and our valuables. K2 has a safe for the
valuables and a big storage shed for the other stuff. Then we are
informed that the window in the weather has disappeared and thus we
will have to wait. So we sit around on our gear and watch the
tourists get into planes to go see the mountain. Sitting around I
remember to check to see if the package I had sent to K2 came as it
has my new Oakley Slash sunglasses which I really want for Denali. I
don't like having my periphery vision blocked which happens with
standard glacial sunglasses. I have a pair of old Oakley Pilots which
I was going to use if need be, but checking with the office the
package has indeed come in. Now, why didn't they tell me this before?

Also, while sitting around, we start finding out more about the BBC
group that is filming. It turns out they are doing a special TV
program about a disabled climber that is doing Denali. They are busy
setting up a plane with a camera where the photographer can sit with
feet out a removed door. They even film us sitting on our gear a
talking with the K2 planes in the background. By 11:00 AM the weather
at Talkeetna clears off and we are informed that they can fly us in.

Alex and I continue to discuss the massive amount of stuff that we
have, and he starts talking about how he would do this trip super
lightweight. "OK, Alex what would you not take?" I say. He starts
talking about how you really only need the stove for an emergency, as
you can just eat snow the rest of the time, thus saving fuel weight.
He goes on about just bivying and ditching the tent, etc. I say,
"Well, why didn't you bring this up in the 1st place." somewhat
annoyed, and thinking to myself, Alex should find another mountain
climber partner that fits him better. I for one don't mind hauling
the weight, especially if it makes me more comfortable, or I think it
adds significantly to the trip saftey margin.

It's not like I take a bunch of frivolous stuff either. My personal
gear that I agree is mine:

Geogory Denali backpack with 2 side pouches
2 Nalagene Lexan quart bottle with OR parkas
2 Ridgerests
Climb High mountain bivysack
TNF Darkstar -40F bag
Granite Gear telecrompression stuff sack
custom made VBL out of Stephson Warmlite's Fuzzy Stuff material
Asolo Expedition doubles (Aveolite liners)
2 pairs of Thorlo mountain climbing socks
1 pair VBL socks
Nike Air Max 2 running shoes
1 pair of Thorlo running socks
Marmot Alpinist bibs and jacket
OR Brooks Ranger overboots
OR Expedition mitts with extra pair of liners
lightweight Capalene top & bottom
expedition weight Capalene top & bottom
Polartec 200 top & bottom
2 lightweight Capalene balaclavas
Polartec 200 balaclava
lightweight Capalene gloves
3 pairs of microweight running shorts which I use for briefs
1 large stuff sack for clothing
1 pair Oakley Slash sunglasses
2 sticks sun screen lip balm
2 bottles of SPF 30/45 sun screen
1 tooth brush, 1oz tube of tooth paste, 1 roll dental floss
3 baby wipe sheet per day (stuck in with each food bag)
3"x5" journal with 2 pencils
1.2 Quart Rubbermaid bowl with lid and Lexan spoon

My technical or semi-technical gear which some of it is really use by
both of us:

Tubb's Sierra snow shoes
Leki Super Extreme ski poles
Black Diamond ice axe
Lowe Footfangs (crampons)
Glacial rescue system:
BD Vario seat harness
Yates Big Wall chest harness
CMI shorty and CMI handled ascender rigged as a Frog system
Rock Exotica Microcender
2 MSR 24" snow pickets
2 snow flukes
2 ice screws BD and Lowe
2 CMI rescue pulleys
a good number of biners, slings, prusik loops

Alex would include this stuff as my personal gear but I say it's group
gear:

20 rolls of film FUJI Velvia 50 slide film
10 Lithium camera batteries
Pentax IQZoom-90WR camera
about the smallest thing you could call a swiss amry knife
Polar Edge heart rate monitor.
Bruton mirrored compass
Washburn topo map

Alex says this is actually group gear, but I always got to carry it,
which I don't mind at all:

2 pairs Oakley ski goggles (98% grey and orange)
small repair kit with sting, tape, wire, sewing stuff, and tent pole tube
1 overstuffed 1st aid kit (with all kinds of DRUGS!)
5W CB radio with 8 extra AA batteries
digital thermometer with indoor/outdoor sensing

And finally the real group gear:

100m x 9.8mm dry rope
TNF Oval 25 tent (to stay at base camp cache)
Wild Country Quasar tent with cords and snow steaks
Voile snow shovel
Life Link snow saw
2 MSR XGK stoves with one pump each
stove repair kit with extra pump
2 MSR pots with one lid
2 pot holders
2 extra Lexan spoons
my custom made stove oven
3 space blankets (one to stay at base camp)
2 pee bottles (1 quart Nalegene polyethylene so no confusion with Lexan)
50 plastic trash bags
3 Large (48"x16") Lost Creek ballistic nylon duffle bags
(for the sleds and one for the base camp cache)
4 Lost Creek custom ballistic nylon haul bags (for food/fuel)
50 4' wands from K2
2 plastic sleds from K2

Group gear for the West Rib if we really get wild after the Buttress:

2 BD Black Prophet ice tools
2 helmets
4 extra ice screws

Food & Fuel

4 x 25 lbs for each haul bag
4 x 2 33oz MSR fuel bottles for each haul bag
1 x 35 lbs for the base camp cache
1 x 2 33oz MSR fuel bottles for base camp cache
3 gallons white gas from K2

Shortly after 2 groups of tourists fly out in the 2 ski planes that
were there at the ariport. This annoyed Alex, that K2 puts the
tourists ahead of climbers, but I figure that K2 knows that climbers
will wait a few extra hours whereas tourists will not. Anyway, by
1:00 PM we have a plane and a pilot, JB, and we are ready to go! JB,
seeing all the haul and duffle bags and says "gee, how long are you
guys in for?". "Not that long, I hope", I reply. He ask "Are you
going to Hunter?". I respond, "No, just Denali, why do you ask?". He
says, "Oh, it's just you guys seem well organized, and usually the
well organized groups go to Hunter." Hmm, I think, I guess that's a
complement even though we have a awful lot of stuff. Then we are
informed that we be filmed in our plane from the BBC film crew plane,
so we have a few minute delay while the BBC gets ready. The camera
man has to finish putting on all sorts of extremely warm clothing as
he will be half out of the plane for the whole flight and they are
going to do a summit fly over after filming the ski plane taking us to
the base camp.

Finally we are on airborne and flying toward Denali. After clearing
the trees and truning toward the mountain, Denali is immediately the
dominate feature, some 50 miles away. We fly over the tundra and
finally over the foothill mountains and start seeing the massive
glaciers eye to eye. Even the foothills are scoured by avalanches and
glaciers. These mountains are literally tortured by snow and ice.
Denali and Foraker are still dominate features among all the small
mountains at 20320 and 17395 respectively. The deep blue glacial
pools of water look very chilling on the lower glaciers. This is
truely a desert of snow, ice and rock.

The air is a bit choppy and I get motion sick. Since I knew better
than to eat before such a plane ride, I don't have any big problem,
but it's still not any fun. For the BBC film crew we do some extra
flying around including a hard rolloff turn. Then we swing back
around and land on the southeast fork of the Kahiltna glacier where
base camp is located. From the air basecamp is a small city of mostly
yellow tents. JB apologized for the hard turn, but I told him I was
already sick and I get sick easily, so it wasn't his fault and there
was nothing he could have done to help.

After unloading our stuff, we start preparing on duffle for the base
camp cache, prepering 2 sleds with poles over the haul cords, get our
3 gallons of fuel, and loading up the other 2 duffles to go on the 2
sleds. Alex and I are amused at the massive pile of Coleman fuel cans
and sleds. Even though we were given this base camp card which says
what we are due, we could easily take whatever we want and no one
would notice or care.

It's hot, sunny, the wind is still, so we strip to running shorts,
lightweight tops, and double's. Not even having a hat, I throw on my
citromix yellow Edelrid helmet, for a total attire that draws plenty
of weird looks. This suits me just fine, as I much perfer to stand
out and be the weirdo than blend in. Of course, no sooner to I get to
Denali than I need to use the bathroom. So I wander over to the edge
of camp where the latrines are located. They have plywood boxes with
seats over big pits. At least this keeps it localized to a few spots.
On the way back I get warned by the base camp lady that runs the
radios for the air taxis that I will get a bad sunburn dressed the way
I am. I say "I think I'll be OK, as I have put on massive amounts of
SPF30 sunscreen on my legs."

While aranging the stuff in the 2 duffle, the rescue helicopter comes
back to base camp with something tethered at least 150 feet
underneath. It appears to be a body and Alex says "Are they doing
some sort of rescue pratice? That looks like a manikin." I look at
see this board stiff life size body like object swinging around and
say, "That's no manikin." The helicopter lowers the object to the
glacier and it sets down with that same board stiffness. I think,
gee, that poor climber, rigormortis or not he's frozen solid. We find
out that indeed it was one of the Taiwanese found dead in a crevasse
at 13000 feet near windy corner. Several rangers come over to the
body, one takes a few pcitures, and they zip him up in a body bag next
to obviously one of his climbing buddies in one right next to him. Oh
well, reality check and welcome to Denali!

As we get finish with the duffles and making last minute adjestment to
a harnesses, glacial rescue gear, and sled hauling system, a guide
from a group that few in just minutes after we did comes over to get
some fuel and says "I'm surprised, you guys are almost ready to go."
That's true it's almost 4:00 PM and we are actually going to be
hauling on the glacier soon. I comment to Alex that we really should
wait until the snow hardens back up later in the evening, he doesn't
like that idea at all, because he doesn't want to spend one extra
minute around base camp. So, I ask "How far do you what to go?", and
Alex replies "Until either total exhaustion or altitude limits us from
going any further". Great, I think, this is sure to make a pleasant
day hauling stuff.

After our 100 lbs sleds and 30 lbs backpacks are ready, we are roped
up, we slip off my doubles and on our running shoes, ready for the
glacial haul. I know people say to "dress for the crevasse and not
the glaier", but the way I figure it if a crevasse fall victim is
still conscious, then he's going to be working up quite a sweat
getting out. I know I always work up a sweat on rope in caves, but am
so cold waiting. Anyway, it's a risk we take for the topside comfort
and speed. After just a few hundred feet, I become annoyed at the
high percentage of steps that posthole into the snow. It's just too
soft to walk on now. So, I get out my snowshoes and put them on.
This is much better, but I have already soaked my running shoes. Oh
well, I just will not be able to use them as long. I ask Alex if he's
going to put on his snowshoes and he says no. Alex is strange that
way. He prefers much greater effort of postholing over wearing
snowshoes. To each his own, I guess.

The snowshoes are just what I need stay on top of the afternoon slush,
and besides they greatly reduces the chance of punching through a snow
bridge into a crevasse. If only I could get Alex to wear his, I'd
feel better. By 4:30 PM we are on our way down Heartbreak hill to the
real start of the climb at 6700 feet in the main part of the Kahiltna
Glacier. I am reminded how big this place is, as we travel for a hour
just to change perstective a little. The first uphill gets us back
to the same level as we flew in at 7200 feet. We pass by a camp, and
both of us think that that seems silly as it is only a couple hours
from base camp.

As expected, I see no wands marking a safe area for the camp. This is
a standard poor pratice I see again and again, as climbers do not take
these glaciers seriously. They must think that just because there are
no gapping holes that there a no crevasses nearby. Wrong! All the
little dimples hide crevasses, some dangerous, some not. While moving
along I try to identify potentially bad ones from a distance and then
verify by probing when I get to them. Sure enough, on one of the
suspected bad ones had a foot shaped hole right into the crevasse. I
point it out to Alex, and say that it would be safer if you would wear
your snowshoes, but Alex doesn't what to.

