The North Face of Mt. Edith Cavell - Classic Climb #46

Janelle following one of the crux pitches.

“Oh the North Face aye, that’s a pretty hard route, and it is not in good climbing condition now” the gear shop employee said with a hint of who-are-you-and-do-you-have-the-search-and-rescue-number-on-speed-dail. It was 2010, our project’s first year. Janelle and I had just climbed Mt Rainier’s Liberty Ridge, Liberty Bell, Mt Shuksan, Mt Sir Donald, Mt Slesse and Mt Temple in about a month. We were hot with successful summits and it felt like we couldn’t be stopped. That is, until we drove up to the tourist lookout at the base of Mt Edith Cavell located 15 miles (25 km) south of Jasper, Alberta.

The North Face Route goes right up the center of Mt Edith Cavell

The 5000 foot (1524 m) North Face loomed over us. Its diagonal rock and ice bands, stacked one on top of the other all the way to its broad summit, at 11,033 ft (3,363 m), were scary looking. We were intimidated. The gear store employee’s remarks, and Internet trip reports did nothing to help our stoke level.

It’s difficult to find route beta that made us all excited to jump on it. Reports of avalanches, loose rock, unprotectable shale strata bands, bad weather, cold temps and constant rock fall where common place to others’ experiences. When combining these factors with the local’s look of hesitation, we got scared off. We chalked it up to “not being in good climbing condition” and headed south for lower hanging classic climbing fruit.

Mark on the approach.

The next year, 2011, we were in the area, driving south from the Lotus Flower Tower. We pretty much just kept driving, as the mountain was again reported to be “not in good condition to climb”. The following year, 2012, we were able to successfully climb Mt Alberta and Mt Robson, both of which are in the neighborhood. Edith Cavell was next, but we were exhausted from those stressful climbs. We were therefore relieved to hear that a massive serac from the Angel Glacier had broken off, and crashed into the alpine lake at its base. This caused a tidal wave that took out both the parking lot and a couple pit toilets. Thankfully, no one was hurt as it happened in the middle of the night. But the access road was now closed. We drove south yet again, having not even touched the mountain.

The seracs that make the approach a little more sporty

It was easy to notice a trend…the North Face of Mt Edith Cavell is never in perfect climbing condition. If it’s dry, the rock fall hazard spikes. If it’s snowy, the avalanche hazard spikes. Heck, a tidal wave can hit you. And it’s always cold. I concluded that in order to climb this bad boy, we would simply have to go for it. We would rely on our skill, judgment, and past experience to navigate any hazards the mountain threw at us. This is a mindset known as alpine climbing.

Janelle arriving a the bivy spots on the shoulder of the Angel Glacier

Our strategy would be snatch and grab. Fly in, climb, fly out. So we started watching the weather online, and blocked off chunks of time we could make it happen.

The first two blocks of time in May and September pasted with crappy forecasts. October 3-6 was our final block of time. On Friday October 2, I picked up Janelle from a weeklong retreat and training seminar. [She is training to be a personal development coach. You can hire her to help navigate life’s obstacles and make positive changes]. I greeted her with a big hug and kiss and said, “it looks good, so we should fly tomorrow.” That night we purchased tickets, and the following afternoon we were driving a rental car towards Jasper National Park. It was crazy. [Saturday afternoon is great time to fly, as we got non-stop round trip tickets from San Francisco to Edmonton for $409 each].

Crossing the Angel Glacier

The forecast predicted two clear days, Sunday and Monday. On Sunday we hiked part of the semi-technical approach, and went to bed around 8PM. The alarm went off at oh-dark-thirty Monday morning, and we drove to the trailhead. Having come straight from climbing in Yosemite the previous week, we jokingly wondered how many people would be queued up at the base of the route. Ten minutes out of the parking lot we stopped to shed our jackets. Lights from behind me caught my eye. Was that glow from the lights of Jasper? No, it was Northern Lights! We watched in amazement as the greens, muted yellows, and even reds dances across the sky. It was surreal, especially as this was my first time seeing them.

