In June of 2011 I completed a 10 Day mountaineering course with mountain guides Matt Hegeman and Brent Langlinais. We completed 6 days of mountaineering training and a summit of Mt. Baker before continuing on to successfully summit Mt. Rainier via the challenging Kautz Route.
After returning from a trip on Denali in 2014, I learned of the tragic news that my former Rainier guide, Matt Hegeman and 5 more climbers had died in an avalanche on the Liberty Ridge of Rainier. My prayers are with the Hegeman family after the terrible incident. Matt was a phenomenal guide who taught me how to safely climb on my first mountaineering experience. I was personally roped up with him for the entirety of the ten-day trip, and thanks to him, I had a wonderful experience and a successful summit.
I have compiled 5 valuable lessons Matt taught me about mountaineering.
1. Lower your ski pole
“Keep your arms low below your heart and your hands will stay warmer” – Matt- Before we took our first step onto Mt. Baker, Matt shared with us this brilliant little tip. Three years later and I still walk with some of the shortest poles on the team. This tip has kept my hands warm and frostbite free. Matt was detail oriented and full of simple tips that actually make a huge difference.
2. A good mountaineer…looks good doing it
“There is a reason you don’t see pictures of Ed Viesturs climbing with gear hanging all over the place.” -Matt- Keeping a tightly packed bag and well-organized gear seems like a no brainer, but Matt’s acute eye for perfection taught me that good looks can be functional as well. Sticking to this rule has, many times, saved me from losing a critical piece of gear.
3. Laugh a little, climbing should be fun
“Who needs hair gel? If you don’t use shampoo it just works itself out” -Matt- Matt took climbing extremely seriously but he never took himself seriously. He always knew how to inject humor into the conversation and keep the team laughing.
4. There is always time to do it right the first time
“Mental fortitude trumps fitness ninety percent of the time” -Matt- Hegeman was an intensely philosophical climber who always showed us the most technically accurate method of mountaineering. As a new climber I was greatly impressed by his greater focus on keeping your mind sharp and letting your training take care of the rest.
5. Safely returning home is the only goal that truly matters
“Most people can tell when it is time to turn around, but if not I will tell them.” – Matt- Matt loved to climb but knew the importance of doing so safely. He taught me that it is OK to turn back from the summit, it will still be there tomorrow. A hard lesson that he instilled in me from the start.
Mt. McKinley, known by its native name of Denali, is the tallest mountain on the North American continent standing at 20,320ft. In June of 2014, Parker made a second attempt to complete his second summit of the Seven Summits on Denali.
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Summary:
After 21 days of climbing on the mountain, one week of sleeping at High Camp (17,200ft), battling -52°F wind chill, 50mph winds, constant white-out conditions, and a 24hr “death march” from High Camp to Base Camp, our team returned safely to Talkeetna, Alaska with no major injuries or frostbite. No climbers summitted during the days we spent at High Camp, and the few private teams that made attempts were either injured or turned back by the high winds and cold temperatures. We were the only guided team to hold out at High Camp through that time period and I am thankful for our guides who gave us the best possible chance at a summit, but who also had the wisdom to hold us back when the weather was unsafe to climb. I will be updating this post with notes and pictures over the next few days.
The Approach:
Houston, TX to Talkeetna, AK
May 23, 2014
After spending all night packing, a full day of work, and fighting rush hour traffic, I arrived at the airport on time, thanks to a ride I bummed from my buddy Taylor. Denali requires a lot of gear, and I made the mistake of waiting until the night before the trip to get it all together, sacrificing any hope of sleep in the process. I made it through security and randomly ran into a co-worker, Amber, on the same flight. I made a few new friends, chatted about the mountains, snuck onto the plane with my overweight carry-on, and passed out moments after take-off. A quick 10 minute transfer in Denver and I was on my next flight to Anchorage, once again, desperately attempting to catch up on sleep.
May 24, 2014
We landed in Anchorage, Alaska at 1:00am in the morning and the only thing that was open was the terminal McDonald’s. I slammed a tasty Double Cheeseburger Meal (you get a free pass on healthy eating during vaca, right?) before heading on to grab my bags. My train ride wasn’t until 8:15am, so I found myself sleeping on a bench next to a handful of other assorted hippies and travelers.
On the way to the train station, the smoke in the sky became immediately apparent. My co-worker in Anchorage, Sam, had warned me of the wildfires in Kenai that were clouding the air with smoke. I didn’t notice a smell, but was happy to be on the way to Talkeetna where the skies are clear and the sun never sets.
The train ride to Talkeetna is filled with beautiful countryside, wildlife, mountains, and scenery. Talkeetna is a quaint little town and the last stop for mountaineers before serving as a launching pad for flying onto the mountain. I checked into the House of Seven Trees Hostel and got settled in before taking a walk down to the Susitna River. For dinner I headed over to the West Rib Pub for a burger. I haven’t quite worked up the appetite for their Man vs. Food options, but I’m sure I’ll be back to conquer that post-climb.
May 25, 2014
Today I partook in the Skills Workshop in preparation for the climb. While it was not required, it was a good opportunity to meet several of my teammates and practice together before flying out. I had a chance to meet our guides Larry Holmgren and Dusty Eroh. They definitely know their stuff and I will be in good hands. Most of the day was spent going over basic rope team glacier travel, knots, running protection, and crevasse rescue. It was a good refresher and gave plenty of time for me to get to know my teammates Frank, Kyle, and Uwe. The remaining two, David and Kali, will join us in the morning. Of the six of us, half have been on the mountain before, and each were forced to turn around on account of poor weather conditions.
With tomorrow being Memorial Day, I decided to pay my respects to a different kind of memorial over at the Talkeetna Cemetery. Over 100 climbers have died attempting Mount McKinley and their names, ages, and countries are recorded on a plaque. It is a humbling reminder of the seriousness of the mountain.
Walking through town after dinner and I had the honor of meeting Talkeetna’s famous Mayor Stubbs, the cat. Folklore has it that the townspeople of Talkeetna were so upset by the disappointing candidates for Mayor that they petitioned for Stubbs to win the vote via a write-in. Sure enough Stubbs won and has been Mayor ever since. Stubbs is 16 years old and just last year survived a dog attack that left him in the hospital. Today he seemed happy to relax in the sun and make the best of his ninth life.
May 26, 2014
Our team spent the day meticulously reviewing our gear to make sure nothing has been left behind. We packed lunch bags full of high protein/high calorie food, snacks, and candy bars. After running down the checklist and marking everything off, our team dawned our “Action Suit” and packed up for the plane flight onto the glacier.
The Climb:
Lower Glacier 7,200ft
May 26, 2014
Today we flew onto the glacier and setup base camp at 7,200ft for the night. Kyle, Frank, and I take one tent while Uwe, David, and Kali take the other tent. Kyle and Frank are also returning to Denali for the second time. They were turned back at Windy Corner in 2013 due to high rock fall. My former Denali guide from 2012, Dustin English, also flew in with a separate team and will be on the same pace as us, on the West Buttress, except his team plans to do a traverse after the summit.
Dinner: Salmon Burgers w/ Cheese and Spinach Salad
May 27, 2014
We woke up at 4AM and it took quite a while to get everyone packed and roped up. We were moving by 7:30AM and it took us 3.5hrs to descend Heartbreak Hill and advance to Camp 1 at 7.800ft. Our guides comment that we are a fast group compared to some others which have taken as much as 8hrs to make the move. We are feeling confident and relatively strong. We dug a kitchen out of the snow to set up our “Mid” (kitchen tent). It snowed all day with white-out conditions preventing views of the mountains. Despite the poor conditions, it was a nice relief from the typically hot lower glacier to be shaded from the sun.
May 28, 2014
Today should have been a cache day to 10,000ft but there was over a foot of fresh snow and no visibility so we took a weather day to wait for the conditions to improve. The Japanese team went for it today and it took them 12 hours to to complete the cache, causing one team member to quit the expedition.
Breakfast: Bagels w/ Sausage and Cheese | Dinner: Mac & Cheese w/ Chili and Bacon
May 29, 2014
After burning up a weather day yesterday, we were anxious to put in the cache at 10,200ft today but the weather is still uncooperative. We prepare for a tough day and head out into 0°F wind chill temperatures with no visibility whatsoever. We got lost a bit at the beginning, having to cross back and forth across the glacier looking for the route, all the while breaking trail through the heavy snow. Eventually, with the GPS coordinated we found our way and made it to the cache site. I had to use my heaviest gloves today to fight the cold. All of my gear and clothing is coated in a film of ice from the climb today. It is strange to see conditions this bitter on the lower glacier.