The hours go by and we get to a big camp area at the base of Ski Hill
at 8000 feet about 6 miles from base camp. The sun has gone behind
the mountain, and it's cloudy up a bit, but of course it's still quite
light. My feet have be cold for hours and for the last hour have been
at that uncomfortable temperature at the point of getting numb. So
it's time for double boots. We pull into a big camp site that I
assume is safe from crevasses as it is obvious that everyone walks
around unroped with no floatation within this 8 tents site camp.
After a break, some Logan bread and water, and dressing in bibs and
doubles I am ready for Ski Hill. The hill really isn't that bad and
we quickly make it up to 9000 feet, but I am getting very sleepy and
exhausted. Not that I couldn't go on for several more hours, but I
just wanted to call it a day.

We come by a deserted camp area, and I say to Alex, "I think I've gone
far enough and I'm almost out of water". Alex says "Well, I've been
eating snow". Alex always brags about eating snow and saving the
effort to melt snow for water, which works well for him, but not for
me. He continues, "I'm not tired yet", but he seems plenty willing to
call it a day. I'm glad because it's 1:00 AM, and we have being on
the go for 8.5 hours, and I as usual don't eat enough while exercising
more or less continuously, as I had mabey 500 Kcals of Logan bread
since we left base camp. Alex on the other hand has eaten at least 4
Zero bars and various other stuff, totaling well over 2000 Kcals.
Also, considering that we are hauling everything in one load, I think
this is far enough. The wind is still and it's not snowing but it's
cloudy. Alex doesn't want to mess with the tent and I'm to sleepy to
mess around a minute more that necessary, so I jump in my bag and bivy
sack with the rests underneath right on the snow and am asleep within
minutes.

(6/18 Sunday)

I awake about 6:00 AM to temps well below freezing. I start in by
working on water as we have finished off the 5 quarts we had. I built
this double walled, cylindrical shaped, bucket like thing that I call
a stove oven for no other good name. An MSR XGK stove sets in the
bottom and the fuel line come out a hole in the side to the fuel tank
outside. This oven has a lid too to help trap in the hot gases from
the stove which saves fuel. Thanks to the double wall construction
the outside of the unit only gets barely warm to the touch, and even
more heat is trapped inside. It serves as a excellent wind block, and
a snow base support as well. It's rather bulkly but only 1.5 lbs, so
I strap in on the back of my backpack. So, I finally get to really
use the thing, and use it I do. It's works great at melting the snow
and providing a base for the stove. I find it barely melted into the
snow after doing 5 quarts of water. Previous experience with stove
"melt in" was always a real nuisance, even with supposedly good bases.

By 9:00 AM Alex is up and we pack up our bivy gear and eat. Going to
the bathroom on the glacier in a plastic garbage bag isn't any big
deal, but finding a crevasse to dump the bag into was a bit of a
problem here. In fact there wasn't one anywhere around, and I would
need to rope up to wander out and around. So here I am stuck with a
white plastic bag sitting next to the sled with something warm, brown,
and squishy in it. Alex not seeing what I had done is busy packing up,
but then notices the bag, starts lifting it up, and ask "What's this?"
Then this look of horror comes over his face as he drops the bag
saying, "Yuck!". So life goes on the glacier when you try to keep the
place clean.

The weather is worse and it starts snowing lightly. About that time a
group comes up that is going to say at the 9000 foot camp, but there
is a guide with them that's trying to get to the 14K foot camp. He
asked if he can hitch a ride with us, and we say, sure, but we will be
a bit slow with these sleds. After quite a while of us messing around
with stuff, the guide decides to solo and takes off. It good he did,
because we didn't actually get moving until 11:00 AM. Many things
seem to slow us down getting starting, including that Alex takes 15 to
20 minutes just to get his glacial gear on. He seems to always have
problems with the Black Diamond Vario seat and chest harness I have
equipted him with for Denali. I admit that I am a bit slow too
messing around with cramming my sleeping bag into a tele-compression
stuff sack and beating it into the bottom of my backpack.

No sooning do we get going than a guided group of 10 climbers starts
passing us while I am messing with my sled hauling configuration on
the first hill out of camp. I'd had quite a bit of trouble making the
haul cords comfortable. I should have connected the cords to my
backpack directly, but I was trying to use the system I used on Logan
last year, where much of the time I didn't have the backpack on. It
really is a mess having a seat and chest harness rope to your partner,
expedition backpack, and sled cords with poles, all to deal with at
the same time. Once I get that straightened out, we are on the move
again.

By now, we have lost sight of the other group, but soon catch back up.
The group is stopping at the 9500 foot camp. One climber ask me,
"Where are you going today?", I respond "to 11K", and he says "That's
hard core". I just smile, and Alex and I head on in ever worsening
weather. I following the trail for a while occasionally seeing wands.
Eventually the trail is only bits and pieces to follow because of all
the snow. Even Alex puts on his snow shoes for floatation. After a
number of minutes of no trail and no wands, I decide it's time for
compass and topo map. So, I start guided us in a near northerly
direction by compass in a total white out. Visibility is down to 200
feet max. After a while Alex says we should camp, and I try to
convince him that we can do that, but that I am confident that I can
get us much further up the glacier, hopefully to the 10K camp. Also,
I point out that I do not want to camp in a potentially bad spot for
avalanches. He starts being adamant about camping and I say that we
should retreat to the last wand and camp there. He refuses to do
that, as having to reclimb, even a hundred feet, goes against his
grain. Alex insists that we camp here and now. Frustrated with his
refusal to go back, which would was less than 1000 feet horizontally,
and not more than 100 feet vertically, or foward, I start stamping out
and grid probing a camp site.

Just then 2 Australian's appear following our trail. They are unroped
as they had come down early today from 11K and didn't think there was
any significant crevasse danger, well mabey on the trail there wasn't,
but we are not on the trail anymore. I stay at the full rope distance
from Alex, so the 2 Australians talk with him. One asks me what
altitude we are at and I respond that we are at near 10000 feet. He
says we should start heading East, but the other says we haven't come
far enough North. After some debate they tell me to head East. I
knew better, but decided to go East anyway. I plod along for a ways
and start traversing up a slope that has a south-easterly gradient
reaching 10000 feet on my altimeter. One of the guys ask me if I
think the altimeter is right, and I say that it has agreed exactly
with the camps so I trust it's on now. He says, well, at 10000 feet
we should be heading east up the slope. I decide it's time to consult
the topo map. I get it out and look and where we might be. It's
obvious that we are too far east too soon and not far enough up the
glacier for the easterly turn. I see that the turn is really at 10300
or so. Quickly I point out where I think we are, and of this makes
sense to me too. I say that we must head north west and get back out
in the center of the glacier. There is some debate about just camping
where we are, which I say "No Way, we are not camping on this slope.
I will head back out to a flatter area." I was really not happy with
the idea of digging out a campsite on a slope that's most like a real
avalance hazard. I'd much rather be out in the middle of the glacier.

So the debates ended, I take a compass bearing and head off in even
worse visibility. Even though Alex only 100 feet away is hard to see.
I have not been going for more than a minute when Alex notices that I
am pulling on the rope quite hard. Alex for a second or 2 thinks I'm
just out running him, but quickly realizes that the force is nearing a
100 lbs, so he jumps down into an arrest position. Alex yells to me
with no answer. The 2 Australians following behind Alex unroped, get
all excited, and are sure I've fallen into a crevasse. They get out
their snow pickets and assist Alex with one of his while he's holding
the weight. Alex gets up once the weight is transfered and Alex's
other picket is added to the anchor. They proceed to get the other
end of our 100 meter rope which is about 115 feet out of the haul bag
so they can belay over to where I disappeared and find out what
happened to me.

So what did happen to me? Well, I came to a vertical snow slope.
Because of the whiteout, I couldn't see the edge, at all. The totally
even lighting erased any perception of the near 90 degree edge in the
snow. Since it wasn't a crevasse the snow down the slope and at the
bottom was illuminated the same way. An open crevasse would have at
least be much darker. Anyway I took one step over the edge without
seeing it at all, and spoke out loud, "Gee, this is STEEP!". I
literally stepped off a vertical cliff of snow, falling down about 15
feet and pulling the sled over too, before Alex realized I wasn't out
running him. I managed to get my snowshoes and hands dug in and could
stand on the 60 or so degree slope nearing the bottom. So here I was
standing on a steep snow slope in huge snowshoes, ski poles, tethered
to a 100 lbs sled hanging above me. I could make out the curvature at
the bottom and could be standing on the level if I could only get
about 20 feet more slack, but yelling to Alex was futile as the snow
bank blocked all sound. It seemed like such a silly predicament.

So I whipped out my CMI ascenders and started back up the rope. I
quickly found the snowshoes to be impossible to deal with "on rope",
so I biner clipped them and the skipoles to the sled. Now with just
doubles on my feet I could kick steps in the side of the snow bank and
so I didn't even need my foot loops to ascend up to the lip. The rope
was buried deeply and my top (foot loop) CMI ascender started slipping
down the rope with it all packed full of snow and ice. So I whipped
out yet another toy, my Rock Exotica Microcender which being cam
loaded instead of body loaded worked great all full of snow. I
cleared the lip dragging the Microcender at least a foot under the
snow. Finally I yelled, and Alex heard me and ask what happened. I
explained and everyone was relieved that I wasn't injured in the
least. Alex ask why I didn't self arrest and why there was so much
weight on the rope. I told him that actually I had managed to support
my own weight even in the snow shoes, but that in order to get back up
I loaded the rope fully. Also, I pointed out that the sled didn't
self arrest. Alex was somewhat concerned that I failed to arrest
myself which wasn't the case. Thinking about it, I realized that I
didn't even think about the fact I have my backpack on the whole
time. If it had been a crevasse fall, I would have had more trouble
getting it through the hole in the snow bridge.

Thanks to having 4 people there, we just grabbed onto the rope, I
standing at the lip, and we straight hauled the sled back up and over
the lip. Just then the weather broke and we could see the trail,
other climbers coming down it, the big hanging glaciers that were above
us on this slope I was trying to get away from, and even Kahiltna
pass. So the 2 Australians took off in a straight line to the trail,
and Alex and I had to reassemble our glacial system. After what
seemed like an hour, and probably was, we headed straight for the
trail as well making it there in 5 minutes. Once on the trail it was
6:15 PM. What good progress! We have gotten up less than 1000 feet
in over 7 hours. Oh well, we at least know where to go now and we
were only really thinking about the 11K foot camp anyway.

At least from this point on the excitement level was way down. We
squished snow and moved slowly up the glacier passing the 10K camp and
traversing a bit before heading more straight up toward the 11K camp.
The traverse proved a bit annoying as this was the first time we had
sleds tip over, but it wasn't too bad. The closer we got to the
11K camp the better the weather as we were climbing out and above the
clouds. The snow, however, was getting deeper and I was working
harder and harder. Finally, Alex was thinking that I was going too
slow, and I frustrated with breaking trail told him "you lead!". We
swapped positions and Alex started leading. He found it very
difficult to get enough footing to pull the sled up without his feet
slipping back down. At that moment, I realized I had the critical
opportunity to convince Alex of the value of my Leki Super Extreme's.
He didn't see the point of ski poles, but now I had him. So I tossed
them up his way, he grabbed them, and off he went. I could barely
keep up to his pace and after 30 minutes or so I was redefining the
true meaning of hyperventilating. I never breathed so hard, deep, and
fast ever, and I've pushed it hard before on plenty of mountain climbs.
This went on for almost a hour with Alex tugging on the rope as I
tried but couldn't keep up. I'm sure it was frustrating for him, but
there were already times when I had tugged on him. I would just wait
a few seconds and continue, and Alex soon started doing the same.
Fortunately for me, we soon approached the 11K foot camp and I finally
got to "catch my breath" so to speak. Some other climbers looked at
me a bit weird as they thought I might be in some sort of respiratory
distress, but upon stopping within 2 minutes everything was back to
normal.

Since we were finally above the clouds we had a nice view. Huge
hanging glaciers hundreds of feet tall are to the east starting a
snow bowl that wrapped to the north and west, which shields the camp
from direct weather. To the south is Foraker, very prominent some 10
miles away. Not thinking about it or looking at a compass I thought
Foraker was Hunter, because the Washburn topo I have doesn't even have
Foraker on it, and I thought Foraker was further North. Anyway it
didn't matter as the view was spectacular.

