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. 

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!

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:

Denali Update

So it's now more like 99% for sure that we will be heading to Alaska this coming June and romping around on the highest mountain in North America. We bought our plane ticket to Anchorage, planning to leave on June 14th and returning to Kalispell on July 8th. 

Loading a pack with water and metal weights to get to 50 pounds. 

With that kind of commitment, Dad and I are full-bore with training and preparation for the expedition. We've started walking around the neighborhood and at a local state park with heavy packs on our backs to prep for heavy loads on the mountain. This is in addition to continuing our strength and cardio training. I've been told by several friends that I will be more than prepared for the climb. That makes me feel good about my fitness. However, I want to get to the mountain and feel not only like I can climb the peak in the most efficient manner possible, but feel good enough that I could summit it twice and ski from the top. This keeps me going when I sweating it out in the gym or out on the trail.

Practicing in the basement setting up a z-drag system. I'm shown here
pulling that heavy pack across the floor. 

Since we'll be spending about 3 weeks on a rather large glacier we are practicing our crevasse rescue and glacier travel skills. Our plan is to pull sleds with 60% of our weight and then carry packs with the other 40%. Pulling sleds offer some more logistics and an element of risk if you were to fall into a crevasse, but we're willing to take the slight risk so as to not be carrying 100+ pounds on our backs while on skis. In the case of a crevasse fall and our partner being unable to ascend out of the ice, we plan on setting up a Z-Drag system (3 to 1 pulley system) with a 2 to 1 piggy-back giving us a mechanical advantage of 6 to 1. I haven't spent enough time in the weight room if I can't pull my skinny-winny Dad out of an ice-hole with that kind of added pulling power!

A diagram of the rescue haul system that we plan on using. I can't figure out how to crop it, so it's an awkwardly large image. I hope to fix this in the future. 

With all of that we are still kind of figuring this whole climbing-Denali thing out. There is still a lot to accomplish in a month before we leave with regards to gear purchasing and set-up. But that's part of the fun.

On the back porch, enjoying the intermittent sunshine, and planning some of
the many details of the trip.