Breakfast: Hashbrowns | Dinner: Noodle Stir Fry
Camp 11,200ft
May 30, 2014
“Are not two sparrows sold for a copper coin? And not one of them falls to the ground apart from your Father’s will. But the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Do not fear therefore; you are of more value than many sparrows.”
-Matthew 10:29-31-
Today should be our move day to 11,200ft camp but we once again awoke to terrible weather, high winds, and white out conditions. Compounding the problem, our Mid ripped in the night after the snowfall collapsed the tent on top of a fuel can. The guides delay the move in hopes of clearing weather while they repair the tent. By noon, little has changed and they leave it up to a vote with the understanding that this may be one of the most challenging moves of the trip. Our team confidently agrees that we are willing to press on despite the weather. David and I volunteer to take the spots just behind the guides on the rope teams and end up breaking trail all day. We pass multiple dead birds along the way today; one was even under our tent as we packed up. They freeze to death after being blown onto the glacier by the storms. It is an ominous sign that we are in an extremely uninhabitable place. Due to the late start, we didn’t make it to 11,200ft camp until 9PM. Today was cold enough to require face protection to avoid frostbite. I was constantly having to swing blood into my arms to keep my fingers from going numb. This is not typical for the lower mountain, but if we have to have bad weather, I’d rather deal with it now than on summit day.
Breakfast: Tofu Scramble Burritos | Dinner: Pesto Pasta
May 31, 2014
We slept in a bit today after a hard day of work yesterday. We awoke to at least a foot of fresh snow, having to unbury the tents and build a kitchen. -10°F wind chill temperatures as we head down to retrieve the cached gear. With the stinging winds, this is likely some of the coldest weather I have ever felt. On the way back from the cache, we unfortunately got stuck behind a very slow-moving Japanese team who are just finishing their long move day. We all struggled to keep our hands warm and were happy to finally return to camp and enjoy some tasty pizza for dinner.
The first clear day of the trip, we can see the route for the first time as well as the awesome Mount Foraker in the distance. Our guides want us to wait before putting in our cache at 13,500ft due to high winds at Windy Corner. It can be hard to wait when the weather seems so clear but there is no reason to make a decision in haste. The danger of the same corner prematurely ended the climbs of my tent-mates the year prior.
“One cannot conceive grander burial than that which lofty mountains bend and crack and shatter to make, or a nobler tomb than the great upper basin of Denali; but life is sweet and all men are loath to leave it, and certainly never men who cling to life had more cause to be thankful.”
-Episcopal Archdeacon, Hudson Stuck, Leader of First Successful Ascent of Denali in 1913-
Today was the beautiful climb to the 13,500ft cache that moves up Motorcycle Hill to Squirrel Hill, to the Polo Fields, and then around Windy Corner to the cache site. I took spot 2 on the rope team again today and broke trail most of the day. We cross several exposed crevasses today including the section where four bodies are still trapped from an avalanche in 2012. Windy Corner lived up to its name, but I learned my lesson in 2012 and made sure to keep my hands and face well covered to avoid frostbite. Kali got tangled up in her sled rope and fell a couple of times on the way down but I was just behind her on the rope team and caught her each time. The views on today’s route are incredible, but the temperatures are noticeably colder by at least 20 degrees compared to the last time I was here in 2012.
As I struggle to fall asleep with some stomach pain, the commotion of the Japanese can be heard from across the camp. They must be playing some sort of game because every few minutes the whole group roars into a progressively louder “aaaaaAAAH!!!!!!” before following with some laughter. The sound reminds me of the scene in Indiana Jones where a snake charmer taps on a snake bucket and the whole crowd gathers around to place their bets. I have no idea what the Japanese are up to, but I’m sure it is something equally foreign to my imagination. In such an uninhabitable place, moments like this offer a brief mental relief. The joy of the human spirit stands in contrast to constant realization that we are sleeping in a land not meant for human beings.
Breakfast: Oatmeal and Pop Tarts | Dinner: Rice, Bean, and Sausage Burritos
Camp 14,200ft
June 3, 2014
Today is one of the longer move days on the expedition as we advance to 14,000ft camp. At this point I am thankful that I spent so much time consolidating my gear into the lightest bunch possible before the trip. Many climbers make the mistake of carrying heavy loads because they bring to many “nice to haves” rather than “need to haves”. Gear is a poor substitute for experience. It cannot get you up the mountain. Pack light and pack smart. In the mountains, grams = ounces, ounces = pounds, and pounds = PAIN! Speaking of pounds, our expedition carried a total of 1,000lbs of gear onto the glacier divided among the eight of us. While my personal gear was a bit lighter, thanks to some careful packing, I was still responsible for carrying my portion of group gear including tents, stoves, food, etc…
The weather continues to improve today turning slightly warmer with almost no wind and few clouds. This is an especially rare treat for what has been, thus far, a relatively gloomy trip. I am on a strong rope team today with Frank and Kali. As we finished Motorcycle Hill and took a break at the base of Squirrel Hill, you could begin to hear that not all was well with our other rope team. I can faintly make out Kyle and Dusty yelling back and forth about a crampon. Apparently Kyle had stepped into a crevasse and lost his crampon, an absolutely critical piece of gear that keeps one from slipping and falling off the mountain. He kept his balance as Uwe helped retrieve the crampon, and put it back on while on the side of the steep icy slope, only to have it fall off again 5 minutes later because he had too much snow between the crampon and his boot. Meanwhile he is getting crossed up with the rope and there is little his teammates can do to safely help. The entire crisis lasts near half an hour as my rope team continues to wait just out of sight. After what felt like an eternity, they rounded the corner, looking slightly unnerved, and joined our rope team once again.
The rest of the day went much smoother, but my rope team ended up leading the whole day, meaning I was once again breaking trail the entire time. As we took a break at the cache site, David and I petitioned to haul it up with us rather than doing a back carry the following day. Our half-hearted plea was mostly ignored as everyone was ready to just get to camp and were far too tired to carry any additional gear.
We entered 14,200ft Camp and moved into and abandoned “compound” where a previous team had already built ice walls. It feels incredibly rewarding to be back at 14k after being gone for two years and working so hard to return. I feel as if my climb is, just now, finally beginning.
Breakfast: English Muffins and Sausage w/ Jam and Cream Cheese | Dinner: Rice and Chicken w/ Curry
June 4, 2014
We sleep in, then spend an hour and a half going down to 13,500ft and retrieving our cached gear. I got to lead on the way down which was fun, but that meant I was at the end of the rope on the way back. The back of the rope is no fun because you tend to get whipped around; as the lead climber is coming over a hill and speeding up yet you are still on your way up the hill and having to hurry to keep the pace. I would be happy to take my spot at the front again, even if that means I have to break trail.
Back at 14k Camp the guides call a team meeting to decide how we feel about advancing to 16,200ft to put in our cache tomorrow rather than taking the usual rest day. Half of the team admits to being tired after the long move but everyone agrees that we should give it our best effort and keep pushing forward. The decision would send us up the steep and icy fixed lines the following day, so we spent the afternoon practicing fixed line ascension and clipping in and out of running protection.
14,200ft Camp is like a small village with tents and teams scattered all over inside of ice-block walls with snow trampled foot paths wandering from camp to camp. It is an international affair with many camps flying national flags spanning from Canada to Belgium to Ecuador and everything in between. Spaniard Kilian Jornet is preparing for a speed ascent of the mountain and descent on skiis. Another group of skiers are walking from camp to camp trying to unload unused food and fuel after a completed trip. A helicopter flies in and out from the National Park Service tent to resupply its volunteers. Two famed Nepalese Sherpa have been honored to join the Park Service for the climbing season. A team of active military jokingly display a “Free WiFi” sign. This small international village, perched on the side of Mt. McKinley, is unlike anything else in the world.
There is not enough group gear for everyone to carry an equal load tomorrow so the guides decide we will draw straws to see who has to carry the extra weight. Dusty, Kali, Frank, and Uwe draw the short straws while the rest of us will carry only personal gear to the cache. Kyle is low on salty food so I make a trade of 3 packs of Corn Nuts in exchange for 6 Gu packets my way. I’m getting to know my teammates a little better. Frank once circumnavigated the globe by bicycle in his early 30s. Kyle has climbed many spectacular peaks around the globe. David has climbed 49 of the 50 highpoints in the States, Denali being the 50th. German, Uwe is a former math prof turned Silicon Valley data miner who is also an avid surfer. Kali is a member of the Air Force and we have many climbs in common. When not guiding, Dusty is a professional seamster, making custom backpacks, wallets, and bike bags. Larry splits his time between guiding in Alaska and South America, as well as leading fishing trips and wilderness film crews. Our team is just as diverse as the camp which we call our temporary home.
