5/29 - We left Kahiltna Base camp just after 9 a.m., passing out of the mountain shadow and into the full sun. The day glittered around us, sunshine glinting off the snow and washing over the surrounding peaks. The previous night, a park ranger had warned us that it had been a challenging season. Only a few people had managed to summit. But the day we flew onto the glacier had brought the best weather he’d seen since March. Perhaps the misery that had haunted other climbers — coined a “lovely hell” in an earlier blog post — was finally passing.

We marched forward, saddled with heavy packs and even heavier plastic sleds. We carried the essentials, like fuel and climbing gear and “clean mountain cans” — their sanitary name failing to convey their unsanitary purpose: to carry out all of our poop. But we also carried the ineffable, the comfort those items brought worth more than their use. A beloved red beanie, an iPad with 48 hours of movies, including Interstellar, and 300+ gummy bears. (Harbaro, the good kind.) A blue towel, honey-covered macadamia nuts and, in a single pack, 60 packets of instant coffee. (Might need to call in a mental health check on that climber.) Smoked salmon from cousins in Anchorage and two blocks of cheddar cheese that weren’t from Wisconsin, though it would’ve been better if they were. Nice headphones. A best friend. Knitting needles and yarn. Twelve premiere Belgian waffles. More than five pounds of cookie dough.

We were different ages — 33, 35, 38, 40, 41 — and called different places home. Salt Lake City, Oakland Philadelphia, Denver, Bellingham, Kyiv. We hailed from cybersecurity, the military, journalism, entrepreneurship and business. We probably never would have met in the “real” world. (Who even knows what that world will look like when we return.) But we were creating our own little world, the climb a uniting force. We needed each other to cover the heaviest five-and-a-half miles toward the mountain — and onward, hopefully to its very top — tethered together by rope and carabiner. Our footsteps crunched over the glacial rolls, and sweat tie-dyed our shirts. Our hiking poles stabbed pinpricks of blue light in the snow, the thick ice — nearly 2,000 to 3,000 feet deep at points — shining up at us from below.

Soon enough we’d pull into camp. (The smallest member of the group was in disbelief that she’d managed to carry a load that weighed nearly as much as her.) We’d build a neighborhood of red-and-blue tents and listen to the whoosh of the cookstove, snowmelt turning to drinking water. We’d talk and laugh and prepare to climb Ski Hill the next morning to cache food near Kahiltna Pass.

But for now, there was only the long and grueling climb, both a torture and a revelation. Ahead of us, Denali stood on the horizon, cloaked in a sifting haze of clouds. Visible one moment, it was gone in the next.

Daily recap:
Mileage: 5.64 miles
Total time: 5:25:49
Elevation gain: 1,129 feet
Pace: 57:48/mile

RMI Climber Lizzy

Note from the author: All my love and gratitude to Kyiv, Omaha and Anchorage. You know who you are. (And big hugs to little Claire and Emma.)