Entries from Locations

Sunday, June 28 - 12:10pm PST

The day after the summit.

Yesterday we stood on the top of North America. Today we feel like shit. But no, that doesn’t begin to describe the feeling. The day after summit day is a mood all of its own. Joy, relief, exhaustion, confusion, fullness.

Last night, we got back to 17’ camp at 9:15pm, 12 hrs after embarking on an epic summit day. In a daze, we ate Mountain House meals from the warmth of our tents. Sleeping at 17,200’ is a challenge of its own. Snoozes are regularly interrupted by snores, sneezes, coughs, aches, and residual adrenaline. It’s best not to look at your sleep score, “body battery,” or any other wearable metric in such conditions—unless you’re the special one being studied by University of Montana researchers.

We woke up to the sun breaking through a white haze that moved in overnight. Our summit window really was just that. Two days of sunshine sandwiched between rolling snow storms. We looked back up at the Autobahn in the light snowfall, grateful it would now be at ours backs, and saluted Denali’s treacherous gateway.

As altitude headaches slowly subsided, aided by coffee, water, renewed adrenaline (and maybe a pop of Dex), we roped up for the climb  down the West Buttress ridge. One rope team after another, we moved down the running belays, regaining oxygen with each pitch. This time, my mind did not wonder; my only thoughts were about placing my next foothold, maintaining the rope interval, and moving clips efficiently at each anchor. At each pause, I watched the team behind us emerge from the white fog and the team in front of us disappear into it.

At times, it felt disorienting, moving away from the pinnacle we spent so long pursuing. The day after summit day is always bittersweet. And because everything is bigger on Denali, today hit like a wall. The banter at the breaks was notably lacking, but we all now share something that does not need to be and really can’t be put into words.

The fixed lines were the final challenge between us and 14’ camp. We steered ourselves down the ropes over the steep icy slope disguised by a foot of new snow. My crampons dug into the ice with all 24 points. After climbing over the bergshrund at the bottom of the fixed lines, we moved swiftly down slope as snow sloughing off the top fed into the crack. The “walk” back to camp took all we had left, plunging into deep snow for a half hour before the red tents emerged from the white out. Home! We made it back home to our cozy oasis at 14,200’.

As much as we are ready to go back to our real homes, we are also bracing for the culture shock of returning to those lives that have felt fairly distant for 17 days. I’m amazed by how adaptable we are living out here in the elements. It strips life down to the basics. Much of our days are doing the work required just to meet our basic needs: eat, get dress, sleep, poop, stay warm, hydrate, eat. If we’re talking in terms of Maslow’s Hierarchy, we do those things in pursuit of something that could be positioned at the top or bottom of the pyramid: some sort of higher enlightenment or the most basic of needs. I’ve realized that that’s so something we all share. Time in the mountains is not just about self actualization, it is fundamental to who we are. The mountains sustain us. And though Denali took a lot out of us, she gave back to us magnitudes more.

So here we are, sitting back at 14’ camp and where the summit now feels like a fever dream. Maybe it just hasn’t sunk in yet. Maybe it will forever live as a dreamscape in my memory. The day after summit day invites the question, what comes after the summit? We sit slurping down warm ramen, mending crampon punctures, comparing new face wrinkles, probably avoiding the question. I began by describing the feeling of fullness. But there’s also a looming emptiness that often follows achieving a major goal. Most of us will put another summit on the horizon to keep feeding our appetite. But Denali was about much more than the summit. In this spectacular corner of the Alaska Range, this mountain teaches you diligence, patience, teamwork, guts, gratitude, awe—and when your lungs and legs are about to give out on Pig “Hill,” just take one more step. That’s what I’m carrying back down the day after summit day. 

 - RMI Climber Amanda from 14 camp
 

The four-day climb led by RMI Guide Joe Hoch turned around at Ingraham Flats this morning due to unfit route conditions. They have returned to Camp Muir and will descend to Paradise later this morning. While they didn't make it to the summit, they enjoyed a classic Little Tahoma sunrise!

Great work up there team! 

Saturday, June 27 - 9:30PM PST

The latest storm moved in slowly this morning. For a time we thought we might sneak in a carry, but it was not to be.  Clouds and light, but persistent snow swallowed up the mountain.  Luckily, there hasn’t been wind to accompany all the moisture.  We stretched out breakfast and then everybody found a few chores to do outside, moving snow blocks around here and there. Most of the day, we did the Denali Hang, sitting in our tents - reading and napping. It was great to have RMI Guides Ben, Mike and Avery come out of the fog at midday with their successful summit teams. They set up camp not far away to wait out the snowy days.  Miles and Jack prepared a big jambalaya pot of dinner to cap off a quiet day and the team ate every morsel in our now familiar dining tent.

- RMI Guide Dave Hahn

After an early morning gear-check in Sedro-Woolley, we arrived at the trailhead to find front row parking. We made last adjustment to our packs and began our hike. Despite the forecast heat, we found pleasant hiking temps thanks to a cloudy sky and light but steady breeze. On the Railroad Grade we were treated to the peak bloom for Meadow Penstemon and Spreading Phlox. We made camp and were treated to a 2-hour sunset light show. 

On School Day we made a short trek downhill to our site, a small valley that overlooks the Demming Glacier Icefall. We spent the morning building skill and confidence with crampons and ice axes. After lunch our focus turned to safety techniques like Self Arrest and Rope Travel. During the rope travel practice time we made our way to an overlook and admired the icefall for a moment. 