Breakfast: Hashbrowns and Bacon w/ Cream Cheese and Picante | Dinner: Pasta w/ Olive Oil and Tomatoes
June 5, 2014
As we were hurrying to gear up for our ascent of the fixed lines, we are suddenly halted by Dusty who delivers the news that Larry is not feeling well. Since Dusty can only lead a max of four team members on his rope, two of us would have to stay behind at 14k camp while Larry rested to try and get well. Since I had been up the lines in 2012, the guides decided I did not need the experience as much as my fellow teammates and that I would be staying behind. Kyle decided that he could use a rest day and volunteered to stay behind as well. The other four would be advancing the gear to 16,200ft with Dusty at the lead. Kyle convinces David to carry his personal gear up to the cache on his behalf, a move he likened to winning the lottery twice in one day. I was left with my personal gear in hand, likely to have a slightly heavier pack once we made the full move to high camp. It’s a little disappointing watching your teammates take off without you; feeling like you let them down, but I understood the decision and took the opportunity to take a nap.
Three short hours later and the rope team returns a bit earlier than expected. Apparently the heavy snow of the day began to sluff at the base of the fixed lines, causing quite dangerous conditions. They were forced to abandon the cache at the base of the lines and return to camp having completed a little more than half of the intended move. It sounded like a stressful day, and Dusty made a point to reiterate the importance of loud communication while on the rope to ensure safety. Larry claims to be feeling better at dinner, but the guides determine that tomorrow will be a rest day.
Today is a rest day for the team but due to my extra rest yesterday I am feeling more like advancing to High Camp. Despite my readiness, I understand the importance of allowing everyone to recover before safely continuing. The downtime allows us to catch up on camp gossip. After a slow move to 14k Camp, Dustin’s traverse team has abandoned their traverse ambition for a lighter North+South summits goal. A wealthy female climber with three personal guides gave up on the climb after a hard day on the fixed lines. The owner of our guide company is personally leading a Chinese woman to High Camp today. She is attempting a speed record for completing all seven summits after a controversial summit on Everest last month. The Japanese team moves to High Camp today.
Dusty grabs an intern guide and heads back to the fixed lines to see if they can advance the cache abandoned by our team the day prior. They return several hours later having succeeded in pushing the cache to 16,200ft and reporting that the fixed lines were now in much better condition. The intern, named Base, looks exhausted from the long day, but we all thank him for his help and share in our meatball dinner as we prepare for our move to High Camp tomorrow. Tomorrow will be the highest I have been on the mountain since 2012 – when we were turned back by avalanche danger after reaching the 16,200ft cache.
Breakfast: French Toast w/ Syrup | Dinner: Italian pasta and Meatballs
High Camp 17,200ft
June 7, 2014
Today the guides assign positions on the rope teams for the first time. I would be on the back of Dusty’s rope with Kali and Frank in front of me. This would leave me with the responsibility for cleaning the carabiners from each of the running protections as we traveled along the precarious ridge to high camp. I was invigorated to see High Camp for the first time and was feeling plenty up for the challenge. I carry a full pack today because I am the only one with personal gear that didn’t make it to the cache.
We make it to the usually busy fixed lines, and only two other teams are following us up to High Camp. One team led by another guide service, Mountain Trip, and the second team composed of NPS volunteers and a Sherpa. My rope team handles the fixed lines well, finishing a good 15 minutes ahead of our other team who is struggling a bit with the altitude. We congratulate the Chinese woman as she passes on the down lines after successfully summitting in only 7 days. From the top of the fixed lines we retrieve the cache and move past Washburn’s Thumb and along the high ridge to camp, clipping into running protection all along the way. The altitude is getting to some of our teammates. One team member loses his footing in a relatively tame section, which causes Dusty to consider turning the team around for safety. Another team member has such labored breathing he appears he could collapse with exhaustion at any moment. Unfortunately, there is no margin for error on the razor-thin ridge. With several thousand feet of drop off on either side, everyone had to draw on their reserve strength to stay focused and make it to camp safely.
After 8 long hours we finally make it to High Camp at 17,200ft above sea level. We work hard to set up a solid camp but several of the teammates are so oxygen deprived that they can barely lift a shovel. I join Dusty, Larry, and Kali in the guide tent to help conserve space as they will be cooking in the vestibule rather than setting up the Mid at High Camp.
While eating dinner, we listen to the radio as the Japanese team struggles to descend from the summit. A few of the climbers were so exhausted that they lashed two rope teams together to prevent a dangerous fall. The sound of a 20 hour summit day did not sound that appealing, and I am hoping that we are strong enough to complete it closer to 12 hours. The weather forecast comes over the radio forecasting some extremely poor conditions beginning on Monday the 9th. Our guides decide that our best opportunity to summit will be in the morning before the “nuclear” winds and freezing temperatures arrive. It’s hard to fall asleep knowing that everything you have been working for could come to fruition the following day.
Breakfast: Bagel w/ Cheese and Bacon | Dinner: Mashed Potatoes
June 8, 2014
We wake up to snow and strong winds today. As the weather deteriorates, the guides call off the summit attempt rather than risk potential frostbite by pushing through the cold. With today’s opportunity gone and a “nuclear” forecast of -20°F temperatures and 40mph winds beginning tomorrow, our only hope of a summit window is that the storm doesn’t arrive as forecasted or that it lifts before our last weather day on Thursday the 12th. Having finished their summit, the Japanese head down. Having heard the ominous forecast, the NPS and Mountain Trip teams flee from High Camp and abandon any chance at the summit. Dustin’s traverse team is down below at 14k Camp and decides to stay put rather than advance into questionable weather. We could descend today before the storm comes in, but that would almost definitely be the end of our trip. We feel strong and decide to hold out, despite the coming weather, in the hopes we may get a rare summit window. With the exception of a private team consisting of a couple of Russians, all other teams have left from High Camp.
Breakfast: Oatmeal | Dinner: Cheese and Baconbit Quesadillas
June 9, 2014
The sky actually looks much clearer today than it did yesterday, but the sunshine is deceiving. Strong winds are whipping over the summit and Frank records the wind chill at -30°F. The guides seemed like they would really like to attempt the summit but they call it off by noon due to the high winds. They made the right call as gusts of 50mph reach camp by this afternoon. Despite the freezing cold, the tent has a way of acting like a convection oven in the afternoon sun. With the UV rays bouncing off the walls it can reach an exhausting 90°F inside of the tent on a bright day; over 100° higher than the frostbite inducing cold perilously waiting just beyond the tent wall.
Despite the freezing temperatures and wind, I choose to run food and water to our teammates in the other tent simply to escape the heat of our noonday tent. After losing feeling in my fingers within seconds of stepping outside, I quickly question the wisdom of this charity walk. At this altitude, you pay the price for fresh air.
Breakfast: Oatmeal | Dinner: White Rice and Tasty Bites
June 10, 2014
Today brought sustained winds of 35mph with even higher gusts all night long. We definitely will not be attempting the summit today. It took 4 hours to finish boiling water and preparing breakfast. The winds caused a snowdrift to completely bury and nearly collapse the other tent. In a panic, several of the team members were running around in the cold like chickens with their heads cut off. The guides rush in yelling to cover their faces and hands before they get frostbite, and they work quickly to solve the problem. As they shoveled snow away to uncover the tent, they had to run back to our tent multiple times to thaw their frozen fingers. Their pained faces and relentless cursing conveyed the severity of the situation. I meagerly offered to help, to which I was sternly told to “STAY IN THE TENT!” I got the picture and stayed out of the way, thankful that they were working hard to keep us safe.
After the ordeal, you could sense that the other tent was beginning to lose some morale. While most teams spend little more than 24 hours at High Camp we were now on Day 4 with no relief in sight. Once everyone calms down and warms their frozen bodies back to life, the guides explain that we will be here no more than two more days. Thursday the 12th will be our “Up or Down” day based on the weather. Despite the challenges thus far, I’m still feeling quite strong and desperately want an opportunity at the summit. I feel like, after what we have been through, we have earned the right to at least give it a chance. But the forecast comes on the radio and crushes that wish with a call for -25°F and 45mph winds, the worst we would see yet. The Russians came over to inquire about the forecast and responded with a choice exclamation that needed no translation. They were ready to go down and were wanting to follow us out as soon as we were ready to fight the weather.
I figure I should make use of the CMC before hell freezes over tomorrow. In the brief moments my hands are exposed, they instantly go completely numb. I have never felt such a stinging cold in my life. It took ten minutes of writhing pain in the tent before I could manage to have a conversation again. And another 30 minutes before the feeling was back to the fingertips. If tomorrow is any worse, you can bet I won’t be leaving the tent for anything. I’m still holding out hope that Thursday might clear and we can make a summit bid.
