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A narrative and photos from my successful 2002 climb of Denali -

I have also updated my gear list, including personal gear, group gear, and expendables (food, fuel, and such).

In the following, I describe my fourth, and successful time on Denali (officially called Mt. McKinley). Contrary to my normal practice (and bias), each of my trips to Denali was with a commercial guide service. I only rarely make use of commercial services, with virtually all my four and a half decades of climbs being with friends, other climbers met in the area of the climb, or, increasingly in recent years, solo. Guide services are useful for instruction (such as when I took up technical ice climbing about 10 years ago) or in cases where the logistics are complex - arrangement of permits, lack of sufficient fluency in the local language, legal requirements to hire a local guide (common in Third World countries), and complex transportation requirements (sometimes requiring long lead times). The guide services I have used have been good, in general, while the guides themselves have varied from those I would be delighted to have as a regular climbing partner to a few who I would avoid at all costs, the same as with regular climbing partners.

My first trip to Denali in 1998 was very brief due to a combination of going very late in the season, job uncertainties, dealing with my mother's estate and other factors like interrupted training schedule and a couple of injuries and illnesses during critical times. In 1999, everyone got to 17,000 feet, where we sat in the tents for a week waiting for the weather to improve enough to make a summit bid possible. My rope turned back at 19,000 feet, due to physical problems on the part of others in the party. In 2000, despite many days of bad weather on the way up, we got to 17,000 feet, but again spent 6 days waiting out high winds and blowing snow. One client had turned back at 14,000 feet, while two were in no condition to make the summit attempt. As it turned out, I had developed a viral infection of the upper respiratory system and had to be returned to camp after heading about a quarter mile toward Denali Pass, while the remaining 4 (two guides and two clients) were able to summit, out of less than 10 summitting that day.

I skipped Alaska in 2001, instead being on staff for the Boy Scout National Jamboree, doing a number of Sierra climbs, exploring the Ruby Mountains, and spending time at Philmont for the BSA Climbing Directors Conference (I am Council Climbing Director for Pacific Skyline Council). I retired from my job as one of the Staff System Engineers, designing various satellite systems, including space vehicles and ground systems for the Global Positioning System modernization. Retirement allowed me to do much more rigorous training and to participate in such events as the 2002 Echo Summit to Kirkwood cross-country ski race. In November 2001, I went to Mexico to climb Ixtaccihuatl and attempt Orizaba. While successful on the Ayoloco Glacier route on Izta, I picked up a respiratory infection that prevented my attempt on Orizaba (Citlalteptl) from continuing past Piedra Grande (but allowed an enjoyable visit with my old friend Joaquin).

I flew into Anchorage on May 25, 2002, and stayed a couple days at my favorite Anchorage B&B, Earth B&B. Margriet is by now a good friend, and besides, she caters to climbers, so there is always an interesting international group of Denali-bound (and returning) climbers to talk to. John "Ice Dawg" Bradford, a friend met originally through climbing discussion groups on the internet (notably MtnCommunity.org) picked me up at the airport. On May 26, I headed for Alaska Mountaineering and Hiking, where John works, to pick up a few items and meet him for lunch.

At breakfast on the 26th, I discovered that one of my roommates was Dave, the lead guide for this expedition. We talked only briefly, since he was headed for Talkeetna and some last minute arrangements. That night, Jeff, one of the others on the trip, arrived at Earth B&B. And, showing what a small world mountaineering is, at AMH, I ran into Denis, the Canadian member of our group. As it turned out, Denis did not have a lot of expeditionary experience, his biggest climb having been a guided trip on Rainier. This turned out later to play a significant role in the development of events. I got a hint of his lack of experience when I discovered he had not only the guide service's gear list, but a couple of gear lists from other sources in his hands, carefully entered as a spreadsheet. He was going through the list in great detail with a couple of the AMH personnel, including Paul, the head honcho. Once it became apparent that I was on the same team, I was asked for assistance. My advice was to cross most of the stuff off his list. When we got into the gear check in Talkeetna, the guides had Denis remove about half the gear he had with him, and later on the mountain, he left another large portion in caches at Base Camp, 11k, 14k, and even at 16k. The gear at 16k ended up being retrieved and carried down by the rest of us, since Denis abandoned on the day we were moving to 17k, the team having already made our cache at 16.

On the morning of the 27th, Jeff took the Talkeetna Shuttle (van) and I took Alaska Railroad, a much more pleasant mode of transportation. When I got to Talkeetna, after seeing moose and an eagle from the train, I hitched a ride to the Roadhouse with 3 of the railroad workers. At the Roadhouse, I ran into Denis and Jeff. We gave a call to Allen, the local manager for the guide service, to let him know we were in town and would be ready to be picked up the next morning. That evening, Denis surprised Jeff and me by telling us he had not finished his will and asked us to witness it, so he could mail it home. Now, I believe that when one has responsibilities, such as a family, one should have a will. But waiting until the last minute before embarking on a Denali climb seems a bit strange, or at the least, a lack of forethought and planning in one's life. Supper that night was at the West Rib Pub and Grill.

Arrival at the glacier airstrip, known as Kahiltna International Airport or Basecamp, set the tone for whole trip - arrive at a crowded camping area and start constructing a new set of tent sites, leveling a platform for each tent and erecting windwalls pretty much from scratch. Basecamp is one of the three areas that the National Park Service maintains latrines (really just wooden boxes set over a pit in the glacier - stupendous views of the scenery as you took care of your bodily functions), the others being at 14,200 and 17,200 feet. The box at 17.2 is a sled containing plastic bags which climbers are supposed to change as they get filled. Because many (most?) parties do not do take on this responsibility, the sled bags get overfilled and the latrine becomes unpalatable and probably downright unsanitary. Thus, some parties (including ours) choose to use alternative methods (build your own latrine, using large garbage bags, or use individual zip-lock bags, similar to what is used on several mountains in the Lower 48), thus making sanitation a personal responsibility.

