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Tuesday, May 28, 2019 - 6:09 PM PT We woke up early this morning. 5am to be exact. 14K Camp is full of eager climbers waiting, likely everybody else, for their shot at the summit. The problem with extended bad weather is that climbers stack up in the queue. Like a dam during spring runoff, eventually you have to open the flood gates to release the back up to prevent the dam from over flowing. Well, our theoretical opening of the flood gates manifests as a decent weather window for climbing. We braved the cold, got packed up, ate a quick breakfast and were on the move by 7:15am. Over two hours before the sun normally hits camp. About halfway up the fixed lines we started to receive a little filtered sun and fingers and toes began to finally thaw out. A quick glance back down the terrain we had just climbed confirmed our need for an early departure. The flood gates had opened. 50-75 people streamed out of camp in a solid single-file line. We felt pretty good about being so far ahead of the human onslaught. The West Buttress itself is easily the most aesthetic portion of the entire ascent. The buttress offers steep climbing, wild exposure and views of the Alaska Range and it's expansive blanket of tundra that unfolds to the East. The weather stayed quite pleasant for us as we ascended the ridge that would eventually lead us to our high camp at 17,000ft. Soon enough steep terrain and exposure led to the gentle slopes of the Upper Peters Glacier. We sauntered our way into camp. There is already a small village of erected tents hunkered down in a scoop of snow sculpted by the wind. We opted to travel a bit further and build camp where no one has yet. We've gotten quite efficient at the process and within a short time were all hunkered in warm sleeping bags as out of the elements. The weather at the moment is a bit cloudy with light snow showers and light winds. Not completely unpleasant but not perfect either. Tomorrow we will try and climb to the summit of Denali assuming that weather and conditions allow. The team is poised and ready, all we need now is to be allowed safe passage. We will wake up early again tomorrow morning, stick our heads out of the tent and hope we like what we see! Thanks for following along! RMI Guide Steve Gately

We went for it today. The weather was greatly improved. The clouds were gone, but there were still dust devils of snow twisting off the ridges as we watched from high camp. Obviously, we hoped for a calming trend as the day went on. One of our climbers stayed in camp, satisfied with yesterday's effort. This worked out as there were two ALE "rangers" also in camp along with a guided group taking a rest day. The rest of us set out at 10:37 AM. We were in still air for the first hour, but then we went through a few gusty portions of the route for several hours. The fact that the winds weren't sustained didn't mean they were any warmer. We bundled up pretty good in down coats and pants and tried hard to keep our faces from freezing. By about 15,000 ft, we'd reached a calm area, which was a great relief as the mountain was getting tough to climb even without a distracting wind. Most were working quite hard to compensate for the lack of oxygen and the steepening snow and ice. As we worked our way out the 16,000 ft summit ridge, we found the wind again. This made it tough to enjoy the view of the Ellsworth Mountains spread for two hundred miles around and below us. We walked onto the mountain top at 10 minutes to 6 PM. Excited, but also very much on our guard against frostbite. We took a bare minimum of pictures, did quick but heartfelt hugs, handshakes and high fives, and then beat feet out of there. We were safely back in high camp by 8:45 PM. Best, RMI Guide Dave Hahn

On The Map

Jackpot! Feeling like Mr. T with his A Team. My amazing team and all our gear arrived in Kathmandu. All our boxes are checked, i.e. orientation meeting, equipment check, city tour and it is pouring rain in Kathmandu. Despite the rain, we had way too much fun experiencing the culture today in the hustle and bustle of Kathmandu. We took many photos along our journey through the city and are getting to know each other a long the way. Now that we feel ready to embark on our next part of our expedition, we'll sign off for the night and go find some pizza in town for dinner. RMI Guide Mark Tucker

On The Map

Here we are! Once again in Mexico City with another great climbing team. Yes, we are about to head into the mountains. However, one of the greatest parts about international travel is experiencing the sights, sounds, tastes and smells of the beautiful countries we visit. I'd like to disclose the name of the restaurant we had our orientation dinner. However, I cannot give away our secrets. How was it you may ask?....Amazing!!! And guess what! It only gets better! RMI Guide JJ Justman

Yesterday we drove five hours south of Quito to Ecuador's highest mountain, Chimborazo. News from other local guides provided mixed information. We heard there was a bit of new snow on the route which contrary to popular belief actually makes the route safer. What we found was nothing of the sort. For many years the north side of Chimborazo has been melting making rockfall an increasing concern. Having a bad gut feeling I could not ignore, I spoke with the other guides and we decided climbing up with ten other climbers ahead of us was too risky on a route with substantial rock fall hazard. During the night two team members began having diarrhea and a guide threw up. I took this as a sign and began to reevaluate the situation. Over breakfast the guides laid out an alternative mountain that we felt would have a much better chance of success given the teams health and über challenging route on Chimborazo. A discussion was held and a difficult but good decision was made to abandon Chimborazo and go to Illiniza Sur. This will be a more technically challenging but safer and shorter climb. We are all a bit bummed to not be giving our main objective a shot but also psyched we are all still together. We leave the hostel tonight at eleven and will send word of the climb tomorrow. Stay tuned. RMI Guide Adam Knoff

