Denali - West Buttress Climb and Ski
There has been a lot written about the West Buttress. In fact, pretty much every section is documented step by step on the internet or guide books. This will be less about the route itself, and more about the logistics, planning, our experience, lessons learned, and style. Hopefully this will be some help if you are planning on heading to Denali, or just want an interesting read. The West Buttress is a fairly simple route. Simple, not easy. The weather, altitude, length of time, latitude, as well as often being people’s first expedition, is why the success rate hovers only slightly above 50%, with un-guided groups being significantly lower.
Overview
Location: Denali/McKinley(I don’t think I’ve heard a single person call it “McKinley” in real life)
The Route: West Buttress Route/Rescue Gully
Team: From the Wetside(Cody, Bryan, Andreea, and Myself)
Timeframe: 25 May - 12 June 2025
Planning and Preperation
A few years back, I started delving into climbing books and literature. Of course, Mark Twight’s Kiss or Kill, and Steve House’s Beyond the Mountain were included. Learning of their ground breaking Slovak Direct ascent of the South Face of Denali in 2000, this lit a an interest in the Alaska Range and more research into Denali itself. It soon became a nagging thought that I couldn’t get out of my head. Ultimately, Denali was the next natural step in my climbing and skiing progression. I had to see it for myself.
Last August, my first trip to Alaska, involved spending some time in the wilderness around Fairbanks, as well as dipping my toes(literally) into some of the glaciers in the Delta Range. The Delta Range opened my eyes to the scale of the mountains, seeing the rugged peaks and massive glaciers, knowing that I was looking at the “small” end of the range. Shortly after returning, I started asking around and posting on social media to try to put together a team to go to Denali, knowing I wanted to make it happen.
Although the Slovak Direct would be out of question, and would be a stretch to even consider a trip up the Cassin, the West Rib Route seemed feasible. Falling between the West Buttress and Cassin, both geographically and in difficulty, I wanted to plan on the West Rib as well. Options of only doing the upper or lower part, including having the safety net of 14,000’ camp nearby, made it more appealing . Most of these routes involve acclimatizing and often times summiting the West Buttress route, before going after the more technical routes in Alpine Style. I figured if all went well on the West Buttress, I wanted to be prepared to tackle the West Rib as well.
There was also the skiing to think about, with the Messner Couloir being the classic, and more difficult line. Smaller lines like Rescue Gully, and just the fact that skiing as much of the mountain as I could, gave me more goals to strive for as well. Skiing also saves a tremendous amount of time on the way down, turning 2-3 hours of walking into 20 minutes.
After determining the what and how, I found three other partners; Andreea, Bryan, and Cody. 3-4 is a good size group, and 4 can work a little better, as it allows you to work as two teams of two and have redundant gear and capabilities. Early in the year, we all got on a zoom call and started planning and making sure our goals aligned so we would have the entire winter to train and get out together.
Once I was set on the objectives, I broke down the training into different categories. There were the skills for getting up the West Buttress(fitness/health, winter camping, glacier travel). Skiing skills for being able to ski as much of the mountain as possible, and technical climbing skills for the West Rib or other smaller climbs. I put together a document, including proposed training objectives, useful links, cost breakdowns, and a proposed itinerary.
I made this one initially in December, and was rather ambitious. About a month or so out and getting baselines of where everyone was at, the more finalized plan came out to this:
Denali 2025 Slides
Prior to leaving, Bryan and Andreea decided that the West Rib would probably be too much. So, we would all go up the West Buttress route, and after summiting, would split off. Cody and I going for the West Rib, and Andreea and Bryan would go try to get some more skiing in or head out. With time coming up, I felt confident with the skills needed for the West Buttress, including high confidence in my fitness to do a round trip from 14,000’ to the summit and back. I felt pretty confident that I would be able to ski Rescue Gully, although I did not get as much “serious” skiing in as I wanted. I knew the Messner would probably be a far stretch. I also knew that I felt prepared technically for the West Rib. However Cody was still very in-experienced with ice/technical alpine climbing. We decided we would have to make a decision on if I would feel comfortable taking him on the whole West Rib, only the “Riblet”, or upper half, or do any of it at all.
All in all, I felt very good with how my train-up went. Here are some of the benchmarks I had going into the trip(mainly objectives in Washington):
- Paradise Parking Lot to Mt. Rainier Summit in less than 6 hours
-Paradise to Muir to Paradise round trip in <2 Hours
-Ability to ascend 2,000’ in under 30 minutes (Cable line, Tiger Mountain in 27 minutes)
- 6 different routes on Mt. Rainier, including two this season(and ski descents)
- 4 different routes on Mt. Baker, including two this season (and ski descents)
- Ski descents of multiple couloirs this season, including Lane Peak(Summit/Fly), Lake Basin Chutes, Snot and Slot, G-string and Shoestring, Sheep Lake, Cascadian Couloir, Pinner Couloir(Hyalite), Fuhrer Finger, North Couloir McClellan Butte(plus more the past several seasons).
