Denali's Cassin Ridge - Classic Climb #45

Janelle takes a break at the Matt's second bivy, 17K'

Denali’s Cassin Ridge is a true American classic. I have been intrigued by this 8000’ (2440m) ridge since hearing about it in 2004. It carves a direct line, up technical terrain, to the summit of North America’s tallest peak…what’s not to love! My wife of 8.5 years and I were back in Alaska for our third attempt.

Attempt #1 June 2012: First, we climbed the Harvard Route on Mt Huntington, and then bumped directly over to Denali. After skiing from the summit (20,320’) via the West Buttress route, and spending a total of 26 days on the glacier we were fried from continuous bad weather and inaccurate forecasts.

Mark wearing his "grumpy pants" after concluding we could not climb the Cassin for the second time.

Attempt #2 July 2013. First, we were successful on the Mooses Tooth’s West Ridge. Then, straight down to Juneau for Mt. Fairweather, a hard-earned success that took 17 days. Then back to the Cassin. We returned to the 14,000' camp, waited, acclimatized, and waited some more. After 10 days of heavy lifting and skiing around we were poised to go. Upon arriving to the access couloir we discovered the route had melted out from record high temps that season. Rocks showered down the access couloir even during the coldest part of the day. Not willing to jump into this firing range, we bailed again, with tails between our legs. Another $4000 blown on flights and permits. The score was Denali 2, Smileys 0.

High camp on the Mt Logan. photo Jed Porter

Last year we directed all finances and time to Mt Logan…and failed. Following that sucky and scary effort, Janelle underwent two hip surgeries, in July and Sept respectively. She had been dealing with ever increasing hip pain over the last two years. The MRI revealed tore labrums in both hips due to overuse. This was the heavy price of competing at the World Cup level in ski mountaineering.  Thankfully, a full recovery was predicted, yet it would take 10 months to achieve. July 2014, Janelle walked into the hospital and came out in a wheelchair. 10 months of PT, icing, constant passive motion machine, tears and frustration, truckloads of support from friends and family, and 10 gallons worth of Colorado Bulldogs brought us to May. A decision had to be made; do we put the hips to the ultimate test by trying the Cassin a third time?

Despite the PT’s conservative recommendation, Janelle was game. She trained like a crazy person for the next 8 weeks.

Alpenglow on Mt Foraker at 3:30AM

Choosing the best strategy to get to the base of the Cassin Ridge is a tough decision. Each option requires time, motivation, and exposure to significant hazards. If you choose to acclimatize on Denali, 99% of climbers (48.6% of all stats are made up on the spot) make the five-day trek up to the 14,000’ camp, hang out for a week, and maybe go to the summit via the W. Buttress. To get to the base of the Cassin from the 14,000’ camp you must climb up to 16,000’ on the West Rib route, and descend to around 11,500’. Daunting? Yes. This style takes around 10-14 days to complete, assuming you are very strong, stoked, and blessed with great weather. 

On our past attempts we tried that style. We hate it. Getting everything to the 14,000’ camp is a huge effort. From there, it takes significant mental fortitude to ignore the bad weather, the wildly inaccurate weather forecasts, the scared naysayer climbers, and stay stoked for the big objective. Often, eager Cassin suitors do not even step foot on the route.

Nothing like a sit start to squeeze out every drop from this route. Photo: Janelle Smiley

It plays out like this. You go to the summit via the West Buttress and return to the 14,000’ camp. Stoke for the Cassin is quickly lost as the forecast “doesn’t look that great.” The smell coming from your nether region is reminiscent of a week old tuna sandwich, left in a hockey bag, that’s been marinated in baby vomit. The call-of-the-shower, French fries, and flush toilets grows louder and louder. Once a group of summitters (noun: person who has stood on a mountain’s highest point) come down and start talking about ice cream, garden salads and adult beverage consumption…you can kiss motivation goodbye.

This style also requires many many days of high pressure. Good weather to get to 14,000’, good weather to acclimatize, good weather to climb the Cassin, good weather to descend, and finally good weather to fly off. That’s a pretty tall order in the Alaska Range.