Breakfast: Hashbrowns | Dinner: Quesadilla
June 11, 2014
As forecasted, today brings the most terrifyingly, bone-marrow-freezing temperatures I have ever experienced. Frank measures the wind chill at -52°F. Dusty went out to change the bag on the CMC and spent the next 20 minutes back in the tent thawing his hands and fighting frostbite. I briefly helped Uwe shovel the tent but quickly lost feeling in my hands despite wearing my heaviest gloves. The sky is deceptively clear but the winds are still whipping on the summit. By late afternoon a team of four has come up from 14k Camp and pushes onward toward the summit. The Russians follow up briefly but turn back due to the unbearable cold. The team of four eventually falls 200ft down the Autobahn. Lucky to be alive, they abandon their summit bid and stumble back to High Camp for safety.
Tomorrow’s forecast predicts -20°F temperatures with 20mph summit winds. That temperature alone might be cold enough to call off a summit bid, but compounded with the winds and it is looking likely that tomorrow will be a “Down” rather than an “Up” day. I ask the guides about the possibility of extending our time for a few more days, with the hopes of a possible weather window. They sharply turn down the proposal, knowing that if we don’t take the opportunity to go down, we could be stuck indefinitely. None-the-less, they stand on their word that if tomorrow’s weather is better, we may still attempt the summit. I’m hopeful for clear weather, but I’m equally realistic about both the forecast and our deteriorating strength after a week of brutal weather at High Camp.
Breakfast: Granola w/ Raisins and Sugar | Dinner: Ramen Noodles w/ Beef and Baconbits
The Descent
June 12, 2014
We awoke today with the winds still blowing strong across the summit and the temperatures have not lightened in the least. With the outward forecasts getting better a few teams, including Dustin’s traverse team, are coming up to High Camp today, but we know that without the ability for a summit bid, it is time to go down. We pack camp and rope up for the descent from High Camp. I will be on the front of the first rope team and have the responsibility of preparing the running protection for our team. (The guides typically take the back spot on descent so they can self arrest and catch the team in the case of a fall) It is an awesome feeling to be the first to walk out onto the ridge with nothing in front of you but Mt. Foraker in the distance and thousands of feet of relief on either side of your feet.
I quickly got the hang of finding the protection, adding a carabiner, and clipping off our rope. As we neared the fixed lines we were met with a backlog of climbers moving up to High Camp. Dusty yelled down that I should find the down route just below on the right side of the ridge. I struggled to find the route and had to depend on David to hold me on the rope as I precariously slid around on the side of the ridge slope – searching for another way around. It was so steep that my feet were giving way, and there was little to stop me from sliding thousands of feet, aside from my trusty rope team. Realizing that I couldn’t make it any further without dragging the rope team off the side of the mountain, I yelled back that I couldn’t find the alternate route and Dusty encouraged me to return to the ridge if that was the only safe option.
Back on the ridge and feeling more at ease, we now had to battle a bit of a traffic jam. It took nearly as long to get down to the fixed lines as it had to come up. At times, I had to clip into the same running protection as the up climbers and do our best to avoid crossing ropes as we passed. By the time we made it to the fixed lines, Larry’s rope team was looking exhausted. He was concerned for everyone’s safety after some of our teammates had fallen along some dangerous areas on the ridge. We headed down the fixed lines with the rope teams much closer, in the event that Larry needed additional help with an exhausted climber. The weather turns for the worse and many teams are now turning around. Dustin’s traverse team also turns around, following in behind us as we descend the fixed lines.
Down from the lines and safely back at 14k Camp we duck into the Mid tent of a fellow AMS team to recover with fresh water and make dinner. After a challenging descent, our guides present us with two options. One is to go all of the way down to 7,800ft Camp tonight and then on to Base Camp in the morning. The second option is to stay at 14k Camp for the night and then complete the entire move in the morning. Our group is divided on the vote but the majority of us are prepared for the long descent and we agree to go with Option #1, the “Death March”.
June 13, 2014
Descending all through the night, we made our way around Windy Corner, back down to the Polo Fields, down Squirrel Hill, and down Motorcycle Hill, post-holing through deep snow all along the way. At times I would move too fast and my teammates behind would yell to slow the pace. It can be more unsettling to walk down a steep icy slope than to go up, especially if you are in the back and feel like you are being dragged down the mountain by the guy on the front of the rope team. I had to learn to be patient and set a more deliberately safe pace.
We made it to 11,200ft Camp in the early hours of the morning, dug up a cache of gear we had left behind, and switched to snowshoes before moving on. Now that we had passed the steepest portions of the climb, Dusty was willing to come up from the back spot and lead the rope again. I was so mentally exhausted from a night of trail-finding and pacesetting that I was relieved to be able to relinquish the responsibility.
After several more frozen hours, we finally reached 7,800 Camp and decided to bivy (sleep without tents) for a few hours of rest. After sleeping in the open for three short hours, we got up to continue the final push toward Base Camp. The final push into Base Camp is marked by 600ft of ascent known as Heartbreak Hill. After a 24hr death march, the last thing that anyone wants to do is to hike back up a hill. But the glacial landing strip is at the top and we had little choice. Such an ill-placed Hill has the ability to crush a man’s soul. Having learned my lesson two years ago, I made sure to save enough energy and Gu packets to make it up the hill and back to Base Camp.
We arrived in Base Camp just under 24 hrs after leaving High Camp the day before. Although planes had flown out that morning, the increasing cloud cover and snow put the camp on hold for the time being. We waited until early evening before resigning to our fate and pitching tents for the night. After all of that work, we would have to stay at Base Camp until the weather cleared and the landing strip became flyable again.
June 14, 2014
In the morning we receive word that despite the clouds, a few planes would try to make it into Camp to take out climbers. There was a four-day storm forecasted to roll in and this may be the last opportunity to get off of the glacier for days. We packed up our gear and anxiously awaited alongside the snowy makeshift “runway”. The buzz of the propeller overhead was the most comforting sound we had heard all week. Within minutes we had loaded the plane and were on our way back to Talkeetna…back to civilization, warm showers, cheeseburgers, porcelain toilets, comfy shoes, and fluffy beds.
Post Climb:
Back in Talkeetna I was happy to see my Dad who had traveled up on vacation to enjoy the mountain views, support my climb, and hang out once I got off the mountain. We got to celebrate Father’s Day and eat a delicious post-climb lunch with the team before everyone parts ways.
Having now been on Denali two separate seasons without a summit, I can say that this trip was far colder, far tougher, and far more challenging than anything I have ever experienced. Despite our best efforts, we were once again defeated by adverse weather. Although we didn’t get an opportunity at the summit I had an amazing experience that I will never forget. The views from the high ridge, the thrill of setting a personal record, even the frigid cold of High Camp are experiences that I will never forget. Of course I would love to go back and have a chance at a true summit bid. But until then, I am happy with the success of our team this year. Our guides gave us the best possible chance at a summit and did their job well in bringing me home safely. Thanks to their wisdom I will continue to climb again.
Upon return from the mountain I learned that my former Rainier guide, Matt Hegeman, had died in a terrible accident on Mt. Rainier. My prayers go out to the Hegeman family. Matt was a terrific guide who first taught me how to mountaineer back in 2011. I have written here on the 5 lessons that I learned from Matthew Hegeman.
“‘Go up into the mountains and bring down timber and build my house, so that I may take pleasure in it and be honored,’ says the Lord.”
-Haggai 1:8-
In May of 2014 I will be climbing Denali, the tallest mountain on the North American continent, with Christian flag in hand, to raise support for the building of a church in the most remote region of the Himalayas. Consider partnering with me to raise $19,300 and secure the land for the first church ever built within the district of Humla, Nepal. Thanks to a sympathetic donor, your donations up to $10,000 will now be matched, dollar for dollar!
Humla is the highest district in Nepal – higher than the Solukhumbu District, where Everest is located – with 89 percent of the land ranging in elevation from 9,800 to more than 16,500 feet (3,000-5,000 meters). There are no roads, and no electricity and no communication network in most of the district. There is, however, a deeply rooted belief in Tibetan Buddhism. Some of Nepal’s oldest Buddhist monasteries – dating back as far as 1,000 years – are found in Humla. Trekkers from around the world join Buddhists and Hinduists on the trail leading northwest from the capitol of Simikot toward China, four or five days walk away, and on to their holy Mount Kailash.
In a nation that is considered 97 percent “unreached” by the Gospel, Humla stands out. For many it is a district that is out of reach. I have partnered with Climbing for Christ to raise $19,300 to purchase land in the heart of Humla to establish their first ever Christian church.
