RMI Expeditions Blog

Received June 18, 2026 - 2:45 am PT

Denali Dispatch June 17th 2026

Did you know your brain has to make around 250,000 decisions per week.

and did you know that… if bees were to be taken off this earth humans would only have 4 years left on earth to live, Einstein said that. and did you know a single tomato plant can yield around 

100 tomatoes per year…AND did you know…that if hypothetically…YOU were to stand at the bottom of a mountain OF THIS extensiveness, this height, this coldness, this atmosphere.…well…a ticking time bomb goes off… a build up of emotions…that have been sitting inside you for months.. just soaking in… mentally preparing for this place in the middle of Alaska on the cusp of the artic circle…the time bomb of emotions is different for all …For some it’s freedom, for some it’s fun, for some it’s a confidence boost, for some it’s to clear their head, for some its to test themselves, for some it’s to prove something, for some it’s just a break … A break from society, the world, the noise. And hypothetically when you start to put yourself in these environments…these untraditional, uncomfortable environments.. it’s beats the therapist 10/10 times, it lowers your cholesterol, its heightens your senses, it makes you feel alive and OVER ALL in the end ….it adds happiness to your life.  But also… this place is cold af, we’re carrying a ton of gear, shoulders are throbbing, everyone’s aching somewhere, it’s 24/7 sunlight … which is trippy, and honestly… a quick hot shower would be kinda nice.  So I guess what I’m saying it’s kind of a double edged sword… it’s hard… but it works. It works for whatever you need it for. the climb is medicine in a way… not the pharmacy drugs … I’m talking the good stuff. It’s the best kush you ever smoked... Figuratively  it’s the ” sour diesel mountain kush" (Might take that out) It gets you high…i mean we’re already 14k ft…I’ll speak on all of our behalfs, at this very moment on June 17th 7:15 PM Vibes are high, We just got to 14 camp like a bunch of dogs that just ate a big breakfast. carbed up. 5 hours 45 min… of pain cave. but The Team cooked. Ruff ruff it’s about to get real though…weather girl goes “high of 30 ….. below” who says that? For real… have you ever heard your local weather person say “high of 30… below” NO…it’s barbaric…it doesn’t even make sense… what person in there right mind would...anyways… vibes are high. If you’re a family member reading this.. just know you got one hell of a person in your family…if they chose to come out here and attempt this thing. they got a different switch in their brain, a switch you can’t buy for any amount of money. it’s a God given switch.  It’s the type of person you wanna be around. Absolutely blessed to be able to spend this climb with some real characters. Everyone has a story all you gotta do is ask.

Quote of the day: Life becomes beautiful when gratitude becomes louder than stress

PS: The word “sled” has given me full ptsd

RMI Climber Devon

The Four Day Climb June 15 - 18 led by RMI Guides Dominic Cifelli and Felipe Guarderas reached 13,600ft this morning before high winds and route conditions turned them around. The team had descended to the top of Disppointment Cleaver, 12,500', by 7 am and are continuing to make their way back to Camp Muir. After a short break, they will continue from Camp Muir to Paradise. We expect them to return to Rainier BaseCamp this afternoon.

Wednesday, June 17, 2026 - 9:24 pm PT

Just like clockwork.  We ate a great Swiss Alaska breakfast, walked to the hangar, put on our boots and flew in to Kahiltna Base Camp.  It was a stunningly beautiful flight.  There were some clouds but our pilots found ways between them and put the ski equipped Otters down as gently as possible onstunningly beautiful flight.  There were some clouds but our pilots found ways between them and put the ski equipped Otters down as gently as possible on the SE Fork.  We were on by 10 AM which made for an easy day of building camp and conducting a review of glacier travel techniques.  We are surrounded by gigantic cliffs of ice and rock and by glaciers stretching for miles.  The guides served up a phenomenal burrito feast in our dining tent and the team turned in early.  We intend to get up in the middle of the night to go climbing.

RMI Guide Dave Hahn 

Tuesday, June 16, 2026 - 11:11 pm PT

As expected, today was a busy one.  We talked over our priorities and strategies. We sat with the National Park Service rangers for our required orientation.  We dialed personal gear, group gear and food quantities.  We packed and prepped and checked our systems.  Then we went into town, relaxed and ate pizza.  We are ready. We hope to fly in first thing tomorrow morning. 

RMI Guide Dave Hahn

Denali Dispatch June 16, 2026, 11:56pm PDT

After two days of snowfall, we woke up to a beautiful clear morning at Camp 2, 11,200’. With the clear came the cold, but after a rest day and a back carry day, the team was ready to keep moving up the mountain. We gathered for breakfast and enjoyed another round of bagels, some saying they rival New York’s best.