The general procedure we followed up to the 14,200 foot camp was to relay the portion of our personal gear to be used at high altitude (down parkas, expedition weight long johns, and such), along with part of the food and gear to a higher altitude, cache it and return to the previous camp for the night, then carry the remaining food and gear, including tent and sleeping gear to the next higher campsite. The following day, the cache would be retrieved, then moved to a higher cache the day after that, and so on. The altitude gain from campsite to campsite averaged about 1000 feet per day, although some moves are 2000 or 3000 feet, spaced a couple days apart. Some expeditions do single carries of all gear, sticking close to 1000 feet of gain per move. Our progress was as follows:

May 28 - Meet in Talkeetna, sort gear, get acquainted, get safety briefing from NPS (and pay "climbing administrative fee", pizza for lunch at McKinley Deli, go to Talkeetna Air Taxi, then fly into the Kahiltna base camp at 7200 feet..

May 29 - Go through crevasse rescue procedures and rope setup, sort gear, prepare cache of food for return and unneeded gear to be left at Basecamp

May 30 - Move food and gear in a single carry up to 8000 feet (about 5 miles, 7h 4m), near the bottom of Ski Hill. Food and gear were carried in sleds and packs from Base Camp to the 14,200 foot camp. Sleds were cached at 14,200, and everything was carried in packs from there upward. A camp was prepared by improving existing windwalls and digging a kitchen area with a pyramid tent over it. The move was during early morning hours so snow bridges would be more solid. Still, several including lead guide put a foot or leg into slots, emphasizing that it is not a good idea to wander about on glaciers solo. Yet, we saw a number of people traveling on the lower Kahiltna unroped.

May 31 - Move food and high altitude gear up Ski Hill to 9560 feet (3h45m), cache it, and return to the 8000 foot camp (6h28m for round trip).

June 1 - Move the remainder of gear and food to 9560 (2h41m). Half of team set up tents and built windwalls, while the other half moved a cache of food, some group gear, and their personal high altitude gear to the 11,200 campsite to place a cache and returned to the 9560 camp.

June 2 - Move remaining food and gear to the 11,200 foot camp (3h56m). We found tent sites which required only a small amount of clearing and wind wall expansion.

June 3 - Move personal high altitude gear, some food, and some group gear to a cache above Windy Corner at about 13,700 feet (4h45m), then returned to 11,200 ft for the night. David, the newlywed, decided to bail at this point and return to his wife. Arrangements were made with a guided party that was headed down to have him join them. They departed about midnight, leaving me in a tent by myself.

June 4 - Move most of remaining food and gear to 14,200 foot camp (6h33m). Some spare food for the return trip and some gear not need higher on the mountain was cached at 11,200 feet. The large flat area at 14,200, known as Genet Basin, is a major camping area at the foot of the Headwall leading onto the West Buttress itself. The NPS maintains several rangers here, and there is usually a physician in residence. Windy Corner did not live up to its reputation during any of the passages this year. We carried all tents to 14,200, giving me the luxury of a tent to myself for the six nights we spent at 14.2.

June 5 - Retrieve cache at 13,800 feet and bring all gear and food to the 14,200 foot camp.

June 6 - Rest day and drill on fixed line and running belay procedures.

June 7 - Carry several days food and high altitude gear up Headwall and fixed ropes to cache at 16,200 feet on the West Buttress itself (4h40m), then return to 14,200 foot camp. Above the 14,200 foot camp, all carries were made in packs, no sleds.

June 8 - Bad weather had moved in, with high winds on the ridges above, so this was a rest day.

June 9 - High winds over the ridges continued, so we remained at 14,200 feet. We received reports of a tent blowing away and other tents shredding at the 17,200 foot camp.

June 10 - Cache sleds, a couple days' food, ski poles, and other gear not needed above this camp, then carry remaining food and gear to 17,200 foot camp. Some food and high altitude gear was retrieved from the 16,200 foot cache and added to our packs to carry to 17,200. At our first rest stop on the way up the headwall, Denis, our Canadian, told Dave he decided to abandon. He continued to the bergschrund (just below the fixed ropes), where we lost about two hours trying to arrange for an escort back to 14,200 and an escort back to Basecamp. In the end, his rope, consisting of Brennan (guide), Jeff, and Denis returned to 14.2k, while Dave, Glen, Mark, and I continued to 17,200 feet. There was an incident involving Glen at Washburn's Thumb, described in the detail section. We found tent sites that required some modification, mostly in the form of improving the windwalls. At 17.2, we slept 2 in each tent, while Brennan, Jeff, and Denis shared 3 to the tent they carried back down, rather than retrieve the tent in the cache. Total time from 14,200 to 17,200 was about 9h30m.

June 11 - This was mostly a rest day for Dave, Glen, Mark, and me. We worked on the wind walls. Brennan and Jeff arrived at about 5PM. We set up the third tent, which I moved into with Jeff, giving two people in each of the three tents - more room than in 1999 and 2000, where we spent a week waiting out weather 3 to a tent, almost continuously inside the tents.

June 12 - Winds and blowing snow were still too much for a summit attempt. We did a lot of improvement of the wind walls, aided by scavenging blocks from a couple of tent sites which were abandoned by parties leaving 17,200. Since the forecast was for increasing winds (60-70 mph) and deteriorating weather, a large number of parties headed back down to 14,200 and to the airstrip. Late in the day, a group of the Russian paraplegic expedition came up the fixed ropes they had placed in Rescue Gully, directly down to the 14,200 foot camp.