Climbing for Christ is a Christian organization whose mission is to take the Gospel to those living in mountainous areas of the world where other missionaries cannot or will not go. When Climbing for Christ first arrived in Humla on mission in 2012, there were fewer than 10 Christians in a region of over 50,000 people. Just a couple of years later and the Christian community has now grown to more than 100.
This growing Christian community has organized in a local house under the direction of local Pastor Harka. With the funds raised, the church will be able to purchase land adjacent to the district hospital in order to begin building their much-needed church. Please consider partnering with me financially and in prayer for the church in Humla.
If you would like to support the church plant in Humla please fill out the form below. Climbing for Christ is a 501(c)(3) organization and all donations are tax-deductible. My climb is fully funded so any donation would go directly to the work in Nepal. If you would like to learn more about Climbing for Christ please visit their website at www.climbingforchrist.org or read the most recent trip report on the church in Humla. To read about the church built in Rolpa in 2012 go here. Thank you for your prayers!
Thanks to a sympathetic donor, your donations up to $10,000 will now be matched, dollar for dollar!
No Fields Found.
So far we have raised $18,034 towards our $19,300 target! Thank you for your support.
“I do all this for the sake of the gospel, that I may share in its blessings…Therefore I do not run like someone running aimlessly; I do not fight like a boxer beating the air. No, I strike a blow to my body and make it my slave so that after I have preached to others, I myself will not be disqualified for the prize.”
-1 Corinthians 9:23,26-27-
With Denali only two more weeks away, I am finishing off the last of my training. On the mountain we will carry up to 100lbs of gear per person between our backpack and a sled that we drag behind. I’ve loaded up my backpack with 65lbs of weights and headed to the only hill in town to drag a tire, simulating the load of a sled.
“Every morning the bulls that are going to fight that afternoon released from the corrals on the far side of town and race through the long main street of the town to the bull ring with all the young bucks of Pamplona running ahead of them! A mile and a half run – all the side streets barred off with big wooden gates and all this gang going like hell with the bulls trying to get them…By God they have bull fights in that town…It isn’t just brutal like they always told us. It’s a great tragedy – and the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen and takes more guts and skill and guts again than anything possibly could.”
-Ernest Hemingway, July 1923-
As part of a two-week journey to climb Mt. Blanc, Mt. Elbrus, and Run with the Bulls, my friend Taylor and I arrived in Pamplona, Spain on July 11th.
July 11th – The Arrival
After more than 24 hours of planes, trains, automobiles, and layovers, we finally arrived in Pamplona, Spain at 6:00pm on Thursday. We stayed at the home of a friendly couple, Ella and Eneko, who rented out rooms in their apartment during the San Fermin festival. Upon hearing of our plans to run in the morning, they offered up advice on where to go and when to show up. Eneko has long lived in Pamplona but has never run himself because the race is “muy peligroso”. Nonetheless, he tells us exactly where to go, and lays out a plan for us on the city map.
We decided to go into town, map in hand, and walk the course in search of an appropriate starting point for the morning run. We walked to the bus station with another group who were staying in the home. They showed us the bus route to the town center and pointed us in the right direction for the Running of the Bulls. On the way to the course, we stopped by a local bar to enjoy some pinchos for dinner. Pinchos are an assortment of small finger-foods, in our case fried ham and shrimp.
Our taste buds satisfied, we headed over to the city walls of Pamplona. As the capital of the ancient Kingdom of Navarre, Pamplona’s walls are fortified in stone and protected by a moat and drawbridge. Near the edge of the city wall we found the corrals where the six fighting bulls and nine steers would be held just before the start of the race. From there we walked uphill along the course to the Plaza del Ayuntamiento where the historic town hall building is located. It was from this location that we would be waiting at at 7am in the morning until the Policía cleared the course of drunks and debris. From town hall, we continued onward to Dead Man’s Corner, a sharp right turn where bulls often get turned around becoming an extremely dangerous situation. Just beyond the corner is Estefeta street, a long narrow corridor that runs nearly a half mile to the Plaza de Toros bull ring. We picked a spot on Estefeta just past the corner and decided we would begin our bull run from there. This would allow us to run with the bulls nearly the entire length of the course, yet avoid the dangerous corner where many bulls have turned backwards on the course and gored men to death.
We bought our red bandanas and waistbands in the market and stumbled upon the nightly parade. It seemed that everyone who had run that day was celebrating in the parade by dancing behind the band and indulging in sangria. We joined in the procession for a lap around the square and enjoyed the people watching. Most had been drinking all day and their white clothes had been stained purple with wine. Hoping to keep our whites clean for the morning run, we parted ways with the hooligans and headed back for the evening. After all, we had only one shot at the race and it was sure to be another early morning.
July 12th – The Run
We awoke at 6am sharp, dawning our white pants and t-shirts, red bandannas and waistbands. I wore my Texas state flag bandanna in hopes the bulls would respect my inner cowboy, while Taylor wore his toughest motorcycle bandanna for intimidation effect. We caught the first bus into town and were waiting at Town Hall just as the sun began to rise.
There were people everywhere including a number of drunks who had yet to retire from the night before. We knew that the Policía would go through and weed out the riffraff, so we needed to stay in the square until ten minutes prior to the race before moving into our spot on Estefeta street. Sure enough, when the time arrived, the drunks were cleared as well as a few runners who had snuck in with cameras (not allowed in the race). We hid ours in our pockets until the cops were gone. At 7:50am the course was opened up and we hurried down to our pre-planned starting point. The street was crowded with young runners and the balconies were covered with curious onlookers. I stretched out my legs, made my peace with God, and waited for the gunshot to signal the bulls had been released.
The tension in the air was at its peak as we and our fellow runners prepared to run with the bulls, and then the first gunshot fired. The second gunshot signaled that the last of the bulls had left the corral, and we knew it was a matter of seconds until a herd of angry beasts rounded the corner towards Estefeta. The crowd of runners became a bouncing sea of red and white as we jumped up and down to see down the street in anticipation of the oncoming herd. Taylor and I attempted to review our strategy, but before we could finish there were six tons of cattle rounding the corner and barreling down the street towards us. With my heart leaping into my throat I shouted the only word that I could think of in the moment…”BULLS!!!”
I shot out onto the street just as the bulls were approaching and immediately recalled that the people are the hidden danger of the race. The crowd was in a frenzy and runners were shoving and tripping over one another. My focus was just as much on dodging runners as it was bulls. As the bulls came up from behind, I was leaping over trampled runners to avoid the same fate. Within seconds, the last of the bulls was now passing and I was almost in the clear to run on safely towards the coliseum.
Just as the final beast passed, a fellow runner was tripped up and fell directly in front of the bull. The bull crashed over the runner and landed an angry mess on the side of Estefeta street. In the moment that the bull had fallen, I looked over and made eye contact with the furious bovine. For a second, time stood still. I recalled everything I had heard about the dangers of the race when the bulls crash and get turned around. In a rush, I ran away from the bull towards the far side of the street where a couple dozen other runners were pinned up for refuge. The nightmare became a reality when the half ton animal stumbled to its feet and turned our direction.
Instinct shocked through my nervous system and I exploded out of our corner and backwards down the street. The shrill scream of a frightened women could be heard from the balcony overhead. As I ran backwards, I watched as the bull began to gore its first victim. At first, it seemed as if the man might escape, until he tripped again and the bull came back with a vengeance. The bull, known as Langostero, thrust his pointed horns into the mans legs, shredding away his pants and tossing him about like a rag doll. This gruesome scene seemed to continue for an eternity until Langostero was distracted and fellow runners were able to pull the battered man to safety.
I continued on towards the arena, following at a safer distance from the enraged bull. Twice more along the way, Langostero would turn back towards us and the balconies would erupt in screams. Each time we would turn abruptly to avoid another unplanned bullfight. The final time was in the alley entrance to the arena in which I hopped the wooden barriers for safety. Here, Langostero pinned a man against the opposite barrier, piercing his horn through the man’s shoulder. Some brave runners once again distracted the bull and led him finally to the Plaza de Toros. I followed into the ring as the bulls were herded off to their pins. 20,000 onlooking spectators cheered at the completion of the week’s most violent bull run. I found Taylor, whom I had lost in the panic, and discovered that we had been no more than 20 feet apart throughout the entire run.