The lower third of the face

While picking our way up the 4^th and 5^th class approach we might of gotten a bit off route. It turned into 5.6 climbing pretty quickly on snowy rock. Climbing by headlamp, in mountaineering boots and a pack with verglass got my heart pumping a few times, but we eventually made it up to the Angel Glacier. The alpine glow was touching the top of the mountain and the walls of the amphitheater that circled the glacier. This is a special time for any alpine endeavor. Getting up so early is always hard, but being up for sights like this makes it worth it.

Working through the snow covered strata bands

Crossing the Angel was straightforward, breaking trail through boot-top deep powder. That was about where the simple terrain ended and things got steep. Much of the lower third of the mountain had a slope angle of roughly 40°-50°ish, and four inches of powder on top of mostly supportable old snow. This made travel quick, so we simal-climbed. There were a few rock chokes where the snow covered the rock but was unfortunately not supportable. One ice tool would be hooking on a rock edge and the other would gain a positive ice placement. Same with the crampons, one on rock the other on thin ice. Janelle was out front and took us through the first two near vertical rock chokes. I took over and continued to sniff out the route up through the bands. We knew the snow band that crosses the entire face was a good waypoint to get into the more serious climbing out on the main central buttress. Up left, up right, or traverse right then up? Tough sayin’ not knowin’. I choose poorly and got to climb a bonus 170-foot (50m) pitch of 5.6 climbing covered in snow and ice. I do not know mixed climbing grades very well, but I would guess it was in the M1-M10 range. Climbers actually skilled at mixed climbing would make short work of this bush league level climbing. I on the other hand took my time.

Mark on the first of the crux mixed pitches

Three factors kept me moving slow and deliberate. One, the pro was thin and the rock was broken. All the cracks were filled with snow and ice or simply not present. This required some unnerving runouts and it took FOR-EV-VER to build legit anchors. Two, I had not packed our proper ice climbing tools. Instead we had two CAMP aluminum axes (Corsa Nanotech and Corsa) and two Petzl Sum’tec. These CAMP axes are great for ski mountaineering or glacier slogging, but not designed for the terrain we were on.  The leader used one Sum’Tec and the Corsa, so at least they had two steal pick tips. I don’t know why I didn’t pack the CAMP X-Mountains and Cobras when I was loading the van for this extended road trip in back September. I underestimated the terrain we would be getting on I guess. And third, this was my first time mixed climbing since Mooses Tooth in May. Talk about getting the rust off. All that to say, these next three pitches were tedious.

Leader had the tools on the left and follower had the two on right

Every pick placement was tested, every foot placement second-guessed, every useful edge excavated. Swing, pull, grimace, kick, kick again, place front point on quarter inch edge, move up, breath, excavate another snow patch, and look for a crack to fill with a cam or stopper. This was the routine. I had to pause a few times to shake out the screaming barfies. I hate the screaming barfies. It is definitely the worst part of any winter climbing adventure.

Looking down from the top of the crux pitches.

Janelle was not thrilled about the hazards, but hung in there. She was bummed that the icy conditions were outside of her self-preservation comfort bubble. Pulling up to the first belay she teared up a bit, saying, “sorry babe, but I’m not going to be able to swing leads on this part.”

“I know, I wouldn’t want you to. This is dicey. You want to keep going up?”

“Yep…I definitely don’t want to try to rap down from here.”

“Me neither…let’s keep moving.”

Unfortunately, the belays did not provide too much protection from the ice, snow, and rock I inevitably knocked down. So Janelle resorted to putting her pack over her head like a shield, Wonder Woman style. Now, come to think of it, I don’t know how she did that and gave me a proper belay? Thankfully, I did not fall and she did not get hit with anything too big.

Looking out on the amazing Canadian Rockies

The weather was bluebird and the air temp was manageable, even in the full shade of this Canadian North Face as we carried on. The alpine lake below got smaller and smaller. After three rope-stretcher pitches of crazy steep climbing the slope angle mellowed from vertical to only near vertical. Janelle got back on the sharp end through this terrain that was 90% steep snow and 10% near vertical rock. We were still a couple thousand feet from the top and the sun was well on its way to the horizon. The unrelenting technical slopes went on forever, but we kept pushing.