June 13 - Contrary to the forecast, the winds died overnight and the skies cleared, giving us a perfect bluebird day. We had breakfast, packed for the summit, and headed for Denali Pass about 10AM. At 5PM, we stood on the summit, enjoying a spectacular view. Including the short dips down onto the Football Field, we averaged almost 500 feet per hour altitude gain. At 8:30PM, we were back at 17,200, tired, but happy. All six of us summited, along with perhaps two dozen other climbers.

June 14 - Broke camp, had breakfast, moved down to 14,200, picking up the remainder of the cache at 16,200 (including Denis' personal gear). Dug up cache at 14,200, packed sleds, then moved down to 11,200, slowed significantly by the traffic jam around Windy Corner (6h42m from 17,2 to 11,2). We retrieved the cache at 11,200 and had supper, then threw our sleeping bags out on our pads on the snow, not bothering with tents.

June 15 - We got up at midnight, greeted by clear skies and gorgeous views of the Alaska Range. After a quick breakfast, we descended remaining distance to Kahiltna Base Camp at 7200 feet, arriving about 6 AM (5h22m). We had to wait until late afternoon for the snow to soften sufficiently for the ski planes to land, flew out to Talkeetna, cleaned up, had big feast at the West Rib (restaurant in Talkeetna), then went to the historic Fairview Inn for the continuing celebration.

And now on to the details and photos -

About mid-morning on May 28, Allen, manager of the guide service's Talkeetna office, picked us up in a large van to take us to their headquarters. We laid out our gear and went through the checklist in detail, as interpreted by Dave and Brennan, the guides for our group. I had very little to eliminate, basically only a couple items I had as alternate choices, and a couple of electronic widgets that duplicated ones the guides had (I later regretted eliminating these).. But most of the others had large amounts of gear to eliminate, the largest being Denis (over half of what he had brought with him). We then repacked our gear to be flown in with us to the mountain, with our clothing to be worn onto the glacier in a separate bag for changing at the Talkeetna airport.

The gear was loaded into the van to go to Talkeetna Air Taxi at the airport, while we headed for the National Park Service building for our briefing and to pay the $150 per person "climbing management" fee. Everyone had submitted the required climbing experience forms through the guide service to the NPS by the old 60-day deadline, although since I had previously been on the mountain, I was nominally subject only to a one week requirement. Following the briefing, we headed back to the McKinley Deli for a pizza lunch, then off to the airport.

At Talkeetna Air Taxi, Dave and I discovered that somehow our packs with the clothes we intended to wear onto the glacier and the small duffel I intended to put my town clothes into to leave in Talkeetna had apparently been flown in to Basecamp. So, while the rest of the group changed into their long johns, boots, and goretex, we flew in wearing street clothes and tennis shoes (Dave had on sandals). Most of us went on the first flight in TAT's Beaver. As soon as I got there, I headed for our gear pile, grabbed my small pack with my glacier clothes (long johns, socks, plastic boots, Goretex), and changed into more suitable gear. But the duffel to put my street clothes in was missing, turning up later back at the guide service's office.

We found a campsite, moved the gear to it, and set up camp. One of the problems with the wide range of experience among the clients of guided trips showed up, when it turned out that several in the group had to be shown some very basic procedures in setting up the tents (and later when packing the tents - including the need for folding tent poles with bungees starting at the middle rather than the end, something very vital at cold temperatures). Supper that first night was luxurious, at least for the carnivores in the group - barbecued baby backribs. These can be purchased already cooked and sealed in a vacuum-pack plastic pouch. "Cooking" is done by heating in boiling water.

This brings up a problem with all expedition groups, and particularly guided groups. It is always difficult to plan a balanced and tasty diet, at the same time keeping in mind weight, bulk, and preparations (including fuel requirements). The problem is not as great for a group of friends who have climbed together and where dietary preferences and restrictions are known well in advance. But a guided group is a made-up team. In our group, for example, we had two who are under doctor's orders to reduce fat and cholesterol intake (not necessarily strict vegetarian, but at least a restriction on red meats), one who had significant reactions to curries (meaning that the nights we had Tasty Bits Indian foods, he stuck to plain rice), and others who had problems with overly spicy foods, such as the jalapeno potatoes, spicey Mexican fried burritos, and spicier Tasty Bits.

This photo was taken the morning of May 29, 2002, after our first night at Kahiltna International Airport, otherwise known as Base Camp. We had a fair amount of clouds on the flight in, and after we had landed, the weather grew murkier. During the night, it had been slightly windy, with blowing snow, producing the snow cover on the tents as in the photo. During the day of May 29, we did a bit more re-packing, selecting some gear to be left in a cache at KIA, along with food for our return (in case there was a weather delay getting out). We also did a bit of practice on rope layout and hands-on review of crevasse rescue techniques. It seems that every guide and guide service has some slightly different procedures, so this review is beneficial. Since one does not have to do crevasse rescues very frequently (hopefully), it is also very advisable for any team venturing into glacier terrain. You really want your procedures to become almost instinctive, with little or no thought being needed to correctly and rapidly arrest the fall, set an anchor, and rig a pulley system. As a victim, you should be able to quickly shift your pack and sled if needed, and start prussiking out.

We got up about midnight on the morning of May 30, so we could get going while it was still cool enough that snow bridges over the crevasses would be more firm. However, it took us until 4 AM to actually get started. It took us 7 hours 44 minutes to travel the roughly 5 miles to the foot of Ski Hill, ascending 1020 feet and descending 640 feet. Most of the descent was from Basecamp to the bottom of Heartbreak Hill. This was slower than the trips in 1999 and 2000, but faster than in 1998. Since this was a single carry, it should be compared to 1998 rather than 1999 and 2000, both of which involved double carries. A single carry here means a saving of one round trip and a full day. A double carry means returning to Basecamp for a night, then repeating the trip to Ski Hill. In addition to the 10 miles saved, you are not as exposed to the more risky crevasses and snow bridges of the lower Kahiltna. On every traverse of this section, almost everyone in each of the parties, including the guides, stuck at least a leg into a slot. Although no one in any of the teams during the 4 years actually fell fully into a slot, my party did have to help extract one person who had dropped about 3 or 4 feet deeper than his head in 1999. Even though the time was shorter than in 1998, the traverse of this section seemed much less difficult. In part this is probably due to being in better physical shape, and in part due to carrying a smaller load of personal gear.