Once the Running of the Bulls was complete, smaller fighting bulls in training are released into the ring one at a time to have their way with the runners. We chose to stay around and practice our amateur matador skills. (These smaller bulls had their horns corked and taped for safety) Despite the smaller size of the training bulls, they would come exploding out of the gates with more force than an NFL lineman. Many unfortunate runners were trampled or knocked out by the young bulls’ ferocious power. The runners make a game out of attempting to tap the bull on the back without getting rammed by his blunted horns. We joined in the game and were able to slap the bulls twice each. One guy was rammed so hard that his head split open requiring stitches. Another girl was run over by the bull so fast that she received a concussion. After a good 30 minutes of tempting our fate with the training bulls, the morning was over and we had survived with little more than a scratch. We took a few pictures, and headed out of the coliseum, but not before I did my best Gladiator impression. In the words of Maximus, “Are you not entertained?!?”
Watch the full Run below. (Caution to those who are squeamish) You will find me at the 6:02 and forward mark wearing the blue head bandana in the bottom center of the screen.
July 12th – The Fight
Following the Running of the Bulls we celebrated by drinking a pint of Spain’s finest beer. I don’t always drink beer in the morning, but when I do, I prefer to run with the bulls first. Stay thirsty my friends. After the post-run adrenaline crash, we went back to the apartment to sleep until the evening’s bullfight. That evening we dined on some Spanish chorizo and ribs and then made our way back to the Plaza de Toros, but this time as spectators.
The bullfight is steeped in tradition. There are six fights, one for each of the bulls from the morning’s run. The King of Navarre sits on his throne and armored horses enter the ring in a royal procession. The matadors follow and the crowd of 20,000 erupts in cheers. Each fight lasts about 20 minutes as the matador dances about the bull with the skill of an artist. With little to protect him except his experience and his cape, the matador skillfully distracts the bull from one side to another until the bull is exhausted and the matador inflicts his final, swift blow. With a single sword plunge to the heart, the fight is ended, the ear is removed as a tribute, and the armored horses remove the bull to be served on the local menus. This bloody affair may seem a bit grotesque or cruel if it weren’t for the local legend of matador, Juan José Padilla.
Juan José Padilla is the famed one-eyed matador who nearly lost his life at a bullfight in 2011. He received a horn through the jaw and out the left eye leaving him paralyzed on one side of his face; a reminder that every bull has his day and no matador has it easy. Padilla wears an eye patch and continues to fight more determined than ever. On this day, the skillful Padilla would fight Langostero, the bull who hours earlier had taught the runners to respect his fury. This match was almost poetic in nature. Bullfighting matador turned gore victim returns to the ring to fight the week’s most vicious of bulls. Padilla, having tasted the pain of defeat, respected the power of the bull. He skillfully flung his red cape before Langostero, narrowly dodging a horn to the side before masterfully spinning and bringing the bull around again. Padilla was a master of his craft, indeed, and had met his match in Langostero. After dancing on the line of fate, Padilla finally drew his sword and lay the beast to rest. Juan José Padilla bowed his hat to the King, to the crowd, and to the bull. The bravest man who ever lived.
We began the day in Cheget, Russia after our Elbrus climb and took a four hour taxi to Mineralnye Vody. Our flight to Moscow was smooth and we arrived at Sheremetyevo airport by 3pm. We set our bags down in our room at the Skypoint Hotel and took the Aeroexpress train into town. The train lets out at the Belarussky Station on the edge of Moscow. From there we had to take the Metro subway system to Red Square. The subway system in Moscow is a beautiful work of art with marble archways and statues throughout. All of the signs are in Cyrillic so we stood around for a good 15 minutes trying to figure out which train to take. A fellow American walked up to us in front of the subway map and said, “Are you guys lost too?” We all spent some time trying to decipher the hieroglyphics until Taylor found the train we needed to ride. Fortunately he was right.
As soon as we arrived at Red Square we went straight to the underground mall to eat at a Russian Sbarro’s. After dinner we walked around the entire perimeter of the Kremlin, and then we enjoyed the views from the center of the square. After taking some obligatory pictures of St. Basil’s Cathedral we headed to the extremely upscale government mall. We got a bottle of water and did some window shopping before heading back to the hotel. Our hotel was an hour away via Metro and train but it was right next door to the airport which was convenient for out 7:50am flight to Madrid in the morning.
June 11
After a good night’s rest in Moscow, we are now in transit to Pamplona, Spain for the Running of the Bulls. The festival runs for two weeks and the bull run starts at 8am each morning. Taylor and I will join in the run tomorrow morning on Friday the 12th. After that we will be on our way back home on the 13th.
“Between the mountains lay a further stretch of forest, and then still other mountains constantly rising higher and higher. And higher than all, stood snow-capped peaks white as sugar, and one snowy peak rose like a dome above them all.”
-Leo Tolstoy, A Prisoner in the Caucasus-
As part of a two-week long trip, my friend Taylor and I are climbing Mt. Blanc, Mt Elbrus, and Running with the Bulls. We have successfully summitted Elbrus and returned safely. Elbrus is the tallest peak in Europe standing at 18,510ft and located in the Northern Caucasus of Russia. Our story is chronicled below.
July 5th
We flew into Mosocow’s Sheremetyevo airport at 3am operating on only two hours of sleep. We navigated our way through the terminal and passport control keeping our eyes peeled for Snowden. After a short layover and an even shorter plane ride, we arrive in Mineralnye Vody for the most unsettling transportation of all; a taxi ride into the Northern Caucasus. After our driver filled up his 1987 Yugo at the local Gazprom, we were off to the races. The mountain roads were steep and windy, and the cattle freely roamed the countryside, often taking naps on the road or in the middle of a bridge. Our driver would speed along until encountering a bull just over the crest of a hill, only to swerve into oncoming traffic at the last second; narrowly missing an accidental Yugo burger sandwich. We weren’t expecting this kind of action before even arriving at the mountain, but we figured this was at least a good practice exercise for the Running of the Bulls.
Once we arrived at our hotel in Cheget, we were kindly greeted by the english-speaking Tatiana. She provided us with our necessary registration papers and climbing permits. She was particularly curious about our intentions over our Border Zone permit. When we mentioned that it might be interesting to cross the border into Georgia, her male sidekick laughed and replied in a thick Russian accent, “Two days in Russian prison, and a little money. This paper will not help you.” We got the point. Everyone got a good laugh out of this.
Quickly realizing that we had no local currency, we headed toward the closest bank in nearby Terskol. 30 minutes later we found ourselves lost outside of a Russian prison. The barbed-wire and guard towers were an ominous sign that we were in the wrong part of town. Figuring we made a wrong turn, we headed back where we came from. On our way we stumbled across a Russian wedding. We loitered for a few minutes, trying to decide if it was worth attempting a dance with the bride, until a local started pestering us for money and we decided to cut our wedding crashing short. Finally arriving in Terskol, we were able to convince the teller to exchange our US dollars for rubles. We ate dinner back at the hotel that evening. We were served a delicious local specialty…beef spine soup. As I sawed through each vertebrae with a butter knife I couldn’t help but imagine the gruesome car crash that might have delivered my dinner.
July 6th
Our climb of Elbrus began with a short taxi ride from our hotel in Cheget to the base of the gondola in Azau. After buying our tickets we rode the first leg of the gondola with a group of Russian soldiers. I had my papers ready just in case, but I kept quiet and the ride went smoothly. At the transfer station for the second leg of the gondola we met a Russian who upon learning we were Americans asked, “Do you feel safe?” Despite cattle-dodging car rides, prison encounters, and rubbing elbows with soldiers I had actually felt relatively safe…until he asked this question. After stumbling over an answer he explained that Americans don’t often visit the Caucasus. He turned out to be a friendly guy who had been to America twice before; once for New Year’s Eve at the turn of the millennium and once on September 11th. We rode the second gondola with him, listening as he shared stories of trying to find work in Brooklyn after being stranded from plane delays. The gondola complete, there was one final chairlift until basecamp. It was an old single chair lift that had probably been running since the WWII era. As we passed by exposed electrical wires 100ft above jagged rocks I was holding tight and praying that neither I nor my bag on the chair in front of me would fall to his demise.
Arriving at basecamp we spoke to the man known only as “The Administrator”. He was a jolly Russian fellow wearing a beard and Ray-Bans who would find us two beds in the barrels. From what we had read ahead of time, we expected the barrel huts to be quite dirty. Elbrus basecamp has been well documented as having the dirtiest bathroom on earth. Most of our low expectations were met in full. After brushing the soot off of my bunk bed and spotting a mouse running from a trash pile in the corner we affectionately named our Barrel #2 “The Dirty Deuce”.
Shortly after settling into The Dirty Deuce we grabbed our bags and headed up for an acclimatization climb. From the barrels, we took a 5 hour climb to the top of the Pastchukov Rocks. While the weather was pleasant when we began, we were greeted by cloud cover, freezing temperatures, and light hail as we approached the rocks. When we reached the top of the rocks at 15,300ft we were content to swiftly head back to the barrels for shelter. Back at the barrels, we contemplated waking up at 1am to attempt a summit bid or the alternative of a rest day. After a long day of climbing and soaking wet gear, we opted to take the rest day to refuel.
