Denali
Gentle Readers: You know by now that some of the travel adventures I share are current and some are not. This next series will be on a climb of Denali – Mt. McKinley. It is the only peak in North American over 20,000’. The adventures reported here happened 30 years ago, between May 19 – 29, 1984. The trip was an early 40th birthday present to myself. I was not, and am not, a technical climber, but I had mountaineered up several peaks in the Sierra over 14,000’ so I thought I was ready. Besides, climbing Denali was not an old man’s game and I didn’t really want to be 40 years old. I almost got my wish.
Hope you enjoy.
Sam
Prologue:
“Breath, Claude! . . . Breath!”
Claude stopped, and the orange line connected to my safety harness when slack. I stood trying to get the atmosphere to yield enough oxygen to stop the fire in my lungs. That fire had taken only two steps to build and would be back after the next two. The conventional wisdom around Mt. McKinley says the atmosphere is thinner at the poles than around the equator, so the air at 20,000’ here has equivalent oxygen content to the air at 23,000’ in the Himalayas. I didn’t know if that was true, but I did know the air was thin enough at 19,000’ that it was stopping me.
We had started up Mt. McKinley nine days earlier. K-2 Aviation, out of Talkeetna, Alaska had taken Claude Fiddler, Tom Rambo and I to Base Camp. Base Camp was at a glacial air strip with a small semi-permanent, floored tent manned by a radio operator. It’s at the 7,000’ level on the Southeast Fork of the Kahiltna Glacier. The camp is maintained by the several flying services that ferry climbers to the mountain. Their planes are equipped with skis. The section of the Kahiltna in front of Base Camp is particularly suited for this operation because of its flatness and relative lack of crevasses.
I had planned this trip in celebration of my 40th birthday, to rail against middle age if you will. Climbing the only mountain in North America over 20,000’ seemed adequate proof that I hadn’t yet become infirm.
My mountaineering experience had not prepared me for the rigors of this trip. I had never been up anything bigger than Mt. Shasta or Mt. Whitney in the Sierras – 14,000’ peaks. But I thought I was in good shape. I was a runner with a resting pulse in the low 50’s and a whole lot of miles on my Adidas’’. And I had taken the precaution of surrounding myself with experienced mountaineers.
Tom Rambo was a 39 year old man whose main occupation was that of a section chief of ski patrolmen at a resort in the Sierras. He is blond, blue eyed and a trim man at six feet. He is bearded and handsome enough to hold a union card in the Screen Actors Guild where he finds work as an extra and stunt man in movies. He is a man with the credentials, a bachelor’s degree, for a much more prestigious occupation. He has the intellect and philosophical temperament to have been a draft resistor and Canadian émigré during Vietnam. He is dedicated to his life by choice, not circumstance. The fact that he has done a solo climb of Eiger is certainly indicative of his skill.
Claude Fiddler came to his calling as a mountaineer and climber more by accident than design. Or it may simply be that he came to his temperamental calling early and easily. Whichever, at 31, Claude is definitely the more gifted and credentialed of the two mountaineers. In the winter he’s a ski patrolman on Mt. Reba and in the summertime devotes himself to rock climbing in the Yosemite Valley. The Yosemite Valley is currently the home of the best rock climbers in the world and Claude is apparently among the best of these. The capstone to his career has been being part of a 1983 U. S. Everest Expedition. The expedition was unsuccessful in reaching the summit, but Claude did reach over 27,000 feet.
When I asked Claude how he found himself at this life, he indicated that as a very young man while on a hiking trip with the Boy Scouts he observed some rock climbers in Yosemite. He became fascinated and started to pursue rock climbing and was astute enough to understand that to do so it not only became necessary to learn the techniques of climbing; it was also how to run one’s life to be able to devote it to those pursuits. Claude said he, “enjoys the leisure life at the lower end of the economic spectrum.”
Neither of these men had climbed McKinley, but both had the skill to and both wanted to. So we struck a deal. I would supply the money and they would supply the talent, and we’d all go up Mt. McKinley together. So far I had traveled 2,958 miles on this adventure. I left Los Angeles on Western Airlines and flew 2,800 miles to Anchorage. There had been a change of planes in Seattle. The flight out of Seattle had originated in San Francisco. Claude and Tom had started from there, and I joined them on the Seattle to Anchorage leg. We spent the night in Anchorage, and the next morning boarded the Alaska Railroad for a 114 mile ride to Talkeetna. At Talkeetna we chartered Jim Okonek and his Cessna 185 to fly us the remaining 30 miles to Base Camp. We had then traveled on skis for 8 miles along the Kahiltna Glacier. Finally, we had cached our skis, put on crampons and walked the last 6 miles. 2,958 miles by plane, train, ski and foot and I was out of breath with 1.5 miles to go.