Campsite at the foot of Ski Hill, May 30, 2002. On our arrival at this campsite, a small bird flew in from parts unknown and landed first on my head, then hopped over to Glen's head, then landed on the snow windwall. We saw similar birds a number of times during our climb. One is pictured below, in a photo taken at our 9560 foot camp.

I tried my cell phone at this camp. I was able to get a link to a local phone company, with a "Roaming" designation. Their automatic message offered me the choice of reverse charges, collect call, or credit card. I called their help line to note that my calling plan included roaming and long distance, but was informed by the operator that they had no agreement with ATT Wireless, and that I would have to talk to ATT. Except that ATT would not be available until the following Monday. David also had ATT Wireless, and decided (as a newlywed) that he needed to contact his new wife. This was the first of several conversations the newlyweds had, at a horrendous cost that included some sort of setup charge, plus roaming and long distance charges. A few days later, David decided to leave the mountain, in part because his wife had a serious case of flu, in addition to "newlyweditis"
 
 
 
 
 

May 31, preparing to take a load to 9560 feet, up Ski Hill, for a cache. We moved most of our food, all our personal high altitude gear, and some group gear up to this cache. We got up at 4AM for this push, finally getting loaded and moving about 6:49AM.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

On Ski Hill, May 31, 2002. The fog persisted until about 9000 feet. No planes had been getting into Basecamp since May 28, the day we arrived. But later on this day (5/31) it cleared enough so we could hear them flying in. It took about 3h45m to get to 9560 feet. We stomped out an area to be set up as camp the next day and dug a pit to cache the gear and food we had brought with us. Return was faster, with the total round trip time taking 6h28m, with the gain up to 9560 totaling 1800 feet. Our maximum rate on my Avocet was 500 feet per hour. This was close to the location of our 2000 cache, but a couple hundred feet lower than the 1999 cache.

Back at Ski Hill, during supper, Dave checked everyone with his Pulse/Ox. I registered 94 percent saturation at 69 bpm pulse rate. I had left mine back in Talkeetna, but wished I had it with me later in the trip, so I could do a better job of tracking my conditioning. Again, here is a problem with guided trips - too many clients want to carry gadgets, then become almost obsessed with them, usually not really understanding how to use them. I see this all too often in the land navigation classes I teach with GPS receivers and altimeters - useful tools, but too often distracting toys.

Scott, an NPS Ranger I know, and a couple other rangers camped on the other side of the trail from us. It got warm enough during the afternoon that our snow windwalls melted and several sections collapsed. We hit the sack about 6PM, in anticipation of an early start.
 
 
 
 
 
 

Looking up the Northeast Fork of the Kahiltna Glacier, June 1, 2002. The clouds never fully cleared, with blowing and falling snow covering our tents each day until we got to 17,200 feet. We got up at 3AM and were on the trail by 6 to carry the remainder of our gear to 9560 feet. Unlike previous years, we did not leave a cache here.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Sun and halo behind Kahiltna Peaks, June 1, 2002. The cirrus and halo are indicating further snow and wind over the next 24-48 hours. It took 2h41m to climb the 1800 feet to the 9560 campsite at a maximum rate of 600 feet/hour.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Small bird at 9560 foot cache/camp, June 2, 2002. Brennan, Glenn, Mark, and I had remained at the 9560 foot cache site to set up camp, while Dave, David, Denis, and Jeff had pushed on to 11,200 feet to cache our higher altitude food and gear and their personal high altitude gear. They returned after we had all the tents set up and pitched in to add more to the windwalls. At our Ski Hill camp, a small bird, similar to this one, had landed on my and Glen's heads. This bird landed on our tents and sleds, then landed on the snow windwall we were building to set up the camp. These small birds are blown in on the wind and end up at these high altitudes. For the most part, they are unable to find their way back to lower and warmer climes, so you often see their bodies in the snow on the glaciers, even above the 14,000 foot level.

It was sunny and warm at first at the campsite, but started snowing again about 4PM.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Our dining tent (Posh Tent, specially made out of a silicon coated nylon) on the morning of June 2, the day we moved to the 11,200 foot camp. We got up at 5AM, to find it had snowed about 2 feet overnight. However, there were blue patches of sky visible. We packed everything and got moving about 8:40. It took 3h56m to move the 1640 feet of climb, with a maximum rate of 1100 feet/hour, our fastest climb rate at altitude during the trip.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Me, standing by David's and my tent on the morning of June 2. David, our newlywed, and I tented together from our arrival on the mountain until he left us to return to his new wife from 11,200. I had the tent to myself during the 6 days at 14,200 feet.

After breakfast, we packed everything remaining and moved to 11,200. With all the wind and blowing snow, it is very important to make sure anything left outside the tent is not misplaced or buried irretrievably. We had built a partial windwall based on prevailing wind patterns. The winds blow mostly up and down-glacier, so we set V-shaped prows on the up- and down-wind ends of the tent line, along with a wall along the backs of the tents. The cook tent was nestled in one of the V's. If we had been spending more than the one night here, we would have built a completely surrounding wind wall.

