Journey to Camp 1: Hauling Sleds on the Lower Kahiltna

Traveling in God's country and loving every minute of it.

Journal Entry No. 3

Location: Camp 1 at 7800' elevation, the base of “Ski Hill”. We single-hauled gear in packs and sleds to the first camp, crossed the extreme lower glacier without crevasse trouble, and set up camp before sunrise. Thankfully the glacier froze two nights in a row and we never punched through with our skis on. I was extremely relieved when I realized that climbing Denali was a “doable” thing, and I wouldn't get stuck in Base Camp.

Dad on the morning of our move. Glad to be traveling safely.

When we transitioned from skiing to skinning, we stopped at a not-so-smart location next to a Japanese team that didn't really seem like they knew what they were doing. When Dad stepped off his skies, I remember him looking back at a me with a weird look in his eyes saying something like, “We're right on top of a crevasse!” Apparently his foot punched a little deeper into the snow bridge than he was prepared for. Breakfast was fantastic but we're once again reminded that the sun is pretty brutal.

It's a big load between the pack and the sled...

June 18—We traveled today! The alarm went off in my head (well, my watch was in my hat after all...) at midnight. We checked the snow conditions and they looked stiff and favorable. We slept for another hour though and then dressed, broke camp, and skated down “heart break hill,” none too gracefully. I had both brakes on my sled so I was skating downhill and still only making progress with the pull from Dad's rope. Then it was a glorious skin/tour to Camp 1, passing a team and a guided group along the way. After camp was set-up we whipped up some gourmet hash browns and eggs for a late breakfast and commenced napping/resting in the shade of the tent. Dad beat me in our first ever scored game of Cassino :( Score: Dad-21, Colter-12

We are scheming of how to do a double carry to Camp 2 but in the same morning. We'll see if the weather holds out. Here's praying.

Gotta love those Bekos! Dad and I are hanging out in the shade of our cook tent.

Later...

Ps. 147:10-11 “He does not delight in the strength of horses; He takes no pleasure in the legs of a man. The Lord takes pleasure in those who fear him, in those who hope in His mercy.”

Ps. 144:1 “Blessed be the Lord my Rock who trains my hands for war, and my fingers for battle.”

How does one reconcile two verses like these? God gives strength for battle but doesn't take pleasure in that strength?

I took a small 'New Testament and Psalms' Bible with me on the trip and had a chance to read a bit that day. I still can't figure out the two opposing trains of thought in the 147^th and 144^th chapters of Psalms. All I know is that I felt like I leaned on God a lot during our expedition, even being in a situation where I was trying prove myself worthy of climbing big mountains. He gave me strength for my “battle” against the elements and helped Dad and I on our journey, but imparted little nuggets of wisdom along the way that gently reminds me summitting mountains is nothing when compared with a life with God. There are very few things in life that I love more than climbing, but God takes greater pleasure when I use the joy and energy mountains give me to fill those around me with love and happiness.

What a glorious morning on the Kahiltna!

During our camp at the Base of Ski Hill we witnessed a huge avalanche across the valley caused by a serac fall. It was pretty impressive and we felt a gust of wind from it from a mile or two away. We stayed in the shade of our tents during the heat of the day, napping, eating, and drinking to pass the time. There was a lot of down time on Denali, balanced with some pretty hard pushes: it was an interesting mix. At this point with two nights on the glacier under our belts, we've got a pretty good snow camping system going. It's still pretty early in our three week stint on the 'High One' and we continue to get more comfortable with the gear, packing and unpacking, melting snow and cooking big meals.

Today, just about the time when the shade hit us (remember there isn't really any darkness, only a large period of time when you aren't getting direct sunlight and thus feels like a night), we saw our friend 'Hans' madly double-poling back down the glacier to his tent at Base Camp. Hans was a Swiss ski guide that we met in Base Camp and had several funny conversations with. He talked about the Kahiltna like it didn't have any glaciers: “If you want to see glaciers, go to the Alps,” he said in a very thick German accent. This guy was a beast: he had legs like a horse and skied like a mad man. The morning that we left Base Camp, he blew by us going down Heart Break Hill, transitioned to skinning and flew up the glacier. We never saw him until that night skiing back through Camp 1. I have no idea how far he went, possibly to Basin Camp at 14,000 feet in an attempt to acclimatize. We were amazed to say the least. 