Day 1 – May 19, 1984
We landed at Base Camp at 4:00pm. It was a beautiful May day with the temperature about 60 degrees in the sunshine. The sky was almost cloudless, and the wind blowing almost not at all. We spent an hour loading our gear onto plastic sleds and getting our safety lines, harnesses and bindings adjusted and buying a gallon of gasoline for fuel. Base Camp had one small permanent tent manned by an Aussie named Roland. Several of the flying services who fly climbers up the mountain and back employee him to man a radio. He also sells gasoline. There were three other climbing parties at Base Camp. There were several pennants in the snow to mark food caches of other parties currently on the mountain. We cached a case of chili and beans Claude had brought along in case we get snowed in on the way back. And then we left.
We were each had an expedition sized back pack weighing about seventy pounds. For the first portion of the journey these were strapped into plastic sleds about 3’ x 18”. The packs hung out over the edges of the sleds on all sides. Claude immediately dubbed his “Bulbous Pig”. These sleds were attached by a ten foot length of line to our harnesses and drug behind us.
We were also attached to each other. Each of us was wearing a Bibler Harness. We’d attach carabineers to the harness and then attach that to a safety line. The line was 150’ long, so we were all approximately 75’ apart, and each of us dragging his sled 10’ behind. We were also each equipped with alpine skis which had been modified to allow cross country travel. This was accomplished by removing the regular downhill binding, and replacing it with Ramer bindings. A Ramer binding has an adjustable heal. It can be adjusted so the heal is free to go up and down as with a cross country ski or fixed down as with an alpine ski. We used the free position to walk up the glacier. Later, when it’s time to come down, the heal will be fixed so we can ski down.
When going up the glacier the ski is fitted with a “skin”. The “skin” is really not a skin at all, but a length of mohair. This is glued along the bottom of the ski so that the knap lays from the front to the rear of the ski. This permits’ the ski to glide forward, but prevents it from sliding downhill when the skier is on an uphill grade. In other words you can climb with it. The “skin” is removed when it’s time to ski back down.
The largest risk associated with glacier travel is the danger of falling into a crevasse. These cracks in the ice may be wide and hundreds of feet deep. Commonly, drifting snow will blow over them and form a skin, covering the opening from view. If these coverings are deep enough to support the weight of a traveler, they are called snow bridges. If they are not that deep, they are the leafy covering over the tiger pit. These things can be fatal. We were traveling roped together as a precaution against such and encounter. 1)
After leaving Base Camp we skied for about two hours. Originally, we lost 500’ as the Southeast Fork dropped down to meet the Kahiltna. When the two joined we turned north to follow the main glacier. We regained the 500’ we had lost before we made camp that night. In all we traveled about 2 miles on the glacier that first day.
We had several little mishaps along the way. The sleds tended to be top heavy and turned over easily. Tom had more trouble than either Claude or I, but had finally gotten enough weight along the bottom side of his pack to keep it from turning over every time one side got higher than the other. Claude had never used Ramer bindings before, and his toe piece was to loosely adjusted. As a result, he stepped out of his skis on more than one occasion. A brief stop and a couple of turns of a wrench solved that. I lost my sled entirely. I had fastened my Bibler Harness improperly, and the whole thing fell off. When it did my sled was free to slide back down the hill and did. Tom, who was behind me, tackled it as it slid by him. It was a good open field tackle and I complimented it. Claude pointed out that the sled appeared to be a straight forward runner without a lot of “moves” so I shouldn’t be too profuse in my praise.
Claude also showed me how to fasten the harness properly. The consequences of my mistake could have been far more severe. There was a female climber named Marti Hoy, famous in mountaineering lore for an identical mistake. She, however, had the misfortune of committing it on a steep face of Mt. Everest. When her harness came open, it was she, and not the sled, that fell down the mountain. She didn’t have Tom Rambo to catch her either, and the consequences were fatal. I fastened the harness properly after that.
Just as the sun was going down there was a tremendous roar off to our left. Mt. Crosson was letting go a huge avalanche. We stood and watched tons of snow pour down the mountain to the glacier, then bounce up into the air and spread out across the glacier toward us. It was like standing on the beach watching a huge tsunami approach. And on our view from the beach we could eventually see that the wave was going to peter-out before it reached us. It was a sight so magnificent that it was frightening only in retrospect.
1) Only two climbers were killed on McKinley during the 1984 climbing season. The more publicize was the Japanese soloist, Naomi Uemura. The other was a Swiss who fell into a crevasse while skiing unroped at the 10,000’ level. His body was never recovered.
