I’ve debated writing this post for some time. My reasons for climbing are very personal. I find most mountains to be awe-inspiring. I love spending time in such beautiful spaces. I never tire of looking out at the world from high on a mountain, and I enjoy the mental and physical challenges involved in getting to those high places. Conversely, I’ve met plenty of folks whose only interest in climbing peaks seems to be so they can say they’ve done it. There seems to be little joy in the doing of the thing, only in having it be done in order to boast or humble brag. So my goal in sharing thoughts and photos from our 2015 climbing trip is not as a way of saying, “Look what I’ve done.” My hope is to share a little bit of what makes Denali “The Great One” and to hopefully inspire some awe along the way.
I’ve found that in talking about Denali, it helps to share some of the basics. The most commonly climbed route on Denali is known as the “West Buttress” named for a narrow ridge that is part of the route between a camp at 14,000′ and the 
high camp at 17,000′. The summit of Denali is 13,000 feet higher, and some 18 miles distant from the normal starting point on the Kahiltna glacier. (By comparison, Everest climbers ascend 12,000 vertical feet from base camp to summit). Because of the copious amounts of bad weather, distance and elevation, most teams plan for 3+ weeks on the mountain. For us, gear, food, fuel, etc. for that amount of time amounted to 110-130 lbs each. Most teams “double carry” on the mountain. That means climbers carry a load of gear and supplies a few miles up the mountain, drop the load and return back down to their camp. Next morning they break camp and climb back up to where they dropped gear the previous day and establish a new camp. This process is repeated all the way to high camp at 17,000′. This helps climbers acclimate to the altitude and allows for lighter loads. It is a tried and true method used on big mountains all over the world. It also seems rather insane! Rather than climb the mountain twice, we chose to “single” carry. This meant that as we moved from camp to camp up the mountain we carried all our gear, split approximately 60%-40% between our sleds (affectionately known as “dead pigs”) and backpacks. Obviously the additional weight made the climb more difficult, especially on the steep bits. The HUGE trade off was that we only climbed the mountain once.
My mountaineering career moved from the stuff of dreams to reality when I started spending summers in Alaska at age 17. The two great attributes of 
youth – stupidity and a sense of invincibility – fueled my early climbing adventures and dreams. I have a long history of dreaming about Denali. Even 130 miles away, on a clear day the mountain was visible from Anchorage. It loomed impossibly large on the horizon, and in a young man’s fancy. Shortly before his death on Everest, I actually wrote to Denali giant – Ray Genet – asking for advice on climbing Denali “alpine” style. Considering my “vast” experience at age 19, he politely told me I was an idiot for even considering such a thing. He was right of course, but still…
Thirty-ish years later, in 2009, events in my life and my climbing career coincided to present an opportunity to make a dream come true and attempt a climb on the Great One. Everything went according to plan and we moved up to high camp without any problems. In spite of possibly the best weather window in the entire history of mountaineering, personnel problems prevented a summit attempt. While it was a disappointment having to turn back with the summit within reach, I was content with the knowledge that I could have reached the top. I was content having been able to spend several weeks in one of the most stunning alpine environments on earth.
I may have been content, but Dan wasn’t. Almost immediately, I suspect, he began plotting our return. When Dan suggested another attempt in 2015, I initially wasn’t interested. I knew I could have reached the summit on the previous trip and didn’t feel the need to prove anything to myself. The weather this time around was almost certain to be horrible. There were issues of time and money. Dan being Dan, he wouldn’t take no for an answer and enlisted the aid of our mutual friend Steve to help wear me down. Peer pressure can be brutal and I finally said yes. Spring of 2015 became a frenzy of training, choosing and sorting both gear and food, and attending to countless other details. Eventually we found ourselves, once again, in Talkeetna.
Getting to the camp at 14,000 is a major accomplishment. It means you’ve avoided the crevasses on the Kahiltna glacier, not been blown off the mountain at Windy Corner, and ascended 7,000 feet – just over half way to the summit. It is also where the climbing starts to get serious. It is 2,000 feet up a headwall to the West Buttress Ridge, which climbs another 1,000 feet to the high camp at 17,000′. In 2009 we watched as two climbers from Minnesota took a fatal fall down a couloir above camp. In 2015 we watched a helicopter airlift the body of another climber from the high camp. These are constant reminders that this is a serious mountain, and one can never take safety for granted.
We spent a rest day at high camp eating, hydrating, prepping gear, chatting with other climbers and enjoying the atmosphere. The weather cooperated, so on day nine of our climb we set out for the summit.
Summit day was amazing. Until we were actually traversing across to the summit ridge though, I didn’t allow myself to believe it was actually going to happen. There are so many things that have to go right, and so many things that can go wrong. The weather cooperated. We had a good plan and a strong team. Dan was the same upbeat, reliable climbing partner he has been for the past 30 years. Prior to Denali, Steve had only climbed Rainier and Mt Baker. He overcame his initial hesitance and developed into a strong, confident climber.
Even with everything going right, it was still a challenge. Dan ended up getting frostbite on his face, and was a bit hypothermic coming off the summit. Then when we thought we were going to get a rest day at high camp, we got word of a storm blowing in. We didn’t have enough food or fuel to wait out a big Denali storm, so we had to pack up and head down only hours after returning to camp. Then back down at 11,000′ camp, the storm finally caught us and kept us tent bound for four days before we could descend. We all reminded ourselves that we were there by choice and it was all part of the experience.
It is hard to believe that all this took place 3 1/2 years ago. In the years since, there have been other adventures and other mountains. And God willing, there will be many more adventures in the years to come. I’m quite certain though, that nothing will come close to matching our time spent on “The Great One.”
Great write up and photos – thanks for sharing. Unless you’ve personally tackled Denali it is hard to understand the training and preparation plus physical and mental fortitude it takes to get up the beast. I remember a coworker telling me, “Ya, I wouldn’t waste my time trying to climb Denali, I’ve heard it is nothing more than a really long hike …” I still have the photos but never bring it up in conversations – not easy to put into words …
Right? Exactly! I know you both climb for the experience (or the photos) not to try and impress anyone. But that kind of dismissive attitude is frustrating. I read some ego-head bag on the West Buttress by calling it the “handicap ramp.” Whatever. I love Teddy Roosevelt’s “Man in the Arena” speech. “It is not the critic who counts…not the man who points out…where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the (one) who is actually in the arena…who at the best knows in the end the triumph of the high achievement, and who at worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place is never with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.”