Working up the final snowfield to the top

We transitioned back to simal-climbing for the final 1000 feet (300m) with Janelle out in front. Yvon Chouinard’s 1961 first ascent report warned about the scary shale strata band just below the summit. He had to paw through choss to gain the summit ridge lip with no protection for 80 feet (23m). With the snowy conditions we did not have to climb through choss, but did have to negotiate very steep snow. Janelle placed pieces in the rock outcroppings where possible, but they were few and far between. Two full rope lengths below the summit ridge I came to the last cam and unclipped it. From there on, with Janelle 200 feet (60 m) above me, nothing held the rope to the mountain other than our crampons and ice axes. The 5000 feet of exposure below felt even heavier. Right below the summit ridge the slope angle went from 60° to about 75°. All I could do was watch and pray as Janelle dug a vertical trough through the snow. As she dug in and stepped up her helmet knocked into the snow above her. It was steep. Thankfully, she was able to place a screw in marginal ice, the first and only of the climb. This, of course, gave us a slightly elevated sense of security. Ten minutes of trench digging and fighting this very difficult section allowed her to crest the ridge and move out of view. Looking out I scanned the entire Canadian Rocky Mountain range in beautiful evening light. My wife had just pushed through her fear boundaries on a serious north face…totally awesome. 

Janelle launches from the final proper belay

A minute later I felt the rope go snug, that comforting I-am-now-on-a-real-belay type of snug. I plunged up through her foot buckets and we were on top together. It was surreal. Just two days prior we were in California getting sun burnt, to now on the top of a classic Canadian 11,000er in October. But the celebration was brief on the true summit, as we needed to maximize the distance we could travel down the West Ridge before we had to get out the headlamps.

On top…so stoked.

The descent was lame. So long down the West Ridge. It took about eight hours. Only 45 minutes of that were spent stationary. First, down the rocky ridge. Then down thousands of feet of loose scree and talus, and finally wrapping around Edith Cavell’s large sister peak to the road. The final 1.2 miles (2 km) back to the parking lot is along the paved access road. With no roots to trip over, we turned off the headlamps and walked by the sliver of moonlight. The steep North Face loomed over us again, the same as it had in 2010. Walking in the dark directly towards the face, looking at what we just climbed, it was like getting an alpine victory lap. Now the view came with a true sense of accomplishment. We had successfully scaled its steep bands safely even though it was far from being in, “good condition for climbing.”

It was 3AM when we got back to the car. Our feet were shot, we were exhausted, but the adventure wasn’t over. We still had to get back to Edmonton to jump on a plane by noon. We raced back to the airport using the thrill of success, and a healthy dose of caffeine, to keep us going. Fifty classic climb #46 is now complete.

Beta:

Time:

4 hrs - car to Angel Glacier bivy sites, route finding in the dark.

12 hrs - Angel Glacier to the Summit

7.75 hrs - summit to car, which includes 1 hour of non-productive descending (resting and route finding) down the West Ridge, and a 2km walk back up the road. The East Ridge is the way to go in summer conditions. The West Ridge is not a simple mindless walk off, especially in the dark. East Ridge is reported to be technical, but I think totally worth avoiding the long long slog/scramble down the West.

Gear: two Sterling Photon 7.8mm 60m ropes (one single rope would be fine, but we thought we might have to bail, so brought two ropes), BD C3 000-2, BD C4 .3-#2, BD stoppers #4 - #8, and the 4 biggest BD micro offset nuts, 4 alpine draws, 4 quickdraws, 4 over the shoulder slings, steel crampons, technical tools, tethers, one 16cm ice screw (placed once), no pickets, MSR Windburner stove, MHG flat tarp, satellite phone, 40 oz of water each, eight 150 calorie snacks each, three pair of Arc’Teryx gloves, Gore-Tex layers, the best Arc’Teryx clothing in the world, helmet, headlamp, and courage.

Strategy:

Scout the approach to Angel Glacier in daylight, maybe leaving a fixed rope where it would help. Climbing the route with bivy gear would be lame. But if you decide to bivy on Angel Glacier, I would consider climbing back up after the climb to recover the gear…but that might be stupid.

Resources:

Weather: http://www.yr.no/place/Canada/Alberta/Mount_Edith_Cavell/ , https://weather.gc.ca/city/pages/ab-70_metric_e.html

Other trip reports (don’t let them scare you off, the climb is awesome):

http://www.summitpost.org/north-face-main-summit/649044

http://lamountaineers.org/NAC/browserf/climbs/edithcnf/imagelis.htm

 

Edith Cavell's North Face profile, the right side of this bad boy.