It was 10 PM, so we did OK for that last 1000 feet and we are now 11
miles from base camp, only 6 miles to the summit. We setup our tent
in a nice wind block which needed almost no work before putting the
tent down. I throw my bag, rests, and clothing into the tent, jump
into my bag. I drink the last cup of my 3 quarts of water and am
ready to sleep. Alex asks if I want to cook but I decline, as I am
sleepy and exhausted. 11 hours of sled hauling had taken it's toll on
my endurance. I'm sure I could go much further if I absolutely had
to, but why? I'm on vacation here and even though I don't mind a hard
days work, I do have limits. With that thought I pass out. Well over
a hour later Alex awaits me and says he's done with the stove and that
I can cook now. I ask him what he made as he is still eating
something in his bowl. I'm not sure what this pink slurry was, but
knowing Alex it contained rice, potatoes, Ramen noodles, with
seasoning of spaghetti sauce, Lipton Cup-o-soup, cheese sauce, and God
knows what else. He didn't offer me any, and I'm not sure I wanted
any. I really was just sleepy and not that hungry since we had many
lenghty breaks during the day for me to eat Logan bread, and besides
if I was really hungry for something hot I would get out the 2nd
stove. So back to sleep I went sometime after 1:00 AM

(6/19 Monday)

I first awake at 5:00 AM but dose in and out until 9:00 AM. It's 14F
outside before we get the direct sun of the morning. It was time for
what was becoming the morning ritual of melting snow for water,
cooking something to eat, and going to the bathroom. The big pot had
remains of Alex's dinner frozen and dried up on the sides and bottom
although most of the leftover was put into a Ziplock bag which was
frozen too. Why is it that Alex does not clean the pot out? I don't
know, but it seem like I always wind up cleaning the pot and then
doing 5 quarts of water for both of us. Why is it that Alex doesn't
do water for me? Oh well, I don't care and it gives me something to
do.

On the bathroom side, I had just realized that yesterday's was still
tied to the duffle bag on my sled. Gee, that trash bag went trough
hell yesterday. I'm glad it didn't rip open and it's frozen solid so
I'll just do today's right in the same bag. At least here at the 11K
camp there's a nice crevasse adjoining the camp for me to toss
yesterday's and today's into. Gotten rid of the stuff at last!
The only problem is I had to cross 2 snow bridged crevassed to
get to it, but they probed out deep so it shouldn't be a problem.

Today is a rest day. Alex feels that he needs some acclimatization at
11K before going and sleeping at 14K. I think this is a wise choice
for both of us, and besides it's nice just to lay around in the sun on
the snow and soak up the view. Since the sun is so strong the tent
quickly gets too hot, so I get out the space blankets that I brought
to fix this problem. Alex is pleased with the results, as the tent
temp quickly drops from nearing 80F to 50F which is bearable with a
fully open -30F bag. Also, I take this opportunity to dry out any wet
gear. So, I put my bag, bibs, jacket, double boots, socks, running
shoes, etc. on top of the tent to dry out.

Of course we also talk with other climbers at the camp which is really
what eats up the time. One group from Alanta GA, had a part of there
group go up to 12K and leave a cache. That seemed silly, but hey,
whatever works. They had been to Denali before, but hadn't reached
the summit. They had been on the mountain 6 days already and we just
over 2, but they were double carrying and we were not. We tell them
that we single carried to this point and hauled 100lbs of food up
here. The older guy says "Where did you sya you cache was?", kidding
us about digging it up. We also talk with the Australian's who are
going to make a haul to 14K tommorrow.

After killing the entire afternoon doing something, but I have no idea
what, we finally start getting ready for the push to 14K. We decide
to pair down to a 6 day food supply from the 16 that we started with,
leave the snowshoes, ice tools, helmets, extra stove, and various
stuff that we would only need if something breaks or if we decide to
climb on the West Rib. I think we are going a bit light on the food
but we can always come back down and get more. We listen to the even
weather report on the CB radio, which didn't say much. Alex thinks
taking the CB to 14K is silly as they have radios there. I say well
it might be some use up higher, but what the hell, I'll leave it here.
By 11:00 PM we have the stuff separated that we are leaving in a cache
at 11K. It's amazing how much time can be spend just messing with
gear. By 12:30 AM I'm actually in bed!

(6/20 Tuesday) I awake at 6:40 AM to clear skies and 10F temp. Alex
gets up shortly after and we start tearing down the camp and pack our
backpacks and sleds for 14K. The sled loads go down to 40 lbs and our
backpacks are still about 30 lbs. This is much more reasonable load
and one I can haul with some speed. By 11:00 AM we are ready to go,
and the 600 foot headwall right out of camp we climb in just 30
minutes. We cruise right up to 12K in less than 1 hour, but I am so
hot that we must stop and shed some clothing, so we take a 30 minute
break and do everything needed. From there we soon pass a cache that
the ravens have gotten into. Those birds had torn through the plastic
trash bag and the Ziplocks thus getting to the food. I'm glad we put
our caches in ballistic nylon duffle bags and buried them 2 feet under
the snow. At least if the snow blows off the birds will have to chew
through the 1050 denier ballistic nylon which should take them a
while. We almost caught up with the Australian's that left about 30
minutes before we did, but after another break they are way ahead almost
to Windy Corner. On we go crossing a few small hidden crevasses in
the big bowl just before Windy Corner, which today wasn't living up to
it's name. In fact the wind was near dead still there. Another stop
was needed to do some adjustment to Alex's sled. We pressed on around
the icy traverse around some big open crevasses. The sleds tended to
have minds of their own, but with some coaxing they could be kept on
the trail much of the time. With the modest load, it didn't really
matter to me if the thing stayed behind or beside me. After crossing
several marginal looking snowbridges we were nearing the 14K camp. The
ranger in Talkeetna said that many climbers take crevasse falls in
this area, and after being there I see exactly why. Nearing the camp,
I can see climbers coming up and down from the headwall to the actual
West Buttress itself. The weather is a bit cloudy so visibility isn't
great.

We cruise on into camp at 3:30 PM. Alex comments how the guide book
remarks that the carry from 11K to 14K is considered a hard day taking
from 6 to 10 hours. I laugh, I think about the fact we spent almost a
hour in breaks, still did it in 4.5 hours, and I wasn't the least bit
worn out, not like the 2 days of hauling the 100 lbs sleds. We scoped
out a tent dug out, and we meet some other climbers that have just
come down from the summit. They have about 15 lbs of extra food and 2
gallons of extra fuel they don't want. We gladly accept the food and
1 gallon of the fuel as this could prevent us from needed to return to
11K to shuttle up more food and fuel. They are glad to get rid of the
stuff. In it we find some good stuff like choclate candy bars, Power
Bars, Stove Top stuffing, Cup-o-soups, Gatorade, and at least 50
packages of hot coca. I'm not a coca fan and neither is Alex, but who
cares it's something we can use. At least Alex like chocolate,
because I don't, so he can eat the chocolate candy bars.

After setting up the tent and fixing some food we head over to the
medical tent and get our blood saturation measured. It's a very
simple procedure where a non-invasive optical finger clip measure the
actual color of the blood and determines the staturation. Alex is
definitely feeling the effects of altitude, but I feel fine. Funny
thing is that his saturation is 90% and mine 85%, so even though I
seem less affected my blood isn't as well saturated. The medical
student there, Tim, says that we should check our sat's again in the
morning as it usually drops after being at an altitude for a while.
I go back to camp and Alex stays and chats with Tim for quite a while.

We find out more about the Japanese climber who on the 19th
snowboarded the Messner coloiur which extends from 14400 to 19200 on
the west face of Denali's main summit mass in plain view from the 14K
camp. This climber got down a 1000 feet or so, and then it avalanched
on him. He was carried 2000 feet in the avalanche and buried. Many
climbers at the 14K camp saw this and went to help. He was alive but
paralyzed. They bundled him up and he was helicopter'ed off the
mountain and he was flown to Anchorage. I guess, he had a bad day.

A guided party of 6 made of 2 rope teams of 3 were coming down from
the West Rib to get more food in marginal visibility weather. The
Messner avalanced and a large amount of stuff came down. The lead
rope team yelled back as the powder blast came by and the back team
responed that they were OK. However, the snow hadn't gotten to them
yet. Seconds latter the back team was swept up in the snow. The lead
team continued on for quite some time before realizing that the rest
of their party was behind them. In fact they reached the 14K camp
before they realized that the other rope team was in trouble. They
rushed back and found they had unburied themselves, but that one
member had a sprained joint. Later back at camp, I over heard them
talking about how the park service people just sat around until they
came into camp with their injured member, which they found disturbing.
Anyway, after their injured member was checked out by the medical
people, they loaded up, and headed down toward the 11K camp. They
kept talking about how they could have finished the climb, but now it
would have to wait until next year.

Alex came back after a few hours, and commented how he was really
felling the effects of altitude. I could tell the air was thin, but
really felt fine. Alex fixed a massive amount of food for himself.
Well, at least altitude isn't effecting his appetite. Alex comments
that Tim was talking up a storm about all these cool routes on Denali,
like the West Rib, Messner, and even the Butress. Alex was impressed,
until he asks, "So, you must have summited many times, right?", and
then he found out Tim hadn't summit once, he just talked about the
routes, he hadn't done them. Oh well, Alex, being a 3rd year medical
student, wasn't impressed with his medical knowledge either. I did
more water and after a hour of discussion about altitude, this medical
camp, and other stuff I am ready for bed and so I dose off at 9:30 PM.

(6/21 Wednesday)

I awake around 4:40 AM to 8F weather and on and off snow. I think to
myself, why is it that the weather is always dreary when I have to go
pee in the morning. Oh well, I guess it doesn't matter, as I crawl
back into my sleeping bag. Laying there for a while I remember the
VBL liners I had custom made out of Stephson Warmlite's Fuzzy Stuff
material. I had only tried the liner out for 1 hour in the
evironmental chamber in the HPER at Indiana University, where I work.
I found the VBL combined with my -40 F bag and bivy sack to be
pleasant and quite warm to be inside in the chamber at -20F. In all 3
I could forget about the mind numbing -20F air all around me. So with
nothing better to do, because today is an acclimitization day anyway,
I put the VBL in my bag and get inside it. Considering this is only
our 4th day on mountain it's probably wise not to go to 17K to sleep
just yet. The VBL definitely add warmth, and it didn't seem to be
clammy or wet, even though I was nearly nude only in running shorts.
I think the fuzzy inside helps in this regard. Anyway I dose in and
out until 11:00AM. OK enough sleeping time to get up for real. As
usual, I do water. Sometimes I wonder how long Alex would have to be
without water on the mountain before he would melt snow just for
water. I guess he figures he gets plenty in the food, but I know that
he should drink plenty to help prevent altitude related problems.

As Tim had suggested yesterday, I go back over to the medical camp and
have my blood saturation measured again. Tim said it normally drops
after being at a certain elevation for 24 hours. So the recheck
revealed that it was 85% again, with a heart rate of 80, thus no
change. On the way back I pay a visit to the mountain trone.
Actually at the 14K camp they have 2 of them. This one is really nice
with shellac'ed plywood on 3 sides blocking the wind and even a closed
cell foam seat. Gee, how comfy can you get?

Later in the afternoon the weather is clear and by 7:00 PM the Messner
let go a huge avalanche in an impressive display. Glad I wasn't
climbing it. I fix some more food and note that my tolerance for salt
has increase a lot. Normally I don't like my food salty, but in this
thin air I find things like the Lipton Cup-o-Soup is not as
ridiculously salty as I normally find it. Still it's much better
diluted with a bunch of instant potatoes. By 9:00 the sun quickly
goes behind the butress and the temp immediately drops to 2F. It's
really amazing how warm I felt with the sun, but as soon as it's gone,
I realized just how cold the air really is. Amazingly I find the tent
is still 28F inside with us inside. I'm glad my Quasar tent is so
warm, as it make sleeping so pleasant.

