Category Archives: Alpine Climbing

Part 2, Muldrow Icefalls

When the path of a glacier flows over a particularly steep piece of a mountain it forms a feature called an icefall. Typically these areas host many cravasses, huge broken chunks of ice, and terrain that makes travel both difficult and scary. The standard Muldrow route includes travel directly through 3 major icefalls, and based on my recent cravasse fall experience, these were somewhat the mental crux of the route for me. Icefalls tend to change from year to year, storm to storm, and temperature when traveling in them.
The Lower Icefall of the Muldrow was the first of the three icefalls, and the one in which we had the heaviest loads to carry. For a variety of reasons, I elected to use tele skis and skins for floatation on this trip partially because they do a better job of keeping people out of cravasses than snowshoes. Unfortunately, they make traveling throughout the dense broken terrain of icefalls much more difficult, especially while pulling a sled. We found a partial trail left by previous parties but it still took quite some work to navigate. Due to the difficult terrain and size of our loads we started double carrying, spending one day carrying a cache higher on the route (through the icefall), then returning to camp the night and moving our tents and other gear the next day- if it sounds like it makes the climb twice as much work, you’re right, it does. It also makes the experience workable rather than unbearable, and I found it allowed me to enjoy the incredible place we were in. This is a typically strategy for most teams and most of the route until reaching the Harper glacier at 16,000′, so we had lots of work to do. The Lower Icefall went smoothly, no falls or other surprises, but we ended up caching our gear earlier, below the hill of cracks, rather than the base of the Great Icefall as is typical. When we moved camp from below the Lower Icefall we decided to move past our cache and through the Great Icefall with lighter packs and hopefully finding better camping at approximately 10,000′.
The Great Icefall of the Muldrow also went smoothly and without surprises, but was a pretty spooky place to be none the less. Home to some of the wildest and gnarliest ice formations I have ever seen, it is a feature to respect and move through (and yes we double carried through it). Again previous tracks help point us in the right direction, and we were stoked to dig into flat, safe camping once we got uphill of the Icefall. Travel and weather conditions through both of these Icefalls varied from perfect to terrible, but being on a night travel schedule helped make them somewhat more predictable. If doing the route, expect anything from brutal cold to uncomfortably warm temps, sticky/gloppy to styrofoam snow, rain and snow precipitation, whiteout to clear visibility- the full gambit, during this portion. We got it all in four days. Night schedule is recommended as it makes snow bridges over cravasses more stable and temperatures easier to predict. Skinning throughout the Icefalls was some of the most difficult and frustrating time I have ever spent on skis- I would actually recommend snowshoes for the route because of their lighter weight and better mobility. As we had passed our cache in a big push to camp above the Great Icefall, we returned the next night to retrieve it, I led our team back up the track pulling amsled and heavy pack into a cold down glacier wind. I don’t think my hip flexors have ever worked so hard and it seemed like this last carry through the most difficult of the 3 Icefalls provided our team with the first opportunity to truly suffer together. Suffice to say I was very grateful for the mental training provided in my sessions at Crossfit Fort Vancouver, and mental strength of my teammates. We earned our hot drinks that night.

Rocksteady and Bebop

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(from June 19th, 2011)
When I moved to Portland four years ago I was just learning to be an adult- sorting out challenging circumstances and defining myself in a new city and new position in life. A friend of mine had this title phrase posted on his instant message status and the two words were exactly what I needed to think about. Steadiness, making good decisions on good information, slowing things down, and embracing adversity helped sort out the mayhem. Bebop, a music that I grew up playing, involves creativity, energy, and intelligence- all qualities I wanted to make sure I had in my newfound west coast life. I only found out some time later that my friend was referring to two thuggish characters from the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.
Ever since, the phrase has reminded me of the petty drama I entertained during that period of my life and exactly how to beat it. Hauling a heavy pack and heavier sled up a glacier there’s a lot of funny stuff that can get in your head because you are worked. Planting each step and humming a little jazz reminded me how to finish a strong day, rocksteady and bebop.