Moose's Tooth via the West Ridge - Alaska

Mooses Tooth's West Ridge

Janelle and I were very excited to get back into the classic climbing circuit for the fourth year in a row_, after an amazing winter overseas. We had spent 90 days in Europe, where Janelle competed in several countries with the best ski mountaineering racers in the world, while I made videos of the experience. The videos can be scene here (episodes 1, 2, 3, 4 & 5).

In May we flew back to the States, and had 13 non-traveling days to pack and prep for our expeditions to Alaska. This was definitely not enough time, but we made it work. Most of the time I feel like a professional packer, always lugging around at least two fifty pound duffle bags and a way-to-heavy carryon. Life is so rough =)

The first climb on our calendar for the year was the West Ridge of the Moose’s Tooth. This would be our second attempt. In 2010 we tried to climb it but got turned around largely due to Alaska sized intimidation, and horrible snow conditions.

This year we had a plan, and a bunch of experience to draw on, to make the climb go as smoothly as possible. We flew into Anchorage where our ever-faithful Anchorage hosts, Bob and Celia Lohr, picked us up from the airport. The forecast was looking bad so we delayed for four days in Anchorage. After the delay we stocked up at Costco, and made our way to the quaint tourist town of Talkeetna, AK.

walking up the Ruth Glacier....forever!

Talkeetna Air Taxi is the best in the business, flying hundreds of climbers all over the range every year. The added bonus is that they keep track of you while you climb. Having eyes in the sky is a true comfort. We got to fly in with Paul Rodrick, the owner, which is always a treat. He landed us on the Ruth Glacier and we were at the base of the West Ridge two hours later. It was awesome.

Our base camp duffels were flown to a different location by a friend and fellow mountain guide, Kurt Hicks, who was flying into the Root Canal campsite. That would be the finish line after climbing the West Ridge. This very conveniently removed the need to cross through the dangerous icefall that connects the Ruth Gorge to the Root Canal. We had traveled through this serac zone twice in 2010 and had no desire to repeat it.

The snow was deep as we made our way up to the high camp, which was slow going.  The camp site, located at 7,800',  is one of the most beautiful in the range. The only neighbors in this neighborhood are Denali, Huntington, Dan Beard, and several other striking peaks. It had taken us about 8 hours to travel from the landing strip to this camp.

the access couloir had perfect snow

The next morning we woke up around 6:00AM and started climbing around 7:30AM. The lower parts of the access couloirs were in great condition. Firm pick and crampon placements allowed for quick movement. As we approached the ridge, the snow got deeper and softer. The hairs on the back of my neck started perking up as we traversed this 55-degree face. Thankfully everything stayed in place and it reached a notch in the ridge.

forboding-ness

Reaching the notch, we got our first look at the foreboding North Face. The entire upper half of the face was covered in huge snow mushrooms that ran the entire length of each snow spine. Below that, the glacier drops off a vertical wall for several thousand feet to the glacier below. Along the skyline the West Ridge, our route, weaved up and down like the crooked spine of a snow-breathing dragon. The cornices were both large and intimidating, and we would have to navigate them for more than a mile. Taking photos of this view was spectacular in an eerie sort of way. Probably similar to capturing a beautiful photograph of a tidal wave, right before it hits you.

tough knowing where the cornice is overhung

We dropped down from the ridge, picking our way along, paying very close attention to where we were relative to both the rocks on our right and the cornices on our left. As it turns out, our high point from our 2010 attempt was about 20 mins of climbing away from the West Summit. Attaining this high point we had an even better view of the West Ridge route. The steep corniced slopes coming out of Englishman’s Col were in perfect view. Perfectly scarey-knarly-intimidating-steep-snow view.

climbing out of Englishman's Col, first mega crux

“How in the world are we going to get up that?” I thought. Janelle and I discussed possible options of how to best climb this 500 foot section of terror. We down climbed and then rappelled into the notch where the route Shaken Not Stirred meets the ridge. We knew there were an established rappel anchors down the entire route, making it a possible bail out option. Directly up from that was this super scary face, creating a gigantic mental fork in the road. Do we turn right, rapping down Shaken Not Stirred, to a comfortable base camp where chips and salsa were waiting for us? Or do we stay the course and tackle this daunting snow wall? I’d be lying if I said the pull to bail was non-existent. Blue pill red pill, which will it be? Janelle kicked in a descent belay spot on the other side of the ridge and I started up the pitch.