(6/22 Thursday)

The weather is great and after sleeping in till I don't know when, we
finally get motivatied to get up and start the process of packing up
to move up to 17K. We spend the morning with the usual details and
watch group after group go up toward 17K. We pack 3 days of food and
fuel and all the other useful gear into our backpacks as there will be
no sleds this time. We stick the remaining stuff in the haul bags and
bury them as a cache. The load's are about 50 lbs, so not bad, but
with only 3 days of food we will have to hope for good weather.
Otherwise we will be returning to 14K to get more, which would mean a
double carry. Oh no, that would be unthinkable.

In our usual alpine hurriedness, we actually are moving by 3:15 PM. I
decide since the crevasse danger is minimal, and that I don't want to
carry the extra rope in my backpack, just to double over the rope
between us. That way we don't have the usual 115 feet spare end but
there is 2 separate line between us, so on can be slacked if need be.
I find however that the rope drag on the snow is insane, so we stop
and revert back to the standard system, as thus wind up bumping up the
pack loads by 8 lbs. After we really get going the 1st 1300 feet
takes only 1:15 hour, but then we reach the fixed line at the Butress
head wall. Alex is really slow self belaying up the fix line and I am
stuck to go at his speed since I am still roped to him. So the ascent
rate slows to 300 feet/hour. The further up I go the stronger the
wind, and since I dress in a full shell with just lightweight
Capilene, I start getting cold. By the top of the fix line I am
shivering and not having a good time. I get up to where I can see
several tent dugouts for campsites and sereval of the park rangers who
are standing around chating. I am not quite up far enough to get a
wind block from the rock, and so I keep tugging on the rope as I can
no longer see or hear Alex. In frustration as I near one of the
rangers, I start pulling on the rope with full body weight as my
crampons are dug in well. The ranger gives me a weird look and I
explain "I'm just trying to get my partner motivated to move up
here". Finally I get behind the rock for a wind block and I
change into something more substantial. Alex pops up around the
corner and we chat with the rangers for over an hour as we eat, drink,
and you know. One ask how long we have been here and I respond "This
is our 6th day". He responds "A swift ascent", and I "That's the way
we like it". He ask if we are staying here at 16K or going to 17K,
and I say 17K. He gives me that reserved look, like he hopes we know
what we are doing. I hope so too, and hope neither of us have any
altitude problems.

We get going up the ridge top of the West Butress proper. It's the
most exposed climbing we have done on this trip. In fact it actually
seems like climbing instead of hiking, but it's still not nearly 5th
class terrain. That's just fine by me as I would hate to have to
descend 5th class with one of us with severe altitude sickness or
worse. It's plenty fun, especially with 50+ lbs of stuff on my back
and air that's really getting thin now. In fact, Alex is bogging down
as the thin air is taking its toll. It takes us over 2 hours to gain
1000 feet, and I am a bit concerned that Alex is having altitude
trouble. I figure I must be slowed down a bunch too, so I find it
alarming that I am often waiting long periods for him to catch up on
the rope.

By 9:15 PM we are at the 17,200 foot camp. I take 10 minutes when we
first get there to go over to the south cliff face and take some
pictures. I try to make a habit of taking them when I can, because
otherwise the opportunity may evaporate. The view from the cliff is
breathtaking. Now I'm staring at the summit of Foraker eye to eye and
Hunter is somewhat obscured by the smaller mountain behind it. The
14K camp is but a few dots on the glacier below. Just one of the huge
open crevasses drawf the whole camp with some 50 tent site all spread
out. This truely is an amazing place. Oh well, duty calls.

I quickly get back to the tent I start digging out one of the existing
tent dugouts, as Alex hasn't started doing it yet. I wonder why he
hasn't and I notice that Alex is behaving a bit wierd. Granted, I
feel a bit winded at this altitude, but Alex does things that seem
really odd. First he throws the technical gear in the snow in the
dugout, right where I need to dig. OK, no big deal, but then after I
get the tent set up, I have to ask him repeatly to put the rests and
the bags in the tent. Then I get the stove out to do water and cook
and he wants 1st crack at it, but he has a major flare up with the gas
and then trips over the stove. He decides mabey he better not "do
high altitude and cook". I agree, and so I take over and get the
stove going for water. Later I give him a warm bottle of water which
he tries to pour in one of his that has ice in it. No big deal,
except that the ice formed a plug over the mouth of the Nalegene
bottle. Just before he started pouring inside the tent and right over
his sleeping bag, I said "ALEX!, there's ice stopping up the mouth!"
I didn't want to see a pint of water poured all over him, his bag, the
tent, and my bag was right there too. Alex's bag wouldn't have been a
problem since it has a Gore Tex shell, but my TNF Dark Star is like a
gaint sponge.

Alex admits that he has a mild headache and I admit to him that I am
getting the slightest one. We discuss the altitude stituation and I
ask if he thinks he needs to descend. He thinks he will be OK. I
tell him that I think I'll be fine too, as I say it seem like a blood
sugar headache, but I'm sure it's caused by altitude. I haven't eaten
much during the ascent so I eat so Logan bread for something fast.
Within an hour I feel better, but Alex is getting slight chest pains
when inhaling. Great, Alex, are you going to die on me up here or
what? Are you sure you are OK and you are not getting HAPE? With
some discussion, he decides to resort to drugs, Diamox and Tylenol,
although he insists that the condition is very minor and it's no
problem. I trust him on this one as he's nearly a doctor, and he is
very careful about altitude problems since our hasty 3.3 day ascent of
Cotopaxi (19384 feet) a year a half early made him very sick. But
still, doctors make the worst patients, but I know Alex well enough
that if it was serious he would insist on descent. Then again, the
hypoxia may be impairing his judgement. Ack! What should I do?

Trying to help further I get out my heart rate monitor and tell him
that he can wear it and set the alarm range just above his current
heart rate. In that way if he gets under more stress while sleeping
the alarm we wake me up at least, as it's not loud enough to wake
Alex. He agrees it's a good idea. Gee, I think, a frivolous toy that
he thought was stupid for me to carry on the climb because of the few
ounces of weight now became a useful instrument. Anyway, Alex's heart
rate was around 90, and mine about 100. The temp. was down to -10F
outside the tent as I dosed off. Alex set the low alarm at 80, I
think, and it went off several times during the night. Well, I see
he's not stressed out at all. I'll just kick him a few times and get
his heart rate back up over 80 so I can sleep. On second thought,
mabey I should adjust the low alarm lower.

(6/23 Friday)

I get up around 9:00 AM and go out to see sereval other groups heading
up the traverse to Denali pass toward the summit including one of 18.
I feel strong, and with such a nice day, I wish I was climbing, but I
know that I should stay here and acclimatize more, and Alex certainly
will not go for that same reason. Sigh, I'll have to wait. I do the
ritual of snow to water. I also cook large amount of food including
lots of noodles since they take so long to cook at this altitude, but
I have plenty of time. In fact the absolute barometic pressure is
15.56 inches, so we are breathing air almost 1/2 of sea level. I
wondered what the boiling point of water is here, but I didn't have my
thermodynamics book handy. After the trip I looked it up and it's
around 180F.

After food it's off to the mountain throne. The one at 17K doesn't
have wall to block the wind. I think that's stupid as it's needed
here more than ever. It has a regular wooden toilet seat which isn't
as nice as the foam, because it's colder. Anyway, it faces Denali
pass so I can watch the climbers like little ants wandering up to the
pass.

I was also thinking about how the ranger in Talkeetna said that we
would need a steel shovel to dig out the ice for our tent site. Well,
yes this stuff is icey, crusty, and a pain to dig but my alloy Voile
shovel got through it just fine. I suppose it could be much worse,
but then again, I could dig a new hole, instead of using a pounded
down existing hole. The ice in heavily used holes is nice though,
because it doesn't compress or melt in much at all, whereas a new hole
with powder on the bottom is a pain to keep leveled out. Gee, snow
camping details that I don't know why I bother with at all. I should
take more lessons from Alex and learn to sleep comfortably with my bag
over a big rock or log. It made me think of the time in the Wind
River Range in Wyoming when Alex slept over a log in this grassy
field. In the morning he commented that the ground was a bit uneven
and upon removing his Ridgerest he discovered the log. Hmm, I think,
I guess I'm just a wimp for wanting a flat place to sleep.

By 7:00 PM a ranger came down from the pass. He made it up to 19500
before "running out of steam". He had come up from 14K camp so he had
a long day. I didn't understand how he could get so close and then
bag it. I guess, it's just my usual level for exhaustion still leaves
me very capable of continuing for hours, but the pace slows and the
fun diminishes. Alex and I had considered doing the climb from the
14K camp to the summit in one day as we both knew that physically it
wouldn't be hard for us, and we didn't want to be punished camping in
a storm at 17K. 2 things changed our minds though. One was the good
windows in the weather were so short that we didn't want to risk the
extra mileage and vertical gain. The other was the small novelty of
sleeping higher than we ever had before, had some appeal to both of
us. The hut at Chimborazo at 5000m (16400 feet) was the highest
either of us had slept, until now. So, I had now slept at 5240m
(17200 feet), and felt great the next morning. I guess, it seems
trival to climbers doing 8000m peaks but it's something.

I talked to soloing foreign climber who had broken trail to the summit
that day. I was thinking, that's really hard core, as I know that
breaking trial in fresh powder is so much work, and his effort allowed
huge groups to follow in relative ease. He was planning to do the
North peak in the morning. The weather forcast a 8:00 PM on the CB is
for light snow and wind of 40 MPH on the summit. Not good, but we
will see. By 8:30 the temp is -4 F, but I feel great and ready to
climb! My resting HR is 80. Alex still feels a bit out of it, and he
says he's definitely not ready to ascend, but he's doesn't have any
headache or other AMS symtoms anymore.

I feel like if the weather is bomber I should go tomorrow, with or
without him, but I also feel that if he doesn't go and I do, that I
would be seriously cheating him, even if later I ascending with him.
I'm not sure why I was thinking about this, as partner should stick
together, especially for safety. But somehow, I get this urge to do
things solo once in a while. Alex and I both have the desire, and
both have soloed serious mountain before. Soloing a mountain is a
unique personal experience that I haven't figured out yet, and
probably never will. I'll just do it from time to time. I ponder
this thought as I slip into my VBL and bag to sleep.

(6/24 Saturday)

Druing the night the winds pick up and the temp. gets down to -12F By
9:30 AM I get up to good winds and -5F. It's reasonable clear but the
strong wind makes it feel quite cold. By noon the weather is no
different, so I wander out to take a few picture, enjoy the view and
talk with some other climbers. Wandering around the camp I find a
gallon can of fuel, bent up and discarded in the snow not even in a
tent site. It's almost empty but has about 10 oz. of fuel. Hmm, this
could be handy. I start talking with another American climber who
told me more about what in the park service's emergency cache. I had
seen it the day before with the 2 large orange cases, litter, sleeping
bag in a Granite Gear telecompression stuff sack, counted 11 gallons
of fuel, and a few other things half buried in the snow. All the
stuff was roped together and tied to anchors for obvious reasons.
Anyway this climber told me that there was even a Gamoa Bag, one of
those pressurized bags you put someone inside if the have altitude
sickness real bad and you can't get them down, but someone stole it!
What kind of low life would steal the Gamoa Bag? I don't know, but
the sentiment amoung this one group was to turn the climber into
crevasse food or have him do some base jumping without a parachute. I
was thinking, what would other climbers or the rangers do if they
caught this person? Being arrested would be the least of his worries.
There may not be any wild, wild west anymore, but this is one hell of
a wild mountain, and I certainly wouldn't want to be on the wrong side
of the law! Gee, I wonder if the Denali rangers carry guns? I know
they do in Rocky Mountain National Park on the Long's Peak trail.

