No. 5 Denali: Two Miles above Sea Level

All smiles while traveling in a mini-blizzard from Camp 2
at 9500 feet. Those goggles are pretty photogenic, no?

Journal Entry No. 5

Location: 11,000 foot Camp, laying in the tent after a big haul from 9500 feet. We went to bed at 9500 feet with high hopes for the next day and awoke in a blizzard. But our RMI friends were moving so we felt like it was okay to move too: the weather was snowy and visibility poor but it wasn't too cold to risk frostbite or worse.

June 20th—Storm Day...kind of.

We're laying in the tent right now trying to take a nap after a big morning, but I can't sleep, so I'm reflecting. I guess I'm also sitting, not laying, in my Thermarest chair. Awesome investment by the way...

Another big day today. It snowed last night and we woke up to an obliterated trail, about two inches of fresh snow, and poor visibility. Since there wasn't going to be as much of a problem with being too hot, we slept in after seeing the conditions. I think we got up sometime around 5, broke camp, and headed out to our cache from yesterday. We dug it up without problem (pink is a very good color for wands), and continued along behind a large guided group that passed us while we were repacking our sleds.

It was really difficult to see the way to go, especially when we came to a section of trail with no wands. (Even our friend/guide Mike got lost initially until he checked his GPS). Comically we were in the process of passing a different guided group and came to the lead person right as the wands ran out. Dad was following the contour of the slope and veered right in a small radial curve and ended up going about 90 degrees off course. It was made even more dramatic since the lead guide started tending left to avoid a steeper section of trail. Then Dad wanted to follow them and I got really frustrated with the pace and didn't handle it very well. Dad graciously put up with me. He needs to carry the GPS the next time we travel in a whiteout though.

I couldn't help but laugh out loud: I'm standing there while Dad is making a dramatic turn to the right and had no idea! We got back on track and waited for the guided rope teams to pass us and then followed them. As I mentioned above, they were moving very slowly, at a pace that felt uncomfortable for me. I tried to motion to Dad that they were slow and we could move faster, but my I think all my limited sign language was able to express was some impatience. Note to self: sign language, unless agreed upon before the climb has now place in mountaineering. Bad communication and hurt feelings are a very real threat to any expedition.

Did I mention we ate well on the trip? A pancake frying
in my frybake pan. Yum!

Camp at 11,000 feet didn't come without a fight: the last hill into camp proper was a beast of a climb. Tired and hungry we built camp. By the time we melted snow and cooked “breakfast for lunch” around 1:30, morale was at a low. But what could turn it around but pepper-jack cheesed bacon and granola, walnut pancakes, and syrup. My new frybake is awesome!

Dad showing off a pretty amazing looking pancake. Much
needed nourishment after a long hard day up to camp.

When pulled into camp and began to set up, another guided group came through with Vern Tejas in the lead. Vern is crazy: a mountaineering machine, having climbed all of the Seven Summits multiple times, and has claim to the first winter solo ascent of Denali. He also comes into 11k foot camp singing a made up song at the top of his lungs. Let's think about this, I'm having trouble breathing because of the elevation and he is singing. Again, crazy

After our afternoon nap, we're going to have pasta with butter fried, smoked salmon...and pudding for dessert. We're going to have to work on camp a little too for a little evening calisthenics.

Camp at 11k feet looking at the route up Motorcycle
Hill. The weather is still fairly foggy/socked in.

Climbing roped on glacier is an interesting mix of individual and team effort. You choose to travel with partners so as to be safer in the case of a crevasse fall. But being roped 20 meters apart essentially means you are climbing by yourself with no one around to talk to. It's probably good on an expedition like this though: confined to the same tent as someone for several weeks can be trying for an introvert like me. Alone time while climbing and writing are very restful periods. On the other hand, my dad is the best partner I could ask for on this trip. There is no pressure to perform or make hasty decisions. We are also very good friends which allows conversation to go anywhere.

I still can't get over how amazing it was skiing on the glacier yesterday!

I have a note on the border of the page that says, 

"Right now, I have no doubt in my mind that we will make the summit of Denali.”

At this point in our journey, Dad and I have both gone through numerous highs and lows with regards to the success of our expedition. Our recent success of traveling through various weather and snow conditions, bolstered by our new found RMI friends, is allowing us to feel positive again, as though we might be able to pull this thing off. 

View from camp at 11,000 feet. We had some really
beautiful days up there.