Denali - Part 4

June 2019, Denali National Park - On June 18th, after more than a week at Fourteen Camp, the team prepared for the move to High Camp at 17,000 feet. Finally, it seemed we would get a look at the upper mountain and take our shot at the summit in one or two days’ time.

Well rested, I was thrilled to be climbing again and it felt great to get the blood flowing after so many days of toiling away in the tents. We made it to the base of the fixed lines in 90 minutes, but yet again our guide Taylor was having issues with her stomach. The hip belt of her pack was digging into her abdomen and on more than one occasion we needed to stop while she dry heaved into the snow. Because of this, we were by far the slowest group on the lines and multiple teams started to pile up behind us shouting at us to move faster in at least three different languages. It was pretty strenuous being on the fixed lines for such an extended time, and after more than an hour, I was relieved to unclip from the line and ascend another 250 vertical feet to the cache site for a rest.

Once we’d dug up our cache, which in itself was no small feat, we started up the steep and exposed “16k Ridge” that led to High Camp. This portion of the route was beautiful with panoramic views and thrilling climbing. About 20-30 minutes above the cache, walking along the knife-edge ridge, we made it to the base of Washburn’s Thumb. This is an iconic portion of the West Buttress that I liken to the Hillary Step on Everest. There were fixed lines setup to protect a steep pitch leading up to the base of the Thumb (which is basically a large boulder) that then skirted to the left and up a short section of compacted snow and ice to flatter ground. I was beyond stoked to be climbing under the Thumb and soaked in such a classic feature on one of the biggest and baddest mountains in the world.

From that point on, the steepness of the ridge backed off as we continued to travel along the ridge, clipping into fixed protection along the way. In places the ridge was no wider than 12 inches across with 2,000 feet of exposure on either side. While clipping into the anchors was tedious and time consuming I was more than happy to do it. Without the gear there would be no way to protect a fall and it wouldn't take more than an unexpected gust of wind to send a weary and top heavy climber over the edge.

As we reached the end of the ridge, the route went through a really dark and somewhat menacing band of black rock that was quite distinct from the tan colored granite we’d been accustomed to.

By this point the team had been moving for over seven hours carrying heavy loads at extreme altitude. Even after our extended rest period at Fourteen Camp I was exhausted from the climb and had barely enough energy to smile as we rounded a final bend and walked into High Camp at 17,000 feet. I’d been to this altitude (and more) a number of times before, but the accumulated effort and mental stress had taken a toll on me. I was exhausted. After drinking some water and eating a quick snack, it took an additional two to three hours to set up camp and finally lay down in our sleeping bags. It had been a challenging but fun and rewarding day as we were now in position to try for the summit.

We took a rest day the following day to recuperate and prepare for our summit bid. I took some time to explore High Camp between naps strolled to the top of “Rescue Gully” where I was treated to some amazing views of Mount Hunter, Mount Forraker, and Fourteen Camp laid out below like an ant farm. High Camp was pretty comfortable and larger than I’d anticipated it being.

By far the worst part of this camp was the pee pit. It was covered in what looked like pink sputum that somebody had coughed up, and my mind immediately thought of the HAPE patient that had been rescued from there just a few days prior. When I voiced this theory to Bert he shook his head agreeably and said “Could be… if so that’s the rawest thing I’ve ever seen.” I couldn’t have said it better. Even the damn pee pit was a reminder that bad things could happen up here.

At this altitude we didn't set up the communal kitchen tent, so most of the day was spent lying in my sleeping bag trying to hydrate while chatting with Bruce and Daniel. It was a clear day with deep blue skies above, but peeking through the tent door I could tell the wind was blowing hard towards the summit. Huge plumes of snow were getting tossed up by massive gusts but the weather report indicated that a high pressure system was expected to build in the coming days so it gave me little concern. Going to sleep that night reminded me of being a little kid on Christmas Eve. I was so excited and nervous with anticipation it took a long time for me to fall into a shallow and fitful sleep.

"We had stopped in the shade and it was absolutely freezing. I found mild success swinging my arms and legs to force warm blood from my core into my fingers and toes, but staying still like this was both uncomfortable and extremely frustrating"

The next morning it was game time. We began our preparations for the summit just as the sun crested the ridge and warmed up High Camp enough for us to function without freezing our fingers and toes. It was still bitterly cold, but I was so energized for our summit push I hardly took notice. We’d practiced setting up the rope teams so many times by this point that getting going in the morning was no problem at all, and after gulping down some Cream of Wheat and a hot drink, we got underway.