By 3:00 PM it clouds up and starts snowing, so the view is gone for the
moment and I retreat to the tent, but by 6:00 PM it clears slightly so
I fix some dinner outside. Not doing much at all for the past 2 days
and being at high altitude both Alex's and my appetite isn't up to
normal. We really aren't eating that much food compared with normal,
which is normally a mind boggling amount. By 9:30 it's -3F and
several inches of snow have accumulated around the tent so I go out
and dig the tent back out. This I note is yet another difference
between Alex and I. He sees no point in shoveling out around the
tent, and I agree the usual thinking that the oxygen supply will get
low is silly. Fresh snow is almost all air and the oxygen permeates
easily. Diffusion of gases is so powerful that it's really hard to
stop the oxygen. So, Alex ask why I do it at all? Well, I explain it
does make it easier to find the stuff left outside the tent and the
tent will thaw out when the sun does come out. I also point out that
clearly after the tent is nearly buried it's important to shovel it
out to prevent getting lots of snow inside as we try to get in and
out. Still this seems like a weak argument, and I'm losing. Mabey, I
just like shoveling snow from around the tent.

Forget it, I'll just crawl back into my sleeping bag and be a lump.
Alex still has my heart rate monitor on, so I ask "How many days are
you going to wear it?" He decides he doesn't need it anymore. Good,
I get to play with my toy now. Hmm, lets see how stressed out I am.
The watch display says 70, so I must acclimatizing quite well now.
It's not the 55 at sea level, but it's a lot better than 100.

By midnight is still blowing, it's still snowing, and it's -4F, but
inside the tent it's a cozy 15F. Gee, that seems ridiculous that I
think 15F is warm, but in still air inside the tent that's almost half
of sea level pressure it really doesn't seem that cold. It's even
more strange because I know my cold tolerance is much lower up here,
as I am sleeping in a VBL in a zipped up -40F bag and I am not hot.
Who knows, altitude and cold is just weird. I play around a bit with
the VBL and I notice that without it my hands and feet don't warm up
as quickly and don't warm up as much. In the VBL, they are much
closer to the rest of my body. I'm still amazed how much more
comfortable I am in the VBL than not in it. I just can't stop
thinking about how naive I was about VBL liners. I thought I would
get all wet in one, since I am always cold when I try to go to sleep,
but wind up overheated after I fall asleep. This happens all the time
at home as I get into bed and have to pull up a cover, but later in
the evening I am drenched in sweat. So much so, that I used to have
to change my cotton briefs, but I gave them up for running shorts
because at least they would dry out in bed. Anyway I figure that the
same thing would happen, except I would wake up in a pool of my own
sweat with the temp outside the bag ready to freeze all that sweat to
me. Yikes, that would be bad! Funny, though actually using VBL I
just feel humid, not even clamy, and I find it pleasant. I would have
never guessed I would like it so much. The only weird thing is that
with the draw cord snug around my neck the air slowly drains out until
the VBL is flat all over me. Then when I lift an arm or a leg the VBL
sucks in tight agaist my body and feels a bit strange. Still, I know
I'm sold on it now. Now I know I can keep a down bag dry, so I can
stop having to beat my TNF Dark Star bag into a Granite Gear
telecompression stuff sack and then beat it into my Gregory Denali
backpack. It reminds me again that The North Face sells a expedition
bag that you can't effective pack into any of their backpacks, or
anyones backpack for that matter with their compression stuff sacks as
they compress the bag the wrong way. Oh well, silly me, thinking that
equipment should work together, as I dose off to sleep.

(6/25 Sunday)

The weather gets much worse. It looked OK for a hour or so around
9:00 AM but by noon it was full on blizzard conditions. During the
clearing I went over to the cliff edge to look around. I noticed a
climber walking in a direction away from the emergency cache carring 2
gallons of fuel. I thought that seemed a bit odd that any group would
have run out of fuel so quickly, since most take way too much fuel
anyway. Later, another climber dressed in a brand spanking new TNF
read and black down parka, and very new looking bibs and overboots,
comes right by our tent having come from the cache as well, while Alex
is outside. Alex asks which group he is with, and he responds that he
is with the guided group camping over this snow ridge some 500 feet
from us. Alex asks "Do you think you have good guides?" and the
climber responds "I hope so, I'm one of the guides." Gee, what a way
to get a conversation started. It was a surprise to me as most guides
I run into have pretty beat up looking clothing, but I guess they buy
new stuff fairly often, so must this guide have done.

By 2:00 PM, I needed to do water but the stove was acting up. I
quickly figured out that water in the fuel has frozen up the pump. I
started to disassemble the pump inside the tent and Alex started
compaining about the white gas smell. He thought I had spilled gas in
the tent, which I hadn't. I told him I needed to fix the stove, but
he insisted that the oder was too strong and to fix the stove outside.
OK, Alex, I'll forget about fixing the stove, so I reassembled it, and
tossed it out into the snow. I said, well I'll go out and dig around
the tent so I can work on it outside. He didn't seem to want me to
waste my time doing that either. Fine! I'll just go back to bed!

By 5:00 PM, Alex decides that we should fix the stove and do water.
I'm thinking, he's come to his senses now. Alex is busy all day
reading his medical books in his sleeping bag in the tent and I am
beginning to think that he forgets where he is at. This isn't your
apartment. You can't just turn on the faucet for water, run to the
refrigerator for a snack, or call Domino's for pizza. We are at 17200
feet on a mountain in a storm at least 30 miles from anything that
could be called civilization. So, Alex digs around in the snow and
recovers the stove. I take the pump partially apart and warm up the
whole thing. I reassemble it and presto we have fire! I go out and
shovel around the tent so we have a place to do the water outside and
uncover some of the gear around the tent. Alex goes out and talks to
2 Dutch climbers who say that at least 2 parties went up today for the
summit. When I hear this all I can think is God help them, as it's
full blizzard out there and I've done my fair share of climbing in
blizzards. Fortunately the winds and tempurature are mild for a
blizzard here about 0 F and 40 MPH winds, as I've heard war stories of
-40 F and 100 MPH winds in the summer on Denali. The kind of weather
that makes most climbers stay cocoon'ed in their sleeping bags. I
know that's where I'd be.

Alex fixed some dinner outside in the blizzard. With the stove oven
and the tent dugout wall it's possible and not too bad to cook
outside, but I decide it's time for me to cook in the vestibule. This
is one thing about the Wild Country Quasar that isn't great. The
vestibule is so small and angled that it's hard to cook inside of the
thing, whereas the TNF Oval 25 has a nice big vestibule, but it isn't
nearly as strong of a tent in high winds. Without the stove oven I
would surely burn the tent fly, but with it I think I can manage not
to burn it. Alex and I both are always concerned about carbon
monoxide from the stove, even though I'm pretty sure that the stove
burns lean once it's going with a blue flame, but I don't know, so
I'll be safe. So, I keep the vestibule well open from the top and the
tent door closed as much as possible. Thanks to having vestibules on
both end, we can ventilate from the other in. This works OK, and so I
avoid having to battle the elements while cooking. By 11:00 PM we
both crash.

(6/26 Monday)

I awake several time during the night, since I've been sleeping so
much up here at 17K that I'm getting almost all REM sleep. I always
have the strangest dreams when I sleep to much as well. Anyway, by
9:30 AM I need to get out of the bag to pee. Neither of the 2 pee
bottles that we brought to Denali made it to the 17K camp. One I
found out from Alex was left at basecamp and the other at 14K. OK,
fine, where's a couple of ziplocks? Forget it, to much trouble to
find, I'll get dressed and go outside. Alex asked "Has it stop
snowing? I don't hear it anymore." I say I seriously doubt it, as I
push side near top of the tent and find it heavily weighted with snow.
I looked at our digital thermometer and the outside temp said 30F.
I'm thinking, no way the air is that warm outside. The sensor must be
buried too. I remark to Alex "The tent is buried". So I get dressed,
unzip the door just a bit from the top, then unzip the vestibule just
a bit too from the top. Sure enough, nothing but snow outside the
tent. I push my mitten through the snow and start hand shoveling the
snow to one side. After a minute or so, I have the snow down a foot
so I can sqeeze out trying not to get snow in the tent. Once outside,
yes indeed it is still snowing. The 2 Dutch climbers came by and said
that they had come by early and weren't sure if we were around since
our tent was nearly buried. I said, "We just didn't bother to dig it
out all night." They were headed off toward Denali pass to see if
they could find the other 8 climbers that went up yesterday. I was
impressed by how condsiderate they were. They headed off out of
camp.

Back to work I go. I had to dig around in the snow for quite some
time to find our shovel. I thought it was right outside the vestibule
but it got move. It took at least 5 minutes to find the shovel in
the snow. Once found, I start in shoveling. It's like digging for
lost treasure, as I keep running into things, like the stove,
backpack, techincal gear, etc. After considerable time have half the
tent unburied, and am ready to do water and cook.

Alex went out for a while and ran into the 2 Dutch coming back to
camp. They said that the fresh powder is just too deep to make any
progress, without floatation. It was a good try anyway. Alex
wandered around a bit and when he returned he said to me "You know,
you can get lost out here only a few hundred feet from the tent." I
agreed as the visibility in this blizzard was poor at best. Later, 2
climbers did come down and they told how all 8 dug out a snow cave and
huddled together inside. They were lucky that among the 3 groups, 1
person brought a shovel, and that the air and snow temps were mild for
a storm. Outside our tent it was only 4F during the night, so even at
18400 feet they were around 0F.

Laying in the tent, I was thinking about whether we would ever get
chance to head to the summit, if we would have to descend to get more
food, and why I felt sort of depressed. Certainly, being tent bound
doesn't help anyone feel all excited. I guess a big part of it was
that Alex was into his medical books, and thus didn't want to do
something outside with me. I would have gone crevasse'ing but I
needed him to go too, and the nearest crevasse was a long way from
camp. Also, with limited food supply at 17K, being very active was
sure to eat through it much more quickly, and necessitate descending
and bringing up more. So, hear I am waiting for better weather. My
feelings go beyond simply being bored though. I have this longing or
homesick feeling. It's not that I want to leave at all. Instead it a
strange feeling that I am so far away from home in time and space that
I have some apprehension about the time and effort commitment just to
leave this place.

I had this feeling once before when Alex and I were traveling to the
base camp of active volcano Sangay in Ecuador. Alex had gotten sick
with the typical 3rd world intestinal crud, so I traveled one more day
to the base camp and he was at the last camp. That night I got sick
too, and was running a fever. I lay in my sleeping bag with that same
longing or homesick feeling. Here I was 30 miles from the nearest
small farming town some 3 days hard travel climbing up and down many
ridges from 10000 feet to 13000 feet battling thick brush, muddy
streams and grassy swamps. From the town it was another 60 miles of
gravel road to a major city. Here I was sick and didn't know Spanish
with a guide who knew no English, so far away from anything remotely
like civilization in a 3rd world country. It gave me that strange
feeling, like I had now. It wasn't a feeling that I wanted to, or had
to leave. Instead, I was feeling that I was far away, and that it
would take so long to get back. I wonder if the astronauts get the
same feeling in space? At least they don't have to haul a 60 lbs
backpack 30 miles over rugged terrain.

I needed to go to the bathroom, so I wandered over to the mountain
throne. The wind was blowing awfully hard and 2 other climbers showed
up to use it as well. I decided to wait. One of them said, "Don't be
bashful, just do it" It wasn't the bashful problem it was the wind.
I was planning to just do it in the tent, if only I could get Alex out
of there for a few minutes. So, I went back to the tent and Alex
decided he needed to go, so he went over to the mountain throne. So
the perfect opportunity arose to take a dump in the comfort of the
tent. It was no problem and I just tossed the tied garbage out the
back door and into the snow.

By 3:00 PM the skies cleared. In what seemed like an instance the
mood of both Alex and I improved dramatically. I felt great and
wanted to go climbing right now! However, the winds were still strong
and the spindrift was blowing over the ridges in a spectacular
display. Our appetites improved too, as Alex and I both were ready
for a big meal. Knowing that our food was getting low I checked out
what we had left. I divided up the snack food which consisted of 1
lbs of trail mix, 1 lbs Runts (colorful candies that look like little
fruit) and 3 Power Munches (small apple turnovers). I cooked the
remaining rice with the Lipton noodles, and we ate the rest of the
instant potatoes plain. I had some of mine the next morning. The was
some discussion about checking out what emergency cache had for food,
but it seemed like we had enough to make the summit climb and return
without having to go hungry at all, and I thought it would be poor to
use it unless we really were in desperate need. As we found out 2
days latter, the guided groups had alreadly raided the emergency cache
and taken all the food. Wasn't that considerate of them?