Mark pulls through the short but steep crux in the Japanese Couloir. Photo: Janelle Smiley

We were tried of failing, and tired of trying to stay mentally tough at the 14,000’-blackhole-vortex-of-climbing-stoke. This year we changed our strategy. We would acclimatize off Denali. So I went down to Ecuador to guide a Cotopaxi trip, and Janelle went to Colorado and climbed/skied 14ers for eight-days prior to flying up to Alaska. I flew straight from Quito and Janelle from Denver. This was just enough time at altitude to make us feel “juiced up”, and confident to go straight in.

Friday, June 12, The best air service for climbers in the range, Talkeetna Air Taxi, landed us on a very hot Kahiltna Glacier. Reports from the mountain claimed over a meter of fresh snow in the last two days. Walking through the “Valley of Death” after that much snowfall was extra unnerving with increased avalanche danger. We decided to burn a day before going up the V.o.D. Allowing the avy danger to chill out. [When discussing the route around loved ones, I recommend saying, “V.o.D.” opposed to Valley of Death. Additionally, only 4 people have been killed in this Valley. Compared to the estimated 20+ that have slipped to their death on the Autobahn, on the West Buttress Route].

Mark Smiley & Matt Tuttle nearing the top of the Japanese Couloir. Photo: Matt Parker

Less than three hours of sled hauling, with rando race skis, brought us to our advanced basecamp at the base of Ski Hill. Some call this the 7,800’ camp, my gps told me 7,600’. At this camp 99% of climbers advance left up Ski Hill, but we would take a fairly hard right into the NE Fork of the Kahiltna (V.o.D.). Rolling into camp we noticed a very welcome trail already kicked in the V.o.D. by a guided group climbing the West Rib. This gift would save hours of trail breaking. Things were looking good.

Saturday, we slept in, sorted gear, made pancakes, and tried to keep cool while our nerves tried to psych us out with negative “what ifs”.

Sunday morning at 3AM we were walking up the V.oD. Rich pink and purple alpenglow blanketed tops of the surrounding mountains. The winds were light as we hiked quickly up this mega terrain trap. Janelle’s pack weighed 36lbs and mine weighed 41 (with crampons and tools, not including our 50m 7.8 Sterling Photon rope), which allowed for swift travel. Over the next five hours, on an established trail, we gained 4,400’ over 5 miles. Passing by the start of the West Rib route, one of my legs punched through a completely inconspicuous crevasse. The hidden trapdoor opened, and I fell flat on my face and hands without warning. Janelle instinctively pulled the rope tight as I wallowed backward to the safe side. This wake-up call reminded me that Alaska is the real deal, much like the honey badger. These mountains don’t blink an eye when they kill you, try to kill you, or let you pass by unscathed.

Reaching the top of the couloir, we touch the Cassin Ridge proper for the first time.

Cresting the final roll to the bergschrund, our jaws dropped when we saw three 2-man tents pitched side by side. Were we about to get behind a Korean-style assault of the route? Thankfully not, just six other climbers queued up and eager to send during this great weather window. Two of the six people were women gunning for the very difficult Denali Diamond route. [side note: Last I heard, they had sent the crux and were on their way to the summit, a first female ascent. Congrats!]. Two guys were still in their tent, and the remaining two guys, Matt Park and Matt Tuttle (aka the Matts), were eagerly packing up. The main problem with multiparty ice climbing is that the highest party inevitably sends down ice chunks on the parties below. With six eager people do we draw straws? Who would go first? We used a mixture of down home politeness, forward momentum, and Euro aggression and took the lead, telling the Matts to pass us ASAP.

The entrance of the route is the 1000’ Japanese couloir. For most parties this is simul-climbing terrain, and is dispatched quickly. We climbed three 50 meter pitches together, placing one screw per pitch, and regrouped at the base of the first crux. I hadn’t been ice climbing much last winter, so I moved deliberately, making sure to keep “the pump” at bay while working through the two 80° sections. Ice tools have a tendency to push the climber back, making this 80° slope feel like 90°. With only 5 screws total, I had to use them sparingly. My pack felt extra heavy as I pulled through the near vertical sections.