Peru or Alaska? More cornices, loose snow, walking over air

It was slow going as I could not afford to fall. Every step had to be spot on. Every tool placement had to be spot on. Janelle called up, “half”, meaning I had gone 100’, and I placed a picket. Above me was and overhanging cornice. I had to excavate a trench and then climb through it. 180’ up, with only one lame picket 80’ below me I cut out a ledge for a belay. This was probably the worst belay anchor I’ve ever made. Totally not AMGA passable. The snow is loose, I’m standing on a corniced snow pillow, 60-70 degree slope, with buried ice tools in loose “snice” (snow ice combo). The only thing providing significant holding power is the fact that I’m straddling the snow in a way that provided some resistance to downward pull. I yelled down, “climb on….carefully!”

Janelle made it up to me with no falls, and took the lead over the next roll. She made short work of it, fighting through the loose steep snow. We swung leads again, and got into a rhythm of fighting through these cornices. Creeping ever-so-carefully along this sleeping dragon’s spiny back, trying very hard to not wake her.

Look back where we had traveled, Denali in background

As we descended down to the final col, which is the top of the uber classic “Ham and Eggs” route, we were able to let our guard down a bit as the terrain mellowed. Walking past the top of Ham and Eggs there was another slight mental tug to pull the eject cord, and rap the route. The tug to get to the main summit was much stronger thankfully, and the weather was holding, so we continued up the final ascent. This section of the route was more of the same. Playing the game called, “where to walk so I don’t die” as we traversed the backs of these cornices.

La Cumbre - The Summit

We reached the summit 12 hours after leaving our high camp on the Moose’s back. It was a spectacular evening in the Alaska Range. Windy yet beautiful. The top of the Moose’s Tooth is actually a big cornice, so the true elevation of the mountain likely changes on a weekly basis. Being an idiot, I wanted to touch the very top. Janelle just shook her head as she belayed me up. First walking, then using my ice tools in the cane position, then on my knees, and for the last six feet on my belly as to distribute my weight as best as possible. I picked my head up and could see unobstructed 360 degrees, the tippy top. In hind site that was probably stupid to climb a big cornice like that, but whatever.

Rapping down Ham and Eggs- Root canal airstrip lower center of photo, fishhook shape

Many many rappels later, around midnight thirty, we walked into the Root Canal campsite. Our buddy, Kurt Hicks, had heard us coming down and put out our base camp duffle, a thermos of hot water, and a bottle of whisky. I read his accompanying handwritten note by the dim Alaska midnight light, “Way to crush Smileys! See you in the morning.”

Root canal camp, with entire West Ridge in view.

The video we made of this climb will be released Sept. 2, 2013. And can be seen on the main website: www.smileysproject.com

If you would like to follow the project in real time via facebook please like us here: https://www.facebook.com/SmileysProject

The Salathe Route, El Capitan

  There are few things better than driving into the Valley in October. You come around that one turn and all focus shifts from the road to El Capitan's West facing walls. Amazing. I pity the fool that stands outside their car on this stretch of road. All attention is paid to the rock, and none to moving vehicles.

This was our second wall, the Nose last year was our first. As a sophomore big waller we had our systems pretty dialed, and we were excited to get going.

Day 0 - Prep. Taking over an entire campsite we laid all the gear out, OCD style, as to mimic Glen Denny's the black and white photos of Yvon Chouinard. Janelle is the master mind of the food and I handle the equipment. She set to work making bagel sandwiches for both breakfast and dinner. We wanted to leave the stove behind, so all food would be fully hydrated meals. When you have to carry all your water, it makes no sense to us to eat dehydrated meals. I'm pretty sure the total weight of things was around 165lbs. Including 40lb kit, 29 lb portaledge and fly, 70 lbs of water, 10 lbs of clothing, and 15ish lbs of food.