- 70+ days of skiing
- Leading WI4/M4
- Two weeks ice climbing in Hyalite
- Alpine climbs of Chair Peak North Face, Guye Peak South Gully/Spur, and Abiel Peak North Face
- 7 nights winter camping(wish I had more)
*A note- I did not include much weighted training, other than two or three hikes with 40-60lbs. Putting rocks in the pack on the way up and taking them out on the way down. I had consistent strength training in the gym(2-3 times a week), combined with years of training with heavy loads in backpack, I am able to quickly re-adapt to carry heavy loads. If you do not have much experience going up, and skiing, with heavy loads, definitely add this to your training.
Of some of the training goals I had, the biggest shortfalls were skiing steeper, more exposed lines(something like Shuksan NW Couloir, Mt. Maude North Face, Mt. Buckner North Face), which is why I doubted that the Messner would seem feasible. The other training area I would have put more emphasis on was winter camping, specifically with the more expedition/basecamp gear I would be using on Denali. I had 7 total nights camping this season, but not all of that was going to be with the Denali specific equipment, and only two of those nights were a multi-night. Although I had several seasons of multi-day traverses and winter camping under my belt that made up for it, this is not an area to neglect. Skills such as knowing how to use your Whisperlite, how to melt water efficiently, how to dig snow effectively, how to be comfortable day after day, how to do things without taking your gloves off, etc., are irreplaceable, and perishable. Again, these are all very simple skills. Simple, not easy. To be successful on the West Buttress, you need to be proficient at all the basic skills, especially if you are not going with a guide. No, these skills are not sexy. Nobody cares about having a picture of them melting snow efficiently, or t-slotting tent stakes, but if you can’t do the non-sexy stuff, you can’t even think about doing the sexy stuff up there.
One more thing that was a necessity prior to leaving was we getting together and doing a dress rehearsal. We had sleds, roped up, set up a camp, made sure everything was working and had everything, and skied back down. The only thing that we did not do that I wish we had was go over full crevasse rescue as a team. We ran out of time, but looking back, we really should have done that.
Health and Nutrition. I did not pre-emptively take Diamox. Lots of people do, and it works for them. One of the side effects is dehydration. I suck at drinking enough water as it is, and this seemed like a good enough reason not to take any. The best acclimatation for Denali is slow and gradual ascent, and not destroying yourself early on. The reason people get HACE and HAPE up there is because they ascend quickly at a high exertion level. Not because they didn’t spend months using an altitude tent. Not because they didn’t take enough Diamox. Listen to your body, go in fit and prepared, and ascend and exert yourself at a rate that your body can handle.
I also made sure that I would have a good nutrition balance while on the mountain, and that it didn’t deviate too much from the time prior, so my body wouldn’t be adjusting to a completely new diet while on the mountain.
Logistics
See the documents above, as well as my food plan:
You can Pre-order everything at Fred Meyer in Anchorage, so you can plan everything out before hand, pick it all up, and sort it out at Talkeetna. Improvements: do not bring English muffins, would do less GU’s/energy gummies, more hot drinks(coffee, hot chocolate, broth, apple cider). Protein bars freeze harder than the more oats based bars(like bobos or cliff.)
Caltopo link with GPX for West Buttress, West Rib, Cassin, other routes:
I scoured the internet for some of these, Jason Antin’s blog provided a lot, as well as drew in some while I was there. Mark Smiley offers a online course for alpinism that has lots of very useful Denali specific info, including offline videos. I downloaded some and used the tandem sled rigging for our attempt at the contraption. Sam Chaneles, Nick Sweeny, and American Alpine Institute are good free resources as well.
The National Park and Talkeetna Air Taxi both have great websites for laying out the permitting process and logistical process. We used Talkeetna Air Taxi and GO Purple Shuttle, and would use both again.