Snow the Cowboy Arete can be light and fluffy or bulletproof.

For the past hour we had been showering the Matt’s with ice. I wanted them to be able to pull through this crux sans-icefall-from-us, so we chopped a tiny ledge and chilled out. From there to the top of the Japanese Couloir it was more “hero alpine ice” simul-climbing. Near the top, Janelle’s elbow got beaned by a chuck of ice, causing her fingers to temporarily go numb. No bueno. I thought about yelling down the movie quote, “if you can dodge a wrench, you can dodge the ice”, but I held my tongue. Good thing she’s tough like nails. No tears, just good ol’ fashion suck-it-up and keep going.

Simul-climbing along the Cowboy Arete. Photo: Matt Parker

Once on the ridge proper in the warm sun, we brewed up for some time…for three hours to be exact. This gave time for Matt’s to brew up and pass so they could get to 17,000’, their goal for the day. This siesta also allowed for needed acclimatization and hydrating. Normally on big alpine climbs this type of chill session is borderline sacrilege. But the forecast was perfect, and we knew our acclimatization strategy was on the aggressive side of the spectrum. The slower pace was just fine. Besides, we had five fat days of food and seven days of fuel, and eight pounds of camera gear, so we were grossly over-equipped to break any Colin Haley speed records.

Next up was the first rock crux. Janelle’s lead. I suggested, in vein, that she ditch her pack and we could haul it. She was determined to climb this pitch in style, and she did just that. I was super stoked for her. The upgraded hips were treating her right.

Brewing up with a hang kit makes everything easier. Camp 1 at 14K'

I jumped out in front again for the entire Cowboy Arête. The Matt’s had put in the booter for this section. It is 100 times easier to follow a booter than establish one, so we were thankful for their hard work. The sun was nearing the horizon as we pulled into camp. We had gone from 7,600’ to 14,000’ in 17.5 hours. Nothing like starting off with a bang! Fearing a total meltdown after such a big effort, we ate and drank like it was our job.

Day 2 – We slept in, cause why not? There was no wind and the sky was cobalt blue. It was our turn for trail breaking, so we left just before the Matts. The glacier above was easy cruising. There are two main rock bands on the Cassin. Each required climbing up a mixture of rock, snow, and ice. All on moderate technical terrain. We made our way up to, and through the first rock band. There was a bit of route finding, but between a good Suunto altimeter watch, the supertopo, and perfect weather, we were able to pick our way through the rock band without issues.

Janelle works up through the first rock band.

Around 15,400’ we pulled over for another epic brew-up session…a two-hour siesta. I was blown away we were doing this. Hanging out, shootin’ the bull with the Matts, in the middle of another perfect climbing day. It was awesome. The Matt’s took back  trail breaking duties, we drafted. Getting into the second rock band was the route finding crux. After putting our four heads together we choose correctly and climbed, in my opinion, the best pitch of the route. Because we carried a 50-meter rope, we had to use the entire thing, plus another 20 meters of simul-climbing to make the pitches go faster. Our light rack dictated long run-outs, but the climbing was moderate, with several big footholds to keep our weight over our feet whenever necessary. I had to pinch myself. We were in the middle of a true American classic alpine route, had great weather, and my wife and I were operating like a Swiss watch. It was a great moment.

A decision had to be made near the top of the second rock band. Go right to a 5.6 slab, or left to harder mixed climbing? We followed the booter left and found engaging mixed climbing. Janelle was simul-climbing below me, requiring me to pull the hardest moves without a proper belay. It was not the smartest move, but I was feeling adventurous. At the top of this great pitch was a large rock horn, perfect for slinging, to belay Janelle through the hard parts.

