Entries from Expedition Dispatches

Saturday, May 30th 10PM PST

Today was our final decision day, the final day of no dehydrated meals, the final look at weather before making a decision to head up to 17 camp, or make our way back to the airstrip. The morning started off calm and beautiful, and after a breakfast of eggs and hashbrowns the whole team walked out the edge of the world where we got expansive views of everything below and out for miles. Throughout the afternoon we got more weather information, and the clouds began to build in camp. 

The window we were looking for was moving up Sunday, trying to summit Monday, and heading back downhill Tuesday. The more we checked the weather, and the more we heard it appeared as the low pressure pushed out, and the high pressure moved in, high winds were moving in with it. Both the winds and the temperatures (still in the -30 range…brrr) sadly took the Monday summit window off the table. 

After much consideration, we are going to have to start making our way back down the mountain and towards the airstrip. 

We will check in tomorrow as we begin our descent. These decisions are never easy, and the team put so much effort in. We are proud of everything done up until this point.

Saturday, May 31st, 11PM PST

Burns Team Makes it to 4327 meters
We woke early to a very cold morning and started packing our things. Today was the day we would move to camp 4. After a breakfast of granola, and powdered milk for the brave, we packed our backpacks until it seemed they would bust. The sun broke the rim of the mountain as we prepared to set out. We underdressed as we expected to warm up as we climbed, it would be the theme for the day as the hot sun battled the cold wind. After we climbed each steep hill we were rewarded by another steep hill to climb. On our brakes we pondered if we would rather be a strawberry with humans thoughts or a human with strawberry thoughts. As I climbed I thought it would be nice to be a strawberry, no mountains to climb or life to worry about, just sit on the vine and enjoy the sun. I tried to have strawberry thoughts as I climbed, no fatigue or suffering, just enjoy the sun on my face turning it a nice ripe red. Finally camp 4 appeared on the horizon like Shangrala, we had made it.

- RMI Climber James

Saturday, May 30th 8:30PM PST

Today we pulled our sleds from camp 1 to establish a cache just below camp 2. This was our first real elevation gain, and it feels like we’re nearing a turning point where in the coming days, the challenge of hauling loads and staying cool in the heat of the day will transition to hauling mostly just ourselves and keeping warm.

I’ve taken a hundred of photos already, but every time I return from a new place, I scan through my photos and realize that, in looking for a wider and wider angle lens thinking I could capture everything about that place, in fact I capture very little of what it’s like to be there. I feel this already here. The sky is deepest blue and the snow brilliant white, but our days are spent focused on the tiniest details which no photo will capture. The way the rope cuts a groove in the snow as it slides the length of each step. The texture of sunscreen layered on sunscreen layered on sweat. Tiny adjustments to backpack straps which cut either into our hips or into our shoulders. Analyzing every twitch of our guide’s arm to see if it signals the next rest break.

I struggle to conceptualize the innumerable tiny tasks and footsteps separating us from our goal next to the scale of the mountains which surround us. The mountains still seem impossibly big to me and, in alternating waves, oddly small. Glaciers stretch on for miles and seracs the size of houses hang thousands of feet above our heads. But houses align into city blocks, city blocks cluster into neighborhoods, and what hiker would think twice about passing through a few neighborhoods to get to the other side of town? I rationalize to myself that the next turn in the track is only as far away as the next stop light.

So too, the whoops of exuberance and sighs of commiseration between teammates stack into shared experiences, and these shared experiences stack into friendships. I’m grateful for these new friendships and for the opportunity to be here, even if it’s accompanied by separation from everyone back home and a certain amount of discomfort and trepidation.

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.)

5/29 - Today we were able to stretch our legs and enjoy the views of 17k camp. The team used the day to pack and organize and prepare mentally for what will likely be the hardest day of their lives. This rest day was well deserved. Tomorrow we make our attempt at the summit of North America, Denali!