Gear:
Clothing:
5x pair of socks
3x pair of underwear
2x Outdoor Research Cirque Lite Pants (for when GU gels explode in your pocket)
Outdoor Research Stratoburst Full Zip Pants (Best puffy pants out there)
Stone Glacier Full Zip Puffy Pants
2x Black Diamond Alpenglow Pro Hoody
Black Diamond Alpine Start Hoody
Mountain Equipment Lumiko Fleece
Arc’teryx Proton Heavyweight (I believe now it’s just called the Proton)
Feathered Friends Khumbu Parka
Outdoor Research Freewheel MTB Gloves
Outdoor Research Softshell Gloves
Showa 282 Gloves (The best gloves for the best price)
Dynafit Tigard Freeride Gloves
Outdoor Research Alti Mitts (Did not bring the inner liner)
Neck Buff/gaiter
Outdoor Research Sun Runner Cap
2x Julbo Glacier Glasses (0-4)
Blue Ice Stache 90l(lots of these packs up there, perfect Denali pack, great summit pack as well, modified mine to diagonal carry skis)
Blizzard Zero G 95 (Great skis for this)
Scarpa F1 LT Boots
Forty Below Overboots (I cut holes in the front for pin bindings)
Black Diamond Expedition 3 Poles
BCA Shovel with included saw (You will want a saw for cutting blocks)
Black Diamond Venom LT Tech Axe
Black Diamond Shovel Blade (fits onto BD axe)
2x 60m Black Diamond 7.9mm half/twin ropes (discontinued)
Black Diamond Snaggletooth Crampons
Standard glacier gear, including a picket and an Ascender for fixed lines(full size ascender is worth bringing)
1x 20z and 1x 30oz bottle
MSR 2.5l Pot with Heat Exchanger
A very lightweight, small pan with a terrible handle (only piece of gear I wish was different)
MSR Expedition Repair Kit (I actually used it)
Homemade cooking board(thin plywood with foam on bottom, worked great)
1x Forty Below 32oz bottle with insulated cover
2x 16oz Nalgene, 1x 16oz insulated cover
Mountain Hard Wear Trango 4 (Upsize for Denali, less than 2lbs heavier than the three, good amount of room for Cody and I)
Black Diamond Mega Light (Cook Tent)
Thermarest X-Therm Sleeping Pad
3/4 length Foam pad, also used for cook tent seating
Feathered Friends Ptarmigan -25 bag
Sea to Summit Sleeping Bag Liner
2x Goal Zero Flip 36(One able to charge while using the other)
Toilet paper, toiletries, wet wipes, sunscreen blocks and spf lip balm.
Personal Med and Repair Kit
Group Repair Kit
Group Med Kit
Alpine tent, screws, rack, Quark tools for West Rib. Buried at Camp 1 and did not use
Ski Crampons, did not use….but would probably still bring
KINDLE, best thing to occupy the time.
Camera and camera gear
Notebook, Pen, and Paper Map. Paper map (a 1:63000) is not very helpful, but I enjoyed looking at to pass the time during weather days.
I would pretty much bring everything the same again, and had *almost* no gear issues. I brought an MSR Reactor for the West Rib, but having it was nice to compliment the Whisperlites, especially for a quick pot of hot water in the mornings. We brought 3, 8 oz. cannisters on the West Buttress, along with 2 gallons of white gas for Cody and I. I would have brought a different pan. I had this cheap, crappy little lightweight pan that had everything stick to it and a handle that collapsed and lost me several pancakes…
Getting to 14,000' Camp
After flying into Anchorage, making a quick pit stop at REI and Fred Meyer, we soon arrived to Talkeetna. We stayed the night at the TAT Bunkhouse, as our NPS meeting was not untill the next morning. The TAT bunkhouse has a fridge, shower, and a good amount of beds. We were the only ones using it that night. We also spent the time sorting gear and weighing it. I had weighed in at a whopping 147lbs of gear, mainly because I had a rack of rock gear, screws, pair of Quarks, and alpine tent that would be buried at Camp 1.
The next morning, we had the NPS meeting with a few other groups, got our permits, our CMC(Clean mountain can, or poop) cans, and told TAT we were all good to fly. 45 minutes later, our stuff was loaded up, we were in the plane, and off we went! The flight in is worth it alone. Looking eye level with other peaks, it feels like any moment you may crash into the side of a mountain. But the pilots are good. Damn good. We landed on the Kahiltna Glacier, trying to unload our packs and gear off the runway, while taking in the views around us.
We dug a cache for some emergency food supply incase we got stuck waiting to fly out, rigged up our gear, got our white gas fuel from the basecamp manager, and soon got going. The first leg of the journey was generally flat, making our way to Camp 1 at 7,600’. The clouds were hanging low down, and although we could sense them, we couldn’t see the slopes around us. The move to Camp 1 took us about 4.5 hours. We left the airstrip a little after 4pm, and when we arrived at Camp 1, it still felt like afternoon time. Time to get used to the endless light.
We had planned a 5 day schedule to make it to 14k camp, weather depending. The second day we moved half our load to cache at 11k. This is when the problems started. Bryan had been sick a few weeks before and had not fully recovered going in, but thought it would be manageable. He made sure to tell us prior. Unfortunately, finally moving uphill with all the weight, it revealed that it was worse than he thought. He ended up leaving his load a few hundred feet below 11k camp, not wanting to push it too hard to make it up the last incline.
We were able to ski back to Camp 1, getting our first turns in some decent snow. The several hour uphill slog was a 20 minute ski back down. After Cody and I dug up our cache to leave our technical climbing gear at Camp 1, we discussed with Bryan and Andreea what we would do next. Bryan was pretty beat, and trying to move the entire camp again tomorrow would most likely take him out of the trip for good. We decided that he would take a rest day with Andreea, see how he felt, and then move up again the next day. Cody and I would continue to move up to keep on schedule and hopes of the West Rib alive. If he didn’t feel better, he could move back to the airstrip with Andreea, and Cody and I could come back down from 11k with light packs to get her.
