Entries By avery stolte

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.

Thursday, June 25, 2026 - 12:55 am PT

Denali Dispatch 6/24/26

Thoughts on Patience:

As Ben says, if this mountain teaches you anything it’s patience.

Patience with the weather, with the conditions and with each other. It’s easy to forget on the days of warm sun, calm winds and endless views that Denali isn’t always this way. That she can change her mind in a moments notice and have you walking in circles from whiteout conditions and cursing her tent rattling winds as you try and sleep.

But one way or another patience always pays off. To remeber that the sun is always shining somewhere above the clouds and that these glaciers and rocks have been here long before us patiently observing each passerby. Our time on this mountain is short in the grand scheme of things and I know everyone here will soon miss the simplicity of life on Denali. The rhythm we have found over leisurely breakfast conversation, camp walks, reading, writing and excess games of M-deal. Our time here is utterly human- working as a team to do what we need to survive.

So as today marks day 8 of being at 14,000' Camp and waiting to see when the mountain will invite us higher. We once again practice patience. Waiting in this jaw dropping alpine amphitheater for the mountain to tell us we have been patient long enough and it’s our turn to try and touch the top.

So as we get excited and motivated to move higher. We must remeber to move at rhythm of the mountain slow and steady. Observing, listening and being. Always remembering that in a moments notice she can decide to test our patience once again.

It is such a privilege to be among these echoing cliffs and snowy spines and I’m so proud of our team for keeping their spirits high among the waiting game. There is so much time to still be had here and I feel lucky I get to practice my patience with each and every one of you. 

Now let’s patiently wait to see what tomorrow brings!

With love from 14k camp,

RMI Guide Avery Stolte and team!

Tuesday, June 23, 2026 - 11:34 pm PT

Egg muffins kicked off our snowy day,

and Farkle helped pass the time away.

With plenty of group talks in the den,

and camp strolls now and then,

We rested while weather held sway.

Monopoly Deal took the lead,

And castle walls got what they need.

Now we wait and we see,

What weather will be,

And hope for summit bound speed.

RMI Climber Ethan

Tuesday, June 23, 2026 - 1:11 am PT

June 22nd - Day whatever.

Today was the teams first unplanned rest day. A storm is moving through the area over the next few days, and while we are unsure of how severe it will be, we are sure we don't want to be high on the mountain until it passes. We are also sure as hell up to the task when our time comes.  Today we enjoyed excellent breakfast quesadillas (send hot sauce) and built up our fortifications around camp. These fortifications are 4-5 ft high walls made of quarried snow blocks, complete with a 6.5 ft arch the ancient Greeks would approve of. Shout out to Jimmy's vision and passion to this beautiful piece of work.  Bob the builder ain't got shit on him. After a short break we jumped right into a quick yoga session. Amanda led us through an excellent vinyasa... in the snow, at 14 thousand feet, we are not in Kansas anymore. After another short break Dr. Nick gave us a wonderfully compelling, if not sobering, lesson in the basics of wilderness medicine and the benefits of a tongue piercing.  I feel compelled by the many elegant writers in our group to expand beyond the literal in this writing, and the reflection of Nick's question seems to be the jumping off point for this so here goes...

What makes you feel alive? This is a very individual question with no proper answer. Personally nothing challenges me, fulfills me, or motivates me like the wilderness. Nothing gives me perspective, closure, or meaning  like the places in the world where nature still reigns supreme. 

Nothing makes me feel alive like being in the mountains. Everyone on this mountain, not just this team but the true spectrum of humanity that coexists in this frozen paradise has a common goal, and in this goal we are united and supported by each other in ways that don't always persist off the mountain. We are far more than surviving out here, we are thriving and growing and learning in ways that you cannot replicate in a classroom.

Life is weird and trippy and completely uncertain, but in these moments and in these places we are present and living to the fullest. We are very very lucky, and very very smelly.To avoid writing a thesis, I think what it boils down to is to find your mountain. Find what makes you feel alive, whatever it is and keep climbing until your knees give out. Then maybe crawl for a little bit. I want to thank my parents and siblings for supporting me while I chase my dreams across the world. I love you guys, and I miss my dog.

RMI Climber Matt Gates

Sunday, June 21 - 11:30PM PST

Day 11! Wow. How far we have come from the Denali Brew Pub in Talkeetna - freshly showered, wearing shorts, and eating fresh greens. But what an incredible 11 days it’s been.