Part 1, Wonder Lake to the Lower Icefall

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At 34 miles, the Muldrow glacier is the largest glacier on the north side of Denali National Park, and hosts the route that was used by the first successful attempt to climb the mountain. In every sense, the route is a true Alaska adventure, a massive undertaking involving a variety of physical and mental hazards in a truly remote wilderness setting. It was a privilege to be invited to patrol the route as part of a national park service team and an opportunity to complete a lifetime goal. Unlike typical Denali park service mountaineering patrols, we had a minimum of support and climbed the route with a similar style and itinerary as most other parties on the route.
Starting at Wonder Lake (elevation 1,800 feet) we started on the flat , 85 miles from the nearest paved road, 45 horizontal miles, and 18,000 vertical feet from the summit. We started hiking around 10pm on June 16th in trail runners, plastic boots hanging off the outside of our gargantuan backpacks. We had some cold weather gear, snow floatation and 16 days of food inserted by helicopter (most teams use a dogsled to deposit this cache) waiting for us at McGonagall pass, 22 miles of backpacking south of the lake. Still my pack weighed in at 71 pounds and the hike to the pass was definitely physical. We crossed the McKinley bar river at 7am June 17th in hip deep, ice cold water. The crossing took about 3 hours and I’ve never had the screaming barfies so badly in my feet. In review, our team felt like the crossing was just barely within our risk tolerance, we were grateful for every cfm the river dropped the night before we crossed. The remaining hike to the pass was largely straightforward, and tremendously enjoyable The have been a number of parties up the route this year, and a defacto trail has worn into the taiga, allowing us to make the pass in just 2 days. We had outstanding sunny weather, great views of the mountains, and a solid time getting to know each other. The mosquitos were authentically thick, but spirits stayed high and standing on top of McGonagall pass is one of the most beautiful places I have ever been.
We found our cache perfectly placed on the glacial moraine, and we spent several hours sorting the 500+lbs of food and gear into sled loads. We used kiddy sleds to make the backpack loads more manageable, and June 18th we single carried all our gear to a camp below the lower icefall.

The Past 30 days

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The last 30 days have been very full to say the least. Certainly the climbing experience has been unique, incredible, and challenging, but the opportunities for personal growth and lessons learned from an incredible group of men have rounded out the time with plenty of writing to share. The following entries describe our climb in sections of the route- and between sections I’ll be posted some account of my thoughts and reflections from another incredible trip in the Alaska range.
I’ve been writing solely on my iPhone, so please excuse typos and punctuation errors, entries are time consuming enough just to get down in a digital format. I’ve been able to create posts on my iPhone while climbing and include some photos, but will try to post more photos from my teammates once I get to a computer. I have very little time in between trips, so I apologize for the barrage of posts in a short window! As always, thanks for following.

Cracks, part 2

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(from June 4, 2011)

Despite the fact that I’m trying not to think about it, the bruises on my elbows and knees won’t let me forget. I took my first real live cravasse fall today while out for a short ski patrol to check on glacial travel conditions. True to the nature of glaciers, the live situation did not mirror all the training we’ve done lately, and the situation was bad.

The slot (cravasse) I was in was running parallel to our direction of travel, only 20″ wide (just wider than my shoulders), and 12 feet below the surface- full of bottomless ice cold water. Due to the direction of the travel, the rope didn’t catch my fall and cut through the snow directly up towards my partner. I stopped falling when I hit the water and started floating, and despite my initial calm of falling in the hole, I knew I was in deep when I hit the water and took stock of the situation.

JP did his best to stop the fall, but the direction of the crack really meant neither JP or the rope were useful for self-rescue- I was floating until my team could get another rope to me. Ultimately the details are small, I got cold, another team was able to help us, I got out of the crack, someone from the other team went into another crack in the process, and our mini afternoon ski patrol turned into a mini epic. I got back to camp, got warm, and spent some time thinking that the Muldrow glacier is probably going to offer a very serious challenge indeed. Many thanks to Chris, JP, and the other team for their assistance in pulling me out of a really tight spot. The only true victim was my fancy new camera which took the swim with me and now makes for an expensive looking paper weight (and hence there are no photos for this post).

In retrospect, it was an incredibly valuable experience. I learned a lot, no one was seriously injured, and I walked away feeling more in control of the fears I have long carried about cravasse falls because I took the ride, didn’t die, and walked away. Training does not replace experience.

