Final Denali Report

From ESS

6/08/07

I made it back to Gunnison early yesterday. After getting off the mountain, the students split up. Three (Jake, Derek, and Nathan S.) remained in Talkeetna satiating their appetite at the West Rib, a quaint burger and bar place in the heart of a truly Alaskan town. The rest of us (after some time at the West Rib “café”) returned to Anchorage via the Talkeetna Air Taxi (TAT) van. Steve, Nate R., Evan, Stu, and Ben soon returned to Denver then Gunnison. The earliest (without a fee penalty) I could return to Colorado was yesterday morning at 8:00AM, having left Anchorage at 12:40AM on a Frontier flight. Because of high winds in Denver, the plane was delayed from take off in Anchorage, including another delay once back in CO air space. Nate R. picked me up at DIA with my car, which had been parked at his parent’s house near Littleton. After treating Nate to a pancake breakfast, I drove the “long” way back to Gunny. Working on over 30 hours of no sleep, I stopped frequently to stock up on chips and caffeine drinks.

My extra 6 days in Anchorage were very restful. I spent some time with Jesse Crandall, Western’s Nordic coach, who was visiting a friend of his in Eagle River (a small town outside of Anchorage). We drove to Wittier, a weathered port town south of Anchorage just off the Seward Highway that used to be accessible only by boat, plane or train but recently opened to car traffic via a 2 mile tunnel. The weather was atrocious—all wind, rain, and cold. Another day we climbed the most often summited peak in Alaska, Flattop Mountain at 3550 feet, which rises far above the sea level waters of the Knik and Turnagain Arms. Flattop is part of the vast expanse of ice and rocky peaks of the Chugach Mountain Range, which surrounds Anchorage from the East to South. Disappointingly I never saw Denali, which remained cloaked in clouds far to the North!

Now I sit back in my office at Western reflecting on a truly amazing experience. My still numb toes remind me of the time spent climbing daily with cold toes swaddled in liner and thick synthetic socks wrapped deep inside double layer, plastic boots. Despite numerous days and evenings in my down booties when camped, my toes remain void of some feeling. It definitely is not frostbite, probably more of a neurological inflammatory response or neuropathy that will subside in the next few weeks.

My mind drifts to the days spent at the 14,200 foot camp along with over 20 other nationalities (Russian, Swedish, German, Norwegian, Dutch, Australian, New Zealand, Polish, Canadian, Romanian, etc.) and the ever present (and permanent during climbing season) National Park Service (NPS)/Climbing Ranger tents. I think all told we lived and breathed at or above 14,200 feet for 9 days. The most intense time was the 17,200 foot camp. I, along with Stu, remained in the 14,200 camp most of the time after an initial carry of supplies (gas, food, stove, and clean mountain can or CMC) to 16,200 feet, just above the 700 foot section of fixed ropes where the use of an ascender is necessary. All others moved up to 17,200 within a few days.

The first to arrive at the highest camp were Nate R., Derek, Ben, and Jake. The next day, under blue skies with some wind, they summited in about 9 hours round trip from 17,200 feet. They came back to the 17,200 camp to find Steve, Sara, Nathan S., Evan, Walker, and LB. The next day, high winds, cold temps, and snow hit. Steve, Evan, Jake, and Ben were able to return to 14,200 camp, interjecting a sense of excitement after a day of lounging. Most who returned to the “low” camp were feeling the effects of high altitude.

Sara, LB, Nate R., Nathan S., and Walker then proceeded to endure 3 more nights at 17,200 feet while holding off 50 mph winds, 3-foot snow drifts, and blowing whiteouts. An NPS climbing ranger, stationed at the high camp and having just set a record for the most consecutive nights up there at 14 days, remarked that if it were his choice, no one should attempt the summit…and so they sat and endured! Nate R., having already summited, manned the radio so that Steve and I could follow their decision making process. The high campers were all in agreement that the weather was too malevolent to try the summit. After 3 nights, they returned to the 14,200 ft. camp after an intense descent of a knife edge ridge, fixed ropes, and blowing whiteouts. Surprisingly, they were all in agreement that they felt pretty good and going back up was not out of the question.