11 days of living in what feels like a simulation where the vistas in every direction look like a green screen.
11 days of seeking daily validation from Ben, Mike, and Avery-- “Avery, how many layers are you planning to start the day with??” “Mike, how’s my knot looking??”
11 days of squeezing one last M deal game in after dinner.
11 days of singing Ariana Grande’s God is a Woman in my head to power me through the final 500’ of our 3000’ vert days.
11 days of worshipping the sun each morning as she peeks over the mountain tops and drips down into our camp.
11 days of shitting in a bucket with a bunch of dudes and somehow feeling more at peace than I have in a long time.
And 11 days of feeling entirely and fully present.

A couple of days ago, Nick asked us to describe what the mountains mean to us in three words. I said, “Here I am.” Meaning, on the mountain, there’s no other place I need to be, no deadlines to meet, no notifications to check, no messages to respond to. It is a rare and special feeling. Insert a comma and you have “Here, I am.” On the mountain, I simply exist. I’m not worried about what I look like  or performing in a way that others expect of me. I am me. And that’s enough.

This morning started like most of them have - peeling off our eye masks as Ben’s voice breaks the silence: “hot water in 15!” And we embark on the 15-20 minute ordeal that is getting layered, putting boots on, getting out of the tent, and braving the icy air outside. We gathered in the kitchen tent for hot coffee and the long awaited pancake breakfast. Pancakes fluffier than the powder that surrounds us. Mid chow, Amanda finally started the kitchen tent rave she’s been begging for, hooking up to the Bluetooth and blessing us with Soffi Tucker’s banger “Throw Some Ass.” Just as the  beat dropped, Ben turned around and flipped a pancake twice the size of his head a foot into the air catching it flawlessly back in his skillet. The crowd went wild. After the flapjack show, we split up into our rope teams and made the short walk to the “edge of the world,” an iconic rock outcropping at 14K camp that looks thousands of feet below into the “Valley of Death.” The rest of the afternoon Jimmy, Hudson, and Dev built ice walls around our camp to protect us from the incoming weather. Avery led a clinic on avalanche beacons and rescue, and we got “knotty” with Mike. These rest days are important both for acclimatization and to let our muscles recover before our hopeful summit bid.

At this point in the trip, we have completed our preparation and have put ourselves in position to summit this thing. We should be proud of that. Yesterday we finished our final cache up to 16K. It was intense navigating our way up and down the steep terrain digging our crampons into electric blue sheets of glacial ice while simultaneously moving our ascenders up the fixed lines—a first for several of us. But the whole team crushed it.

And now we wait. Wait for Mother Denali to invite us to her peak. I often say, “the mountain doesn’t care.” She will not coddle you or temper her forces to make you feel more comfortable, more at ease. It’s one of the reasons that preparation and respect are a requirement (though not a guarantee) for success up here. But for the past 11 days, it feels like she knows we are here and is not only showing off her treasures but will help guide and protect us on our way to her summit.

As we patiently wait for our “summit window” (i.e., 72 hours of clear and calm weather that will allow us to safely move from 14k camp to 17k camp to the summit and back down), I feel so much gratitude for my mental and physical strength and the opportunity to explore some of the farthest corners of this beautiful planet (doing it with my husband and little sister is the cherry on top). And I feel confident that we’ll finish this climb the same way you get anywhere else you want to go in life: by putting one foot in front of the other.

PS Happy Father’s Day Dad (and to all the dads out there)! You are with us every step of this journey. We can’t wait to share stories and photos with you soon! ❤️

PPS Thank you to all of the friends and family who have been following along! Your love and support mean the world to us. We’ll see you all soon.

With love from 14K,
Allison
 

Saturday, June 20 - 10PM PST

We started the day with hot Cinnamon Toast Crunch. That was unique. It fueled us for our cache above the fixed lines at 16,500.’ A challenge I believe we were all ready for and eager to accomplish. Now the waiting game. In moments like these, I reflect on Nick’s question about three things that describe why we are here and/or why we climb. The obvious ones come to mind - pushing yourself, doing hard things, and accomplishing a-typical goals. But when I think on it further what an expedition like these most rewarding are the people I get to meet and this trip is proving to be no different. Our team contains inspiring people. My tent mates: Hudson - an excellent listener, always supportive of others, thank you for introducing me to ibuprofen gel. Devin - our daily dose of laughter, energy and great story teller. Our teammates, Matt - has solid music taste, great work ethic, and a fellow Ohioan. Jimmy - sound leadership skills, insightful, and strong like bull. Allison - Smart, calm, and also strong like bull. Amanda - always with a smile, social, and has a great laugh… shoutout Jimmy’s Angels. Nick - our resident doctor the one we go to for all medical questions, a team player, and another Ohio brethren. Ben - we thank you for letting me borrow your boot warmers and the group your solar panel - shoutout Ed.