The route out of high camp started off relatively flat as it approached a steep and long traverse called the Autobahn. Ironically, the Autobahn is protected with fixed gear which makes for pretty slow travel so I asked Jeremiah where the name came from. In classic dark mountaineering humor, he said it was because a German team once fell down the slope and picked up so much speed that they died. I wasn’t sure if he was serious or not so I gave an awkward chuckle and looked off into the distance...

The Autobahn leads to a large saddle at Denali Pass before heading up steeper terrain towards a few outcroppings of rock called Zebra Rock and Archdeacon’s Tower. At this point on the summit push, the slope angle backs off considerably as climbers reach a section called the Football Field. The Football Field actually heads downhill at the beginning before sloping up to the base of the formidable Pig Hill that leads to the base of the summit ridge. Once on the summit ridge, the end goal is in sight. Round trip summit bids from High Camp, for normal people at least, can take between ten to fifteen hours depending on the conditions.

Our team crossed into shadow as we approached the base of the Autobahn and the temperature immediately plummeted twenty degrees. I was on Taylor’s rope team again with Jeremiah’s team in front and Eric’s in the back. Just as the slope started to get steeper, I could tell that she was struggling to keep up with the team in front and she pulled us off the climbing trail to rest. I knew this was trouble right away as we’d been climbing for less than thirty minutes and the terrain was relatively gentle. My mind began to race: how could she expect to take us to the summit if she was having difficulty here?!

Jeremiah and Eric went over to her to see what the issue was while the rest of us tried to keep warm. We had stopped in the shade and it was absolutely freezing. I found mild success swinging my arms and legs to force warm blood from my core into my fingers and toes, but staying still like this was both uncomfortable and extremely frustrating. Even those on the team who had demonstrated a lot of patience and understanding about all the challenges we’d had to this point voiced their annoyance at the situation. Here we were, finally in a position to go to the summit, but were being held back by one of the people who was supposed to help get us there. After a few minutes, Jeremiah told us to get ready to head back down to high camp and we trudged back down the slope feeling a deep range of negative emotions: disappointment, frustration, annoyance, stress, disenchantment… What I experienced in that moment was in perfect contrast to the jubilance and elation was hoping to feel on the summit.

When we got back to camp it was clear that Taylor couldn't go any higher and it looked like our trip was over. Fortunately, there was a private AMS team also at high camp preparing for their own summit bid. A scheme was quickly hatched for that private client to join our team while his guide looked after Taylor in camp. Thus, the summit bid would be two large rope teams led by Jeremiah and Eric with an additional client added to our existing group. This was a workable approach, but the NPS has rules about guide to client ratios and this new arrangement made it such that if any person couldn't make the summit then the whole group would need to turn around. I thought the chances of success were low, but was thrilled to be back in the game.

After a few minutes we quickly got our second attempt going under deteriorating conditions. I could see higher up on the mountain that the wind had started to pick up and was blasting gusts of spindrift across the Autobahn. Nonetheless, I was stoked to be giving it another shot regardless of whether the conditions would hold. Somehow getting skunked on the summit because of poor weather was much easier for me to stomach.

Climbing the Autobahn was slow moving as we passed through the fixed protection in building wind. I should say that it was slow moving for mere mortals…

While heading up the Autobahn we were passed by a team of two who were skipping the fixed anchors and moving incredibly fast. While we were still fiddling with the anchors halfway through the traverse, we saw them reach Denali pass and round the corner out of view. It would be just over an hour later that we saw them heading back down and we all assumed that that had turned around because of the wind. We were wrong. It turned out that one of the climbers was a guy named Karl Egloff who that very day set the speed ascent record on Denali. Karl had made his way from Kahiltna Basecamp to the summit in an astounding seven hours and 40 minutes! What had taken our team three weeks to achieve was just another day at the office for Karl who beat the previous ascent record (set by Kilian Jornet) by two hours! Having seen his ascent firsthand I am in awe of this accomplishment.

While Karl was making history, our team was inching our way up. After what felt like an eternity we reached Denali Pass and encountered hurricane-force winds. Small pieces of snow and ice were getting kicked up and pelted the back of my parka as I tried to get comfortable and recover from the Autobahn. These were some of the most intense winds I’d ever climbed in and was having difficulty breathing because, similar to if you stick your head out of the window of a fast moving car.

Despite the wind, we attempted to climb higher and made it a few hundred yards before Jeremiah called off our attempt at the summit. This time I was relieved to be going down and welcomed our retreat to safety and the relative comfort of High Camp. Unfortunately, going down the Autobahn was even slower than going up. One of the clients was struggling to pass the anchors and fell off the trail multiples times. Thank god for the fixed anchors that stopped his repeated falls and the remainder of his rope team that executed textbook rope-team arrests each time. Things felt like they were getting sloppy and a little out of hand after the physical and emotional roller coaster of the day but all made it down safely.