July 7th
Taking advantage of a rare rest day, we let our muscles recover and slept until lunch. A short walk to the glacier allowed us the opportunity to refill our water supply with what you might call fresh glacier melt. Judging by the state of affairs in the nearby facilities, I wasn’t taking any chances. I added iodine tabs to our bottles to kill any lingering bugs. Our new-found free time gave us an opportunity to get to know the fellow climbers from our barrel. Surprisingly, they were from Dallas, TX and climbing as a group from Texas Health Resources. Their group was guided by RMI and came well-prepared with all of the toys and local comforts of home. I joked that they were running a Radio Shack out of the barrel as I enjoyed listening to the Beatles on their bluetooth speakers. It’s always nice to have little luxuries on the mountain, so long as you aren’t the one carrying it up there.
Due to the accessibility of the lift system, basecamp of Elbrus becomes an eclectic melting pot of international climbers, Russian guides, and European tourists. We were interviewed by an Estonian photographer interested in our summit attempt. I approached a woman wearing a Texas A&M hat, only to find she spoke little to no English. Meanwhile, two plus sized Russian women were stripping down to swimsuits and taking comical photos on the edge of the glacier. Look for Mrs. November in the Women of the Caucasus calendar. Another Russian woman with her daughter mistook us for scientists. After a short conversation we found out she had lived in Arlington, TX for several years. It was unlike any mountain I have ever climbed. There was no common language so we confided in our newfound barrel-mates who were also enjoying a rest day before their summit bid. We organized a ski-doo ride back to the rocks for the following morning with a local named Vladimir. He makes sure we understand we must be ready at 2am, sternly telling us, “Do not be late!”
Our barrelmate and new companion, Bob, made a fantastic video of the RMI team’s journey. There are some excellent timelapse shots of Elbrus.
July 8th
Our 1am wakeup call came fast and cold. Despite chilling temperatures, the RMI guide was adamant that the day was going to be “too perfect”. The night sky was crystal clear with the Milky Way stretching from one end to another. Judging by the billions of visible stars, we knew he would be right. We warmed up with some hot muesli and gathered our gear for the long climb ahead. Taylor was 30 seconds late to our ski-doo appointment because another climber had a similar ice axe and he was worried that I had left mine behind. Vladimir’s driver was already complaining, “Time! Time!” In typical Russian fashion he sped us up to the rocks with little concern for safety. Halfway through, he realized that there was too much weight and kicks Taylor off. As he continued on toward the rocks, we left Taylor alone in the cold dark night on the side of an icy slope with nothing but the trust that the driver would return to retrieve him. At the top of the rocks I frustratingly yelled at the driver to go back to get Taylor. He replied in broken English, “Come back, come back!” I took that as a good sign and 5 minutes later he arrived with my teammate no worse for the wear, albeit a bit confused.
We began our climb up the steep icy mountainside during the frigid night with nothing but our headlights to guide us. You could faintly make out the headlights of a trail of climbers on the slope above. The stars were brilliant and mesmerizing but the chilling -15 degree wind kept my mind focused on the task at hand. We wore our largest down parkas for insulation against the cold. After the first hour of climbing, Taylor’s right hand was beginning to go numb. We took a moment to add hand warmers before continuing on. Thirty minutes later Taylor’s hand was showing early stages of frostbite and he had lost most of the feeling in his fingers. Our last option before turning around was to upgrade to the warmest down mitts that we had. Fortunately, the symptoms began to subside and we were able to continue on towards the summit.
As we reached the saddle, the sun began to rise from the backside of the mountain, forming a pyramid shadow across the entire valley. Once in the saddle, we could see most of the remaining route to the summit. The wind began to subside and the warmth of the sun brought our frozen bodies back to life. The bitter cold had exhausted most of our strength but the sight of the summit ridge gave us just enough motivation to continue on. With another 1,500ft to the summit and the air already thin, many climbers were beginning to turn back. Our preparation on Mt. Blanc left us well acclimatized to the altitude and we were ready for an arduous summit day. The final push to the summit ridge was steep and protected with fixed lines. We were climbing strong and passing by slower moving groups throughout the section. Once at the summit ridge, the air was so thin that it took everything in you just to take a single step. The final 200ft of ascent to the summit took another 20 minutes.
We reached the summit of the tallest mountain on the European continent at 8am in the morning. The summit was only big enough for about three people to be standing on at a time and was marked with a small rock monument. There was not a single cloud in the sky and we could see for miles. From the summit you can see the lush green countryside to the North and the snow-capped peaks of Georgia to the South. We enjoyed the view but made sure to take pictures and get down within a few minutes due to the extreme cold and altitude.
We made record time on the way down; glissading much of the mountain. A glissade is a kind of controlled slide in which you sit down and slide down the mountain with your ice axe as a brake. We explored the abandoned Diesel Hut before making it back to the barrels. Upon return, we were greeted with open arms and congratulations by the fellow climbers in camp. It was not yet noon, but we were the first successful climbers to return that day.
We paid The Administrator, took the chair lift to the gondola, negotiated a taxi ride by drawing numbers in the dirt, and before we knew it we were back at the hotel in Cheget. Back at the hotel we enjoyed clean showers and a warm dinner before going to sleep.
July 9th
Our rest day back in Cheget allowed us to catch up on sleep and relax around the village. We did some light shopping in the market followed by a trial run with the local bulls. For dinner we joined two other American guided groups at a local café. All of the climbers had successfully completed Elbrus so we celebrated with local barbecue and drinks. After the celebration we packed our bags and got ready for an early taxi ride back to Mineralnye Vody.
Next
We will be heading to Pamplona, Spain to Run with the Bulls on Friday morning. Our route will take us through Moscow for a night, allowing us to spend an afternoon in Red Square on Wednesday. Thank you to everyone who has been praying for us. We were blessed with great weather once again, and could not be more excited to have knocked out the first of the Seven Summits.
P.S. Congratulations to my sister, Melanie, who passed the National Counseling Exam yesterday!
“He who forms the mountains, who creates the wind, and who reveals his thoughts to mankind, who turns dawn to darkness, and treads on the heights of the earth— the Lord God Almighty is his name.”
-Amos 4:13-
Yesterday afternoon we arrived safe and sound back at our chalet in Chamonix. We were blessed with beautiful weather and a successful summit! The climb was more challenging than either of us had expected, but the experience and views were incredible.
Day 1 –
We woke to a delicious french breakfast at the chalet and were on our way by 8am. We meticulously packed our bags the night before and were carrying 40lbs of gear each. Chamonix has an excellent free bus system and we were on the first morning bus to the base of our gondola. The Prarion gondola took us a short walk from the Col de Voza train station. The plan was to then take the train to the base of Mt. Blanc at Nid D’Aigle. We knew we were in luck when the train was at the station as we walked up. We patiently waited in the ticket line as a women argued with the ticket attendant. Before we knew it the train was closing it’s doors and taking off before we had gotten our tickets. In a panic we tried to ask them to let us on and through the language barrier we somehow boarded seconds before the train was on its way. Phew, what a relief it was to have just made it! As the train began to roll away from the station something unexpected happened. We were slowly pulling away from the station…downhill. Instantly, Taylor and I looked at one another and our hearts sank. We had taken the train in the wrong direction.
The train downhill would take us away from the mountain and delay the start of our climb for another two hours. We knew this would make it nearly impossible to make it to our hut for the evening without traversing the most treacherous rock fall during the most dangerous afternoon sun. We began discussing our options.
Get a taxi at the base of the train back to the Chalet and try again tomorrow
Take the next train back up, but shorten our day’s climb to stay at the lower Tete Rousse. This would require us to sleep in our bags in the snow, since we had neither reservations nor a tent.
Take the next train up, but continue on with the original plan, placing us at the Refuge du Gouter at late evening. This would require us to cross the precarious rock fall during the heat of the afternoon when the boulders begin to loosen in the noonday sun.
None of these options seemed very appealing. As I am sitting, bemoaning the situation that my lack of French fluency has caused, the train stops on the tracks alongside an uphill train. Taylor ran over to the conductor to negotiate our escape. Before I knew it we were hopping trains and headed in the right direction. It was a huge relief to be going the right direction. One look around the train and we knew we were in the right place. Ice axes, crampons, backpacks, and beards. This was far more suitable company than the baby and flip-flop wearing mother we had been sharing a ride with moments before.