Janelle pulling through the alternate mixed terrain

We chopped out our second tent platform at 16,500’. It had taken 11 hours to get through the two rock bands, including a 2+ hour brew up and an hour of waiting below the crux pitch. We were feeling good about having the technical climbing below us, but the pressing question would be answered tomorrow. Did we acclimatize “enough” in Colorado and Ecuador to reach the summit the next day?

Janelle started coughing as we crawled into our two-person sleeping bag. As we tried to warm our ice blocks by playing footsie, her cough worsened. Had we pushed this ascent too fast? HAPE can be fatal. Descending from here would be a nightmare with only one 50-meter rope and a light rack. No railing in the lungs, no pink sputum, no headache. I think she will be okay. Four ibuprofen each and we went to sleep.

Looking down the ridge from 19K'

Not wanting to push our luck with this weather window, we were climbing again by 9:00AM. The previous evening, the Matts had broken the trail to 17,000’. This section was hardest trail breaking of the route…for them. We were sooo thankful that they put booter in. We took a rest break at their camp and learned it took them 2.5 hour to break the trail. It took us an hour.  Booters make all the difference. Once again they handed us the booter baton, which we would take it to the top.

The ridge flattens into a broad face above 18,000’. We felt the thin air big time, forcing a snails pace. This was the price we had to pay for such an aggressive ascent style. Remember we had launched from 7,600’ roughly 60 hours prior!  Had we put in the time at the 14,000’ camp for over a week, like our previous attempts, we could have moved twice as fast. Spend a week of time, festering on a glacier, hoping for good weather...all to shave 3 hours of moving time between 17,500 and the summit…not worth it.

Paying the price for a speedy acclimatization schedule at 19,500'

As we neared the Kahiltna Horn, the reality of completing the route took hold. Our third attempt would be successful. I teared up a little. Cause I’m sensitive. Very in touch with my two feelings. This feeling was the happy feeling, opposed to the other feeling, yucky.

We dropped the packs at the Horn and touched the top. The wind on the summit ridge was ripping around 40mph. The exact ambient air temp + windchill = stupid cold. This was Janelle’s 2^nd time to the summit, and my 4^th, so we high-fived, got a few photos and were off three minutes later. Proving once again that technical climbing is so much more about the route than the summit. Yet the summit is great because it is so definitive. I touched this spot, now I get to go downhill.

70ish hrs after leaving 7600' we were on top!

Descending the West Buttress took forever on foot as the wind continued to rip. We made it to the 14,000’ camp that evening. Tired and totally stoked we had pulled off a huge route in such a brief total time. The following afternoon we headed for the airstrip, stopping at friends camps along the way. Eating other people’s food, pooping in other people’s CMC’s (yeah that right, we did it, and it was awesome…stealth dump and run). The next morning, 7 days after arriving on the glacier, we flew back to Talkeetna.

When the weather is good in the Alaska range, big climbs can be completed in a timely fashion. All told, combining our three attempts, we have spent 33 days of our lives waiting to climb the Cassin Ridge. Now it is done, and it was totally worth the wait.

Back to the 14,000' camp, simultaneously exhausted and thrilled.

Soul Destroying Wallowing Up Mt Huntington

Near the top of Mt Huntington

There is nothing like a big mountain in Alaska to motivate one to train hard throughout the winter. Janelle and I punched the workout clock on a regular basis the last 6 months, making sure that we arrive at Big Snowy in prime time condition. Nordic skiing, backcountry skiing, ice climbing, guiding a Peru expedition to climb 18K’ peaks, and several rando races where all on the menu.

Living in a ski town allowed for easy access to the backcountry, which was our preferred workout routine. Probably the best part about ski touring 8,000 vertical feet in one day somehow turns an entire package of Oreos into a single serving (yet another example of the human mind having the ability to rationalize anything).

We moved out of our rental in Crested Butte at the end of April, back into our van, Lulu, which is now our only home. Are you considered “homeless” if your place of residence gets 20 miles per gallon?

Wanting to be as strong as possible for Alaska, and wanting to have a little bit of summer prior to being locked in the glacier icebox, we headed first to Indian Creek. The climbing there is never ending, and no matter how many times we visit it seems as though we have barely scratched the surface.