Shortly before we left, another team from the same guide service passed us at the 9560 camp to place a cache a bit higher. Their guides had a bit of a chat with Dave and Brennan, which we clients later found was a bit of complaint and chewing out over our latrine at Ski Hill not being fully cleaned up. It seems that one or more people did not get all their human waste into the plastic bag, and it was not fully cleaned up for disposal into the designated crevasse. From that point on, it became each person's individual responsibility to deal with his own solid waste, using quart and gallon-sized ziplock bags, which were subsequently collected into a large garbage bag for disposal in the designated crevasse. The exception was at the 14,000 foot camp, where everyone used the NPS boxes. At the 17,000 foot camp, the ziplocks were used, rather than the NPS "sled". The "sled" is poorly maintained and poses a significant health risk, so individual ziplocks are safer.
 
 
 
 
 
 

At the 11,200 foot camp on the morning of June 3. More blowing snow during the night. But it cleared enough for the placement of the cache at Windy Corner. We had breakfast at 7AM and headed up the hill at 10:45.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Looking up Motorcycle Hill. Windy Corner and the end of the West Buttress should be visible, except for the clouds. The well-booted trail up Motorcycle Hill is clearly visible. Motorcycle Hill is named that because it is about as steep as the hills those dirt bikers use as challenges for climbing on their motorcycles.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Looking back down the Kahiltna Glacier from the 11,200 foot camp, in the general direction of Kahiltna Pass. David, our newlywed, left us after helping move our cache up to 13,200 feet. We were able to arrange for him to return to Basecamp with a group that had another returning climber. They left about midnight, in order to travel while temperatures were coolest of the day and snow bridges over the crevasses would be most firm.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

June 3 - We set off up Motorcycle Hill with packs containing a few days of food and our high altitude gear. The well-packed route took us up Motorcycle Hill, Squirrel Hill, and around Windy Corner. We did this section and the remainder of the upper mountain on crampons, leaving the snowshoes at the 11,200 foot camp. The Corner was fairly calm each time we passed it on this trip, but the configuration was very different than in the past trips - much less problematic in terms of the traversing of crevasses on a narrow pathway. It took 4h45m to get around Windy Corner and to the cache and 1h8m to return. The ascent was 2580 feet at a maximum rate of 500 feet per hour. Thanks to the deep soft snow and not keeping the center of gravity low enough, some people had problems with their sleds. Those of us who did not have anti-balling plates on our crampons had problems with snow balling up. This was one of those items that people practice what I consider to be false weight savings. My view is that the extra 3 or 4 ounces of the antiballling plates is more than paid for by the increased safety and speed from not having the giant "death cookies" on your boots. All three years I was on Denali, the snow consistency between the 11,200 and 14,200 foot camps was very conducive to balling, and those without antiball plates had serious problems. Yes, you can bang the snow off with your ice ax, but that slows progress and leads to the temptation to let the ball grow until it feels unsafe. With the large balls, descending the steeper parts of Squirrel and Motorcycle Hills often results in stumbles and slips, and on descent with a loaded sled, this can be particularly unsafe.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

The next day (June 4), we left a small cache of food and some gear (including snowshoes) at 11.2 that would not be used higher on the mountain, then took the rest to the 14,200 foot campsite at Genet Basin. This photo is looking back toward Windy Corner from the 14,200 foot camp. Windy Corner is at the foot of the West Buttress, extending downward into the frame from the right, behind the Posh Tent. During our stay at 11.2, the lower slide on the entrance zipper of the tent had come off its track, and the heavy wind loading eventually pulled the upper slide (2-way sliders) off the track as well. We traded this entrance to the back of the tent (facing the camera in the photo) as the vent over the stoves, and decided to not take the cook tent with us to 17,000 feet. Since Dave had left us at midnight to leave the mountain, we debated whether to take the fourth tent (thus providing me with a tent to myself) or to cache it at 11,200 and have one of the tents be three people. The decision was to take the extra tent, since we would be three per tent at 17,200, so have a little more comfort until we got to high camp. We split the tent parts, so I didn't have to carry the full 12 pounds of tent myself.

It took 6h33m to climb the 3200 feet of ascent, with a maximum rate of 600 feet an hour. We were able to find existing tent sites that required little clearing, including a ready-made kitchen site that worked very well for the cook tent. When we got in sight of the tents at 14,200, I got a real adrenaline rush, knowing the snow slog was over and the real climbing would now start. As we came into camp, I ran into a friend who was headed for the Cassin. Ultimately, as it turned out, the Cassin never came into shape, so he and his partner left the mountain the same day we came back down. I again tried the cell phone, this time getting an almost full strength digital signal from ATT. However, when dialing, I could only get the "fast busy" signal. I never did get through, and cached the phone at 14.2 when we went on up the mountain. I found from the rangers that this appeared to be a problem affecting all people having ATT, although people with one of the other national companies were successful in making calls.

On June 5, we went back to retrieve our cache at Windy Corner, the only time we actually did a back carry on the entire expedition. This is quite different from my previous 2 trips, where almost every shift of camps involved a back carry. Since we were taking a turn watching over a member of another guided party who was turning around, one of our ropes went down shortly after lunch, then my rope went down to retrieve the rest of the cache on their return. We took 15 minutes to go down, and 2h13m for the round trip, including digging up the cache and loading the sleds. Altitude gain was 700 feet. Supper was spicey fried burritos.

June 6 was primarily a rest day, with some time spent on fixed line and running belay practice. We set up a ring of pickets and roped everyone together in a loop. The idea here is to get everyone using the same signals when shifting ascenders and backup carabiners past the pickets on the fixed ropes, and to smoothly and quickly pass anchors on running belays. This is easy enough at low altitude with bare hands, but is considerably more awkward when wearing mittens with heavy liners. The day had dawned beautifully, but snow moved in during the afternoon. The weather forecasts we were getting through the park service and by cell phone (the guide service was using the local cell company) were consistently wrong, sometimes by a couple days (either the change arrived more quickly or sometimes was delayed by a couple extra days). Yes, Denali, like most mountains, makes its own weather. But the major systems that interact with the mountains (lows, highs, frontal systems) are observable these days in satellite imagery and the increasing network of sensors.