We prepped our sleds and packs and strapped in for our second cache day. We traded snowshoes for crampons, and a hiking pole for an ice axe. Just as Ben had planned, we would take off as soon as the sun hit us. Sure enough, at 9am, the sun peaked over the father Son Wall, splashing light on the snow like a curtain opening on the route ahead.

We first tackled Motorcycle Hill, a steep 500-foot climb, hitting a rhythm of side stepping and duck steps. Blood started flowing back into our icy toes. Slow and steady is the name of the game on these days. I relish in the long periods of silence that allow your mind to wonder—what feels like a luxury in otherwise frenetic lives, but what the mountains reliably provide in the mountains you are present; you want to be present, you must be present. The night before we embarked on the expedition, that was Allison and my In the mountains you are present; you want to be present, you must be present. The night before we embarked on the expedition, that was Allison and my quick break, we continued onto Squirrel Hill, a rolling snow field that’s adds elevation faster than it looks. There’s something moving about watching a rope team against the white snowy expanse. It’s an image of teamwork and pursuit. We took a load off at the top in the sunshine, lounging on our packs like beach chairs, diligently hydrating, fueling, and reapplying sunscreen. This sun on snow is not messing around. Do not be alarmed if we return looking like, as Mike describes a matchstick: red faces on top with pale bodies below.

We added helmets to cross the Polo Field, a snow field beneath a rocky face with risk of rock fall. At the top, we reached Windy Corner. It was, paradoxically, quite still. We ditched layers in anticipation of the furnace beyond the bend. Today really hit home the “freeze and fry” phenomenon of Denali. The heat enveloped us as we traversed the final stretch, sleds hanging on the slope beneath us as we avoided cracks that expose electric blue glacial ice.

We reached the cache at 13,500’, swiveled around and jaws literally dropped. Mount Forker rose above the clouds in exposé electric blue glacial ice. the distance, glistening. The inversion encircled the mountain. It is a magical place up here—sometimes calming, sometimes intimidating, and always awe-inspiring.  This mountain feels alive. You can hear her belly rumble from inside our tents when a distant avalanche falls. She stirs up her own weather in and brings sun and snow within minutes. It feels like we’ve been lucky so far with weather, but that luck is in no small part the strategic decisions by our stellar guide team for when and where to move. Not only that, but Ben, Mike and Avery are ready to fix a wonky rope, adjust a helmet gone awry, meet you with a fist bump at the top of the climb, cook up a mean gumbo, and at least one will crush you at a game of M-Deal. We cached a load for the next couple of days. Hudson shared his charcuterie. Devon hit Snickers bar #16 The fifth layer of sunscreen was slathered. This was the closest look yet at the West Buttress ridge and Denali’s summit. We looked up at 17’ camp in anticipation and perhaps a bit of apprehension.

It’s humbling heading back down to camp, losing all the elevation you just gained and knowing You’ll have to do it again. But the mountains are always ready to humble. You think you are strong, but you can always be stronger. It was also good mental practice. In the mountains, the highest point is also the halfway point, and focus is even more important on the way down. We practiced steady and solid footwork, plunge steps through the deep snow and shuffling on the steeps. We passed several teams heading up on our way down, exchanging fist bumps and pole taps. We descended into the cloud and retraced our steps down Squirrel and Motorcycle Hill in white fog. A peaceful silence settled around us leaving only the beat of crunching crampons in snow. Camp emerged from the fog, and we got back in time for a bit of après: electrolytes, nut mixes, and banter.

As the climb gets harder, I think about how lucky we are to be here. How lucky we are to have two feet and strong legs to raise us 3000 feet up and down in a day. I feel particularly lucky because I’m here with my big sister Allison, who has always showed me the ropes, and with my brother-in-law Jimmy, who is always ready with a warm beverage to share, a shovel to improve the vestibule, and words of encouragement for everyone on the team. But now in just six short days—or perhaps the second we roped up at base camp—this whole team has become a family. In the words of Ranger Allen, this is not an individual sport. That’s what makes mountaineering so special. We all must be strong. And our strength, of body and mind, strengthens others.

Let’s do it again tomorrow!

Climber Amanda Morrison

Tuesday, June 16, 2026 - 10:58 pm PT

6/16 after a long, hard, and heavy day the team arrived to 17,000' Camp. Despite the arduous day, the team got to work making camp and prepping for our summit push tomorrow! Stay tuned!