Day 1- Getting all that stuff up to Heart Ledges. There are a permanent fixed lines from the ground to these ledges, which facilitates staging very nicely. You must trust the manky fixed lines, but it beats the alternative, so you try not to think about it too much. Stepping into the aid ladders I had to dust off the brain rust to get into the groove of things. 500 feet up I felt back in the game. Huge exposure, hanging from some crazy thin piece of sun-cooked old rope, wind blowing, 75 degrees, sunny. Life is good. Turns out hauling really takes it out of you, so by the time we got the 150+ pound pig up to Heart we were ready to call it a day.

Day 2- Getting up early to dodge the crowds, we made our way, with only our free climbing rack and rope, to the start of the Salathe. The first 10 pitches are known as Freeblast, which commonly goes free for people in a mild sized day. Our mindset for the day was to free as much as possible, but if an onsight does not happen, whatever, just get 'er done, and pull through where needed. All but three cruxes went clean, so we were stoked about that. It's just so nice to move without a pack, in the sun, simply focusing on pure rock climbing moves on the best stone in the world. Especially after an entire summer of climbing cold chossy mountains.

Day 3- We jugged back up the fixed lines to Heart Ledges, and launched on the route. There were a couple Brits right in front of us, so we took turns waiting on one another. The sun was out, but not too hot, so the urgency meter was very low. We climbed and aided up pitch after pitch. The Salathe is so classic that nearly every pitch has a name. Ear, Hollow Flake, Monster, Alcove, El Cap Spire, Sous le Toit, to name a few. Some of the aid climbing was tricky, but where it was there was normally a fixed piece of gear. Some were good, some looked awful. I clipped the piece regardless. I mean, it's only got to hold my body weight, right?! We slept the first night on the wall below the Ear pitch. Setting up the portaledge with daylight to spare is the way to go. Once level, we relaxed on what is probably the best piece of kit we own...our portaledge. Lounging, watching the sun set, eating BBQ Pringels...does it get better?

Day 4- The highlight of this day was watching one of the Brits onsight the Monster off-width pitch. I was belaying Janelle from above, so I got eyes-on the entire thing. The UK has little to no off-width cracks to train on, so the fact that he onsighted it was extra impressive.
You might think you're a good climber, until you go to Yosemite. It's the big pond.
Arriving at the belay he was coated in sweat and chalk, and a few oozing war wounds. I think I was more excited than he was. High-5s, slaps on his back, "you're awesome" filled the air. He was pretty quiet, as he rigged the anchor to bring up the second. After ten minutes or so I noticed him eyeing my water bottle hanging on the anchor.
"Want a drink?" I asked.
It was as if I just offered him a million bucks.
His mouth said, "ah no, thats okay, I do not want to take your water." His face silently screamed, "I want a drink more than anything in the world!"
I unscrewed the lid and handed it to him. He took a small sip and handed it back with a sheepish grin, leaving 3/4 of the bottle was full.
"Finish it man, you deserve it."
"Really?!" He said.
"Yeah for sure, we have extra, and you just fricky onsighted the bloody MONSTER."
The bottle was empty a minute later.
We made it up some more pitches. And again set up the ledge for another beautiful evening.

Day 5- Our 6th wedding anniversary. I am one lucky man to have found, and won the heart of, a beautiful woman excited to spend this special day doing manual labor.
There was some tricky aid climbing throughout, but mostly plugging and pulling. A party pasted us, Russian brothers, that were trying to free the entire route (Freerider). As they blew by with their light rack, no packs, I was jealous of the simplicity of that style of climbing. Come to find out they had been working the route for three weeks. A lot of hard prep work is what it took to get them to this place.
As Janelle aided up the very overhung Salathe roof, which provides access to the beautiful headwall, the brothers came back down. Successful. They were so pumped. Now they had about 2 hours of rappelling the entire route, picking up cashed supplies as they descended. It was also very cool to witness a small part of their huge success. Few elite climbers have the "Freed Freerider" feather in their hat.
We spent the night on Long Ledge, eating fruit cups, soaking in the beauty that makes Yosemite so special to so many. We were blessed with a sun set that left nothing to be desired. Aside from my shoulder tendonitus flaring up, and being too covered in grim to "celebrate marriage", it was a perfect evening.