Bacon ‘N Eggs

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(from May 29th, 2011)

Darryl Miller talks about the history of early Alaska exploration the way my good friend Dick Paulson talks about birds. It makes the tent feel homey, the stories vast and well illustrated, and suddenly you feel inspired to get outside. Darryl has done the Muldrow glacier route on Denali 3 different times, as well as a host of other massive Alaska mega-transects, and considers it one of his finest adventures. I honestly can’t wait to get on it next month. Darryl stopped by basecamp for a few days to help out with air traffic control, and it was an awesome opportunity to hang out with one of the great climbers of the previous era.

We had another ranger patrol join us a few days ago, comprised of a ranger (Joe) and three solar power engineers (Blake, Mark, and Luke). We’ve obviously had lots to talk about. Please check out Luke’s awesome work at Peaks to Prairie Power. Last night Luke walked up to me with a grin on his face and asked “hey you wanna do Bacon ‘n Eggs tomorrow?” 10 pitches of classic climbing pioneered by Mark Twight was impossible to turn down.
“Yes” I replied without thinking. Later I came to terms with Luke about my feet. I wanted to do the route, but was scared of what ice climbing and a long day of alpine commitment would do to my feet. Last night I couldn’t really get psyched, but agreed to go with the understanding that my foot was a “known unknown.”

The route follows the ice chimneys trending up and to the right to the snowfield.

Just a gorgeous day to chase a gorgeous route.

At least my partner was fully psyched and ready to fire.

We went for it, leaving camp at 4:50am and were under the base of the route at 6:50am. I felt solid touring up the glacier and even a little psyched when I saw the route, but the dread never totally left the back of my head. We simul-climbed over the bergschrund until Luke ran out of screws, and I led off pitch 2, getting a long slab with a fun step at the top on pitch 2. That said, by the time the ropes came tight at the bottom of p3, I knew there was no way I could hold back the pain for another 8 pitches. I popped a pill before heading up, but each kick brought increasing pain, and Luke knew we were headed down even before he saw me from the belay.

A full 60m lead in the mountains...

At some point, I'm going to have to stop looking at Mt. Foraker and start climbing it.

Luke is fully stoked to sink a #2 Cam after running it out on thin ice.

We rapped off without incident (still getting used to rapping off v-threads I didn’t set), and I had to pop another pill before skiing back to camp. Regardless, I’m glad we took a shot at the route- the climbing and position are definitely classic, and felt like I gave the climb an honest, level effort. Based on the experience, I suspect I may not climb ice for quite some time, and I’ll need to be careful in the more technical sections of the Muldrow. I had borrowed someone else’s boots for this trip, which may or may not have been a great idea- they climbed much better than my tele-ski boots would have, but also didn’t fit so well (ed. note- my tele-ski boots were very comfortable for the rest of the trip and don’t concern me for the upcoming Muldrow expedition). Most concerning was the fact that the bunions I have not had surgery on caused me almost as much trouble as the one I recently had removed. Shit.

So the adventure continues…

Big Dreams

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There’s a smell in the air here that I have t smelled anywhere else- maybe melting permafrost or a landscape racing to breathe in every minute of endless summer sun. It snaps my attention to the present, to this place, to the fact that the very best thing I’ve done, the very best moment yet is this one right now.
Several good friends have recently asked- “What’s the biggest difference since you quit you job two months ago?”
“Big dreams.” I reply quickly. For a while there at my desk I could no longer imagine a better life than racing between passion and profession, scrambling, scrimping, just getting enough of each to resemble a commitment, but never reaping the rewards of real dedication. Releasing it all, the options loom large and the big dreams for my life flood back in. It’s all on the table again, rather than the slim possibilities afforded by a desk job I fell into and existed on because someone else offered it to me.
Alaska is a big land, with ample space for dreaming- I hope to have a clearer picture of what exactly I’ve been dreaming when I get off the glacier in 15 days. The blog will be quiet for a while as it’s not possible to update from the glacier. More photos and adventure when I fly out around June 10.
Thanks for following.

The big 3 at bedtime (11:30pm)- Mt Foraker, Hunter, and Denali. May they prompt appropriate dreams tonight.

Arrival #1: Anchorage

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I have to allow that I am stupidly excited to be in Alaska. There is something about this place that strikes me like no where else.

