Entries By jackson breen

Monday, June 1st - 10:40PM PST

To the 12 readers of this blog following the journey of an unlikely, but wholly likable, group of adventurers, we welcome you to day 5 - The Journey to Camp Two! Today’s harrowing tale sees our hearty heroes punching a trail they climbed two days ago to where we cached gear, and then climbing on to camp 2. The climb today felt totally different from the first time - the blue bird sky and clear vistas were replaced with low clouds, and a few inches of new snow. We heard from other teams that it cleared up once you got closer to camp 2. And boy did it! Clear skies graced us yet again along with much colder temperatures and high winds. This is the first time it really feel like we are on the mountain. Picking up our cached gear along with way puts us in an ideal position to continue up the mountain as long as the weather holds, but the added weight made a hard climb seem REALLY hard. But, we all made it in good spirits to our goal, and I’m sure the extra effort will pay dividends in the days to come.

Now the last few days of blog posts have been amazing, am I right? (Pauses for applause) but don’t think that it’s all lofty introspection out here. Many times we end up telling dad jokes to pass the time. So here is my silly list of nominations based on what I know about people so far (please note: these are subject to change by the end of the trip. The author may in no way be held liable for the accuracy of these nominations.)

Ricky: least likely to get sunburned. Don’t prove me wrong!

Alonzo: Most likely to climb all seven summits, we’re rooting for you, brother!

Matt: Most likely to become a bush pilot.

Lizzie and Pattie: most likely to be mistaken for a married couple on their next adventure (I hear SCUBA diving may be next - at least somewhere warm)

Peter: most likely to be ready, willing, and able to help a brother (or sister) out when in need.

Ray: Most likely to entertain you with lively conversation and great stories if you are lucky enough
to be walking within earshot.

Lacie: Most likely to have a shockingly good impression of everyone by the end of the trip (ooh ooh do me first!) ��

And last but certainly not least, Jackson: Most likely to get us to the top of Denali (and back down) safe and sound!

Oh, and me. I’m the most likely to try and dodge writing the daily blog even after I sort of volunteered��

To make this blog more interactive and to let you know that we read all of the comments, I want to let our dear readers know that Pattie is just as concerned about her lawn maintenance as you are and will eagerly tackle that chore just as soon as she is done submitting this beast of a mountain.

Now for the fun part: audience participation!

1. Please nominate a climber to write tomorrow’s blog. Must be someone that hasn’t written so far. Available people are Pattie, Alonzo, and Matt. First comment wins.
2. We missed the answer to last nights trivia. Can someone please let us know how many claps there are total in the Friends theme song? 

We love all of your support. Now show some love to the RMI Team and Like, comment and subscribe!

- RMI Climber Dave
 

Sunday, May 31st - 8:30PM PST

We awoke at 7am to 4” of fresh snow blanketing the camp. Since then, it has continued to fall at a steady pace. Temperatures are just below freezing. Little to no wind. Visibility is much reduced compared to the last 3 days, but still a good 3/4 mi.

There was potential we would move camp today, leapfrogging where we buried our cache yesterday and continuing on to Camp 2. However, Jackson warned us that the mild conditions at our current 7,800’ can be dramatically magnified above at 11,000’. Heeding this, decision was made to take our first rest day. A time to relax, take care of ourselves, and recharge the physical stores we would desperately need in the coming weeks. (Note: as of 12:35pm “Camp 2 just reported 2’ of snow since last night!”)

While the body, pushed hard over the last two days of hauling heavy loads, certainly welcomed this respite, I knew the mind could be more finicky. Since landing in Alaska, we’ve been hyper focused on travel, gear lists, packing, re-packing, logistics, learning new skills, meeting new people, adapting to our life on the mountain, and then hours of step by step by step to reach Camp 1. Now it seemed we have nothing to fixate on besides sitting in our tents and…thinking.

We inevitably start asking ourselves those questions. Why the hell are we here? On paper, the entire endeavor makes no sense. Each of us has voluntarily left our boyfriends, girlfriends, husbands, wives, children, pets, friends, and family to spend weeks slogging up into one of the most remote, desolate, and entirely hostile places on Earth. Thousands of dollars. All of our paid time off. Bruises, blisters, headaches, and countless other torments. Temperatures lower than you thought physically possible. Our cozy beds replaced with -40 degree sleeping bags on lumpy snow and ice. Our kitchen tables replaced with benches and counters cut 6’ down into the packed snow. Our bathrooms replaced with a Ziploc bag of wet wipes and a literal bucket. To any rational person, this is madness. Why then?

But here, everyone knows. No bewildered looks from a co-worker as you try to explain. We all innately understand the desire to be in this place. We come here to find the things that are so rare in the modern world. Adventure. Simplicity. Persevering over physical hardship. Proving that who we were will never stop us from becoming who we are. Standing in awe of nature, both in its breathtaking beauty, and in horror of the enormity of its sheer power. Feeling truly mortal. A small speck in a vast system that we cannot fully comprehend. Letting go of our pride, our hubris, our fear of relying on others. Connection. Bonds that can only be forged through shared sweat, trials and tears. Knowing that there really are other people out there as crazy as we are. That is why we came. And that is why we will remain here together, taking on each day as it comes.