Back in camp, Jeremiah polled the team to see if we would be interested in taking one last shot at the summit the next day. This would be our very last day to try for the summit and myself along with most of the team were in. The climber who had struggled getting down the Autobahn was out at Jeremiah’s direction. Since the same rules applied, where any person who needed to go down would force the whole team to turn around, I was somewhat relieved that the final summit party would only include those who had demonstrated the most strength and competence.

"It was such a powerful and emotional moment that I started to tear up and was overcome by the experience of being the highest person in North America and standing atop my fourth of the seven summits. Standing there was easily one of the best moments of my life

The next morning the wind had died down and each of us had a good feeling that this was going to be our lucky day. The conditions were perfect and those who were left standing were extremely motivated. I joined Eric’s rope team and was in the third position behind Eric and Tim with Daniel and “Bruce the caboose” behind me. We made good time getting out of camp and through the first portion on the Autobahn. About ⅓ of the way to Denali Pass I could tell both Eric and Tim were slowing down, but we were still making good progress and keeping up with Jeremiah so I didn't worry too much.

We reached Denali Pass after two hours of climbing and the conditions were so much better than the day before that I hardly recognized the place. During the rest break Eric mentioned to us that he was having some stomach issues of his own but that he was okay to continue up. The guy is one of the toughest people I’d ever met and I took him at his word when he said he could make it to the top despite his bout with dysentery. Tim was also looking a little rough and he gave me more concern regarding our ability to summit. Climbing behind him up the Autobahn, I suspected that his pack was too heavy based on how he was heaving it from side to side with each step. At Denali Pass I picked up his pack and my jaw dropped at how heavy it was. “Jesus Tim did you bring a pallet of bricks up here!”. Bruce, Daniel and I were feeling really strong, and knowing that our summit bid was over if Tim needed to turn around, distributed the majority of his pack weight between us.

From Denali Pass the route steepened significantly and I was happy that we’d taken weight from Tim as he was moving much more efficiently on this harder terrain. We passed under and to the left of Zebra Rock, passing our high point from the day before. At the front of the team I could see Eric was having a hard time and we all shouted up to him with encouragement and motivation to keep pace with Jeremiah’s team climbing ahead of us. Passing a series of fixed anchors we made it to flatter ground and took another rest break. Conditions were still holding and both Eric and Tim looked tired but I felt more confident than ever that they'd be able to make it to the summit and back even though we were still many hours from our objective.

Leaving this second rest break, the terrain backed off for a few hundred yards as we made a long upward traverse to climber’s left. I transitioned into an amazing flow state for this portion of the climb, humming some anonymous tune to myself and rhythmically placing one foot in front of the other like a metronome. It’s incredible how quickly time can pass like this and is one of my favorite feelings in mountaineering. We’d gained significant altitude from Denali Pass and the view was starting to open up behind us. At the top of the traverse, Mount Forraker came back into view and we stopped for another rest break.

At this point I knew we only had the relatively easy Football Field ahead of us with Pig Hill presenting the only real challenge to the top of the mountain. There was an excited nervous energy coursing through the team and after hammering down some water and snacks we started moving again. We crested a short rise and started across the Football Field, laying our eyes on Pig Hill and the true summit for the first time. THERE. IT. IS. I felt my heart skip a beat.

The Football Field started off with a short downhill section before flattening out and then gently rising towards the base of Pig Hill. At this point Tim started slowing down a lot and our rope team fell 15-20 minutes behind Jeremiah’s on some of the easiest terrain of the whole trip. My thoughts were screaming: “If he can't keep up on this flat stuff how is he going to make it up Pig Hill!” Between myself, Daniel and Bruce, we were so amped up that the three of us were shouting a mixture of encouragement and profanities towards Tim to keep him moving, not knowing what form of extrinsic motivation would get him going faster. Our team crawled up to the base of Pig Hill where Jeremiah’s team had been waiting for us and I started to hyperventilate from the stress. “Oh my god, we are so close but what if we need to turn back because of Tim’s condition? Am I really going to have to come back here next year and repeat all of this when I can see the summit RIGHT THERE!?”

As Tim was unloading his pack, his water bottle flopped onto the snow and started rolling down the hill away from him. Seeing this I quickly secured my pack in the soft snow and was able to catch his water bottle with a diving leap. I don't think I’d ever put on such a game face in the mountains and was going to be damned if the trip was going to end because the weakest member of the team had lost his water.