Janelle climbing in Indian Creek, UT Super Crack area

Indian Creek was followed by two 50 Classic busts. We tried unsuccessfully to get permission to climb Shiprock, and got frozen off the Petit Grepon in Rocky Mt National Park [we are going to keep knocking on the Najavo Nation door until permission is granted]. Wanting to lick the wounds of my pride by getting to the top of something, anything, we pointed Lulu north to Washington State.

Descending Eldorado Peak, North Cascades, WA

Here we had great success with the two-week high pressure that settled in over the state in May. We completed the Forbidden Ski Tour, skied Eldorado Peak, and skied Mt. Shuksan. Come to find out that both of these ski descents are in Davenport’s book, “Fifty Classic Ski Descents”….the next project maybe?! Both descents are super worthy.

Jon Swain ripping it down the summit coulior on Mt Shuksan, WA

It was then time to make our final preparations for Alaska. Stuffing four duffle bags, each with 50 lbs worth of down products, sharp metal, and tons of camping gear, is quite a task. We did all this at Golden Gardens Park in Seattle, which borders the Pacific on a busy Saturday. I am proud to say that we made even the most seasoned Seattleite turn their head and stare, wondering what we were doing.

It’s a quick flight up to Anchorage where our good friend Bob Lohr picked us up.  This is the third year in a row he and his wife have extended their hospitality, and their Costco card, to us. With a packed SUV we headed further north to spend time with Janelle’s maid of honor, her husband, and their three kids. Any curiosity the Seattleites had for what all our equipment was for what dwarfed by the amazing curiosity of 3-year-old Jeremiah and his little sister.
“Watts dis?”
“Those are skis, for going fast on snow.”
“Watts dis?”
“That’s an ice tool….oh, lets play with something else.”
“Watts dis?”
“That’s a ski pole, its for helping keep your balance.”
“Why?”
“umm….I don’t know how to answer that question.”

The thriving metropolis of Talkeetna (population 876) was full of tourists, and we were happy to add to that number. Weather delayed the flight onto the glacier a day, so we got to hang out an extra night, which turned out to be a great way to settle the nerves after all the luggage schlepping.

The morning of May 23^rd was nice enough to fly. Amped, we changed out of our street clothes for our techy climbing clothes. The Tokositna Glacier is not nearly as popular as the Kahiltna Glacier, so we were in a plane by ourselves with none other than the owner of Talkeetna Air Taxi, Paul Roderick. He has been flying climbers in and out of the mountains for a long time and really does a great job.

On the glacier there was one one other party of two. We dragged our supplies 100 yards away from them and set up camp. The two other climbers had their sites on the West Face Couloir Route, and gave us a report that one other group had climbed the Harvard prior to their arrival, which was 10 days before now.

Mark climbing the first snow/ice section on Huntington

The following morning we woke at 7AM and were enroute around 8:30. The trail was kicked in to where the two routes diverge. Once on the fresh snow we sunk up to our knees and the progress slowed considerably. Moral was high so we put our heads down and pushed through it to the bergshrund, where we roped up and started simal-climbing. It really is amazing how quickly one can cover ground when not pitching things out. 3.5 hours of deep snow, a little ice climbing, and a lot of knee deep wallowing brought us to the base of the Spiral feature.

More simal climbing

This is the first of several mixed climbing pitches. M5 is the Supertopo rating. I don’t mix climb that much, so I was nervous. This was evident in the amount of cams I brought….many. Ditching the pack, I racked up and was off. There was a lot of snow covering the rock, which had to be removed. I hooked and pulled my way up little by little. Having a fifi hook was nice when things got cruxy. I would fifi into the highest piece, and start excavating snow and ice to get down to rock, hook my tools onto some stupid-tiny granite crystal the size of a pencil eraser, and pull up to the next placement.