For two weeks prior to our arrival there had been an accumulation of snow preventing the train from reaching Nid D’Aigle. We arrived on one of the first trains since they had cleared the snow from the tracks. By 11am we are strapping on our crampons and beginning our ascent of the tallest mountain in the Alps. The sky was clear and the weather was warm. Almost too warm. After hours of climbing in the snow, the sun takes a toll on your body. We ascended nearly 3000 vertical feet in four hours arriving at the Refuge de Tete Rousse (10,390ft) at 3:30pm.
We had reservations in the Refuge du Gouter (12,582ft) but to continue on would require crossing the aforementioned rock fall during the worst time of the day. We met two climbers in the hut who are desperately trying to get to the Gouter that evening but do not have reservations. One had an injured leg and they believed if they had any chance to summit they were going to have to get higher that day. We agreed to swap reservations and stayed the night at the Tete Rousse hut. In preparation for the summit bid in the morning, we cleared our bags of any excess gear and stowed it away until our return. We did our best to sleep at altitude in a spartan bunk bed, crammed in a room with 12 snoring dutchmen.
Day 2 –
After a few hours of what I guess you could call sleep, we arose to prepare for our summit bid at 12:30am. After a bit of coffee and bread we rope up and begin the ascent in complete darkness. With nothing but the light of our headlamps we approach the Grand Couloir. There is a fixed cable spanning the couloir for safety. We tied into the cable and traversed the couloir, crossing through a gully in the middle that has been washed out by avalanche and rock fall. Safely to the far side, we prepared a short rope for the 1,500ft rock scramble ahead of us. The steep rock face was covered in ice so we moved slowly and deliberately. Many of the rocks were loose and we had heard stories of men being crushed by falling rocks in this area. Fortunately the cold of the night was helping to freeze much of the rock into place. It was a clear night and you could see all of the way down to the lights of Chamonix, 10,000ft below. The sun began to rise as we arrived at the Refuge du Gouter at 7am.
Safely through the rock fall, we knew that the worst section was now behind us. We took a brief rest at the hut before continuing on toward the summit. From the Gouter hut the tallest peak in sight is the Dome du Gouter. It’s height is deceptive, though as we soon discovered. By 9:30 we crested the top of the dome only to discover the challenge that still lied ahead of us. It would be another 2,000ft of climbing to the summit. A few Gu packets later and we are feeling up to the challenge.
By now we were above 14,000ft and the effects of altitude were undeniable. One climber was delirious and falling down every few steps as his guide tried to drag him down to the Gouter hut. We were blessed to have had an easier nights rest at a lower elevation before pushing on toward the summit. From the Dome you must traverse a long, icy plateau until you arrive at a series of spines leading up to the summit. The climb to the summit is very steep and we had to kick foot platforms every step of the way. For every ridge that we peaked we would find another just beyond it. This series of false summits only seemed to make this marathon of a day last even longer. By early afternoon we made our way onto the summit ridge and finally knew that our dream would become a reality. The summit ridge is a beautiful knife point ridge with thousands of feet of drop on either side. A short 30 minute climb along the ridge and we arrived at the summit of Mt. Blanc (15,782ft).
After celebrating and dropping our packs, we took in the view from western Europe’s tallest peak. It was a bluebird day on the summit and we could see all of Italy, as well as Chamonix, and the picturesque Aiguille du Midi. We arrived at 2pm and had the entire summit to ourselves. Shortly after, two americans joined us on the summit and shared in our celebration. They were fellow members of the climbing party who we had exchanged places with on Day 1. One of them was so tired he literally fell asleep on the summit. We woke him up to take some pictures and get down before the altitude took its toll.
We descended from the summit retracing our steps back to the Gouter hut to finally get some rest. 15 hours after we began our summit bid, we arrived safely at the Refuge du Gouter. Many climbers did not have reservations and were told they either had to climb back down the entire mountain or pay 100 euros to sleep on a bench in the changing room. We had reservations in advance and were quite happy to have a warm dinner and bunk bed. We were too exhausted to eat much food and were asleep by 7pm.
Day 3 –
We missed our 6am wakeup alarm because Taylor’s phone battery had died. My camera battery went out on the summit, and his GoPro battery only lasted a few hours past that. In this case, the battery problem was a welcome excuse to sleep a full 12 hours. Even at 13,000ft we slept great. We roped up and headed down the rocks toward Tete Rousse. Once again we had to contend with loose rocks and steep, icy terrain. On the way down we passed a climber heading up whose hand had been broken by a falling rock. We kept our helmets on tight and our ears alert to avoid the same fate.
Near the end of the rock descent I heard a french voice shout “STOP! STOP!” Taylor and I look back to see that two climbers have accidentally shifted a huge rock loose and it is dangling precariously on the slope above our heads. As soon as we realize what has happened, we ran as fast as we could to the side of the trail and ducked for cover behind a boulder. The Frenchman was holding the rock from falling but was struggling a great deal. The rock was roughly the size of Grandma’s 32″ tube television. The weight was too much for him to hold back and it seemed he was ready to let it go but we were fearful it could take a bad bounce and head our direction. After pleading with him to leave it be he managed to lean it safely on its side. Still shaken up by the incident we picked up our pace to get out of the rock fall. By the time we made it to the Grand Couloir, we decided to run across rather than spend 20 minutes clipping in to the cable. We made it across in about 20 seconds. From that point on we were on (relatively) safe terrain and home free.
Once down, we hopped a short train, gondola, then bus and we were home at our chalet once again. On return I enjoyed running water, showers, and a fresh meal. Things we take for granted until we don’t have them anymore. We are sharing the chalet with a team of guided climbers. They have 2 guides and a 9 day itinerary planned for climbing Mt. Blanc. They were quite astonished when we returned to the chalet two days later having successfully completed the summit. They said, “You are heroes! You must have had a lot of mountaineering experience!” I smirked, pointing to Taylor, and replied, “Actually, this was his first mountain ever.” Taylor’s laugh said it all.
Next –
We were blessed to have had such perfect weather. Thank you to those of you who have been praying for us along the way. We felt strong on the mountain and are now preparing for Mt. Elbrus. Mt. Elbrus is the tallest mountain in Europe standing at 18,510ft. Although the elevation is quite a bit higher, the base camp is also higher. Our total elevation gain during ascent will be less on Elbrus than on summit day of Mt. Blanc in which we climbed nearly 6,000ft in a single day. The biggest variable on Elbrus will be the weather. We will be in the remote Caucasus region of Russia near the border of Georgia. I’m not counting on having internet access so it may be a week before we post again.
Parker and I joined forces in Geneva, Switzerland yesterday and made the short bus ride, with luggage in tow, to Chamonix. We are sharing a Chalet with a small Dutch group just on the outskirts of town. It is way nicer than either of us expected. We arrived a bit late in the evening and were welcomed with a hot, 3-course meal as we sat overlooking the base of the nearby Massif and glaciers. Morning came early for us and we decided to make a quick trip into town for some last-minute gear (food and propane) before gearing up and heading out to Montenvers Mer de Glace; France’s largest glacier. Fate seems to have been on our side at nearly every corner of this trip as we have seemed to arrive at just the perfect time at every juncture encountered. This particular instance had us boarding a train that has been operating since the 19th century. After a short and near vertical climb, we found ourselves high in the clouds and unable to see the glacier below us. Soon after, a steady rain began to pour.
A gondola can be found just feet from the station and, after another hair-raising ride, only 400+ steps stood in the way of us and the ice. After strapping on our crampons we began our traverse across the glacier. It was soon apparent that several caves existed – and they were begging to be explored. After some fun, it was down to business. We spent the remainder of our time performing some relatively steep ice climbs and practicing rope skills. If we aren’t ready now, we’ll never be.
Our schedule is working out perfectly and the forecast is calling for mostly sunny skies for the next 2-3 days. Our current plan is to head out at dawn tomorrow and take the gondola and train systems to the base of the Gouter Route. From there is will be a half-day’s haul to the Refuge du Gouter (Mountain Hut). After a couple of hours rest, we will wake up at midnight and, God-willing, begin our 12-hour summit bid. TO THE TOP!
“Auto racing, bullfighting, and mountain climbing are the only real sports—all others are games”
-Ernest Hemingway-
Over the next two weeks, my friend Taylor and I will be traveling through 4 countries, climbing the tallest mountain in the Alps, followed by one of the Seven Summits, and ending by Running with the Bulls. I will do my best to post occasional updates to this blog.
Countries:
Switzerland
France
Russia
Spain
Mountains:
Mt. Blanc (15,781ft)
Mt. Elbrus (18,510ft)
Itinerary by Day:
Travel
Arrive and meet Taylor in Geneva, Bus to Chamonix, France