-RMI Climber Peter

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.)

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

Tuesday, May, 26, 2026 - 11:05 pm PT

A perfect first day to our trip!

Everyone was on time and ready to go at the Anchorage airport. After a nice drive from Anchorage to Talkeetna with a short stop in Wasilla for some last minute fresh food purchases we moved into the K2 Aviation hanger and into our hotel rooms at the Swiss Alaska inn. We had a team dinner at Denali Brew Pub and talked about our busy day to follow. With full stomachs and open minds we look forward to everything tomorrow brings as we lay down for bed!

RMI Guide Jackson Breen

Hello again everyone!

We are finally back in Quito after a successful climb of Cotopaxi! 

Today was redemption day for us with the weather. We had incredibly clear skies with moonlight to help illuminate the way. The team hit the trail right at midnight and slowly made our way uphill, and I mean uphill. Seems no one here in Ecuador got the memo that we (North) Americans prefer switchbacks to lessen the steepness and make it easier. Anyway, the team did great and 4 of the 6 climbers were able to stand on top for sunrise this morning. 19,347 feet to be exact. If that sounds familiar it’s because it’s 7 feet higher than Kilimanjaro!

We are all safely back in our hotel freshly showered and catching up on some much needed sleep. It’s been a wonderful adventure and cultural experience here in Ecuador. And I hope the team brings these stories home to share with you all. A huge thank you to our excellent local guide team (Fatima, Gustavo, Ronaldo and Daniel) for keeping us safe, making it fun and enjoyable, and sharing their local knowledge. 

As I have done before, I’ve asked all the team members to share just one word that best sums up their trip. So in no particular order here are our words. 

Grateful 
Nostalgic 
Camaraderie
Ellipsis
Inspiring 
Alive
Awesome 
Educational 

Hope you enjoyed following and if any of this sounded enjoyable, come join us for an adventure sometime. 

RMI Guides Casey Grom and Jackson Breen and the Cotopaxi conquistadors

Tuesday, November 11, 2025 - 5:50 pm PT

Greetings from Ecuador.

Today was a scheduled rest day and that’s exactly what everyone did!

 We are staying in an incredibly beautiful and comfortable Hacienda just a stones throw from Cotopaxi with stunning views of the mountain right out the window.

The team ate well, read books, napped, and just generally lounged around to recharge after our challenging time on Cayambe. We’ve had some great conversations about life, shared cooking tips and some exciting and funny stories about being in the mountains.

Everyone is in good spirits and looking forward to one more night of good sleep before heading to our final climb tomorrow.

RMI Guides Casey, Jackson and the 6 amigos.

Weather is such a fickle beast when it comes to mountain climbing. As climbers we train, plan, prepare, have the right equipment, and know how to use it, but at the end of the day we can only control so much.

Today we hoped to climb Cayambe. When we woke up to begin our climb in the middle of the night we were greeted with rain, snow, and wind. We waited in the warm Refugio to see if conditions would improve. Precipitation continued to fall with periods of relative clearing and torrents of angry wind and snow. We eventually decided to give it our best shot and go out and climb as high as we safely could. After a few hours of climbing through the storm, breaking trail, and getting all of our jackets soaked to the core, the team decided it was not safe to continue.

We made it back to the hut, hung some gear up to dry and crawled back into bed for naps before breakfast and our departure from the Refugio. After stopping for lunch outside of Quito with our Ecuadorian guides we continued to Cotopaxi where we arrived at our hacienda. We continue to dry out our gear while we enjoy warm showers, hot dinner, comfy beds, a full nights sleep, and some much needed rest.

Despite some nasty weather and a disappointing outcome our team all had smiles on their faces when we finished the climb and a great respect and appreciation for this incredible place we have the privilege to visit!

RMI Guides Casey Grom & Jackson Breen

Hello again everyone,

After a relatively good nights sleep the team woke early to have breakfast and head higher up the mountain to do some training, acclimating and put ourselves in position to climb Cayambe.

Unfortunately the clouds had gathered and some light rain greeted us for breakfast, and didn’t let up until this afternoon. However, we made the most of it by moving up to the climbers hut (Refugio), getting settled and we were able to sneak out for a quick hike to help our lungs prepare for the deep breathing we’ll be doing tonight. 

Here in just a short while we will have our summit talk, where we will review the climb and game plan for tonight. Then we’ll have an early dinner before hopefully climbing into our sleep bags for a few hours of rest. The plan is to wake up around 10:30pm (yes…you read that right) have breakfast and hit the trail around 11:30.
I’m expecting the climb to take in the neighborhood of 7-8  hours to reach the summit if weather cooperates.

Everyone is doing well, a little excited and a little nervous, but that’s all very normal for climbing big mountains.

We’ll touch base as soon as we make it back down tomorrow.

Wish us luck with the weather!!

RMI Guides Casey, Jackson, Fatima and the Cayambe crew.