Home sweet home at the base of Ski Hill.

Another rope team getting into camp after us. We saw a lot of other people on our trip, seeing as how it is the most popular route on the highest peak in North America.

A food preparation photo: cream cheese crackers for an appetizer, freshly chopped garlic, and dry hash browns ready to be fried up.

An avalanche a hop, skip, and a jump away from our camp. Pretty humbling.

Nap time!

Difficulty Leaving Base Camp

Journal Entry No. 2

Location: Base Camp

I am writing the day after flew in. We didn't leave Base Camp earlier that morning and you'll hear about why in the entry.

Scrambling to get sunscreen on, and wowed by the scenery.

June 17--Our adventure continues here at Kahiltna Base Camp as our hopes, dreams, and fears all mix together, churned like clothes in a washing machine.

We arrived yesterday around 12:30-1pm and setup camp for the day. After checking in, pitching our two tents, melting snow for drinking water, and eating some bean and rice burritos with guacamole (yum!), we set ourselves to the task of rigging our sleds and packing some of our gear. This took much longer than I expected and we didn't stop to crawl into our sleeping bags for a nap until close to 11 pm. As we were closing our eyes, one team was packing to leave.

We got up at 2:30 and pounded some granola with mild (and nuts and raisins for me). Coffee would have been nice but it was nicer not to have to think about heating water. By a quarter to 5 we were entirely packed up and ready to leave when Dad said he didn't think he could do it. He was struggling with anxiety over the stories we had been hearing about travel on the lower glacier, especially since we were a party of only two.

View of the Moonlight Buttress with several climbers chatting in front of the Park Rangers' tent.

I can't quite express the struggle within myself over my love for my Dad and frustration at not being able to travel to the next camp. I feel as though the snow was re-frozen well enough and we should take advantage of the good weather. After waffling for probably half an hour as two large guided teams packed and left we made the decision to stay, “resting” one more day, making sure our system was bomber, and leaving a little before midnight tonight. We setup the Allak tent again and slept for another couple of hours until being driven outside by heat and the need to relieve ourselves.

Lunch, then, was a solid batch of potato soup with reindeer sausage. We did some busy--work thinking about getting the sleds ready for whenever we decide to travel, and now we've laid around the tent for a long time. (We did try to learn how to play Casino, but we'll have to work through the rules small chunks at a time.)

To say that I was frustrated to not be moving camp would be an understatement. I don't think I handled the situation very well and struggled to maintain composure while sorting out the decision with Dad. He has said something to the effect of "Colter was freaking out, that I was freaking out." To be handed a "bomb" like that was totally unexpected. In the future, I need to remember sooner that group decisions are made while mountaineering based on the comfort level of any one of the team; an individual decision becomes the group decision in a hurry, and is usually the best choice. I forgave my Dad for the choice to stay put relatively quickly, and totally forgot about it when we were able to travel the following day. I hope that my attitude and body language reflected that. 

Our camp in the little tent 'town' they call Base Camp. Notice our guard-Poutingos.  

I've been asked several times recently (by strangers, mind you) about Why I decided to climb Denali. This will most likely be a subject revisited several times in the course of this journal. For now, I've come to the conclusion that I see Denali as a test of myself as a mountaineer. Sure, it would be a climbing resume builder and I wouldn't mind being able to tell people that I've climbed the highest point in North America. However it is more accurate, as well as “admirable,” to say I'm using the mountain as a training-testing ground. Perhaps that's why I like all outdoor sports: there is a certain amount of preparation that goes into it beforehand and the actual event tells you how well you prepared. (Cool metaphor of life maybe: every event and every adventure is a preparation for the next.)

Now I'm in the best shape of my life for mountaineering and I want to see if it's good enough to summit Denali. And, unfortunately I might not get to find out, since the weather isn't really cooperating. Mentally it would be okay to accept being prevented from the summit by storms, but it's a struggle to contemplate not making it off the South East Fork of the Kahiltna! I need to eat some humble pie...

Not exactly 'Humble Pie': enjoying a good breakfast on the East Fork of the Kahiltna Glacier. To keep things in perspective: the views alone of the surrounding rock, ice, and peaks made the trip worth it. And at this point things are only going to get better!