RMI Guide Jack Delaney & Team

5/29 - Today’s post includes two stories, we’ll let you decide what happened with Burn’s team’s seventh day on the mountain.

Story 1:
Seth and guides woke everyone up at 1 am, seizing the weather window and decided to make the first ever RMI summit push from Camp 2. After pounding 5 shots of espresso and 2 cups of powdered milk each, in just base layers, the team sprinted up the mountain at a blistering pace, reaching the highest point in North America in just 3 hours. They celebrated by shotgunning beers at the top, and cruised back to Camp 2 in 37 minutes (Denali FKT?). Very proud of everyone’s efforts today!

Story 2:
The team woke up to some more snow and decided to rest. Life is good.

- RMI Climber Andy

RMI Guides Joe Hoch and Ben Ammon and the Four Day Climb Team reached High Break (13,200’) and were still ascending as of 7:11 a.m. Joe reported a beautiful morning, with light winds and cold temperatures.By 8:33 a.m., the team had summited all smiles, and was beginning their descent toward Camp Muir.

Congratulaitons Team!

Friday, 5/29 1AM PST

After topping off our batteries (personal and electronic) with a sun filled rest day at 11 camp, our team went to bed last night ready for a carry in the morning. Silence greeted us as we awoke, an unusual sound around camps on the mountain. Snow had fallen through the night and we had nearly 2 feet of dry powder to contend with. Hope for moving today was all but lost and we prepared ourselves for a leisurely day, starting with delicious bacon (and vegan bacon) filled breakfast bagels. Once we had all finally settled into our books, movies, and journals, we got the news: “Let’s go! We’re going to carry, we want to be out as soon as possible.” Everyone jumped to it, got into our crampons, and we cruised through snow showers to break through a cloud layer into blistering sun just past Windy Corner to complete our cache at ~13,600ft. Soon we were back at our camp, refueling, and hoping to make a more permanent move to 14 camp in the next few days. 

-RMI Climber Graham

Thursday, May 28, 2026, 9:21 p.m. PDT

Day 1

Today we awoke to blue skies, so we rushed to the hangar, where we played the ‘hurry up and wait’ game. We got the text around 11 a.m. that we were flying on! We all rushed back to the hangar and lathered ourselves in sunscreen and smiles. We had moments of doubt about flying on, but climber Patti insisted we all share a piece of her Kendal Mint Bar. This famous candy delight was brought to London with the intention of being consumed before Denali. The treat is a ritual Patti practices for every climb. Alas, we are here at the airstrip, where we will sleep for the night. While enjoying our expansive views and the roars of the mountain, we enjoyed a delicious pad Thai dinner. Tomorrow, we plan to make our first big move to Camp 1!

RMI Guide Jackson Breen & Team

Bonjour from 14 Camp!

Sorry, the Canadians are taking over dispatch today. A chilly night left us happy, we slept with our toques and mitts on. We snoozed as best we could and waited for the sun to kiss our tents, giving us a minor reprieve from the chill. We wished for breakfast to be a couple of bacon and eggers but started with oatmeal before heading out for a rip up the fixed lines for some high-altitude poutine or Timbits. Travel was reasonable, as we were expecting a 50-degree sheet of ice worthy of rolling a few rocks or firing a few biscuits. Fortunately, someone spilled a couple of jugs of maple syrup on it, and travel was a bit tackier than expected.

The entire team made it to the top, reaching 16K, and when we unclipped, the clouds parted. The shamrock Sherpa thought he saw a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow, and Nick was given his brief moment in the sun. We all enjoyed the stunning views from the roof of North America. After a few snacks, we headed back down a run more suited for a toboggan, back to a sunny camp. We bumped into a couple of fellow Canucks on our descent, shared a couple of “Oh hey, buds,” and the secret Canadian wave. We are now hoping for the storms to stay away, as we have a rest day tomorrow and our ultimate decision on Friday about whether to go up or head out.

We miss you all, and God save the King.

From Nikki’s Champions Group