The following day (Day 3), Cody and I said goodbye and moved camp up to 11,000’. This is where it became apparent that it is important to split your loads evenly, as well as put as much weight in your backpack on the uphill instead of the sled. Cody had cruised up the day prior, with a light load, and was now paying for it as the sled tugged against him. We made it to 11k after slowing down significantly, but not without more exertion then should have been used. I realized that I was used to a heavy pack, and having more weight in the pack was much more comfortable than it tugging against your stomach in the sled.
After setting up camp, we started the soon-to-be familiar routine of melting water and making dinner. The next day was a shuttle day, taking a load up and beyond Windy Corner to 13,500’. After learning our lesson, I put as much weight as I could in the backpack to keep the sled light, We made our way up Squirrel Hill, and up and around Windy Corner. Windy Corner is named because it gets strong wind, even though it may be calm on the rest of the mountain. We got lucky the whole trip, because I don’t think we ever had more than five mile per hour winds on Windy Corner.
After we dug our cache at Windy Corner, we skied back, taking the alternative way back to 11K camp and enjoying some nice powder turns, once again spending 20 minutes going down what had taken us a several hours to go up. Soon after arriving back to camp, we heard shouts of joy and we saw Andreea and Bryan coming up. Bryan looked like a brand new man, the rest day had done him well, and it looked like he was back in the game.
Unfourtunetly, weather moved in that evening, and Day 5 was spent in the tent. 11k camp is the worst place on the mountain in my opinion. Its in this bowl that doesn’t get a lot of sun and seems to trap weather in. You’re not high enough to be acclimatizing all that much, and not low enough to enjoy warmer weather. The worst of both worlds. As day 6 rolled by, it looked like the weather would be clearing in the evening, and with the endless light, Cody and I decided to head out. Andreea and Bryan would come and bring up their cache the next day.
We headed out in the early evening, and had a long, extended sunset moving up to Windy Corner. Although the temp dropped, we were moving at a steady pace. Unfortunately, Cody still hadn’t quite split up his weight between the cache and camp again. As we got to Windy Corner and made our way up and down on the icy slopes, his sled started going rogue, with it tipping over every 10 feet, and his CMC can flying everywhere. At this point, although it was still light, the sun was behind the mountain, and it had gotten cold. As Cody tried to re-adjust his sled, he took his gloves off to try to mess with the thin paracord. I wasn’t paying much attention, as I was marching in place to keep the blood flowing and avoid having to put on more layers. But after passing our cache at 13,500’, we soon started strolling to a snail pace. Cody couldn’t keep his sled from tipping over and dragging it upside down, and my feet were starting to get pretty cold. I knew I had to keep moving, before long at this pace, it was going to require us to stop so I could get out my sleeping bag and warm up my feet.
Unfortunately, while I was focused on my warmth and feet, Cody had started to get worn down, very quickly. I had thrown on my parka, and was soon debating stopping and getting out my sleeping bag. Meanwhile, Cody had hardly any layers on, and was still taking his gloves off. Eventually I noticed, and grew concerned. With only a few hundred feet to 14k, I figured we could at least find an abandoned snow wall for a little more shelter and get our stuff out. It was still clear out, with little wind, to our advantage. But at this pace, I was starting to get worried about my feet. That’s when I noticed Cody starting to stumble and fall down. I told him to secure his sled with his poles, and got him up the last few hundred feet to 14k Camp, finding a snow wall to set up the cook tent behind. Cody stumbled in, and I was able to get the tent up while Cody started getting warm, keeping his gloves on. It was nearly 3am by this point.
A few hours later, after a restless night, it started warming up again, and I was feeling fine. Cody was doing much better as well, still not sure what exactly had happened. But for now, it seemed as all was normal. I retrieved his sled that we had left, set up camp, and later that afternoon we retrieved our cache. Soon, though, he realized he still had numbness in his thumb, and the next day, a blister would form, revealing that he had indeed gotten frostbite.
14k Camp
After we had retrieved our Cache at Windy Corner(now day 7), Bryan and Andreea would stroll into our camp to cache, planning to move up and join us the following day. They rolled up, stoked to be up there, with views of Mt. Foraker and some clear skies. Along with the previous nights adventure, things here devolved further. Bryan and Andreea had not used their skis much on the ascent, and thought the snow wasn’t worth skiing back down to 11k for the night, so they left there skis with us at 14k. One less thing to have to carry up again, right? They descended, and we settled in for the night. Cody was still recovering a little bit from the night before, and was starting to question his thumb. I planned that I might go up towards the fix lines the next day before a several day storm was forecasted to approach.