*Note to self: I want to make sure and look up the Father/Son climbing team that put up a new route in the area as well as the Japanese pair that came in today. Rubbing elbows with famous climbers? More like breathing the same air...

I looked up some information from this past year's climbing season. I couldn't really pick out an oriental team that would have come back to Base Camp around the time we did, but I'm pretty sure that the Schmidt's were the father/son team that I overheard talking to the Ranger in Talkeetna and subsequently mentioned in my journal. It's pretty inspiring for an up-and-coming father/son climbing team like Team Poutine... The text below is taken from a summary of new routes done in the Alaska Range during the 2011 climbing season on Teton.Outerlocal.com--

Windy Corner/West Rim Wall, major new spur climbed

Marty and Denali Schmidt

June, 2011

Climbs the prominent buttress immediately to the left of the West Rim route (Morrow, Ehmann, 1977) and joins the West Buttress route on the glacier just above Windy Corner. Team descended to Basecamp at that point. The Schmidts- father and son- also summitted Denali by the west buttress, and Mount Foraker by the Sultana Ridge, and were the only team to reach the summit of Mount Foraker this season.

Difficulty: WI5, 5.10, A2

Source: basecamp ranger conversation with Schmidt

Denali Journal: The Beginning of the Journey

Chillin' in front of the Beaver, our ride onto Denali.

 My goal in this is to share the story of Team Poutine's Climbing Expedition to climb Denali in the summer of 2011. I am using what I wrote in my journal as a frame-work upon which to build other thoughts and commentary. These entries will be posted on my blog with pictures to help illustrate the tale. I hope to use what I write here to prepare a book to share with friends and family and potentially write a “script” or “screen play” that I can compile our video footage and pictures from the climb into a homemade movie. I've got big dreams, but I guess it takes work to be a Renaissance Man.

Although I have been unable to help myself in editing some of the words in the journal, my attempt has been to type everything as I wrote it in my journal along the trip. I don't want to leave anything out as the journal really chronicles what I was going through mentally and emotionally through the climb.

The regular text comes directly from the journal, while italics indicates commentary that I have added while putting this together, several months removed from the expedition.

____________________________________________________________________

Our carry-on luggage in the GPI airport. We got surprisingly more comments about getting on a plane in June with our ski boots than about our Poutingos...

Journal Entry No. 1

Location: Talkeetna Air Taxi “alternate” bunkhouse (they have a bunkhouse with a shower and a kitchen more in the town of Talkeetna, but we chose to stay closer to the airport where we wouldn't have to put up with climbers just coming off the mountain potentially celebrating into the night)

Organizing our gear in the Corwins' living room. They were very considerate to let us invade their home with our 'tons' of expedition gear.

June 15--We flew out of Kalispell yesterday afternoon following a frantic packing session/cleaning-the-house attempt/gear decision/friend-phone-calling morning. This in itself was riding on the tails of an all day gear-fest, prep day on Monday. I was raterh weary of making decisions about what shirt to bring, whether, or not to take an extra gadget or how in the world we were going to pack everything for the plane to Anchorage, then the drive to Talkeetna, the flight to the glacier, and finally our travels up the mountain.

Good friends and good food at the Moose's Tooth.

Regardless of all that we had a great trip up to Alaska, complete with a complimentary beer from the airline and the smiling faces of Ben and Katie Corwin greeting us at the Fred Stevens airport. The four of us , along with over 200 pounds of gear in four giant bags, crammed into the Corwins' jeep and set off for their apartment located in the “Baroness.” It was so much fun to see their humble abode! I hadn't seen either of them in a bout a year and a half. Both of them are awesome people, great friends, and fierce lovers of God. It is always inspiring to be around them. After dropping off the gear we cruised over to the Moose's Tooth restaurant for some local pizza and brews, both of which were fantastic.

Chatting with Matt, our shuttle driver to Talkeetna. Dad is going through a food bag with him. What you see is a five-day pile of grub, and a whole lot of grub it is as we find out later. 

I have a side note in my journal about how much I've flown this spring. This might be an understatement as I probably was in a flying contraption more this spring than I have been the last five years of my life. We rode in a helicopter to Fairy Meadows, I flew to Dallas for a wedding, flew to Denver for another, to Alaska on a jet, and then on and off the Kahiltna glacier in turboprops.