Mark starting out on the Spiral section of, M5

The first anchor on the Spiral consisted of three old pitons at a hanging stance. More mixed climbing followed, which opened up into a 65-degree snow slope. The snow was fluffy, so I had to dig a vertical trench to make upward progress. This was both time consuming and exhausting. The heavy snow year covered up most of the fixed belays, so I dug for 20 minutes to expose a crack for an anchor, 195 feet above the last.

Mark aiding the Nose Pitch, C1

The next pitch was the most memorable. We took the farthest left of the three options listed on the topo. The asterisk on this option reads, “not recommended” due to hard mixed climbing on loose rock. This is where the large amount of snow was in our favor. It created an ice ramp on one side of this steep chimney, which I was able to place screws in the whole way up. With my back against one wall and four metal points biting into the ice on the other, I wormed my way up the 120ish foot pitch to a bolted anchor.

Hauling the packs on a frozen anchor

Two more snow wallowing pitches brought us to the Nose, it had been just over 13 hours since leaving basecamp. We were tired. Still more snow shoveling had to be done to make a bivy ledge. For weight savings we opted to just bring our Nemo Transformer Tarp as a shelter, and leave the proper tent behind. Rigging this to the bolts on the rock wall, and draping it over the snow walls Janelle created, was home for the night. It worked pretty well, but several snow spindrifts came in unabated by the tarp. The key to sleeping in this situation is to get really tired first!

Janelle high on Huntington

Unfortunately, the snow continued throughout the night. Not wanting to get avalanched off the mountain we reluctantly turned our sites downhill the next morning. We really dragged our feet making breakfast, as descending what we had just climbed was going to be no easy task. Around 10:30AM a pocket of blue sky passed over us. Shortly thereafter the snow subsided, and we decided to continue upwards. We had four pitches to get to the easy escape of the W. Face Coulior, which is what we descend if need be.

Janelle following the Nose Pitch

The Nose pitch is pure aid climbing. I was happy to have the experience gained by climbing the Nose in Yosemite to apply those skills here. It was straightforward C1 aid climbing up a 95-degree rock wall. Again the fifi hook was clutch. As I pulled over the slight roof my stomach dropped, this new 70-degree rock face was covered with 6 inches of snow and rotten ice. I had to excavate about 40 square feet of snow to get across to the where I hoped a fixed anchor would be waiting. I dug a while and revealed a fixed piton. This was like a treasure hunt. Making my way across this section took forever. I got to the anchor and had to chop at it for a while to extract the slings from three inches of ice. Janelle jugged the pitch, while helping push up the packs that I was hauling.

More trench warfare followed for another 400 steep vertical feet, where the West Face Couloir and Harvard routes merge. Our “trail” below looked like we just installed a half pipe in the side of the mountain. At this junction we were also able to look down the W. Face Couloir, which is thousands of feet of 50-70 degree perfect glacier ice. This would be our exit on the descent.

From here we had to go up 50 feet then down 80 feet, and traverse a scary unprotectable snow slope. The rock face we traversed beneath had no cracks for pro, but we survived.

Janelle 1500' below the top

Nearing the upper snowfield Janelle took the lead and punched a deep trail up and right, hacked through a corniced wind lip, and built an anchor in the rock. I took the lead on one more time consuming pitch which brought us to the point where it was a straight shot to the summit ridge. I was beat. Janelle was not. She unlocked this section, punching the route straight up to the ridge. We simal-climbed the whole way, literally taking one step up and 9/10^th of a step back through the powder.

Near the top, we didnt take any "money" shots while on the summit

On the summit ridge it really started snowing, yet it was happy snow. That is to say there was no wind, and the flakes fell slowly to the ground. We pushed along the ridge until right under the final crux, an overhanging 40-foot wall of alpine ice. I dropped my pack, and went for it. It was pretty fun climbing this section, swinging tools on an overhanging ice wall, so close to the top of mountain in Alaska. How often does that happen?

A few hundred feet later we had run out of mountain to climb, it was 10:30PM. The snow had stopped and we had a semi clear view of the surrounding peaks, it was amazing.