We thought about hiking out to the Edge of the World, but by the time we would have gone, the clouds had moved in to the extent that we would not have been able to see much if anything.
 
 
 

On Friday, June 7, our eleventh day on the mountain , we moved our personal high altitude gear, some group gear, and meals up to the top of the Headwall for a cache. This photo is just below the bergschrund. The fixed ropes start at the left end of the very large sheltered level space in the bergschrund. This was another area which showed significant changes from previous years. The bergschrund was considerably larger, with the upper block overhanging the lower shelf. The shelf was large enough for a 10 or 15 people to comfortably take a break, and in fact a group had camped here a few nights before. It took us 4h40m to get to the 16.2k cache site, and 6h33m for the round trip, including placing the cache.

The fixed lines consisted of two ropes, one each for the up and down directions. We did not encounter as large traffic jams as in my two previous years, but again I saw a number of people who seemed to have problems climbing this section. The fixed lines extended over about 700-800 feet of the 2000 foot headwall.

In the photo, you can see parties on the up-side and a solo climber descending. Note the party nearing the saddle at the rocks. All carries above the 14k camp were made with packs. The sleds were cached at 14k, along with extra food and gear not needed at higher altitudes, such as our ski poles.
 
 
 

Looking from the bergschrund at the fixed ropes set up on Rescue Gully for the Russian Paraplegic climbing team. Other parties were using this route and the fixed ropes for ascending and descending between the 14,200 and 17,200 foot camps, although use by others than the Russian team was frowned on.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Placing the cache at 16k. Since the majority of teams place caches here, the area tends to get very crowded, and it is necessary to be careful to place your cache so it is separated from others, as well as using plenty of well-identified wands to prevent mixups, damage to cached items, and access by the ever- present ravens (almost as smart as Yosemite bears when it comes to finding and getting into food caches). We had far fewer ravens this year than on my previous treks, possibly due to the much poorer weather.

There was a tent site that had been developed at 16,200, with a level platform and excellent windwall, large enough for a 3-man expedition tent. There was also a snow cave close by, as in previous years.

June 8 - The weather deteriorated considerably during the late part of June 7, with the sound of the wind roaring over the ridges very loud, sounding like a low-flying jet transport. This photo was taken from the 14,200 foot camp on the evening of June 8, showing the lenticulars that formed over the ridge of the West Buttress, down toward Windy Corner. You can see the cook tent being bowed by the wind. The NPS rangers said they were measuring winds in the 40mph range at 14.2. Because of the temperature drop with the storm moving in, I added an extra layer and put the VBL in my sleeping bag to eliminate frost buildup in the insulation. Snow continued throughout the day. Part of the day was spent building the windwalls higher and thicker.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

The winds did provide bit of clearing, providing some spectacular views of Foraker and Hunter. You can see the latrine boxes at the left of the photo. One had American/European style seat, other was Asian style squat toilet. Both afforded spectacular scenic views, when the weather was clear. This photo was taken June 9, as the winds continued. We chose to stay at 14k, rather than deal with the much stronger winds at 17k. During the day, we received reports of a tent blowing away and other tents shredding at 17k. Hoping to make the move to 17,000 soon, Jeff and I finished preparing the hole for the cache we would leave at 14,000. There was a lot of socializing among the various climbing groups and a few games of hackysack, sliding on sleds, and even a few pushup challenges (I managed to get in 10 fast pushups before running beyond my anaerobic threshold).
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

This photo shows us building windwalls around our tents at 17,200 feet on June 12. On June 10, after 6 nights at the 14k camp, the weather had improved, with winds dying down. We cached the sleds, ski poles, a couple days' food, one sleeping tent (intending to go to 3 per tent), the Posh (cook tent, with its broken zipper), and some other gear. We got started up around 11AM, behind more groups than we wanted. However, as events transpired, the other groups were not our main source of delay.

After we got about 700 feet in elevation up the Headwall, we stopped for a rest break. Denis, our Canadian, called for a discussion with the head guide and informed him that he felt he had to turn back. After some discussion, we all continued another 700 feet to the bergschrund, where the guides had further discussions with Denis, pointing out the difficulties of arranging a descent at this point. However, Denis had decided to abandon. We waited for an extended period until another group from the same guide service returned from placing a cache at 16,200, in hopes of having Denis get on their rope back to 14k and having the other guides handle the return arrangements. This could not be arranged, so the entire rope of Brennan, Denis, and Jeff descended to 14k to handle the arrangements, while Dave, Glen, Mark, and I continued upward.

At 16,200, we dug up our cache and retrieved our personal high altitude gear, the group gear which had been left (except for one shovel which Brennan and Jeff would need) on their way up), and part of the food. We reburied the remainder of the cache, including Denis' personal gear, which was unfortunately packed in flimsy garbage bags.