Day 6- We topped out. Lounged around, in no real hurry to shoulder the 80 pound pig. A couple from Austrian hikers happened by, took some photos of the "crazy climbers" with our gear exploded everywhere. We communicated with hand gestures as their English was good as my German is...nein.
Two hours later, the call of a shower grew louder than the cry of the pig's weight, so I shouldered it and started down hill, walking like an overweight tortoise that had had one too many.

All in all it was a great experience. I think I have satiated my hunger for big wall climbing for a while. I want to most light and free. When I get back on El Cap it will be to go for the Nose in a day, as that seems like an awesome goal, and a great adventure. Watch the video here: https://vimeo.com/62166077

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We are trying to keep the dream alive and the videos coming by raising funds to continue filming classic climbs in 2013. If you enjoy these trip reports, and videos, please consider donating, then spreading the word about the campaign to friends that would be interested too. THANK YOU!
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Down is Way More Fun

Standing on top of one of the seven summits is a goal sought after by people the world around. At 20,320 feet, Denali, aka Mt McKinley, is North America’s tallest mountain. Some claim that it is more difficult to climb than Everest. This is likely due to the heavy packs, deep snow, lack of Sherpa support, and arctic temps. Since I have not yet climbed Everest I cant confirm that claim, but I do know that climbing Denali is very difficult.

Janelle and I “bumped” from the Tokositna Glacier directly over to the Kahiltna Glacier after our successful climb of Mt Huntington via the Harvard Route. That climb took 3 days, followed by 4 days of waiting on clear weather to fly, so we still smelled relatively fresh, at least by Denali standards.

Our 4-day bad weather nap on the Tok left very rested, and a little antsy to get going. Two hours after landing at the Kahiltna basecamp we were moving our huge sleds to Camp One, located 5.5 miles away at 7,800 feet.

 Skiing makes the experience of hauling heavy loads way more enjoyable. Skinning up the gigantic Kahiltna Glacier by the light of the midnight sun was amazing. It was almost beautiful enough to take our minds off the collective 300lbs of equipment trying very hard to crush us. Three hours of brut hauling later we arrived at camp.

The next morning we carried half our kit up Ski Hill and beyond, to the 11K’ camp. This took 5 hours. After burying those supplies three feet under the snow, and GPS waypointing its location for easy retrieval, we skied back down to 7,800’ camp...in 10 mins!

Two days later we were ready to schlep our loads from the 11K’ camp to Windy Corner. This requires going up Motorcycle and Squirrel Hills. Motorcycle Hill would become the site of the fatal avalanche that took four Japanese climbers’ lives while they descended this slope two weeks later. Trying to haul a sled and a pack up the hill proved to be impossible, and extremely frustrating, with the two feet of fresh snow that had fallen the previous day.

Deep fresh snow makes for horrible climbing and great skiing, so we decided to ditch the sleds, and skin to the top of both hills carrying only our packs. Then come back and get the rest of the load later. The best part is that we got to ski down in between loads. All told we climbed and skied this part of the mountain four times. The “quad-carry” is definitely the way to go…with deep snow and fun skis.

On day 5 we arrived at 14 Camp (located at 14,200 feet). This high altitude gypsy tent city is quite the anomaly.  There are roughly 150 people from all over the globe, congregating in this barren beautiful white frozen patch of snow. Everyone has fortified their plot of snow with large ice block walls. These walls help prevent the neighbor’s dog from crapping on your lawn. They also serve as wind blocks, so your tent doesn’t break during the huge storms that sweep the area on a regular basis.

It’s easy to spot the civil engi-nerds among Camp 14’s tent city, as their walls are constructed perfectly, with ice blocks fitting together to create airtight fortification. Once our little campsite was constructed we rested. About that time the routine of living on Denali set in hard and fast. The routine looks something like this.