Day 8 - With Cody and I at 14k, the day looked like good weather would hold for a bit longer, although the wind had already started to pick up. At this point, Cody’s thumb had started to blister up. He had frostbite. As of now, it looked small and surface level, and we decided the best thing was for him to stay in the tent and to make sure it did not refreeze again. With the storm coming in anyways, we knew we would probably be stuck for the next few days, and that him moving up, or down, would increase the chances of it getting worse. With that, I ventured out alone while the weather was holding, and made a quick run up to the top of the fixed lines before being turned around by wind. Putting on my skis, I had now reached a new personal high point, and skied back to 14k camp.
Returning to camp, we were expecting to soon see Andreea and Bryan. I turned on my in-reach and the messages started coming in. After returning to 11k yesterday, Bryan’s cough and sickness had gotten much worse and they had started to descend. However, they no longer had skis, or flotation. After getting down to around 9,700’, the visibility had gotten worse, their travel slow, and they had set up a camp there. Throughout the next few days I was in contact with them, making sure Bryan’s condition wasn’t getting worse. The storm had come in, and getting down to them with their skis, especially with Cody’s thumb, didn’t seem like a good move - as long as Bryan wasn’t getting worse. A death on Squirrel Hill also made the decision to stay put easier.
Luckily, I was in contact with Jesse, a long time friend, climbing partner, and medic, who had reached Camp 1 that same day with another group. Over the next few days while half our group was stuck, his team was able to move back and forth between Camp 1 and 11k, and I felt better knowing that they were nearby and could help if needed. Although Bryan’s cough sounded like it wasn’t getting worse, it didn’t sound like it was getting better with their days at their new camp. I suggested they try to improvise flotation/snow shoes and navigate the straight stretch to Camp 1. Hearing from Jesse, as well as other groups that had now made their way up to 14 camp and passed them, it sounded like terrain and conditions should be passable. Some extra flotation would help. Finally, weather cleared enough for them to feel comfortable making their way down, eventually getting to the airstrip and flying out, four days after they had left 11k.
Meanwhile, up at 14k, we had weathered a few days in the tent. Cody’s thumb blistered up, but seemed fairly surface level, and eventually looked like it was healing. He started to get tingling sensation back. Cody was supportive, and although it looked like his summit chance was most likely over, he was willing to stay at 14k while I waited for good enough weather to do a push. We would most likely be waiting a bit for warmer weather to descend anyways. I did a couple runs up higher to acclimatize, going up to the top of the fixed lines two more times, another trip up to 17k, and then a ski trip up to around 15,700’ near the base of the Orient Express.
During the weather days, I passed the time mostly by reading. To our advantage over those that climbed in the past, we had phones with hours of downloaded videos, solar charging panels(that still worked through the clouds), and kindles with days worth of reading. I did start to get worried I might run out after reading through The Fellowship of the Ring in a day and a half. Along with that, I also watched Nate Kenney’s Alaska trip video fifty or so times to keep the stoke up.
Other activities to look forward to were the Poop Crevasse toss. The Park Rangers mark out a specific crevasse just outside 14k camp, and is the only place on the mountain you’re technically allowed to dispose of human waste. The crevasse is massive, and you could drive several school busses into it. It’s almost a right-of-passage experience to launch a bag of frozen excrement into the depths of hell, all with a post-card perfect backdrop in front of you.
Summiting from 14k vs 17k
Going in, I was planning on summiting from 14k round trip. It seemed very feasible, but I knew until I was up there it was hard to say, as I had not been above 14k before. I knew that the acclimatizing runs would be important. I seemed to make good time on my first few runs up to the top of the fixed lines, being able to reach the base in a little under an hour, and the top of the lines in well under two. It wasn’t until my first run up to 17k camp that I fully believed I could do it, reaching the camp in just over three hours at a moderate to moderate-high pace, including stopping to talk with and take pictures for other groups. I felt good, and although the weather days were frustrating, it just meant I was getting better acclimatized.
There are a lot of opinions about summiting from 14k vs 17k. If you ask the Park Rangers, they are strongly against going from 14k and think you’re stupid if you do, or think you should take all you camping equipment and a 40lb pack. Which is understandable. A lot of people attempt it that don’t have the fitness, and they have had to rescue plenty of people. During our weather days, a guy attempted it and ended up in a 36 hour epic on the upper mountain. Based off the most recent picture I saw, he was probably going to loose half his toes to frostbite.
If you summit from 14k, you really don’t want to be much longer than 16 or 18 hours. The longer you’re up there, the more exposed you are to the elements. If you’re taking longer than that, it also means you will probably not be quick enough to descend if weather changes quickly. Also, if you take longer than 16-18 hours, it means you will be starting out in very cold temps, or ending in very cold temps.