And of course our guides, our fearless leaders. Ben L.- el jefe, keeping our team motivated, providing us with your climbing knowledge, and making sure each of us are heard. Mike Bennett - killer Hawaiian shirt, dominant at Monopoly Deal, and can’t wait to hear about your future wife from Austin, TX. Avery -  a wonderful person to have a conversation with, hard worker, and does wonders with super glue on helmets. I am grateful to spend this experience with each of you. This is my second attempt of Denali and after meeting each of you I wouldn’t have it any other way. All that said, the jobs not done, but the sun will come out… tomorrow!! And to end with some inspiration from Big John Morrison - “Be in the moment” and “go be great.” #touchofdutch

- RMI Climber Ethan
 

Friday, June 19th - 10:50PM PST

Let's begin with the obligatory summary of the day. Today was a rest and training day at 14k camp.
Our guides saw fit to bless us with a late start to the day, allowing a couple more hours of sleep until the sun peeked out over the mountain to bathe the camp in warmth. As the frost on our tents (on everything, really) melted away, we enjoyed a team breakfast, which included a rousing discussion of the best rom-com, as well as efining a dude vs chick flick. After attaining peak caffeination (and an additional discussion of the best methods of caffeination) we gathered our climbing gear and buttoned up camp before heading up the hill for some training. On the hill, we practiced using our ascenders for the fixed lines on the route above, as well as techniques for the descent. Personally, these skills sessions are one of my favorite parts of the climb. The team especially appreciated Mike's "hot knowledge" tips. Once training was complete, we descended back into camp for a relaxing afternoon with a breathtaking view of Mt Foraker and the expansive Alaskan wilderness stretching out below us.

Now that the summary is complete let's reflect. A rest day is a perfect opportunity for these introspective thoughts. I decided to poll the group to help write this portion of the blog, which is admittedly a pretty lazy way to write a blog, but hey, it's my post and my rules.
Living on the coast of Lake Erie just barely above sea level, I frequently get asked: what's it like climbing a mountain? I always struggle with this question to be honest. I'm not a wordsmith or a poet, and I often fail to find words to do the mountains justice. So I asked my team to do it for me! I asked them to describe in about three words, what it's like to climb mountains. These words could include the reasons why they climb, their favorite aspects of climbing, challenges, etc. Here are their answers:
Our fearless guides go first. Ben: For the people

Mike: Engaging, rewarding, purposeful

Avery: Community,  physical, hands-on.

The guides had an additional three words: Pete,
send money.
On to the clients:

Matt: To feel alive

Devin: Devin broke the rules and gave me three 30 word phrases, so I picked my favorite. Misogi. Which is Japanese for challenging yourself on an experience that has a 50/50 chance of completing
that experience.

Ethan: Moving goal posts

Jimmy: Type 2 fun

Allison: Here I am

Amanda: Wanting for nothing, I am whole.

Hudson: Exploring the limits of ourselves

I won't presume to interpret or explain these deeply personal words and phrases but I will tell you about mine (it's my soap box after all): Challenge, joy, and gratitude
Challenge: I've always been a very goal oriented person and l've always loved a good challange. The mountains challenge me to be disciplined. Disciplined in my training, my planning, and in my mindset on the climb. The mountains challenge me physically, occasionailly pushing me harder than I've ever worked before. The mountains challenge me mentally, Being away from family and friends is challenging. Not showering for weeks is challenging. Entering a tent that smells absolutely rank is challenging.