Last night I couldn't sleep. Not because of the futon I was sleeping on, or the close quarters to my dad, but because I was anxious about the upcoming trip onto Denali.

This was also my first experience with 24 hours of daylight. We were able to close the shades enough that it wasn't a problem to sleep but it was still startling when we came out of the restaurant around 10 in what seemed to me to be full daylight. We were even more amazed by this “Northern Phenomenon” while on the mountain, but more about that later.

Organizing gear at the airstrip in Talkeetna. We had to package everything in bags less than 80 pounds. I think this is the third time we've re-packed our stuff in the last two days!

The past couple of weeks have been a crazy roller coaster of emotions. You worry and fret over one aspect of the climb, get it settled in your mind, and then your confidence grows again...until you start worrying about another facet of the adventure. Crevasses? Yes. Altitude? You bet. Steep ice? Death on the Mountain? Small pack? Warm clothes with -30 degree weather? Everything.

Today was no different. Talking with Ben, to a drive with pseudo-guide and food delivery guy Matt to Talkeetna, to the Ranger briefing, to conversations with climbers fresh off the mountain has left my heart and mind dazed and confused.

It sounds like the lower glacier doesn't have very good conditions. Many climbers are falling in crevasses. I was braced and ready to be denied the summit by inclement weater up high but was not prepared to think about being turned away by the first segment. Still, I don't want to die. I don't want to fall in a crevasse. And I want to be able to climb for years to come.

Dad doing his best "Vanna White" showing off the pile that will fly with us onto the glacier.

We will make our decision when we get there, hoping and praying for cold weather and frozen snow. Right now I look forward to a good night's sleep and a beautiful flight in the morning.

I got a good night's sleep in the TAT bunkhouse, but we didn't fly out to the glacier until mid-morning. The weather didn't cooperate early for flying so we sat in stand-by mode for several hours with nothing to do except play with my kendama, tape pink flamingos to our wands, and worry about crevasses. We had everything packed for the flight in so we were stuck wearing our ski boots and glacier travel clothes, not uncomfortable, but not ideal for walking around the airstrip.

Killing time with the Kendama. It was an anxious couple of hours.

Flying from Talkeetna to the airstrip at Base Camp was pretty incredible. The landscape changes from rivers to swampy tundra to barren foothills to the mountains and glaciers of the Alaskan Range. I was surprised to see so many houses below that didn't seem to have any form of road to get to them. It would be much easier to travel around during the winter I'm sure. But how do they get supplies in the summer months?

The plane was a Beaver, and the flight in was only the two of us and the pilot. 

What struck me was just how BIG everything seemed to be in the mountains of Alaska! The peaks were more rugged and the glaciers were more vast than anything I've ever encountered before. And I probably thought the same thing when we flew into Fairy Meadows in British Columbia earlier this year. Your experiences make everything relative I suppose.

Thumbs up and all smiles!

A side glacier we viewed while flying in. We didn't have to cross anything that gnarly thank goodness.

The pilot dropped us off under blue skies and a harsh sun. With all the snow around to reflect the sun's intensity, combined with the altitude, Dad and I scrambled to get covered up and put sunscreen on our faces. We then piled our stuff in the sleds we chose from the pile at the air strip and skied down into camp.

Showing the plane we just rode in on at the landing strip of Base Camp. Another crew is packing their stuff and getting ready to fly out. They looked exhausted!

Denali Teaser

For all of you that have been waiting for an update on Denali, here it is. It's not much, but at least it will push the SPOT post out of view, eh?

Dad and I got back to Anchorage on July 6th and Kalispell on the 8th. It was nice to have some time to decompress and adjust back to "normal" life. Thanks to my friends Ben and Katie for being such amazing hosts and ushering us back into civilization with good food, good convo, and loaned bikes!

In summary, we spent a total of three weeks on the Mountain, reaching a high point of 18,200 feet at Denali Pass before being turned around by the weather. I would be misleading you if I said that I'm not disappointed about not gaining the top. However, the skills gained in mountaineering and expedition camping will be invaluable and the time spent with my dad will be something that I will cherish for the rest of my life.