The weather was definitely improving all the time and the barometer
had gone from 15.56 to 15.87 so high pressure was moving in, which was
great news! By 10:00 PM the skies are totally clear but the strong
winds were blowing the spindrift over the passes in spectacular swirls
of white against the deep blue sky. When the air is clear like this
it's amazing how dark the sky is. With only half the normal amount of
air above us, the sky color give me the feeling I'm leaving the planet
for outer space. I went to sleep around 11:00 PM but wasn't really
sleepy. Gee, I wonder why? I've only been sleeping for the past 2 or
3 days.

(6/27 Tuesday)

I can hardly sleep after 2:00 AM and just lay in my bag thinking about
the nice weather, climbing, and all sort of things. I dose in and out
and finally get out of my bag at 9:00 AM. The weather is perfect,
well, almost as there still is a good wind. Alex gets up too and we
toss clothing, food, and water in the bottoms of our backpacks, taking
the tops off to save a little weight. As discussed before we decide
not to climb above this point roped as the crevasse danger is minimal,
but the danger of one of us falling causing the other to fall is
considerable. Also being unroped is lighter, faster, and allows one
person to stop without making the other stop. Since frostbite is a
concern at this point, I like the idea of not being slowed down. We
laid the rope and tech gear out in the sun to dry out. Two guided
groups of 8 people each, and the 2 Dutch left hours ago, but by 11:00
AM we are moving toward Denali pass. We quickly reach the sloping
traverse climbing up to the pass. From the camp it looks fairly
steep, but once on it the 30 degree slope seems so mellow, yet so many
climbers have died falling here. I could see if it was all ice, that
self arrest would be difficult, but right now even though all the
storm snow was blow clean, this highly compacted snow is easy to
arrest on. On the way up we pass a dozen or so snow pickets left by
the guides for their groups. Within a hour we are at Denali pass at
18200.

In camp, I was always wearing only my overboots around as putting on
the doubles is such a pain, but this morning I needed my doubles.
Well, as usual with cold liners, my feet get cold and it takes a long
time to warm them back up. Exertion helps tremendously, but even in
the 1st hour of climbing they just were not warming up. They were not
numb at all, just cold, and I don't like having my feet cold. I like
every part of my body to be comfortable while climbing. I know, I'm a
wimp, but if technology can do it for me, then I will use everything
available. So, time for the OR Brooks Ranger overboots to finally be
use the way they were designed. As I got them out of my backpack,
right at Denali pass next to a big rock that blocked the wind, I
noticed that someone had relieved themselves right there. I decided
to move a few feet away instead of risking stepping on it. Anyway,
distraction aside, I am thinking about how the ranger in Talkeetna ask
me if I had tried my crampon's over the overboots. Well, I didn't
tell him the whole truth. I had tried my overboots over my doubles,
but I had not put the crampons on them. I was a bit rushed leaving
Bloomington, and I just kept forgeting to do it. Oh well, now I will
find out at 18200 feet on Denali. So I stick them on and put my Foot
Fangs back on over them. It's no problem at all, in fact they fit
great. With them on like this it becomes immediately apparent why
climbers trip over the overboots with crampons. I swear my feet seem
like they are a foot wide now. So, where is Alex now? He's way up
the slope heading toward the famous football field at 19200. So, I
get my ass in gear and start hauling up the slope.

From the pass, the exposure is much less, but the slope has several
steep sections, one even with a fixed line, and it's more icy, but the
runout is good. I reach an ascent rate of 1500 feet/hour trying to
catch up to Alex. Within 15 minutes, I pass by one of the groups of 8
climbers. and within 30 the 2 Dutch guys. After the climb I learned
that one of the guys in that guided group of 8 was totally blind.
That's wild, but he misses the beauty of the place, which is so sad.
Onward, chasing after Alex, I start to catch up to him, but then I hit
the wind as the near the south edge of the ridge. I go for a quick
break of water and some Runts. By then Alex is over the hump and out
of sight. I press on and quickly catch back up to him and the other
group in the middle of the football field. Now I see why climbers
bivy here. It's totally flat and BIG! However, there is the nasty
wind that blows hard across here. I decide that more clothing than
just heavyweight Capalene and my Marmot shell is in order at this
point. My feet have warmed up nicey and are feeling quite comfortable
now. I slip on a Polar tech jacket over my Capalene and put my shell
back on. That wind is really cold and stings the exposed flesh with
30 seconds, so I have to be careful not to get frostbite. I don't
know what the temperature is, but I'd guess about -10F. I look at all
these other climbers all bundled up in multiple layers of clothing
with huge down parkas on over it all, and think. Gee, I would have a
nuclear meltdown climbing with that much clothing on. How do they do
it? How much do they sweat? Haven't they ever heard about conserving
sweat, not water?

The group takes off up the slope as I finish up my clothing
rearrangement. Within minutes, I am off chasing Alex again. He's way
ahead of the group going up the steeper section toward the summit
ridge. I power past the group an manage to maintain 1300 feet/hour
for about 20 minutes to catch Alex within 100 feet of the summit
ridge. Reaching the ridge Alex and I both take a quick break for
water and a few pictures of the group coming up to the ridge. It's
2:30 PM and we are at 20000 feet. We hauled ass from the 17K camp. I
find a spot right at the south ridge edge where the wind is still.
It's a small area not more than 8 feet across that has virtually no
wind. It's perfect for a break of water and Runts. I discover that
the ziplock bag I had the Runts in came open in my backpack, so I was
fishing Runts out of the bottom off my pack. A little dirt never hurt
anyone. We set our packs down in this windless spot with the packs
positioned for minimum wind profile. I was a bit concerned that the
wind could blow them around, but even in the full wind they were heavy
enough that they didn't move, so this exceptional spot seemed OK to
leave them while we went to the summit.

We then headed along the ridge toward the summit. Not more than 300
feet the ridge had a spot somewhat covered with fresh snow and the
exposure was pretty good. On the south side the steep slope goes
quickly over 1000 or so cliff, and on the left it's even steeper but
has a good runout. Looking back at Alex I notice that the guided
group has just reached the ridge. I'm thinking, why risk stomping new
steps unroped when I can just let the guide do it. How nice they just
happened to be here at just the right time. So, I back off and return
to the point on the ridge where we were 1st at.

I ran into Rodrego, the lead guide, and told him "You can break trail;
I'm in no hurry." That's when he let loose "Oh so you guys don't
break trail on speed ascents". What was he talking about? Alex, what
have you told this guy? Alex admited that he told him we were doing
the climb in 3 hours from the 17K camp. Great, now he thinks we are a
pair of bozos. Oh well, I could care less. Alex explains a few
details about his conversation with Rodrego and how he talked with him
a lot at the 14K camp in the medical hut. Alex told me that Rodrego
calls me "Mr. Chimborazo" and that he thinks Chimborazo (20700 foot
peak in Ecuador) is a joke. Well, I admit, Chimborazo is a total one
day walkup, but still it has only a 50% success rate, and it is 4000
foot climb from the hut. It's like summit day on Denali. Still, I
can see that I have been reduced to a goober in Rodrego's eye.

So, time for a real break. I just sat down next to my pack to veg
out for a while and watch the 2 rope teams of 4 go along the ridge
toward the summit. They take about 30 minutes, and by then our 2
Dutch friends have made the summit ridge as well. They too, are
unroped. They head up the ridge toward the summit leaving their packs
where we did and we follow them up. Within 15 minutes we are at the
summit making a grand old party of 12 climbers all trying to get their
picture taken on the summit. Fortunately, the summit has a flat and
roomy staging area just 10 feet below the actual summit of the North
side which had little to no wind. We take a few pictures and get 2 of
both of us thanks to one of the Dutch guys and I return the favor.
The guides didn't let their clients stay long at all, as they headed
down within minutes of us getting there.

It was 3:30 PM, so all in all we did very well. Alex and I both felt
strong. Alex said that on Chimborazo he wondered how much higher he
could have climbed. I was thinking about that too, since he mentioned
it. I don't know, but it was obvious that I could go much higher than
this, if I was pulling 1300 feet/hour to 20000 feet and because I felt
so good sleeping at 17K and so good up here at 20K. Oh well, this
peak certainly isn't my limit, but then again I'm not sure if I want
to find out what my limit might be.

By now the Dutch climbers are descending and Alex takes off right
after them. I love it. Just me and the summit, all by myself, if
only for a few minutes. It makes me think of soloing mountains, like
last year when I soloed Rainier. I had the whole summit crater to
myself for 30 minutes. There is just something magical about being on
a summit by oneself. I don't know what it is, but it a wonderful
feeling. What a magnificent view I have found, as I gaze around. The
South Butress, the Cassin Ridge, Mt. Foraker, the massive Kahiltna
Glacier, the North Peak at 19200, Harper Glacier, Muldrow Glacier in
the distance. Mt. Hunter sure seemed buried in the background
mountains at this point. It's only 14K feet tall so I'm standing 6000
feet above its summit. Oh well, enough fantasy, I do need to get down
and eventually return to a normal life. So off I go down the ridge a
bit, I then I remember that my camera has this neat remote control.
So I find a windless spot on the ridge, shove in my ice axe, set the
camera on top (with the strap around the axe), and take a few pictures
with me and the North Peak. I love toys.

Within miuntes I am back to Alex and our packs. Everyone else is
headed down, and the other group of 8 is in the football field. I get
a few more Runts and water for what I expect to be a totally easy
descent. My feet have finally become too hot, so I take off the
overboots. I knew that the doubles were warm enough, if I just got my
feet warmed up in the first place. I should have taken the liners in
my bag last night. Live and learn, right? By now it's 4:30 PM and we
cruise down to the football field. I even glissade a bit but the snow
isn't good for it, as it's too slow and I have a hard time keeping
moving. By 5:30 PM we are at Denali pass and by 6:30 PM we our back
to our tent. We caught the Dutch guys at Denali pass and the 4 of us
came down more or less together to 17K. Now we need to pack up camp
and descend to 14K, as we are almost totally out of food. We still
have plenty of fuel, but only about 1/2 pound of Runts left. I offer
mine to Alex as I'm not really hungry. No, it's not because I fished
them out of the bottom of my pack either, as I ate plenty of them from
there. Alex doesn't want them either. "Alex, what's wrong? Are you
sick of Runts? You said you would eat nothing but them on summit
day." Well, Alex must not have been hungry, because if he is I have
never seen him turn down any food no matter what it is, as long as
it's not totally disgusting if he's hungry.

As we pack up we notice that the trail into camp from 14K along the
Butress is totally snowed over. Alex, starts complaining that we will
have to break trail on descent. I comment that it's sure a lot better
than on ascent. We continue to pack when I notice 2 climbers coming
up breaking trail. They look totaled. How nice of them to break
trail, I'm thinking. Within the next 2 hour before we leave at 9:00
PM, 20 climbers come up breaking trail. We find out that the huge
group that left 14K the morning we did, went only to 16K and they were
snowed in there until today. So we summited, while they had to move
up to 17K. We headed down roped up with little difficulty and went
unroped at the fixed lines at 16K since we used the fixed lines there.
One of the fixed lines was still buried in the snow, and since
climbers were coming up the other one, I rappeled on the buried one.
Rappeling was even more fun since the park service reanchors the rope
too short and they had about half of the line 1/2 inch PMI Maxiwear
Static line. I hate trying to jam 1/2 inch line into an ATC. Forget
it, I'll use a Munter hitch and twist the hell out of the rope.