Hello, this is Maile and Casey checking in from Ecuador and the climber's hut on Cayambe. Everyone is settling in for a good night sleep at 15,500 feet. This morning we woke up to a beautiful morning at the Hacienda San Luis and had a leisurely morning down there, we drove in to the town of Cayambe and had a local lunch before heading up to the mountain. We were able to drive up to 13,500' before the road become too rough for the vehicles. We then walked up to the climber's hut. Everyone is doing well, it is a beautiful night and we will check in again tomorrow and we hope everyone is doing well back at home! RMI Guides Maile Wade & Casey Grom

South Col - 26,000 feet After the early dinner, and into the sleeping bag full of boot liners, socks, water bottles and miscellaneous items you don't want frozen, which is another reason why it's an uncomfortable place to be. Wake up call 10:10 pm. Some climbers get a couple hours of sleep, others not. Lucky for the team, no interruptions during rest period. Seems like the other groups are taking care of their own issues, or the South Col climbers are not yet aware of anyone in need of help. Always a tough place to feel very relaxed, but in the tent and horizontal for a few hours will help get some strength back for the climb ahead. I remember one time at the Col, a guy who had just come down from the summit the day as I arrived at the Col, he just opened up my tent, stuck his head inside and started talking to me and my partner for at least two minutes before he realized that he did not know who we were. Scary, I promised myself never to be that out of it. They have been breathing oxygen while resting, so dry mouth and feeling a bit rough because of the extreme altitude, are par for the course. You just have to shake it off and start getting ready. Fire the stoves for more tea, coffee, hot juice whatever you can choke down and don't forget the calories, you are going to need them. It's not optional, it's mandatory to get some food on board, no easier way to make the summit almost unreachable than no gas in the tank. How many layers? Did I put new batteries in my headlamp? Are these my special summit socks I have been saving? Goggles, sunscreen, sunglasses? Top off the water bottles, lunch packed? Extra gloves, rip open hand warmers to get them started, knife in pocket? Did I pack my lunch and some treats in easy to get at pockets? Camera, where's the camera? Oh, right here where it's supposed to be. All this and more in under one and a half hours because it's game time at midnight. I wont bother them again until 12 a.m. As news becomes available you will be the first to know. This is so cool! What's next? RMI Guide Mark Tucker

Our luck with good weather persisted this morning and when we woke up for our summit bid perfectly clear night skies greeted us. After pulling on our boots and gobbling down breakfast we grabbed our packs and climbing gear and headed out. It was a gorgeous night with the stars speckling the sky. Being in the heart of the main climbing season on Elbrus dozens of other climbers were attempting their summit bid as well and their headlamps danced up and down the route, reflecting the stars above. We climbed strongly, picking our way up the broad snow slopes below the East Summit, and by dawn we were approaching 17,000'. Just before sunrise, in what seems almost cliche in retrospect, a barrage of shooting stars streaked over the mountain's shoulder, eventually obscured by the rising sun. It was crisp climbing in the darkness and we kept our breaks short to keep from getting cold. The sun finally found us leaving the saddle between the East and West Summits at close to 18,000'. We warmed up quickly in the morning sun as we climbed the steep slopes to gain the plateau of the Western Summit and we were quickly shedding our coats and thick gloves. Around 9 am we ascended the final snow ridge to Elbrus' summit and suddenly there was no more left to climb. Standing atop Europe's highest point, the views were nothing short of spectacular. To our south stood the chain of the Caucasus, the peaks looking a bit less imposing when viewed from above. Behind them we could peer into Georgia while looking north into Russia the rolling alpine pasture land of the Caucasus foothills stretched to the horizon. A light haze layer - most likely from the wildfires raging far to the east - hung just below us, giving the sky striking layers of different hues of blue. There was hardly a breath of wind on the summit, by far the best weather I have experienced up there. After celebrating on the summit we turned our sights back to where we had started and began the descent. We made remarkably quick work of the 6,000' descent and by midday we were back at the Barrels, with tired legs but feeling quite content. True to its pattern, the clouds built by midafternoon and as we rested in our bunks rain spattered the metal barrels, making the sleeping bags all the more alluring. We are tired but thrilled with the climb this morning, we couldn't have hoped for a better day. It was a fantastic climb and we feel very fortunate to have gotten so lucky on a mountain notorious for its fickle and uncertain weather. We are staying here at the Barrels tonight before descending to Azau tomorrow for hot showers and to celebrate our climb.