We then started upward again, catching several groups at the flat spot at the foot of Washburn's Thumb. Since there was a group on the fixed rope and two more parties waiting their turn, we sat down to have a snack and water. Suddenly, Glen fell over, Mark being the first to notice. When asked what was wrong, Glen was completely unresponsive. Dave told him to sit up, and when he didn't, he and I raised Glen to a sitting position. Glen's eyes were closed and he did not appear to be breathing. I noticed that his lips were blue, the bluest I have ever seen on a person, almost sky blue in tint, and said that to Dave. Dave started commanding Glen to breathe, deep breaths, pressure breathing. After what seemed an eternity, Glen said he could feel nothing above his waist and pleaded with us to not let him slide down the mountain. Well, at least talking indicated he was breathing, or getting air from somewhere. We started talking about the possibility of giving Glen a shot of dex and getting him down the mountain. Another party came up and, noticing the problem, offered their dex kit. Dave declined, since we had our own. Dave's idea was that if Glen didn't respond more quickly, we would move him down at least to 16.2 and set up a camp, then get him down to 14,000. Glen complained of his balaclava constricting his neck. He still had not opened his eyes. Mark and Dave started to pull Glen's balaclava off, but as it pulled against Glen's neck, Glen made a choking sound and grabbed violently at the balaclava - ahhh, responsiveness from his upper body. We were making progress. After getting the balaclava off, Glen had his eyes open and was now breathing visibly. Dave kept telling him to breathe deeply. Mark asked if he could drink some water, and Glen said he could. As he sipped a bit of water, I asked if he would like some Gu and pulled a packet from my pocket. Glen said yes, so I opened the packet and gave it to Glen. He sucked it down and showed immediate further improvement. So I offered a second packet, again producing improvement. By this time, Glen was saying he was okay now. Dave was still considering returning, but Glen insisted he was just fine. I noted to Dave that Glen's lips were now fully pink, indicating he was oxygenated again. After a few more minutes (about 45 minutes in all), we gathered ourselves and prepared to move up the fixed ropes past Washburn's Thumb. As Dave led off, I asked whether I should use my ascender, providing a bit more safety perhaps if Glen should falter. This seemed like a good idea, so I used the ascender and proceeded behind Dave, keeping the rope reasonably tight and keeping a close eye on Glen behind me. All seemed well, and we were able to proceed the rest of the way up the ridge to the 17,000 foot camp with no further incident.

On arrival at 17,000, we were able to find a couple of tentsites in reasonable shape, some 9 and a half hours after leaving 14,000. This actually was a fast or faster than in 2000 and only a bit slower than in 1999. After getting the tents up, Dave prepared a supper and we climbed into the sleeping bags. Glen and Mark were in one tent and Dave and I in the other.

During the night, it snowed a little and was fairly windy. We got up about 10AM, had some breakfast, and walked around a bit. In the afternoon, we worked on the wind walls. Plan A was to go for the summit the next day (June 12), even though it probably meant that Brennan and Jeff would not have a full day to acclimatize at 17,000. Obviously, this would depend on the weather, which was predicted to be unsettled.

Brennan and Jeff arrived about 5 PM and reported that arrangements for Denis' return to Basecamp and Talkeetna had been made. We set up the third tent, which Brennan and Jeff had brought with them, and I moved into it with Jeff, while Brennan moved in with Dave. This gave us the luxury of two people per tent, unlike the crowded three per tent I had endured for almost a week each of my previous visits here in 1999 and 2000. But without a cook tent or cooking area, Dave and Brennan did the main cooking in their vestibule, while we ate in our tents.

During the night of June 11, the wind blew a lot. The weather was bad enough on the morning of June 12 that we decided to wait a day for weather. We worked on the wind walls some more. Then the weather report came in, predicting high winds starting overnight and continuing for the next several days. This inspired most of the teams at 17,000 to pull out, some of them having already spent a week or more waiting for good weather. We acquired a large number of snow blocks from two tent sites near us when the groups camped in them pulled out.

Late in the afternoon, several of the Russian handicap team came up Rescue Gully, as shown in this photo. Several were using a sled and crank system. Others used jumars, pulling themselves up hand over hand. It is amazing to watch these supposedly handicapped climbers moving more rapidly and with less apparent effort than we "whole" people. It shows that if you really want to do something, you can overcome even apparently insurmountable obstacles.
 
 
 
 
 

On June 13, despite the weather report which prompted so many to abandon the 17,200 foot camp, we awoke to a bluebird day. We got packed and on our way at 10:08. Dave, Jeff, and I were on the first rope, with Brennan, Mark and Glen on the second rope. By some coincidence, all the clients were from California. This photo is just above Denali Pass. My previous high point (1999) is below the rock outcroppings, just about even with Japanese weather station. The North Summit of McKinley is the high point in background.

The path from high camp all the way to the summit was booted out, making progress fairly fast and easy. Nonetheless, we used running belays on the traverse across the Autobahn, as the section up to Denali Pass is called. A couple weeks later, around July 3, a climber fell in this section, dying of his injuries, so caution is mandatory. One thing that was rather scary was that as we progressed, it was obvious that we were walking on a very large wind slab. Each footstep produced the sound like a huge drumhead. I had to worry about the possibility of the whole slab breaking loose. We again encountered this same hollow slab sounding board on the final section up Pig Hill to the summit ridge, and even to some extent walking across the Football Field, with its prominent sastrugi, even though it is fairly level.
 
 

This is the last short section before the descent onto the Football Field. The summit ridge is visible beyond, with some climbers visible in the original photo going up Pig Hill. The Archdeacon's Tower is to the left of the photo.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

We paused for our last rest stop on the Football Field. Note the climbers on Pig Hill, going up to summit ridge. In most years, the route goes up Pig Hill to Kahiltna Horn, the high point at the right side of the photo. We left our packs here, taking only cameras, water bottles, and some snacks. As mentioned previously, the face of Pig Hill was a hollow wind slab, that drummed with every step. The path was pretty much a single track, which made for some problems for uphill and downhill climbers to pass one another, especially since most of the Asian climbers were unroped at this point.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

At 5:05PM, I stood on the roof of the continent, at 20320 feet, on the summit of Denali. It took four tries, but I got there. So here is the heroic summit shot, showing me waving my ice ax in an attempt to maintain my balance in my hypoxic state. Well, it was interesting that I was feeling very good at this point, with no hint of AMS and not very short of breath. I could not have done a hundred meter sprint, but at least I was feeling as good as when I hike up our local hills. It had taken 7 hours to climb the total of 3400 feet (including the little dip onto the Football Field), or an average of almost 500 feet an hour - not bad for an Old Greybeard.