Day 2 – May 20, 1984
During our first night together I made a rather startling discovery. I was the only man in the tent who was potty trained. During the night I had gotten out of a warm sleeping bag, and taken myself out onto the glacier to relieve myself. Cold!!!! To my knowledge my companions had not had to expose themselves to the same discomfort. In the morning I discovered why. Both of them came out of their sleeping bags with water bottles full of “pee”. A far more reasonable, if less fastidious, solution. It’s not as easy as you think, however!
I’ve just been told that I must record something here (in 1984 when I took these notes I was carrying a hand held dictating devise). That is my solemn word to Claude that his spoon will come back. His spoon disappeared in the tent and we are sharing one at breakfast. And what a breakfast it is – oatmeal and margarine and instant coffee. I tell you gourmet fare.
My solemn word is kept. Claude’s spoon just reappeared between two sleeping bags. Claude just corrected me. It appeared from underneath my butt.
Over breakfast we have been talking about how accommodating K-2 was. When we first met Jim Okonek, he picked us up at the train and took us to his “shack” – pretty nice shack. It’s really a well-constructed, painted and maintained shed. It’s right along the side of the airport and he’s got an office and a toilet and a storeroom there. The thing is wrapped around with a veranda on three sides so any number of people can sit up there, change clothes and store gear and stuff. Once there Jim asked, “You guys want to go up now?” Our response, “We’ve got to change clothes and repack.” Jim responded, “Okay, I’m going to go into town and have another eggroll at the fair. When I get back we’ll go up.” He’s a pretty accommodating guy.
It’s now 2:30 on Sunday afternoon and we’re having lunch. The whole day has been gorgeous; sun’s been out all day long. The temperature has been as high as 60 degrees and not much colder than 20. We started out with a lot of clothes and pealed them off as we went. And now all three of us are walking across this glacier in our underwear.
We made 4 or 5 miles this morning. (Claude just stripped off his shirt and he’s no longer in his underwear.) We have picked up about 2,000 feet of elevation as well. Despite the weather and the temperature, the last 1,000 feet was really tough. My legs were cramping. I took in all my water for the day during lunch. I borrowed some ERG from Tom to try to get my electrolytes back in balance. For a while I was down to walking 6 or 8 steps and stopping to let the cramps go away, and then walking another 6 or 8 steps. But we are here and it is gorgeous. We’re going to try to make another 1,000 or 1,500 feet of vertical this afternoon. There is some weather coming in from the north; its coming slowly. From the look of it I don’t think it’s going to arrive until evening.
It is gorgeous looking back across the glacier. We are high enough now to see down on the Alaska Range. The vista is unbelievable – peaks and glacier and more peaks all the way to horizon. It is a picture post-card.
But there is no life up here, no birds, not one little blade of grass trying to pop out of all the rocks. It is a bit like looking into the heavens at night – stunningly beautiful but not able to sustain life, mine or any other.
We’ve seen at least half a dozen parties this morning. One was; one sounded like they were Brits of some kind; one party of Japanese and a Swiss couple. The Japanese, a party of twelve, was coming down the mountain after an unsuccessful search for the body of Naomi Uemura. Mr. Uemura had, earlier in the year, attempted the first solo winter assault on the mountain. They found his dairy in an ice-cave above 16,000’. And from his report the mountain had been willing to allow him the honor of being the first to do so. But it was unwilling to allow him to return and glory in the event.
The Swiss gentleman was a climbing guide on the Matterhorn. He and his girlfriend were on a “busman’s holiday” of sorts taking their vacation to climb another famous peak. We found out later that he was the Swiss who, bored on the way down and wanting to ski the glacier, unhooked form his girlfriend and “went-in”. Like Uemura his body remains with the mountain.
It is now Sunday evening and we’ve made it to Kahiltna Pass. We went about 6 miles today and have covered about 9 miles since we started, but we have only gained 3,000 feet in altitude. So on this entire hike we have only 6 more miles to go, but another 10,000 feet of vertical. This afternoon I faired better than this morning, but I am exhausted nonetheless.
We just had some king of fluffy little jaybird serenade us and beg for a little food. We gave it knowing he is only present because he was forced here on a powerful updraft. His odds of getting back down a close to zero. He, like Uemura and the Swiss guide, will stay on the mountain.
Tomorrow we’re going to Windy Corners which is 12,500. That only about 2 ½ miles but 2,500 feet of rise. The section between 11,000 and 12,000 feet is steep. A lot of climbers abandon their skis here and do the rest on foot. We are the only people camped here but there are 8 pairs of skis stuck into the snow.
Tonight we put the tent up inside a dugout in the snow that a previous party of campers constructed. Our tent is set into the ground 3 to 4 feet with steps cut down to it - this as protection against the wind. It is now 6:40pm and there is not yet a wisp of wind.