However, summiting from 14k is much, much less overall workload, and requires a much shorter weather window. I’m lazy, and spending less time above 14k carrying lighter loads sounded more pleasant and more fun. It appealed to me, and it was the way I wanted to do it, but it was not easy. If you can make it to 17k in under 4 hours, it is likely a benchmark you can do the round trip in under 18. Longer than that, you should really question if you should be doing it. I figured if Colin Haley could solo 9,000’ of the Cassin Ridge in 8 hours, I might be able to do 6,000’ on the much less technical West Buttress in that time.
You also really want good weather. The day I went up to 17k and back, I was the first one out, and at 17k, it was calm winds and warm. I was just in my fleece. Visibility wasn’t great, but the forecast had called for 30mph winds, which wasn’t the case. I turned around, and went past a few skiers going up. They kept going, and ended up summiting that day. Of course, I kicked myself wishing I had kept going, but the high pressure came eventually, and I had much better views than if I had summited that day. When the day finally looked good enough, it was about -10 on the summit with 20mph winds. It was cold but manageable, and I had some of the clearest skies of the whole trip.
I took food, water, all my clothing, a shovel blade that attached to my axe, harness/ascender for the fixed lines, skis and crampons, and a Ready Heat heated blanket(a great thing to have on Denali.). I started out around 8am, and the sun hit me while I was on the fixed lines. I never had an issue with crowds on the fixed lines, it seemed they would usually start to clog up late morning into early afternoon after everything started to heat up. I was able to skin up to the base of the fixed lines in about an hour. I switched to crampons and made it to the top of the fixed lines in around an 1:40. Countinuing on, I made it to 17k camp in 2:40, where I took a short break, went to the bathroom and started up again. I reached the top of the Autobahn, about 18,200’, in about 4:05. This is where the wind picked up, and I took another break and put on all layers but the puffy pants. At this point, I also had now passed the other two teams and was leading the charge. I slowed down significantly above 18.5k. Between the wind, cold, altitude, and now trail breaking, it was tough work. At the football field around 19,500’, I put on the puffy pants. I made the summit about 7 hours and 40 minutes after leaving 14k camp (only slightly faster then Colin soloed the Cassin). I spent about 30 minutes on the summit, and the wind started to die down. I ended up leaving the skis on my back. The snow was pretty garbage, and I was afraid it was too cold to take off my over boots on my ski boots to be able to ski. My legs were tired, and the day had kicked my ass pretty thoroughly. It seemed trying to ski through the snow would take much more energy than walking down. The Autobahn had been variable and icy enough, I knew I wouldn’t ski down it, which would have meant another transition as well.
I started my way down, and it went quite quickly. Reaching the Autobahn, it was time to focus up and really pay attention. I can see why this section has seen so many deaths, specifically on the descent. Making my way down to 17k, Cody came on the radio. He had decided to get out and had booted up Rescue Gully and was waiting at 17k. Along with that, Jesse and his crew had also moved up to 17k camp to make a summit push the next day. I got down to them, and Jesse came over and gave a big hug. I did my first multi—pitch trad lead with him, and now were were up on Denali together, it was a great moment.
I really wanted to ski as much of the mountain as I could, and it was now or never if I was going to ski Rescue Gully. And here is where we get into the next topic -
Skiing Above 14k
If you want to climb Denali, it is much better with skis. Snowshoes suck, plain and simple. And as you see from our group that no longer had their skis, it was a miserable time getting down. You don’t need to be a great skier either. However, most people don’t ski once they get to 14k camp. The skiing above is much more difficult, committing, and tricky.
I had heard about the blue ice on Denali. Reading reports of the Messner, people seemed to nearly avoid death from the hidden blue ice. After spending time up there, I realized how serious it is. For example, some days, the slope the fixed lines are on looks like a great ski run. However, a thin layer of snow softly covers the dangers beneath. With a little wind, thick, beautiful, blue ice is revealed. It was thick enough to take screws. It’s always there, sometimes covered by plenty of snow, other times just enough to hide it. The upper mountain is covered with it. Rescue Gully, for example, has a steep, narrow entrance. It’s not bad, but if you hit blue ice, you’re taking off, and its 2,000’ until the slope levels out.
The other issue is avalanches. Below 14,000’ there is minimal avalanche terrain(although still some), but above, there’s plenty of it. Big mountain conditions vary a lot, and with lines that are several thousand feet, it’s hard to predict what it is all going to be like. With rapid changes in weather, the conditions also constantly change, and vary quickly. The point is, skiing above 14,000’ is no joke, and there is a big shift going from below to above that point, and you need to honestly evaluate your ski skills and conditions before you ski above that point.
As I came down to 17k from the summit, I had two things that had leaned me over to skiing Rescue Gully. The first was that Cody had just booted up it. He was psyched, and had seen a dozen or so people ski down it that day. I asked him if it was icy, my biggest concern. He said maybe just the entrance but that it looked fine! First mistake, and lesson learned, is don’t take what people tell you as gospel. If you didn’t see it, or ski it, be skeptical.
