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We are settled in at the Refugio Jose Rivas on Cotopaxi. It is an exceptionally beautiful evening above the valley cloud cover with the sun setting on the mountain.

A couple of nights of good sleep have done everyone well and we are as ready to climb as we can be. The team is hopping into bed right now in anticipation of another alpine start.

RMI Guide Dustin & Team

Tashi Delek!

The ordering of everyday life has officially been left behind. We’re in our new routine now, wake up, pack duffels, breakfast, dance break, hit the trail.

Nobody blinked when apple pie appeared on the breakfast table alongside eggs in various configurations. Mostly because last night we realized how good it was and decided why not also have it for breakfast. This is just how life works now. We are different people here — pie for breakfast kind of people.

We woke to clear skies and fresh snow on the ground. A few more inches had fallen overnight. It’s the rhythm of this trip: crisp, exquisite mornings that feel like a gift, then clouds and snow rolling in by afternoon. We’ll take it.

Today’s stretch through Pangboche to Pheriche is many people’s favorite of the whole trek, and it’s easy to see why. Ama Dablam dominated the skyline for most of the day, impossibly photogenic from every angle. Higher up, the jet stream tore visibly off the summits of Everest and Lhotse — a reminder that those peaks operate in a different atmosphere entirely.

We’re sleeping at 14,000 feet tonight, and the mountains still tower above us. The scale simply does not compute.

We also shared the trail with yaks today. Train after train of them, loaded with gear bound for Base Camp, completely unbothered by us and entirely uninterested in moving over. They are majestic and slightly chaotic and have the most curious and intimidating eyes. Love them.

We’re all cozied up for two nights in Pheriche. The snow has predictably arrived and we’re currently in a cloud where we can’t see 3 feet in front of us. But it’s not a problem because the stove is on in the dining room and we’re about to play approximately one million rounds of “22,” our favorite card game at the moment. Dinner and sleep await.

—  RMI Guide Jess Wedel and the team

After the team has trickled in to Mexico City over the past two days, we all met up for a team meeting followed by a group dinner. Some folks traveled outside of the city to site see some historic pyramids while others stayed close and roamed the city museums. 

Today we head to La malinche cabins where we plan to go for an evening walk before eating dinner and getting ready for tomorrow’s hike ! 

We are sending  all of our warm thoughts to Bill, whom had to go home due to his family’s donkey ( Simone ) falling ill. We miss you already Bill! 

RMI Guide Lacie Smtih

Sunday, July 19 - 9:01pm PST

Today we woke up bright and early and packed our bags for our climbing objective, the North Face of Mount Shuksan. After coffee and some breakfast, we descended the White Salmon Glacier and began climbing up towards the north face. We encountered pitches of 5.6 rock, steep snow, and bits of glacier ice on our ascent. After topping out the north face, we descended back to camp where we enjoyed afternoon naps and a beautiful sunset. Tomorrow, we plan to sleep in and work on some skills!

Saturday, July 18 - 7:15pm PST

We had a wonderful morning that started at the Wake N’ Bakery and ended at the Lower Winnie’s bivouac site. We enjoyed a lovely hike up to Lake Ann that was filled with expansive views of Baker Lake and the west side of Shuksan. The Fisher Chimneys were pleasant, and we enjoyed great climbing conditions up to the White Salmon Glacier. 

Tomorrow, we plan to descend the White Salmon Glacier and over to the North Face of Shuksan. After our planned ascent of the North Face, we will plan to continue to the summit before descending back to camp! 

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

Mexico Dispatch — 2.24.26

After another wonderful breakfast, we made our way out and over to Ixta. With a quick stop in Amecameca for enough water to drink a camel dry, we got ourselves checked into the park and made the bumpy ride to La Joya. Well-fed and packed up tight, we’re looking forward to at least a few hours of sleep before tackling our next objective: Ixta.

Hip hip, cumbre?

RMI Guide Ben and Team

Hello again from Colera,

Surprise! We’re still here. The cold and the winds kept us from attempting a summit run early this morning. Instead we slept in and had breakfast “in bed” but it was actually just our sleeping bags because that was the only place warm enough. We decided as a team to stick around one more night — the forecast doesn’t look great but there’s always a chance. It could surprise to the upside. We press on here at nearly 20,000 feet — we’ve come this far, what’s one more night of frozen boots and wind lullabies?

Come on atmosphere simmer down now,

--RMI GuideJess Wedel and the A-team

"Star Mountain"

Mountains allure us

Mexico we traveled to

Together we climb.

RMI Climber Jesse McEntire

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

Friday, June 12th @ 4AM PST

Today we undid all of the work we spent the last 14 days doing in just 14 hours. We woke up to a clear cold morning at 17k camp. We descended the West Buttress in chilly conditions but were treated to nice weather and familiar faces when we saw our RMI family at 14k camp! Best of luck to Dan May and his strong team of climbers! Down we continued to 11k camp where we dug up our cache and enjoyed some relatively warm temps and sunshine after having been at over 20,000’ less than 24 hours ago. Still further down the mountain we went to camp one to pick up another cache where we saw Ben Luedtke and another RMI team. Finally we retraced the very first day of our trip and walked our way back to the airstrip on a tranquil Alaska range night. The day was truly unbelievable. We were treated to views of Hunter, Foraker, Denali, and the rest of the central Alaska range. Days like today stir up a great deal of gratitude for the privilege this life is and an overwhelming reminder of how small we are. We arrived at camp under the midnight sun and treated ourselves to refreshments, charcuterie, and friendly conversation before finally turning in for the night. Morning? The sun doesn’t set. Who knows? More importantly, who cares?! We achieved so much more than our goals and with any luck we will be flying back to Talkeetna and returning to the “real” world tomorrow. We can’t wait to see you all and tell you about the wild journey we had together!

Best,
Jackson