"This was a place I’d dreamed of coming to for more than a decade and here I was experiencing it in person. The reality of climbing Denali had been so authentic, so messy and raw, that achieving the summit was more rewarding than I could have possibly imagined"

Conditions were still good and after a long rest break Tim said that he was ready to keep climbing. Despite how slow he was moving, he deserves a lot of credit for gritting his teeth and pushing the limits of his capabilities. He must have been in agony, but was well aware that his turning around would end the trip for all of us. Tim worked incredibly hard that day and took a lot of physical (and not to mention verbal abuse from the rest of us) to make it to the top. My hat’s off to him.

Our ascent of Pig Hill was painfully slow. Jeremiah’s team had already made it to the summit ridge and were on their way to the summit before we were even halfway up. A small traffic jam started to pile up behind us as Tim put one slow step in front of the other. After more than an hour we finally made it to the top of Pig Hill and the base of the summit ridge. The entire Alaska Range was laid out below us to the West and I could even make out Kahiltna Basecamp way off in the distance. In the other direction I could see climbers on the summit and knew we were less than 20 minutes away. At this point I was able to shed some of my stress about not making the Summit since it seemed that Tim would be able to muster enough strength to get there. Even if he couldn't, he could catch a ride down with Jeremiah’s team as Eric, Bruce, Daniel, and myself went up. Fortunately we didn't need to resort to that option and we continued up together.

Climbing the summit ridge was a dream come true. The route started on the right side of the ridge and switched over to the left side about ⅓ of the way to the summit. We took great care to ensure that we clipped into each anchor and maintained good rope tension between us. In places, the ridge was incredibly exposed but afforded some tremendous views of high peaks and deep glacial valleys below. In a matter of minutes I could see climbers standing at the true summit and knew for the first time, against all the odds, that we’d make it to the top. This was a place I’d dreamed of coming to for more than a decade and here I was experiencing it in person. The reality of climbing Denali had been so authentic, so messy and raw, that achieving the summit was more rewarding than I could have possibly imagined. Together, our rope team met up with Jeremiah’s crew just below the summit and with hugs and high fives all around I walked the last few feet to the summit of Denali. It was such a powerful and emotional moment that I started to tear up and was overcome by the experience of being the highest person in North America and standing atop my fourth of the seven summits. Somehow, this peak being North America’s high point, my “home mountain”, meant all the more to me. Standing there was easily one of the best moments of my life.

After snapping some pictures, and what felt like a very short time, we prepared to head back down. A wall of cumulus clouds had developed to the north and we made haste to descend back to High Camp. I saw a few flashes of lightning in the clouds and had visions of John Krakauer’s “Into Thin Air” as we got our asses into gear and retraced our steps down the summit ridge and to the base of Pig Hill. Jeremiah was pretty straightforward with us and voiced his concern over the building weather system. He wanted us down to High Camp as fast as possible and did not mix any words with Tim in motivating him to keep moving. In fact, this break at the Football Field would be the only stop on our descent to High Camp. The weather propelled me downward and took my mind off how exhausted I truly was. Only when we made it halfway through the Autobahn did I start to slow down as the sun re-emerged and the weather took a turn for the better.

We’d been moving for so many hours, and had been working so hard that when we reached high camp and took off our harnesses and climbing gear, I had a difficult time getting my heart rate under control. It was the first time that I’d ever experienced something like that and it was a little unsettling. Sitting down I must have maintained a heartbeat over 140 beats per minute for a good 30-45 minutes before my body finally started to settle down and relax.

That very morning, High Camp on Denali felt like the most remote and wild place I’d ever been. Now, having returned from the summit, it felt like being home. Of course, it was still a long way to real safety, but at last we’d made it to the summit and were back at the tents. Lying in my sleeping bag I told Bruce and Daniel, “I’d pay $1,000 for a beer right about now.” But both of them were already fast asleep.

Afterward

It took us nearly two days to descend from High Camp to Kahiltna Basecamp. We dropped 10,000 feet in elevation and covered nearly 20 miles to make it back to the landing strip where we would catch a ski plane back to Talkeetna. In the intervening hours, Tim’s condition had not improved and he was barely able to make it down to Fourteen Camp where he would eventually be evacuated by helicopter to Talkeetna where he would make a recovery.

Denali’s grip is so tight that it wasn't until the ski plane lifted off the snow that felt like we’d finally made it out. Outside my window extreme mountainous terrain gave way to treeless foothills followed by dense mosquito infested swamps. After less than an hour the plane banked left over Talkeetna and in the brilliant afternoon sun touched down on the runway.

As the plane taxied to a stop on the tarmac, somebody was cutting grass nearby and for the first time in nearly a month smelled organic matter. It was like my brain said: “Oh yeah! Plants!” The mountains are stunningly beautiful, but the great peaks of this world are cold and sterile places. It’s only by leaving the comforts of home do we truly appreciate it when we return. Smelling that cut grass was a warm embrace. I was home.