9:00AM: Bladder screams you awake. Answer the call, using the brimming pee bottle. Still below freezing, so its back in the sleeping bag.
10:45: Cold water droplets hit face every 30 to 60 seconds, caused by the melting hoarfrost that built up on the inside of the tent.
10:50: Get fed up from the Chinese water torture. Put on a flock of down, go outside.
11:15: Breakfast time: Hot cocoa, pancakes (“bootied” from a group descending), bacon. All cooking done in the kitchen tent, which then becomes the hang out tent.
11:50: Poop in a plastic lined 12-inch tall green plastic can, hoping that a ground blizzard doesn’t pick up and freeze your bareness while squatting over it.
12:00: Hang out in the cook tent, shooting the bull with new friends, talking about the weather, other climbs around the world, and playing the game called, “have you seen that youtube video where…”
2:30PM: Go for a ski tour just outside of camp, sometimes with climbing gear, sometimes without.
5:00: Lunch time: Cheesy Quesadilla, with salami and mustard…add guacamole on special days.
5:30: Walk around camp, meeting those that just arrived.
8:00: Card games in the neighbors cook tent.
10:00: Dinner time: you name it, we ate it.
12:30AM: Feet are now too cold to have fun anymore. Crawl in the tent and watch 2-3 episodes of The Office on the ipad until the screen frosts over.
1:45AM: Still not dark outside, but go to sleep cause that’s what you were suppose to do hours ago.

This rock and roll lifestyle went on for days and days. When the weather was nice we would escape uphill as high as possible to help the acclimatization process. You see, we needed to prepare our bodies for the thin air little chunks at a time. All in preparation to climb the Cassin Ridge as fast as we possibly could.

We went to 16,200’, then again to 15,500’, and finally to 17,800’ before a four day storm locked us down. We felt stronger each day, so logging the time at the higher elevations was working. Our plan was to summit and ski the West Buttress, then rest for 2-3 days prior to going up and over to the Cassin.  Our time was limited, so things had to line up pretty perfectly to make this plan successful.

The morning of July 16^th had blue skies and little wind in camp. We packed our bags quickly and headed up the trail that had been beaten in by the 50 climbers in front of us. Since we were on skis, and only had daypacks, we were able to pass everyone before reaching the fixed lines on the headwall that takes you from 15K’ to 16K’.  We put the skis on our packs, strapped on crampons and ascended the wall.

Pack weight is a huge part of moving fast in the mountains. We only carried two types of items, ingestibles and warm clothing. We left the rope behind, which upped the risk factor, but saved 8lbs of weight.

At the 17K’ camp we stopped in a friend’s kitchen tent for a 30 minute break to warm up, lube up, and bundle up. Denali Pass was next.  From there up it is traditionally much much colder. Once we rounded Denali Pass the winds from the North picked up, forcing us to cover all exposed skin. I wanted to switch my sunglasses to goggles, but did not want to take the time needed to get in my pack and put them on. Instead I pulled the drawstrings tight on my hood, faced down wind, and kept plodding along.

We reached the summit around 5:00PM, 7 hours after leaving 14 Camp. It was cold, windy, but relatively clear and amazingly beautiful. Probably the most beautiful part was that we still had the skis on our packs, and they were about to go on our feet! The most novel part about ski mountaineering is that it turns the worst part of climbing into the best part….the descent.

The snow was bulletproof wind-blasted nastiness from the top to about 19K’. It’s the kind of skiing that can make your fillings fall out. We would take three to four turns then have to catch our breath for half a minute. The skiing wasn’t great, but it sure beats walking. The best snow we found on the Phantom Wall, which rises above the 17K’ Camp. Turn after turn we cut up this slope. The air was getting thicker, the views were amazing, and my altimeter watch was having trouble keeping up with the speedy descent.

We stopped briefly at the 17K’ Camp to chat with friends, then walked down the West Buttress to the top of the fixed lines. There was more good snow to be found here, all the way back to our tents. We were tired, but grinning, as we crawled into the bags that night. We had just skied the West Buttress from 14 Camp in a little less than 12 hours.

The following two days we rested. I thought we would bounce back quicker than we did. The two nights after the summit push we packed our bags for the Cassin Ridge. Things were not looking that great, but we were going to be ready if they changed.

That night we set the alarm for 4AM to give us plenty of time to get started on the route. At 3:30AM what felt like a significant earthquake shook us awake. This was followed by serac fall. Scary. Then the wind picked up, and it started snowing. Things were not looking good.

In the mountains it is very easy to make a host of sound excuses not to put your body through more physical and mental exhaustion. I think we had a number of really good ones, which lead us to become part of the statistic stating that 90% of climbers who register to climb the Cassin Ridge never even get on it.  Next year I hope things are different.

Alaska 2012 was a great experience for us. Climbing the Harvard Route on Huntington was the highlight for me, and skiing for the summit of the highest point in North America was a close 2^nd.