A major discussion broke out amongst the 12 of us about either getting “out of here” or going back up later for another summit bid. The weather forecast over the next 3-5 days, although not highly predicable, was less than ideal. It appeared that a strong SE flow was upon the Alaskan Range which made for continued high winds and snow with no bluebird days in sight! Eventually a consensus was reached that so far the expedition was highly successful (no frostbite or injuries or crevice falls and three summiters). Thus we slept one more night at 14,200 camp and decided to leave the next day by 1:20PM to return to basecamp and the “Kahiltna Airport” at 7200 feet. While nine of us marched down the mountain on three different rope teams to gather our cache of supplies at the 11,200 ft. camp, Steve and Ben roped up for a different venture—to retrieve the supplies (food, fuel, stove, and CMC) still cached at 16,200 feet (the descending teams were unable to retrieve the cache because of bulging packs and the indecision still surrounding another summit attempt). Jake also remained in 14,200 camp as a back-up for Steve and Ben in case of emergency and to ski down later.

Getting to 11,200 feet was a relief, not only because we were going down but to stash most of our back breaking pack weight in our sleds. When Steve, Jake and Ben caught up with us after a few hours, naturally four rope teams emerged to suit our preferred methods of travel. My rope team consisted of Stu, Nathan S. and Sara. We chose to walk initially followed by skis and skins. To prevent our sleds, which we pulled behind us, from hitting us repeatedly in the calves while descending, we tied knots in a loop of rope and slid it over the front of our sleds with the knots to the underside to act as a sort of brake. LB, Evan, and Derek skied without skins along with their sleds clove hitched to the rope in front of them. Nate R., Walker, and Ben quickly learned that walking while pulling their sleds without skis was best and made it to the 7800 ft. camp first. Steve and Jake expertly skied without skins and sleds clove hitched between them. They moved the second fastest. The other two teams, well, moved at about the same speed and it ended up we got into the 7800 foot camp just before midnight and over an hour behind the first two teams.

For the past few hours of travel we’d been immersed in a serene, white landscape with the strange, perpetual Alaskan twilight enveloping us along with blowing snowfall. Visibility was almost nil, and I felt my beard becoming encrusted in chunks of ice. To make matters even worse, we’d heard reports of severe snow bridge melting and gaping crevices along the “road” out. Our senses were heightened each time we crossed a snow bridge or saw an ephemeral slit in the glacier denoting an open, bottomless “hole.”

We came into the 7800 foot camp with relished relief. Steve, Jake, Ben, Nate R., and Walker had erected the Mountain Hardwear Kiva Tent, our dinner residence. Upon entering the shelter from the eerie wind, snow, and soft light, we were all handed our favorite dinner, Mountain House freeze dried nasties! The early arrivers had been busy boiling water and they were anxious to hear our thoughts about the last 4-miles to the Kahiltna Airport at 7200 ft. As LB, Derek, and Evan entered the tent, we all agreed to move on through the early morning hours after our “meal of champions.”

Now we moved together as a group of twelve, spaced apart by only our ropes; I brought up the rear as number 12 in line and the last on my rope team. The ever present crevice danger was supposed to be the worst over this final stretch to baseceamp. As we traveled for the next four hours together, I found myself perusing our surroundings of skyscraper peaks all shrouded in mist with occasional glimpses of hanging glaciers, ice runnels, and rocky faces. This was the end to a never to be forgotten trip with 11 experienced Western mountaineers. The light, although faint, bounced off the ubiquitous whiteness to illuminate the landscape at 3:00AM as if it was 3:00PM. I realized how insignificant I felt in this environment and was thankful to be a part of an organized team moving silently over the ever present glacier with its many, varied characteristics and potential hazards.

No crevice falls ensued and our little train of 12 Westerners made the final push up heartbreak hill from our low spot of about 6600 feet to the “airport” at 7200 ft. When we arrived at basecamp it was nearly 5:30AM or nearly 16 hours after having left the 14,200 camp. We quickly set up a few tents and slept soundly for a couple of hours. I automatically arose around 8:30AM, walked over to the NPS shelter (permanent throughout the Denali climbing season) and spoke with Shelly, one of several basecamp managers, who radioed TAT to come and get us when the weather improved. We were lucky to fly out around 2:00PM when the clouds parted a bit, but the weather remained about “marginal” for fly-ins/outs. Shooting through “one-shot pass” on the glacier plane was our last exhilarating, Alaska Range experience before biting into a burger at the West Rib in Talkeetna later that night!

Thanks to all who posted responses in the guest section of the wiki page. I truly enjoyed this experience and wish the team well as they continue creating experiences throughout the summer. See you all by early fall!!

Cheers,
Scott

Gunnison, Colorado
Western State College of Colorado