Day 3 – May 21, 1984
Our destination today will be Windy Corners. Windy Corners comes by its name honestly. It is a spot at 13,500’ level where the glacier is pinched between the West Buttress and the Cassin Ridge. This pinching causes a venture effect accelerating the winds which whip down from the top of the mountain. Winds of up to 125 miles per hour are not uncommon there. Our goal is to climb to just below Windy Corners and camp tonight at the 12,500’ level. Then on Tuesday, weather permitting, we’ll “turn the corner”.
This morning was again beautiful – about 20 degrees, clear and cloudless. Yesterday I developed a few blisters from the new Kolfach boots, but nothing of consequence. The boots are a little big and my feet have been sliding around inside them. Today I’m going to leave off the VBL (vapor barrier lining) socks, they seem to slide back and forth a lot, and try a pair of wool socks to stuff a little extra bulk in there.
The slope was steep this morning so I started out with my Ramers adjusted up – they have a setting that adds a “high-heal” on the back. So going up a steep hill it is as though I was standing on a platform rather than climbing a steep angle. That helped a lot. Tom and Claude had 35mm wide skins on. I had 50 mm wide skins so I was not only standing on a platform but also getting more grip on the snow.
Late in the morning we abandoned the skis. We were at about 10,600’ and the slope was just too difficult for Tom’s and Claude’s skins. We took the crampons from our packs; put them on our feet to continue. The degree of slope was also beginning to cause trouble with the sleds. We pulled them for no more than an hour and at about 11,000’ we cached them and put our packs on our backs.
When preparing for the trip I had adjusted my crampons to fit outside of my over boots. Over boots are neoprene covers that keep feet warm and safe from frostbite at temperatures as low as 40 below F. The temperature was in the 50 degree range so wearing the over boots would have been absurd. So I had to adjust the crampons to fit my boots. The first slope we ascended without the skis or the sleds was steep – approximately 30 degrees. As we walked up I had a very difficult time with the crampons. They came off no less than 3 times. Each time I would have to stop, take off my pack, sit down, take out the necessary tools and tighten the fitting on the crampons. What a bitch! It took us two hours to climb 700’.
I made an interesting discovery this morning – the crevasse. On no less than three occasions we crossed a crevasse at a spot where a portion of the snow covering had broken away. This caused, for the first time, the sensation that I was actually on a narrow bridge over an open hole. The holes exposed that morning were between 6 and 30 feet deep. On one occasion the snow covering on both sides of the trail had fallen in, and the bridge over which we walked was 5’ wide. Spooky!
This afternoon we climbed an 800’ ridge that was 30 to 35 degrees of slope. I was as exhausted today as yesterday but without the cramps. It was so hard to breathe. I was behind Claude on the rope, and no matter how slowly I’d walk, I could not walk as slowly as he did. The only way I could mimic his walk was to pretend it was a wedding march or graduation (think “Pomp and Circumstance”). I’d have to pretend I was in slow motion to even begin to mimic it. 36 steps would cause me to get close enough to Claude that 4’ or 5’ of rope would be dragging behind me. It was also hard to breathe. I’d stand and huff and puff until the rope tightened up again. They I’d take another 14 steps, so I could get 50 steps to a cycle, and say, “Claude, rest!” And then we would stop for a few moments. My God, I was exhausted. I wanted to sit down about 80% up the hill and take the pack off and Claude said, “No, let’s do it at the top.” I honestly didn’t think I was going to make it.
We got to the top and I just collapsed. It’s nothing but the altitude and the lack of oxygen and the load. The pack is 65 to 70 pounds. Now that the sleds are gone I’m carrying it on my back.
When we got to camp Tom realized he’d lost his ice axe. The last time he’d seen it was at the point when I was losing my crampons. After walking on from one adjustment I decided I had not put the tools back into my backpack. I could not find them. Tom volunteered to go back and get them. He unhooked from the safety line. When he did removed his ice axe off his pack and took it with him. That was the last time I saw the axe. He swore he’d hung it back on his pack when he’d returned with my crampon tools, but if he did he hadn’t hooked it properly and it must have fallen off.
Claude and Tom went back to look for it. They roped together and took off back down the hill. I’m sitting here boiling water for everybody and feel like I’m going to collapse any minute.
Tonight we camped at our projected site at 12,500’. As we had in the last two nights, we dug a hole about 2 ½ feet deep into the snow for our tent. This is a safety precaution against the wind coming up. The tent is not going to blow away like Dorothy’s house in Kansas, but it could rip or get pushed down into our faces. By securing the sides of the tent with a wall we give ourselves some protection against this possibility.
We have now walked 11 ½ miles and climbed to 12,500’. We’ve got 4 miles to go and 8,000’ of elevation to ascend. Tomorrow we’re only climbing to 14,000’ where we plan to rest and acclimate for a day. I can use it.