That evening we were down before any sunset lights could begin. We awoke at 0100 and started our climb at 0200. Step kicking from camp we made quick time up the snow and rock from Sandy Camp to the Easton Glacier. We donned the rope and continued through delightfully firm slush (contradictory as it sounds). The glacier provided mostly easy travel, with only a 1,000 or so feet of frustrating breakable crust. At the crater we marveled at the constant hissing and rumble; we may have snickered at the accompanying smell. An hour later we were on top, with relatively few others around. The summit views were spectacular, with clear views of Rainier, the Cascades and the Tantalus. After a quick descent, we packed up camp and tromped our way down the trail to our cars. 

- RMI Guide Joe Crawford

The Four Day Climb teams led by Seth Burns and Jackson Breen reached a high point of 12,300 feet on Disappointment Cleaver before making the decision to turn around. Despite the clear skies above, recent storm snow, challenging route conditions, and difficult travel all contributed to the call to stop their ascent short of the summit.

Well done to the team for their hard work!

Friday, June 26, 2026 10:44pm PDT

Certainly, colder up here at 14K. We ate breakfast in the shadows before the sun came around the mountain at 9:20.That made it a lot easier to prepare for our 10:15 mission to reclaim our cache at Windy Corner. It was a pleasant walk down, naturally -with light packs. The Ravens had not disturbed our carefully buried supplies. We loaded up and set ourselves to the two-hour workout to get back up to camp. The weather was perfect with clear skies and no wind, and we were happy to hear Ben’s RMI team on the radio, heading toward the summit. The rest of our day was. Spent resting, rehydrating, and training for a climb on the fixed rope section of the West Buttress tomorrow.

RMI Guide Dave Hahn & Team

1/11 Denali Team 7 dispatch.

Friday June 26, 2026 11:45pm PST

To those who visit the slopes of Denali: Be ready. Be prepared. Be patient. Climbing a mountain can mean a lot of different things for every single one of us. A mountain like Denali can draw us in by sight, it can draw us in with curiosity, or it can draw us in by the challenge it represents. What it won't tell you, however, is why. That is on our own to figure out or understand. Some things to consider:

1. Who will you meet? Whether arriving alone or with friends, we are sure to leave this place with a bond that will never fade. We need each other out here just to survive.

2. What will you learn? No matter your skill set, Denali will become your teacher. You will develop a whole new set of understanding of what it means to be a mountaineer.

3. How will I make it?! Well, that will take a lot of MDeal, a sprinkle of Farkle, cooking on high heat (always), some light yoga, a few walks down Main Street at 14k, and probably a dash of good luck when it comes to the weather.

4. What will I tell others? Tell them the truth. It is f-ing hard climbing this mountain. Right out of the gate, we drag sleds loaded with 22 days of food, fuel, and gear to live in an inhospitable place. We climb everything from 8,000 feet to 16,200 feet twice to make it all happen. All this, and then we wait. Sometimes longer than we want to, but we wait for the mountain to say "OK." It's a roller coaster of emotions. You freeze or fry; there's no in between. You worry. You wonder. You pace. You run through every possible scenario in your head. And then, if Denali says "go," you push yourself to a limit you never thought existed. If all goes well, finally, you stand at the highest point in North America.

And that's what we did. A HUGE congratulations to this team for sticking it out, working their asses off, and standing on top of Denali. We will walk away from this climb knowing that we did something extremely difficult. We are grateful. Grateful for the opportunity. And best of all, a Twinkie never tasted so good over 20,000 feet, but only one of us got to see what the inside of a glacier looks like up close.

RMI Guides Ben, Mike, Avery, and Team.

The four-day climb stayed at Camp Muir today and were unable to climb due to heavy snow and wind. Gusts were nearly 60 miles per hour overnight. 

Way to stay strong up there team!

Thursday, June 25 10PM PST

We got our chance and took advantage today.  It was a sunny, calm day from start to finish. We got going up motorcycle hill at 9AM with packs and sleds. Luckily, several teams came down the mountain in the night, which plowed a trail for us through the recent snow. Our climb today was plenty hard but would certainly have been harder if we’d been breaking trail.  From our previous high point at Windy Corner, we simply added two more hour long climbs.  It was exciting to get around the Corner as the views are incredible.  It is tempting to look at the thousand or more peaks stretching to the horizon, it is tempting to look wayyyy back down to the  Kahiltna Glacier, far below.  Rounding the corner, one comes face to face with Denali’s South Peak and there is plenty to look at there too.  But of course the corner itself can be tricky climbing which means you can’t really stare at all those views.  We got into 14 Camp after 6 hrs and twenty minutes, which was fine.  Building camp took a few hours as usual, perhaps because we kept stopping to stare at the rock, the ice, and the scale of it all.  Tomorrow we’ll drop briefly down to retrieve our cache.

- RMI Guide Dave Hahn
 

Our Five Day Emmons Expedition led by RMI Guides Dustin Wittmier, Rosie Hust and Liam Moore left Camp Shurman early this morning in hopes of reaching the top of Mt. Rainier. At 7:45am they acheived their goal, summitting the 14,410' volcano. They're on the decent back to camp and will stay one more night at Camp Schurman to rest up before walking out tomorrow morning.

Nice work team!