The second thing was that Jesse was there, who is great with technical skills. My biggest fear was the first section. I knew I would slide slip down it, but was afraid of hitting some blue ice and going for a ride. Luckily, I knew I could ask Jesse to throw me on a quick belay to check it out with low consequence and easily be able to bail. Plus with Jesse, I knew he would have an anchor and belay set up in minutes. So I went for it. Jesse threw me on a quick belay, and I started side slipping down. It was definitely firm, edgeable, but not great. I kept going further and further down, waiting for it to soften more, based off of what Cody had said, but it just kept being the same. Eventually, the rope ran out. Decision time.
It wasn’t great snow, but i could keep working my way down. It looked the same for another hundred to two hundred feet or so before it opened up and I could make out some visible ski tracks. I could see some ice off to the side, but a good enough path to keep going. I unclipped the rope, and kept inching down.
Before I had started down, some clouds had come through and now obscured 14k camp and the slopes below. I could see a few hundred feet down, but not all the way. After I unclipped, I kept inching down, ice axe in my uphill hand, ski poles in the other. It looked like I was getting close to being able to make some turns finally, when I heard shouting from above. I couldn’t hear anything, but then Cody came over the radio
“Hey so there was an avalanche”
Well that’s no help now I thought. Where was the avalanche? When was it? I’m a little committed now. I don’t think this ice slope is going to avalanche on me at least! With ice axe in one hand, ski poles in the other, and focusing on keeping my edges held, I couldn’t get on the radio and try to ask questions. I wouldn’t be able to get my skis off anyways until the slope became softer or mellowed out further down.
Back to it - I kept going down. The clouds still obscured everything below. I knew what I was on wasn’t going to avalanche at least, I could barely hold an edge. I kept scooting down, still not getting any useful information over the radio. Then, another skier dropped in above me. He made his way down, and had radio contact with the rest of his team at 14k. He spoke a little bit of English and informed me that there was an avalanche about an hour ago somewhere on Rescue Gully, and that they had recovered a body. I guess it was good Cody had not started any later than he did.
Still not being able to see, we followed next to a boot path down a little further, trying to limit chunks of frozen snow we were knocking down. I wont go into too much detail about it all, but eventually we saw the crown off to the side. It was on an isolated section that must have been cross loaded from the wind on an otherwise firm slope. There were ski tracks all around it from earlier in the day, and the crown was less than a foot high. The clouds and fog started to clear, and the path revealed itself, falling more than 1,500’. It stopped just shy of the main path up to the fixed lines. We carefully skied over and cut into the slide path and safely rode it down, giving room for the recovery team. Finally, I was back at 14k camp, about 11.5 hours after I had set out.
The NPS release of the incident can be found here.
The mood at 14k camp was somber. Those that had skied the gully just previous to the avalanche expressed shock. It was a stark reminder of the consequences and risk up there, which can often be put to the back of the mind due to the abundance of people. I know the amount of people that were always around gave me a false sense of security. I think a lot of people, myself included, went to bed that night reflecting on risk and the “why” of doing these things.
Simple, Not Easy
The next day, we decided to take advantage of the warm weather and Cody’s healing thumb and started down. Our sleds, and packs, were heavy, with all the extra cached gear. We started out from 14k attempting the tandem sled technique, tying both our sleds together. This worked ok at first, but there is a reason you don’t see ski patrol tobogganing people down on snowboards. It was much more difficult for Cody on the split board to be able to control speed in a smooth straight line. After Windy Corner, we booted down in normal fashion all the way to the top of Motorcycle Hill. Carrying two pair of skis/board each, with one on our packs and one on the sleds, worked out at first when the sleds were not rolling. Once we hit Squirrel Hill, and the sleds started rolling, the skis on the sled would dig into the snow and get stuck. Frequent stopping, cussing, and hatred fueled us down to the top of Motorcycle Hill, finally switching back to skiing. This allowed us to put the extra pair of skis on our pack before attempting to ski/board down with our individual sleds.
After the first few turns on Motorcycle Hill, I got the hang of it and was able to zoom down to 11k Camp. Ready to finally make quick progress, Cody did not have the same experience. I’m not a snowboarder, so I can’t say, but my best piece of advice to split-boarders who want to go to Denali is to be really really damn good(I did run into Elena Hight with a split board on 16k ridge) or to just ski. With constant falls due to the sled throwing him off balance, we slowly made our way below 10,000’, where Cody decided to just walk. With temps dropping, snow refreezing, and a nice boot pack, I continued to ski down to Camp 1, digging up our cache, melting snow, getting hot water ready, and keeping in contact with Cody as he walked the well-beaten path back down.
We took a nice break at Camp 1, eating dinner and waiting for around 2am when the lower glacier would be nice and frozen. The last stretch went quickly. We made it to the Airstrip with enough time for some rest before checking in at 8am to try to fly out. Cody’s thumb was able to bump us up the list, and shortly after we were on the first flight out.