Below the fixed line I should have roped back up to Alex as there are
a few noticeable snow bridge across the path from 15K to the 14K camp.
Again, so many climber do this section unroped, but still I think it's
a bit unwise. So why am I rushing down to the camp and not waiting
for Alex so we can rope back up. I don't know. To make it even
worse, I went too fast down and started sweating significantly,
because I had on all the cloths that I put on to summit with. Once at
the 14K camp, I stopped exerting then, but it was 11:00 PM the sun was
gone behind the Butress. I was soaking wet and getting cold fast. I
figured, I could either change to dry cloths or setup the tent and
jump in my sleeping bag. I decided the tent and bag option was best.
Alex quickly approached and he said that he didn't want to setup the
tent, but just bivy. He ask me if I had a problem with that, I my
response was "I have a big problem with that". For one thing my bivy
sack was still buried in the cache here at 14K, I was wet and cold and
wanted to undress in the tent out of the wind, which was quite light
here but still a wind, and I didn't care if it took a little extra
time as I didn't see why we were in a rush to get down anyway. So
after fixing the tent dugout hole, which took considerable work, I
setup the tent, tossed in my bag, cloths, rests, etc. and jumped in my
sleeping bag after striping. I was really cold and felt bad.
Honestly, we both had put out some serious aerobic output all day, and
now I stupidly got myself all soaking wet. So, I just needed to let my
body rest and get back up to normal temperature. Within 30 minute to
a hour I warmed up and felt fine again, but in the mean time Alex was
busy outside cooking and doing water. He got me a quart of water and
actually fixed me some food too. This is the kind of kindness I
rarely see in Alex, but he realized that I was in bad shape.
Normally, it seems he didn't want to do water and would only offer
food if he had some he did want. We are both selfish, but I think I
share my efforts much more than he does. After some food and water
I'm asleep by 1:00 AM

(6/28 Wednesday)

I awake by 9:00 AM. It seems like we spend the whole morning cooking.
Alex commented about how his diaphragm muscles was sore. He had
hyperventilated for so many hours yesterday. I thought it was amusing
because I normally am hyperventilating so my muscles were in good
shape for that, be doesn't so summit day made them sore. We also try
to give away some of the extra food and fuel. Alex manages to give
away some of the 100 hot chocolate drink mix bags that we were given
when we first arrived at 14K. Neither of us like hot chocolate,
especially me. Alex likes chocolate bars, but he prefer white
chocolate. However, I don't like chocolate, although I ate a few on
the trip since we were also given some of them, and Alex had the Zero
bars which are covered with white chocolate. Alex left it up to me to
find a home for the extra gallon of fuel. I wandered around the camp
but couldn't find any takers. I wandered into the medical camp,
leaving the fuel outside at the mountain trone and had my blood
staturation checked again. It's 85 percent again, which is the same
as before. I chated with a lady there about the cache at 17K and the
fuel situation on the mountain. She thaught it was poor that the
guides were raiding the park service cache for food and fuel, and I
agreed. I was commenting about the large surplus of fuel on the
mountain, and that mabey they should have general cache at 14K. She
said climber should be more responsible and I agree, but seeing as
many of them will just pour the extra fuel out, a cache system could
help prevent damage to the environment. I came to realized that as a
favor to the mountain, I should just carry the gallon of fuel back to
base camp and not even try to give it away.

On the way back to our tent I had to stop at the mountain trone to
take care of business. Then, I picked up the gallon of fuel and
headed back to our campsite. Almost there, another climber with some
of his friends noticed my ski lift ticket hanging from my jacket
zipper and he ask where was it from. He got closer and saw the "Vail"
at the bottom, the $48 single day price, and that I been there this
March. He said "That's outrageous" and I agreed it was outrageous. I
explained that it was the first ski resort I had ever been to. I had
only skied 3 days before going to Vail. I explain how I split a
$50/night room at a bed and breakfast with my brother, so I could
afford to pay more for a lift ticket. Plus, I went ice climbing and
snowshoeing too, which I didn't pay for a lift ticket those days.
This started more than hour long conversation about ice climbing,
mountain climbing, rock climbing, and finally when we were about to do
our seperate thing caving got brought up and so we talked about it for
15 minutes. Since I wasn't in any hurry to leave 14K anyway it didn't
matter.

By 3:00 PM we start getting serious about leaving, and taking the tent
down. The Dutch 2 show up and did up their cache and start repacking
their stuff for a sled descent. We work on our stuff, while being
entertained by the park rangers who have been climbing up the path
toward 17K and skiing and sleding back down. The skiing was funny as
they kept wiping out in the soft afternoon snow, but the sleding,
laying down head first, was really amusing. They would get going so
fast and occasionally wipe out bigtime cart wheeling in the snow. By
6:00 PM we were actually ready to descend to 11K. We had our sleds
ready and our backpacks packed. What a great alpine start!

So, roped up with sleds and backpacks loaded, off we go. Well,
almost, Alex has lots of trouble with the sled trying to make it go
downhill properly. He got frustrated with the way the sled kept
swinging around in front, on the side, or in back of him. He also had
one pull cord which was tied through the plastic come untied at the
sled. That was a problem as the cord was a bit short for all but the
smallest tail on the figure 8 knot. After that was fixed, Alex still
was having problems guiding the sled. I tried to explain how I guide
the sled when it's in front of me by holding both poles in such a way
to take out the cord slack, and then push on one pole or the other to
steer the sled. Alex is still having problem with it, and I don't
know what to do, so I let him lead and we just proceed slowly.

While messing around, a rope team with no packs heads down and passes
us up. I thought at the time that seemed a bit odd, but didn't know
what was going on. Later after we were moving along quite well, we
came across 2 large rope teams. Alex stopped without saying that he
was stopping on a decent downhill grade so I overran the rope by about
10 feet. I didn't hear the conversation, but I found out a bit later
that Alex had ask "How's your day?" and the team leader said "Damn
lousy, as we have just had a crevasse rescue and 2 people are
injured". The ensuing conversation wasn't good as this team leader
was in a bad mood. He even gave Alex a hard time because of the rope
slack, which up until that moment we had done a great job of keeping
slack out of the rope. The team leader told Alex to stop wasting his
time as they needed to get the injured to 14K. Alex said "Well, you
started this conversation. What had happened was that this leader was
with the BBC and that 2 of their team included the partly blind and
disabled climber punched though a snow bridge, apparently with quite a
bit of rope slack. The result was that the helping climber had broken
his arm, and the disabled climber had some minor injuries. So this
guy was seriously worked up, and when he saw us with slack he let Alex
have it. After he finished his speel, and we started moving again,
several other BBC team members apologized to Alex for their leaders
behavior. It really was OK and justified and anyway Alex and I were
keeping the rope tight, and neither Alex nor I were the least bit
bothered by being criticized for that.

So, on we proceeded, but Alex was a bit more leary about the crevasse
danger. Alex kept asking if we should change something to make the
decent safer and I said the best thing would be the snow shoes in this
section, but they are at 11K, not here. As we approach the crevasse
where the BBC team had their fall, Alex starts getting really anxious
and alarmed. He asked what we should do, and ask if a belay would be
in order. I tell Alex that I can set an anchor and give him a belay,
but if he falls in the result will be similar. I suggest trying to
prevent the fall in the first place, by stepping over the thinnest
part of the bridge, stepping down lightly not slamming down his feet,
and I'll make sure the rope is snug and I'm ready to hold a fall. I
also tell him that if he's really worried about it, crawl on forearms
and legs to distribute the weight. Alex decides just to step across,
and doesn't have a problem. Then it's my turn and I step across,
again, without a hitch.

We stop right after I'm across and I look at the holes in a very
obvious 6 inch dimpled snow bridge with sag holes within 20 feet of
the trail. The punch through hole was right in the direct center of
the bridge and was quite small for 2 climbers to have punched through.
It seems like they both stepped together both adjacent to one another
right into the thinest part of the bridge. Mabey one just got pulled
through the hole right after the first, I didn't know, but it did seem
odd that they stepped on the thinest part. What also was amazing was
that the bridge was 2 feet thick there. I wouldn't expect to punch
through a 2 foot bridge, but anything is possible. Last year on
Mt. Logan bridges of 6 inches were holding us with softer snow
conditions, but not always. The 1 footer's were OK though. I could
only think that the snow, even though fairly solid, must have had some
fractures. Regardless, it just goes to show that being roped is a
very wise thing to do.

Before we left that crevasse behind, the 2 Dutch show up. They have
both sleds tethered between them with only 20 feet of rope. I
explained to them that this is where the 2 BBC climbers fell through
and that this whole area is riddled with crevasses. I pointed out
several dimples they had just crossed, and explained that I didn't
check or know how thick the bridge were, but that all in this area are
suspect. They start looking at the punch through hole and get a bit
shaken. For 2 obviously very experienced climbers, it seemed that
they were quite naive about the crevasses. So, they decided to adjust
there rope system, greatly increasing the distance between them. I'd
say that was a wise decision.

Alex and I get going again and are soon rounding the little ice
traverse just above windy corner. I knew the sleds would wind up
dragging sideways on the traverse, but I was a bit concerned that the
initial swing of the sled could pull either of us off the traverse
which sloped steeply into a crevasse, but when the sled actually did
swing out it wasn't bad at all. I kept the sled from rolling upside
down, by pulling on the pole on the foward side. This made it skate
along nicely even though it was sideways. Soon after that we reached
windy corner and proceeded into the bowl below. The recent storm had
put lots of fresh snow in the bowl and the winds had covered the trail
completely. I remembered a few small crevasses going across the bowl
but they were covered. As we decended in a few spots, both Alex and I
sunk into the snow waist deep. I suspected those spots were over the
crevasses, so I would just lay out foward as I felt myself sinking in,
often waist deep, in the blown in snow. Then I crawled forward a bit
and then resumed walking. The sleds with there large surface area
didn't sink in at all. I was an uneasy feeling sinking into the snow
that way, knowing that a crevasse was most likely under my feet. Once
at 12K feet we were back on icy snow, and left the soft stuff behind.
Alex was still have a hard time getting the sled to do what he wanted
it to do. On the way down to the top of motorcycle hill, we could
hear echoes of the 2 Dutches swear and cussing up a storm. Alex found
it lifted his spirits to know that he wasn't alone in the battle to
get a sled downhill. At the top of the hill I peer down at a mostly
deserted 11K camp. We cruised down motorcycle hill, were Alex was
pulling so hard on me to go faster down the hill, but I couldn't
handle going any faster. He pulled me over at least twice which
stopped all progress down the hill.

Finally at 11:00 PM we pull into camp right next to our cache. Within
minutes I was getting quite cold, because we were now in the shade and
I had sweated on the way down motorcycle hill. I added a layer of
Polartec which helped me warm back up, but my feet just stayed cold.
Many of the old tent site look light craters in the snow being nice
smooth bowls with small lips. Alex dug up the cache while I did water
and got dinner going. Once the cache was dug up I had both stoves out
and running so we could fix a large dinner more quickly, while we
repacked all the stuff for the final decent to base camp. We
reorganized what seemed and was an excessive amount of gear and food
back into the 2 large duffle bags and our backpacks. At last I had my
snowshoes and ski poles. We decide to tether both sleds behind me so
in this way Alex will have to steer and control them on the downhill
sections and I will have to pull them on the more level parts. After
a 4 course meal that we were cooking and eating for the 2 hours it
took to get ready, we were stuffed and ready to go by 1:00 AM Another
climber camping there told Alex that our system would work and that I
would be cussing at him many times on the way down, but not to worry
about it.

(6/29 Thursday)

As decided earlier, we would travel all night to take advantage of the
frozen snow conditions of the lower glacier. I knew that the lower
glacier would be so soft during the day that even with big snowshoes
and light backs we would still be sinking in badly. So, I told Alex,
that I would forgo sleeping this last night, just to take full
advantage of the best time to travel the lower glacier. So, off we
went down the steeper section out of 11K toward 10K. Alex didn't wear
his snowshoes which was better for him to control the force of the
sleds pulling him down the hill. I'm not sure how much the sleds
weighed but I guess they were over 70 lbs each. It was very easy for
me to guide the sleds and I felt like I was walking down the hill with
only my backpack and nothing else. Even with this low level of
exertion my feet quickly warmed up, and I needed to shed a little
clothing, but I waited for our first real stop below the 10K turn at
Kahiltna pass. I put away some cloths, got some water and we
continued down. It was starting to get a bit lighter in the sky as we
had finished the darkest time of the night. I had this feeling in the
still air and totally quiet surrounding that the mountain was asleep.
It was so peaceful and the dim lighting made all the snow, rock,
ridges, peak seem even more surreal than they already were.