Joy: I've experienced some of my happiest moments in the mountains. Tagging the peaks of the 5 Washington stratovolcanoes with my brother ranks up pretty high. He just made me an uncle last month, so he's got a pretty good excuse for skipping this climb. There's joy in making new friends, joy in pushing through a tough day together, and joy in inside jokes (hypothetically speaking, or screaming WHERE ARE YOU in a Tom Delong voice from various points in camp). There's obviously joy in reaching the summit, but the whole climb is filled with joy from start to finish

Gratitude: I firmly belive that nothing teaches you gratitude like the mountains. I'm grateful for a job that funds and allows time for trips like this, grateful that Matt brought all the Austin Powers movies, grateful for my family who cheers me on (even if my mom thought there was a Starbucks at basecamp), grateful for a loving wife who is supportive to a fault (love you Molly!), and I'm grateful for my health and ability to climb. I'm also grateful for Denali. She has allowed us to  experience her beauty and power. She has allowed us to climb, but frequently reminds us that this is a privilege. With wide crevasses, ever changing weather, and the thunder of distant avalanches and rock fall, she urges us to never take our time on the mountain for granted. I'm grateful that Denali has given me permission to be here, to climb to this point, to experience the challenges and joys of climbing, and grateful that she reminds me to always appreciate my time in the mountains.
So there you have it. As best as my team and I can explain, that's what it's like to climb.

RMI Climber Nick Lukens
 

June 18th - 10PM PST

This mountain is work. But not the kind of work that we do back home. Not the expediency of email after email, reacting to task to task.  Not back-to-back zoom calls.  Not Monday morning meetings, nor PowerPoint presentations. That’s the job that allows us to do this other kind of work—the work Denali requires.

The work up here is different. Waking up in the morning is work. It takes 15 minutes to get dressed and another 5 minutes to get our boots on. This morning was our first sub-zero wake up.  Avoiding the frost on the inside of the tent while putting on a shirt is work —you can’t let it touch your bare back. Rice Krispie treats are no longer for pleasure, but for performance. Today, after organizing her food bags for 2 hours, I heard Amanda say, “it’s hilarious how much work is required just to get by up here.”

Drinking water is work. It requires digging sacks of fresh snow, lighting the camp stove and waiting for the snow to melt  in a big pot. It takes a lot of snow to fill the water bottles of 9 climbers 3 times per day. Our guides handle this job. As climbers, we do a lot of work and it still only amounts to about 40% of the work our guides handle. We could not do this without our guides: Ben, Mike, and Avery.

Moving up this mountain is work. Every step is slow and heavy. Yesterday we covered 3K feet of gain up frozen glaciers as steep as double black diamond ski slopes. We pulled heavy sleds and carried heavy packs. Every patient crampon step was work. This is work that we get to do. Work that we choose to do. Do not feel sorry for our cold toes and sunburnt lips. This work makes us happy.

Yesterday’s effort took us 5 hours and 40 minutes as we moved from 11K camp to 14K camp. No music. No conversation. Sometimes the silence of the snow, and other times the shriek of Denali’s winds as she lets us know she’s aware of our presence on her west buttress. So far she’s welcomed us with beautiful weather, but we’re ready for when she changes her mind. We have lots of time to think on these long days. A luxury that we do not have back home when we’re in the daily grind. Out here I find myself thinking about the people I love and miss. My eyes fill with tears of joy as I think about my favorite memories we’ve made together. I find myself planning the next time we’ll see each other. The stories we’ll share, the laughs we’ll have, and the memories we’ll make. Today I thought about Nonnie. I promise I’ll come visit you as soon as I get back. I thought about Aunt Sandy’s Christmas Eve stories and my mom’s tendency to exaggerate her boys’ abilities. I thought about how Jake and Jordan would hate it in this tent, but they could do it if they had to. I thought about my boy Braxton and his upcoming Walmart meeting—go get it done, sir. I thought about Angela; Miss Chaosa, keep doing great work and you will be happy with the outcome. I promise. I thought about all of you guys and the strength of the hugs we will soon share.

Until then, it’s back to the work. We have a mountain to climb. This morning we back-carried to 13K feet to retrieve our cached gear and food. That was 2 hours of work. This afternoon we trained on the fix lines. We buffed out camp, built igloo walls with snow blocks, and we rested. We are preparing our minds and recharging our bodies. We are doing the work that is required to touch the top of North America. We feel lucky that we get to do this work. We are sharpening ourselves. We will make you all proud.

With love from 14,
- RMI Climber Jimmy D

PS: Happy big 6-5, John Morrison! We’ve been thinking about you every day. You inspire us to do this work with pride, with grit, and with determination. We will stand on the summit for you soon.
 

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

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