Leaving La Malinche this morning our team had a great breakfast en route to Amecameca where we took a quick look around and picked up some fresh food to cook this evening. It's always good to fill up before heading off on a climb. We drove up to the Altzimoni hut at 12,000 feet to acclimatize and stage for the beginning of our climb of Ixta. Tonight we will rest up for a big day tomorrow as we push up to our high camp below the Ayoloco glacier. Everyone is feeling great and ready to start to climb our first big objective. 'Til tomorrow.

Tuesday, June 25, 2024 - 10:27 pm PT

Reflection from summit day

14,000’ Camp

Staring At The Headwall. Our Team Summited Denali today! I did not. I take no credit for their achievement, having been a hindrance at best, but I’ve come to love these people and I am inspired by their triumph. Unless you’ve been here, you cannot understand the magnitude of their accomplishment. Logistical. Physical. Emotional. Each member of our team may remember when my quest came to an end on what is arguably the Crux of the West Buttress Route. My anguished cry when my knee hit the ice of the bergschrund and I instantly knew that I had denied myself the Summit. But I pushed on, climbed the fixed ropes of The Headwall, and descended with the team back to our 14,000’ camp. Then, two days later, full of optimism and with a taped up knee, I climbed The Headwall again, plus a little more, as our team pushed for the highest camp. Why? How can we hold the knowledge that something is impossible, it cannot be done, while at the same time holding the conflicting conviction that we can do anything if we just keep striving in the face of insurmountable challenges? Each of you reading this has met your own Denali and you know the answer. That’s just Life. So while I take no credit for their achievements, having been a hindrance at best, I have come to love people and I am inspired by their triumphs. Keep climbing your Headwalls, they are the only paths to your Summits.

RMI Climber Kris Reitz

 

Tuesday, June 25, 2024 - 11:11 pm PT

Final dispatch: 
Waking up this morning, I’m filled with an intense sense of wonder. 

“Did we really pull that off?”
The memories of the day before play in mind. The views, the wind, the struggle, the summit.

“Hey team, it’s time to wake up,” our guide Seth rouses us, “we’re gonna try and get out of here around 10:00am.”

I check my watch. It’s just after 8:00. I consider getting up. The ache of the day before confirms that it all wasn’t just a dream. It pulsates through my body, intensified by the lack of oxygen available to us at 17200ft. 

Seth asks how we feel, my tent mate Chris replies: “I feel like I climbed a 20000ft mountain.”  I laugh, still comfortably in my sleeping bag. 

We begin slowly packing the randomly strewn about items that we didn’t care to pack after our 12 hour summit day. 

Not much later, we’re on the move again. Our packs are heavy again, a change from the light summit packs we grew accustomed to yesterday. We say our final goodbyes to the friends we made during our brief stay and begin the walk to the narrow balance beam that is the West Buttress I carefully scramble through the granite boulders that line the upper ridge, to my left and right, 3000ft drop offs. We waltz secured by our rope and fixed protection put in long ago. The dance is lento. Each move is precise and requires our complete focus. 

Clip, reclip. Clip, reclip. Check the rope isn’t getting caught in the feet of the person in front of you. Clip, reclip. Make a careful move through an awkward position. Clip, reclip. Glance at Foraker or Hunter. Clip, reclip. Finally, we make it through without incident, arriving to the 2000ft, 50° fixed lines.

We slide down carefully. The rope is wrapped  around our arms like a cobra squeezing its prey. We make good progress, arriving to the bergschrund much faster than it took us to area of the route. As we continue downward, Chris and I share a laugh as we remember we’re still wearing our long underwear. We make it back to the 14200ft camp where we pause for a while, giving Chris and I the chance to free ourselves from the heat prison surrounding our legs, much to the humour of the rest of our team. 

After sorting out the gear we stashed here  before heading up, (struggling to figure out how on earth we’d get it into our already full packs), we start marching downward again. We pass sights we remember only in an upward sense. They take on a different feeling, knowing that  for some of us, this may be the last time we see them. Windy corner, Thunder ridge, the Peters glacier. All deeply beautiful. 

We arrive into the ghost town that is 11000ft camp, with most of the climbers who would populate this place either higher on the mountain, or long gone, returned to civilization Our stay here won’t be long. We plan to move again once the glacier refreezes. Even still, we make set the nylon homes that have housed us for the last 14 nights, one final time. 

As we eat our last dinner on the mountain, bagels with salmon and cream cheese, a feeling of sadness begins to creep over us. 

In a strange way, as we reminisce about having ate an ungodly amount of quesadillas, or how badly we smell, or funny encounters we had with other climbers en route, it begins to set in this journey is nearing its end.
Soon, all of these moments will become memories. Our mistakes, funny stories. Our hardships, that which built our character. Our triumphs, our legacies. 

As we settle into our down bags one final time, the evening air beginning to become cold, an unexplainable emotion begins to emerge. The one perhaps felt when you realize you’re in a memory. Gratitude? Thankfulness? Satisfaction?
Perhaps some things in life are better left unanalyzed. 

Thank you, Denali. You have been so, so kind. 

RMI Climber Thomas Goossen