Rapping down the West Face Coulior

The descent went smoothly as we were able to find ice for V-threads when we needed it. We rapped right down into the featured called the Cave, where we spent the night. The following morning it took us about four hours to rap down the W. Face Couloir and get back to the tent. The other group left V-threads all the way down the face, which helped greatly.

Back at camp, soaking in the victory

Back at camp we kicked off our boots, sat on as many pads as we could shove under our butts, and indulged in a lot of junk food. Alternating between salty and sweet food until our bellies were tight and happy. #36 was complete, and we slept with smiles on our faces. 

Beware: Severe Corniced & Crevassed Ridge

Climbing in the Alaskan Range is the real deal. This real deal experience can be divided into three parts. #1 Planning , #2 Climbing, and #3 Gloating, with #2 requiring the least amount of time of the three.

1) Planning
Three weeks of planning, which included, reading trip reports online, upgrading gear to the lightest and warmest possible, packing, weighting everything, repacking, and repacking again.

We had our eyes set on climbing the Cassin Ridge on Denali. With all that planning and prep for the climb itself, we missed the critical deadline for the climbing permits. The Park requires 60 days notice prior to flying on. I had given them 30 days, and as in many government organizations, there were no exceptions to the rule.

So at the last minute we changed gears and set our site on the West Ridge of Mt Hunter. With it’s reputation being, “ the most difficult 14er in the world”, we had our doubts. Will our muscles (and nerves) be strong enough? Will the weather be nasty? Will the snow be stable? Will our packs be too stupid heavy to enjoy any part of this?

Putting these doubts in the back of our minds, we flew up to Anchorage on April 30^th, where our good friends Bob and Celia Lohr, met us at the airport. We were far more organized this year compared to last, so after a quick stop at Costco and REI we were ready for action.

Once in Talkeetna we did a final prep of our equipment and food at the bunkhouse Talkeetna Air Taxi provides complementary to climbers using their services. We packed to be ready to go right from the landing strip to the route. The following morning we were blessed with blue bird skies! Every mountain in the range was out. We piled on TAT’s high-powered Beaver single engine plane equipped with skis for landing on snow, and were off.

2) The Climb
Not wanting to waste any of this good weather we quickly buried our base camp cache, checked in with Lisa, and hit the trail. Not wanting to snowshoe, we had brought our rando skis and boots for the approach and hopefully the climb. Two hours of ski touring and we were looking up at the base of the route. Janelle was not stoked. This thing looked intimidating in photos and down right scary in real life. I was pumped though, so after a little persuading we started up the ridge.

Ascending the first 300-400 feet we were in the “blast zone”, under an active serac that could break off at any time without warning. Putting it in 5^th gear, we huffed through the knee deep snow up the 30 degree slope for about 20 minutes until we were clear of the hazard.

Janelle punched though a crevasse shortly after that. She pulled herself out and was unhurt, but it rattled her already sensitive nerves. I took over the trail breaking and we continued up through now hip deep snow. It was slow going. Our packs were full of seven days worth of food and fuel. Even after cutting every with weight, they still weighed about 55 lbs., which is way too heavy to be “light and fast.”

We parked it for the night at the “rabbit ears” rock feature on the ridge. The following morning Janelle was not saying much. On the other side of the rabbit ears was a 300 foot rappel down steep rock and snow. At the fixed anchor Janelle broke down. Rappelling was a huge mental commitment to the route, a point of no return, and she was scared.

My ambition exceeded my fears at that point. I told her that I did not want to turn around because of an unforeseen danger. I wanted to go as long as it was "safe". She made me promise that I would turn around if we encountered a section that was too dangerous to be worth it. I said I would. She looked at me saying nothing. I repeated myself with a little more gentleness. She was back on board, so we threw the ends of the rope down the wall.

The rest of that day and the next were full of steep snowy walls, ice faces, rock sections, pulling on fixed lines, sleeping on small snow platforms and a whole lot calories burnt.

(For fear of having a post that is way too long for any Internet user to actually read, I am going to break this up into two separate posts, so stay tuned for part II.)