Approaching the top of ski hill my feet were getting over heated again
pulling both sleds on the level, but cooled off somewhat as I did
little work on the steeper downhill part of ski hill. I was surprised
but I was still postholing slighly even with snowshoes, so I kenw Alex
was sinking way in. Indeed, Alex was working hard enough to need a
couple of short rests. At the bottom of the hill I couldn't handle
the feet heating problem anymore, so I put up my doubles, and got out
the running shoes. They were perfect. With the snow all frozen solid
my running shoes didn't even get wet. It was so nice having feet that
were not burning up.

We passed by a campsite where I noticed that a crevasse dimple ran
right across the edge of the camp. I commented to Alex again that
many of these climbers don't take the crevasse danger seriously. We
started talking about it, and since we were travel in an area with
many dimples showing the signs of a snow bridges partly collasped
down. Alex was getting concerned as he would posthole far sometimes
right near the dimple bottoms. I told him again, as I have told him
many times on this trip that putting on his snowshoes would reduce
risk of punching through. We stopped for a moment after I crossed one
prominent dimple and Alex was just about to cross another. I looked
at Alex and said "You see the 2 dimples between you and me". Alex
resonded "Yes". I continued "Look again, there are 3 more". Alex
then looked and saw what I was talking about. I said to Alex "We are
100 feet apart with 5 obvious hidden crevasse between me and you. Do
you think this area is crevasse riddled or what?" Alex conceeded that
he would put on his snowshoes, and I was happy as I finally got him to
do it!

After a few more hours we reached the bottom of heartbreak hill which
climbs up 600 feet to basecamp. I was so sleepy and felt like I could
hardly move the sleds. I should have given Alex his sled hours
earlier as I was pulling both of them most of the time since the grade
was nearly level. I felt like at the rate I was going it would take
over an hour to climb up 600 feet. I stopped and told Alex that I was
wasted and that he would have to take his sled now. So I untied his
sled and moved foward so he could get it. It felt so much better
pulling only one sled that I found plenty of energy to make the climb
up the hill in 40 minutes. We pulling into base camp at 8:30 AM.

We stop in the air taxi hut, and the lady called K2 on the radio and
gave us lemonade. She works there the entire climbing season, and
although she greets plenty of climbers it must be a pretty boring job.
She has these pink plastic flamingoes outside the red and white heavy
canvas hut with the radio antennas outside, making the place a strange
home indeed. I go and dig up our base camp cache and Alex throws all
the stuff into the haul bags and duffle bags, while I am pouring all
the extra fuel back into gallon cans. It's was hard to find enough
empty can space to put the fuel back into, since we had so much of it
in 33oz MSR fuel bottles. Most climbers just take the gallon cans,
but I have so many of these fuel bottles, which makes fuel handling
much easier. What was really amusing was that I returned 3 gallons of
fuel, and we bought 3 gallons of fuel. We used zero, well, not
really, we used 1 gallon, but we had 3 left over because we were given
one. After getting things ready, I found a Canadian climbing magazine
in the snow and showed it to Alex. He starts reading it, and gets
engrossed in it.

At that point I am ready to take off my snowshoe, and I ask Alex where
my doubles are. He says he packed them in the stuff because he didn't
think I would want them anymore. I say that my feet are getting cold
now and I can not wear the snowshoes on the plane, so I ask if he
knows where my doubles are. This starts an argument about how Alex
thinks I never like the way he packs stuff, and I admit I don't. He
doesn't organize at all, so the result is he doesn't know where
anything is. Somewhat frustrated, I dig through the haul and duffle
bags and find one double in a haul bag and the other in a duffle, just
comfirming my notion that Alex doesn't organize. He says he just
threw the stuff in, since we will have to go through it when we get
back, which is ture, but I argue that he could have made some attempt
to keep things organized. He then starts in about how we have too
much stuff and that he hates how much stuff we took on this climb. I
comment that sure we could have taken somewhat less gear and a lot
less food and fuel, but overall I thought we did pretty well. Alex
goes on about how the amount is ridiculous and that he thinks it's
totally excessive. My only response is that we shouldn't do big
mountains together, because this is what they take, and I'm not going
to severely compromise safety so I don't have to haul so much gear,
food, and fuel. I point out again a fact that Alex brought up in the
first place was that all the stuff we took didn't slow us down
climbing the mountain, but acclimatization and bad weather did.
Anyway, Alex seem sore and I certainly was aggravated that my double
boots were so much trouble to find.

Within minutes the K2 plane lands and pulls around to a stop. The
pilot hops out and we start shuttling our gear over to the plane.
Alex and I take pictures of ourselves in front of the plane and the
pilot asks if we want both of us, and I say sure. He says, he doesn't
do this much on the way out as climbers are often in such a hurry to
leave. I tell him I'm not in any hurry at all, and would greatly
appreciate if he takes our picture. After the picture we start
loading the plane, and the pilot starts in his little speel about
aircraft safety, including seat belts, flotation, and emergency gear.
He says "but you have heard this all before", and I comment "Well, no
we haven't". He says "You did fly in with us?", and I say "Of
course". He asks "Who was the pilot?", and neither of us remember
directly but after a quick description of this older guy and the fact
we flew in with the BBC film crew in a chase plane, we figured out it
was "JB". That ended that, as I gathered that JB is an "old timer"
and no one is going to tell him how to fly. Anyway, we load up, get
in and off we go into the air for one last look at Denali. Within
minutes we are flying over trees and Alex comments that we haven't
seen green in a long time. It's true we have been in a desert of
rock, snow and ice for 12 days.

We soon land at Talkeetna airport and unload our stuff. I comment to
the pilot that this does seem like a lot of stuff to be bringing back,
but he says better too much on the mountain than too little. I agree,
if only I could get Alex to see it that way. I go over to the office
to get the key to the storage shed where our street cloths have been,
tell them that we need a ride to the bunk house, get our wallets back
from their safe, and settle up on the money. They seemed so screwed
up their about the way they handled what we need to be charged. The
total bill was $506.00 and I wasn't sure if that was right but it
seemed close with the $100.00 deposit. Later back at home I figured
out they never charged the deposit, so we paid about $100 less than we
should have.

It's time to call home and tell my wife, Pat, that I survived. The
whole trip seemed like "no big deal" to me that I almost forgot that
it really is a big deal, and that I must call home. I get on the pay
phone in the K2 office and call. Pat answered, and I tell her that we
made it all the way, we are OK except for a little sun burn, and that
I'll be coming back home ASAP. Although, I didn't think at the moment
before the call of this climb as being an emotional event like when
love ones are lost for days in forest having to fight to survive, I
realized talking to Pat on the phone that I was all choked up and had
tears in my eyes. It seemed so silly, but here I am the logical,
unemotional, person getting all emotional about a simple phone call.
I couldn't remember the last time I felt this way, if ever. Silly me,
I am human after all, and even though people accuse my of being Spock
(IE Star Trek), I can actually get this type of emotion.

After over a hour we finally get a ride back to the bunk house. I
stop off at the NPS ranger station to check us off the mountain. I
didn't want to forget to do that, and have them looking for us. The
lady has a few quick questions for me. She ask how far we got and
when. I tell her we summited on 6/27. She ask how long it took to
get to 11K, 14K, and 17K. I respond 2, 4, 6 days. She says "You guys
cruised up the mountain", and it's true we did go faster than all but
a very few. I explained how we were delayed 2 days in a blizzard at
17K, but otherwise went up as we wanted to. She ask if we left
caches, and I told her we didn't. She ask if we had any medical
problems, and I told her again no, as I didn't think that Alex's minor
AMS was worth mentioning, since he didn't think it was anything to be
concerned about, and sunburn went without saying. She ask about
sanitation problems and I mentioned that climber were not throwing the
bags fully into the crevasse at 11K. I also commented that the fix
line was hard to rappel on being 1/2 inch and that the rebelay loop
was too short. She says that's all and congratulates me on the
climb.

I walk back to the bunkhouse, to shower and change. Some climbers are
just dying to take a shower after a long trip like this but I really
wasn't in any hurry, but I admit that I didn't smell too good, mainly
my clothing, and not so much me. So after a shower, Alex and I head
over to the restaurant for pizza. Normally, I would guess most
climbers are dying for something like steak, pizza, etc. but I'm don't
really care. In fact after we get the pizza and I start eating it,
it's not what I really want to eat. I would have been happier just
fixing something back at the bunkhouse, but I should be nice to Alex
and eat with him to satisfy his wishes to get pizza. At least, Alex
is nice to me and oreders vegetarian, but I think he likes it better
anyway. I'm thinking that I'm such a weird person for not wanting
some special meal after the climb, not wanting a shower so bad, etc.
In fact, later after sleeping until 9:00 PM, I got up and fixed some
of the left over expedition food and was perfectly happy with it.

Alex gets up too and we sort out the gear, throw out the trash, and we
repack the stuff for our flight back to the lower 48 states. Alex
doesn't want to have a bunch of excess stuff in the car driving back
from Seattle Washington to Bloomington Indiana, so I take the majority
of the stuff and left over food. We have several huge piles of food
on one of the tables in the bunkhouse. The 2 Dutch climbers, after
having come back from Denali, comment that we have so much food that
it looks like we are ready to go on the expedition. I say, "Yes, we
certainly have enough here to do it again". Oh well, food is cheap,
especially all of what we have and it lasts a long time so I'm sure I
will use it for another trip. By midnight we both go back to sleep.

(6/30 Friday)

I sleep until 8:30 AM when the Shuttle service comes by. The Lady
says she has a big group going at 12:30 PM Alex and I pack up our
separated gear and food, I have 2 70 lbs duffle, 1 90 lbs duffle and a
30 lbs carry on. Gee, that's a lot of stuff to take back. After
cooking at eating, packing, and just messing around, it's already
noon. The shuttle service comes by and we are ready to go. We load
up with another group of climbers. They had just gotten off the
mountain that morning. It turned out to be the group we had passed by
on the way to the football field at 19200 feet. We then met the blind
climber and his friends. We talked with them as we rode to
Anchorage. Talking with this one guy he was surprised that we did the
climb without a guide. He was so happy to get off the mountain. He
wanted to get back to "normal" life so bad. I thought, gee, I did't
want to leave but I needed to get back to work. It occured to me that
these people although mountaineers, didn't have that insane desire to
climb like I do. These guys liked doing mountains, but giving a
choice between doing another climb or going back to civilization they
would take the civilization, where as I would go on another climb.

Once everyone else is dropped off, except Alex we swing by the airport
and I unload my stuff. Alex and I say goodbye for the moment and he's
says "We will have to go climbing in the Gorge when I get back to
Bloomington". I agree as by then another month will have passed and
I'll be dying to go out to rock climb on something other than our
local Unlikely Wall. I check my baggage in at the counter and wind up
paying excess baggage charges, but what the hell, it's cheaper than
shipping the stuff. Since I had to change my return date to 2 days
earlier, I didn't have a reserved seat, so I went for standby. So, I
went to the gate and waited. It looked like I wasn't going to get on
as they were asking for volunteers to give up their seats, but once
the plane was loaded, and they did a seat check, there was 1 seat left
on the DC-10. So, I lucked out and was on my way back home!

[Maddog]

In Article <1995Aug31.1...@news.cs.indiana.edu>, "william hunt"
<wil...@cs.indiana.edu> wrote:

>CLIMBING DENALI, JUST ALEX AND I

Bill, my only gripe with your trip report is that it was totally lacking in
detail. Wow man, were you like, mainlining caffiene? That was impressive!
MD