RMI Guide Dan May

The Expedition Skills Seminar - Emmons, June 13–18, led by RMI Guide George Hedreen, had planned to make their summit attempt from Camp Schurman last night. However, high winds prevented the team from proceeding as scheduled. The group remained at Camp Schurman as the forecasted winds did indeed materialize.

Today, the team may spend additional time training on the mountain before spending one more night in camp. They will begin their descent to the trailhead tomorrow and are expected to return to Ashford tomorrow afternoon.

We look forward to welcoming them back and hearing about their experience on the mountain.

The Four Day Climb June 14 - 17 led by RMI Guides Joe Hoch and Jess Wedel were turned around by high winds at 10,300'.  The telemetry at Camp Muir is showing wind gusts up to 48 mph. The teams returned to Camp Muir and enjoyed a bit of rest and perhaps a nice sunrise.  They plan to descend from Camp Muir around 9:30 am.  We look forward to seeing them at Rainier BaseCamp this afternoon.

Monday, June 15, 2026 - 3:57 pm PT

Our climb of Cotopaxi was a resounding success. After making out way to the Jose Ribas Refugio at 15,950' on Saturday, we woke to high winds and blowing moisture. Not knowing exactly how things would progress, we donned our shell layers and headed out to attempt the peak. The weather remained the same throughout our climb and despite the fact that a thick layer of ice built up on every vertical surface, the team trudged on, reaching the summit at 6:30am on Sunday.  

Yesterday afternoon we returned to Quito for a celebratory dinner, some thicker air, and a collection of flights to our various corners of the country. 

On a personal note, I wanted to say thank you to this team for an amazing week of climbing. In many ways, this was a textbook trip: we had 100% success on each of the four peaks we climbed. That doesn't mean that the climbs were without challenge, but rather that each teammate showed up fit and ready to climb. Even when things were in doubt, they kept positive attitudes and were willing to make the best of every situation. I feel fortunate to have spent the week getting to show them around one of the best climbing areas in South America. Cheers!

RMI Guide Eric Frank

Monday, June 15, 2026 - 10:43 pm PT

Denali Dispatch June 15, 2026

After five days on the mountain much of our routine feels familiar: toilets with mountain views, wet hands and bums, and frosted breath near the purring cook stove. What’s not yet normal is the ever-present daylight. We’re each testing novel approaches to elusive sleep, mostly struggling, and yet still waking up strong and in good cheer. That’s why today’s 5am wake-up seemed routine. After coffee and breakfast bars we bundled up for our last snowshoe day to fetch our cache 1,000 feet below. The thirty-minute walk down was brisk, made notable when we moved into a windy cloud. Our clothes turned white, visibility fell to three ahead, and glasses fogged as we debated whether visibility or covered noses was our priority. It was cold. It felt like the real start of the trip. At the cache we bundled up as the guides dug out gear and we loaded sleds while laughing about the conditions.

The slow walk up started with frigid hands and winds from our right, turning to clear skies again by our first break. It’s a good reminder, the discomfort on this mountain doesn’t last. Then, by 9a we were back to camp and settling in for a breakfast sandwich brunch. From there we broke into our usual patterns - some reading, some napping, and some building property empires.

In the afternoon we dusted off our crampons for a refresher on climbing steps, bumped into three friends of Devon, and were given a bounty of candy, bone broth, and ramen from a group who just summited. There's a growing familiarity with one another and shared embrace of focus on each day as it comes. That’s what’s hard to describe about these trips - we come for the summit, yes, but also for the invitation into discomfort, for the long hours with new friends, and for remembering how little we need.

Family, friends, and loved ones - you’re often on our mind as we walk on our ropes. Know we think and speak of you often.

From 11, RMI Climber Hudson

P.S. We thought a glossary of key terms might help as you follow along.

Cache. A six foot hole dug in minutes by guides to hold food you wish you had, lost socks, and dinner options besides burritos.

Toilet. A snow burrow with ice bricks for privacy, his and her urinals, and two green buckets for sitting and paper waste. Visible when standing, you either have brilliant views or piercing wind.

Kitchen Tent. Two facing bench seats with touching knees dug hip height below the snow. Icy steps mark the entrance, chef cooks on the far end, tent pads serve as cushions, and talk often returns to trash and hot sauce.

Snowshoes. Like children in their parent’s shoes, sometimes on the wrong feet and much improved when equipped with risers.

 Rope Team. A guide plus three tent mates who occasionally step on the rope and yell encouragement from 20 feet away at rest breaks.

 Tent. A sauna that smells like a locker room, sounds like a zipper, and insists on hiding your spoon.

Written by Climber Hudson