I shot a number of photos as a panorama (the panorama mode for the summit photo was an accident that happened when I handed the camera to someone to photograph me - that sort of thing is not supposed to happen with a point&shoot, but it did. At least it really looks like I am on top of the continent!). After 40 minutes on top, we descended back to the high camp in about 3 hours, returning at 8:30 PM for a roughly 10h36m round trip, a bit faster than is typical and at the short end of the time given in Secor's Denali Climbing Guide. This expedition was indeed a success - 6 of the original 8 summitted, and everyone returned from the mountain with all parts intact. And, a great time was had by all. I was delighted that my Avocet, Suunto, and Brunton all read exactly 20,320 feet, having been set to 17,200 at camp just before starting. But I was wishing I had brought my GPS receiver, despite the discouragement by the guides.
 
 
 

Late on the evening of June 13, after we had returned to the 17.2k camp, the winds again picked up. This photo shows a lenticular over the summit, as seen from the 17k camp. You can clearly see the boot track to Denali Pass, as well as a track directly up the face, sometimes referred to as the Denali Face Variation. It was being used for descent on June 13.

After a pleasant sleep, we got up on the morning of June 14, packed our gear and headed down the ridge of the West Buttress, keeping the same ropes as going to the summit. At one point just before getting to the 16.2 cache, Jeff took a short slide of maybe 10 feet. We picked up the cache at 16,200 (including Denis' gear) and headed down to the 14,000 camp. Brennan's rope was a short distance behind us, but somehow missed a number of the anchors. So most of us ended up short a few carabiners and the group was short a number of pickets. We didn't need these the rest of the way down, but still, it was a bit of an annoyance.

We retrieved the cache at 14k, loaded the sleds, did a bit of rearranging of the rope teams, and headed for the 11,200 foot camp. There was a big traffic jam at Windy Corner, which slowed us down a lot. In addition, I had a lot of problem with snow balling on my crampons on Squirrel and Motorcycle Hills. Since we were using kiddie sleds with ropes instead of rigid poles (my preference, based on many years of backcountry skiing), we had to provide braking for the sled of the person ahead of us. This meant that we were often asking the person ahead to slow down to aid in controlling his sled, which was especially awkward on Motorcycle Hill. But we managed. Our total time from 17,000 to 11,000 was 6h42m, a descent of about 6300 feet all told (there are some small uphill sections on the descent).

Once at 11.2, we retrieved our cache, had supper, then stomped out spaces to throw our sleeping bags down for a few hours of rest. We did not bother with the tents, since the weather was quite nice. We hit the sack about 9PM. At 11:50PM, I opened my eyes after a deep sleep, looking out of the breathing hole of my sleeping bag directly at the sunlit end of the West Buttress. What a gorgeous sight! It just doesn't get any better than this! This is why I go to the mountains, the beauty and glorious views. Most of the time when I go to the Sierra and many other mountains, I prefer to sleep out without a tent, if the weather (and mosquitoes!) permit. And this had been the perfect night and place, a final reward for a great climb.

After enjoying the view for a few minutes, I got out of the bag in time to hear the call for hot drinks. After breakfast and a bit of rearranging of the ropes, we headed out at 1:28AM to get the cool of the day and firm snow bridges. We picked up a departing climber to take out with us, thus doing our turn after sending two of our own back with others. I was at the front of our rope, so on the steep section down Ski Hill, Mark got to ask me to slow down so he could better control my sled - you really can't tell how it is for the person behind you.
 
 
 
 

During the descent, we passed some skiers who had started a while before we did. They were finding out how hard it is to do roped skiing with loads. We got down to the airstrip at 6:50AM, a descent of 4450 feet (and climb of 540 feet up Heartbreak Hill) in 5h22m. However, since the snow was very firm, with the ruts from the skis on the planes still frozen, we had to wait until 5 PM for the snow to soften enough for the TAT Beavers to come get us. While we were waiting and discussing how we would eat a lunch of pizza and reindeer sausage subs at the McKinley Deli, we received tragic news. Only a week before, while we were up on the mountain, the McKinley Deli, the only pizza place in Talkeetna, had burned down! Oh, misery! Apparently the daughter of the owner had fallen asleep while burning a candle in her bedroom, then awakened to find the end of her bed in flames.

Jeff and I stayed again at the Roadhouse. After showering and generally cleaning up, we all gathered at the West Rib for a victory dinner. Denis showed up with his wife. Almost everyone had two complete dinners, with a heavy emphasis on the fresh vegetables and salads. After dinner, we made a quick stop at the ice cream counter, then headed over to the historic Fairview Inn. For those who don't know, activities at the Fairview start livening up about 11PM and continue until 5 AM. I gave up and headed back for a deep sleep at the Roadhouse around 12:30AM.

On June 16, I got up at 8:30, then had a half a "Standard" Roadhouse breakfast with Brennan. Jeff had taken the Talkeetna Shuttle van to Anchorage about 5AM. Since I now had all my gear, including the missing duffel, I did a bit of sorting, then got a ride from Allen, the local manager, to the train station. I finished sorting my gear for the train trip and arranged for my ticket to Anchorage, then headed back to town. I dropped by the Ranger Station, then wandered around town, running into various people I knew, and finally headed back to the train station for the ride to Anchorage. I finally got to Earth B&B about 10:30PM.

On the morning of June 17, I spent time talking to several British and several Norwegians who had been on the mountain at the same time as I had. The Brits had summitted on the day we moved up to 17, but the Norwegians had been part of the mass exodus the day before we summitted. Pier, one of the Norwegians, said his biggest disappointment was not missing the summit, but the murky weather so that he missed seeing the fantastic scenery he had seen so many photos of. Midday, I went down to AMH and had lunch with the ice dawg, then went back to Earth B&B to rearrange my gear to match airline restrictions (sharpies go in the checked bags, including the knife). June 18, I went into downtown Anchorage to get a souvenir for Barbara, then headed for the airport for the flight back home.
 
 
 
 

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