Entries By mike bennett

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

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 

Received Monday, June 15, 2026, - 9:10 pm PT

Denali Team #7 Dispatch for Sun, June 14:

The team slept in after a productive three days and despite a few inches of snow over "night" got suited up and excited for a quick back-carry day. And then the winds picked up.

As visibility tanked and the winds and snow became more sustained, we went into a holding pattern.

The hours slipped by and weather continued unabated. We slowly transitioned into a rest day, passing the time wíth books, movies, conversation and rather competitive games of Monopoly Deal; Ben did eventually win one.

Blowing snow turned to sunny skies as we devoured burritos and got excited over a favorable forecast for the next few days.

Back to work!

RMI Climber Matt Gates

June 13, 2026

Today we made it to 11 camp! The team started early with a 4:30 wake up and a quick breakfast to make it up to 11 just before the clouds rolled in.

At 11 everyone quickly got to work buffing out tent platforms and creating a “cathedral” of a kitchen tent.

We are all settled in now and with cheese cake for desert and lots of monopoly go we are ready for any clouds that come our way. Now time for some well deserved we shall see what tomorrow brings!

- RMI Guide Avery Stolte

Friday, June 12th - 10PM PST

Upward progress continues as the team takes advantage of early momentum on the mountain. Conducting their first carry of the expedition, nearly half of their equipment, food, and gear was moved up to just below 11 camp at just above 10k feet. Slighter cooler temps made for a more pleasant push, and the team made the round trip effort in just over six hours. The rest of the day let way to rest and a timely dinner, finalizing with packing for the push to the next camp. All is well and stoke remains high as the team prepares to continue onward and upward.
 

Friday, June 12th - 12:20AM PST

Woweewow! What a day. As planned, we made it onto the glacier this morning. The views flying in? Epic. The mountain?  Stunning. The plane flying away and leaving us here? Welcomed. We are ready. And in fact, we already moved. We arrived at Camp 1 just in time for dinner and "sunset."  After a long hard day carrying ALL of our gear, we feel ecstatic. But the work to climb the tallest mountain in North America doesn't stop. Tomorrow we will carry and cache just below our next camp. Sweet dreams y'all, update you tomorrow!

-RMI Guide Ben Luedtke & Team
 

6.9.26

Hello all and welcome to Talkeetna, Alaska! After being picked up at the airport, we were shuttled through Wasilla for a quick 45 minute food shop and arrived at our K2 hangar for our official start of the west buttress climb. After enjoying an awesome dinner at Denali Brewpub and beginning to mesh as a team, we were treated with a view of Denali herself. 

6.10.26

A day of packing. Twas the perfect day to pack with the hangar doors open. Alas, we are ready. With nerves of steel, we shall fly towards our future. And with great manifestation, our team shall succeed. Stay tuned for the trip of a lifetime. 

- RMI Guide Ben Luedtke & Team 

UPDATE: Friday, October, 31, 2025

Cumbre! 

We all went to bed with a degree of anxiety about the weather. For days prior, and even the day we went to Cotopaxi Refugio, there were intense periods of rain. However, luck was on our side and our guide Sam woke us up around 11pm with the best news ever - it was a clear starry night. We finalized our packs, put on our crampons, and set out for the summit.

The climb began on rocky terrain, a steady but manageable approach. We soon got to the soft snow level and the intensity started to pick up. It was a constant uphill ascent without any switchbacks. For many of us, this was the steepest continuous climb we’ve ever done and also the highest altitude ever achieved. This led to some challenges, but we pushed through with our resilience and amazing support from our guides. Before we knew it, the summit was in sight. The entire group showed their grit and determination and we all made it! What an incredible sight that we were rewarded with at the top of Cotopaxi. After taking it all in, we began the descent. We weren’t able to appreciate the beauty of the mountain on the ascent as it was mostly dark, but the descent revealed Cotopaxi’s splendor from various angles. We enjoyed a light breakfast at the Refugio and then descended to the parking lot where a bus took us to our cozy hacienda. It wasn’t long before we arrived at the hacienda that the rain and hail storms began. It’s still a mystery on how we had such a perfect weather window for our climb, but we are grateful! And all excited about our accomplishment!

RMI Climber, Madhur Nayan

Friday, October 31, 2025 - 11:00 am PT

RMI Guide Mike Bennett sent a quick update to let us know that 100% of the team reached the summit of Cotopaxi today! They will return to the climbers hut, repack and meet their drivers and vehicles for the short transfer to Chilcabamba Lodge where they will spend the night.  Tomorrow the team will return to Quito for their final night in Ecuador.

Congratulations team!