If everything had gone to plan, I was hoping to summit around day 10. Here was the actual Itinerary:
Day 0: Fly to Anchorage, shuttle to Talkeetna.
Day 1: NPS Meeting, fly onto glacier, move from airstrip to Camp 1
Day 2: Take a load up to 11k Camp and bury cache, ski back down.
Day 3: Move to 11k Camp, Bryan/Andreea rest day.
Day 4: Take load up to 13,500’ around Windy Corner to Cache, ski back down. Bryan/Andreea move to 11k Camp.
Day 5: Weather Day.
Day 6: Weather Clears up in afternoon, Cody and I move to 14k Camp.
Day 7: Get Cache at Windy Corner, Bryan/Andreea Cache at 14k Camp.
Day 8: Go up to top of fixed lines (16,000’), ski bottom of lines back to camp. Bryan/Andreea start to descend.
Day 9: Weather Day.
Day 10: Weather Day.
Day 11: Weather not great, go to top of fixed lines, back down. Bryan/Andreea make it to Airstrip.
Day 12: Weather not great, go to 17k Camp and back down. Bryan/Andreea fly out.
Day 13: Weather not great(winds), go up to 15.7k near Orient Express. Ski back down. Team was able to boot up and skied the Messner
Day 14: Weather not great, go up Fixed lines, back down.
Day 15: Weather day-high pressure and good weather in forecast.
Day 16: Rest/weather - high pressure and good weather in forecast.
Day 17: Summit day, 14k - Summit - 14k in just over 11.5 hours.
Day 18: Start moving down in late afternoon and get to Camp 1.
Day 19: Move during night to Airstrip, flyout in morning to Talkeetna, spend night in Talkeetna.
Day 20: Shuttle to Anchorage, fly home.
Prior to the high pressure window, the “word on the street” was the success rate for the season was very low - less than 20%. However, over the next few days, lots of teams took advantage of the weather. I will be interested to hear the final numbers, and if it will end up closer to the average 50-60%. I know some teams were successful on the Cassin during that high pressure window, followed by a Solo ascent of the Slovak Direct by Balin Miller.
Key Takeaways
-Sleds, a unique aspect to climbing this mountain. Practice with them before hand, fully loaded. On any inclines, keep as much weight in your backpack as possible. I used PVC poles attached to my sled and would do it again. I did an awful descent with a sled down the north side of Mt. Baker in the winter, and it was more difficult than anything with a sled I would face on the mountain.
-Group dynamics. The more you can get out with your group before hand, the better. Make sure goals, fitness, risk tolerance, and compatibility are aligned. You will be up there with them in an area that is not friendly to human existence.
-Fitness. Summiting from 14k is not easy. The more fitness you have, the easier everything becomes. Moving above 17k with minimal gear, you have to also be able to turn around just as fast. Summiting from 17k requires longer weather windows and more work load. I’m lazy, and would rather suffer more training in the comfort of my home than have to spend three days above 14k.
-Skiing. The skiing is serious, even below 14k there is opportunity to suffer serious consequence. I have never seen blue ice appear and disappear like on the upper mountain. Avalanches still happen, although guided groups don’t usually bring beacons, because they will be roped together. If you are skiing it is just like anywhere else. Both skiers in the Rescue Gully incident had beacons.
-Be comfortable with glacier navigation and navigating in low vis. Although often times there are flags and trails to follow, you can not rely on it, and should have the navigational skills to travel without using a flagged route.
-Do everything you can to be healthy going in! Once on the mountain, you will probably only get worse, as Bryan discovered, and making the call to end early may be easier in the long run, but a tough decision to make in the moment. Trying to shove in last minute training or packing will add stress and not help. I spent the previous 2 weeks before leaving on a family vacation laying on a beach in Barbados (at sea level!). Spending time with loved ones and being stress free and well rested going in was a huge help, and I felt great physically, mentally, and spiritually.
-Proper Planning Prevents Poor Performance. Have your contingency plans. We had all the necessary and redundant equipment, a communication plan, med plan, etc. If things don’t go to plan, it is important to stay calm, cool, and collected. This also means going in prepared and able to execute all that will be required of you.
-The fixed lines were surprisingly a lot of fun. I ended up going up and down on 5 different occasions. I saw some wacky techniques people used as they burned themselves out. Use your ascender and proper crampon technique going up, and have a good system for going down. I used a kliemheist friction hitch going down to save my jacket from rope burn doing arm wraps, as well as so I could go hands free to be able to take pictures. But I could also untie/tie it faster(with gloves) than most people could clip and arm wrap. Nearly every time I had the fixed lines to myself. Most groups would wait for the sun to be blasting and warm before heading up. On the good days, “rush hour” was between 11am and 5pm.
Photos of others on the mountain: https://photos.app.goo.gl/NjUo84wQUy3briiS8