As a teaser, here are a couple photos:

Snow Cave Camping

It's been about two months now, but Dad and I took an overnight snow-camping expedition into the Middle Fork as a training excursion for Denali. Our goal at first was to do a traverse of of the Great Bear Wilderness, summitting 4 peaks in the process. However, it took us longer to get to the first pass than we thought and the travel of the ridge was excruciatingly slow. So we bailed on the traverse, went and dug a snow cave, made some dinner, and slept soundly. The next morning we had at least 2 inches of new snow on our camp and visibility was very poor. We went up on the side of Mt. Penrose as high as we felt comfortable with the wind slab potential and skied back to camp. Then we stumbled back down the valley, barely able to see in off-white, ping-pong ball conditions. Down lower the fresh snow was super unstable and we fled back to the trees avoiding sliding snow as much as possible.

Trip in review: no traverse, horrible skiing conditions, but a fantastic overnight trip to prepare for our Alaska expedition.

Dad on the gnarly ridge heading toward Nyack Mountain.
The cornices were bad enough that travel was too slow to continue
our intended traverse.

Snuggled up in a puffy waiting hot water for dinner.

Digging the snow cave.

Home away from home for the night. It was a lot warmer and less wet
than I had always pictured snow caves. Just one of those things: you
never know unless you try something.  

Toasting good times, warm clothes, and hot co!

Trying to ski on the inside of ping-pong ball...even the trees were
difficult and after the trees you can see there was nothing to break
up the terrain. 

In Need of More Silence

A couple of weeks ago, I hauled a sled with camping gear into the Jewel Basin for a little over night ski trip. The weather was supposed to be good, I had a weekend free, the snow was supposed to be great, and I needed to train for Denali. I was by myself because I had difficulty convincing anyone else to go in with me. The snow was great, so it must have been another reason...I swear I shower and use deodorant! I had a great weekend running around and skiing in the mountains by myself. After hauling in the sled 6 1/2 miles up the road to Camp Misery, the parking lot/trailhead of the Jewel, I set up a camp and prepared some delicious tuna-mac for dinner. I was all wrapped up and ready for some shut-eye when I realized the full moon was rising. So I had my own little "Moonlight Dine and Ski." I took a lap up to the ridge above my tent and skied amazing snow, face-shots included, via light from the moon. The next day I toured around the area, skiing cool north-facing shots before breaking camp and wrangling my sled back to my pickup. Here's a little taste of the trip in video form:


Winter Camping in the Jewel Basin from Colter Lane on Vimeo.

I find that I definitely enjoy skiing, climbing, hiking, biking, and any other number of things much more when I'm with other people. You can feed off each other's enjoyment, laugh at each other's mistakes, share in the glory of the scenery and amazing-ness of the the experience, and share in the decision making. Even pictures are better with other people in them. However, I do enjoy getting out by myself. I can go my own pace, do what I want to do, and not have to worry about anyone else. One other nice thing is that it's quiet. At one point on the Saturday I was in the Jewel it was snowing and if I stopped all I could hear, or more appropriately "sense," was the falling snow around me. There are very few times in my life where I feel as though I have been in a quieter place. Absolutely no distractions from other people, technology, machinery, media, etc. It was as if my world was on pause and I was getting to experience a single moment in time repeated indefinitely. The snow was beautiful in its silence; I was enthralled.

Reflecting on that time in the woods, I have to wonder how many occasions do we have to really experience quiet? We have so many media influences bombarding us every day. I've seen people of all ages who seem to be addicted to music, needing to be "plugged-in" to their mp3 players. While substitute teaching recently, the class was watching 180 Degrees South. In it the filmmaker takes off on a journey to reach Patagonia, following in the footsteps of Yvon Chouinard and Doug Tompkins. The class was being taught about media influence in their lives; being asked if they could go 6 months without video games or music players. But there were kids in the class that we (me and a co-teacher) couldn't even get to un-plug and watch the movie!

Through all of this we miss out on two things: 1) Interaction with the people around us, and 2) Time for reflection on what's going on in our lives, both of which I feel are extremely important. My challenge for anyone who reads this is to become aware of how much media influences your life, how much you willingly expose yourself to the bombardment of technology and information. I won't encourage you to give it up completely: I think that would be rash and selfish in its own way (if I threw away my cell phone, it limits the ability of others to contact/coordinate with me). Find ways though, to take breaks and seek to engage actual human beings more and give your life some reflection.