Two photos
My gear, along with a guided team from RMI, waiting for the shuttle.
Just a shot from the road on the way out of town…

The Obvious Next Step

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My original plans for this pat of my trip had been to spend some serious time rock climbing here in the Valley, and then ski mountaineering in the high Sierra. That said, my foot recovery hasn’t really permitted the multi-pitch climbing I had hoped to do, and getting into the high Sierra in a year with 170+% of annual snowpack is quite a bit of work (not to mention partners are exceedingly hard to come by when miles of vertical granite are 5 minutes from the car). Of course, the Valley is really a nice place to be regardless:

The Leaning Tower and Bridalveil Falls in some rare sunshine.

On the upside, one of my most important goals of this trip is to take advantage of unusual opportunities while I have the time. Talking to my good friend Chris last Wednesday, he mentioned he needed a third person for his upcoming patrol to Denali basecamp. The Basecamp patrol involves facilitating arriving climbers, search and rescue operations, and generally maintaining the basecamp. It’s also a prime opportunity to get in quite a bit of alpine climbing and ski touring while living on the Kahiltna glacier.

My foot seems to work much better in ski boots than in rock shoes, and Alaska has always inspired me in a unique way. Going on a second patrol is a rare opportunity to spend quite a bit of time engaging in a variety of mountain activities in one of the worlds most beautiful places. Plus, the weather has been frustratingly hit or miss here in Yosemite. Thinking it over, it just seems like the next logical step to go to Alaska sooner rather than later. Just a few photos of the weather we’ve been having:

Possibly one of the cooler photos I've taken on this trip.

The Leaning Tower in the mist.

The El Cap massif just seems a little scarier in the mist...

We did successfully race the weather for a few quality pitches of climbing at Pat and Jack cliff yesterday, including me leading one of the best bolted pitches of 5.10b I have ever done. Enjoy a few photos of Yosemite in the snow, and some of my very good newfound friends.

I met Dave in Red Rocks, and he rocked the opening (crux moves) on slick granite.

Barry did a great job on this roof traverse.

And so I’m headed to Alaska a bit early. I’m enjoying a last game of Monopoly with friend- around the table are two climbing bums, a guide, a biotech CEO, and me. I’m heading to see my brother in San Jose tonight before driving to Portland tomorrow, then Alaska on Tuesday. With the opportunity in hand, I’m thrilled to be heading north sooner than I expected.

Rule #6

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I was talking to my brother last week about my decision not to climb the Salathe route, and he told me a story with an important moral- don’t take yourself too seriously. As usual, it was just what I needed to hear.

The past 3 days alone in the Yosemite high country were pretty much sublime. I didn’t ski anything gnarly (actually, I never even took my skins off), climb anything tall (or technical), and honestly didn’t really know quite where I was for most of Thursday afternoon (not quite the plan, but it worked out). Some of these decisions were enforced- solo backcountry skiing involves managing a wide variety of serious and complicated objective hazards and may be one of the more dangerous things I’ve done since leaving Portland. At the same time, it may have been one of the most relaxed and simplest parts of my trip thus far.

Wednesday afternoon I quickly packed 3 days of food and headed up Snow Creek, incidentally the same trail Aaron and I had hiked last Sunday, but not without the purpose that it was the fastest way out of the valley. I hit the snowline just before dark and set up camp on one of the last piece of dry ground I had seen on my previous hike. Obviously, I was expecting my feet to give me some trouble, and while I did have some trouble on Thursday, I didn’t take things too seriously. I traveled when I could, I took breaks and iced my foot when I needed to. I only had two goals for my time in the backcountry- 1) figure out how ready I am for Denali, and 2) see as much as I comfortably could. Simple. I had a tentative goal of skiing all the way to Tuolomne Meadows, but opted to take a longer route north of Tioga Pass road and see more of the high country. It was good practice in releasing the goal oriented mentality that has been driving my trip lately. Despite the longer route and some foot trouble Thursday, I still made it to a great camp just below Fairview Dome.

I spent most of Friday cruising west on Tioga Pass road, and then cut south at the Porcupine Creek Trailhead. I was pleased that except for a few hours on Thursday afternoon, my ability to navigate in the winter backcountry based only on topo map, compass, and visible landforms worked extremely well (approximately half of the 36 miles I covered were off-trail/road). I’ll let the photos tell the rest of the story, but needless to say, I feel renewed in the most important ways, and ready to make the best of my remaining time in the valley. In the end, I didn’t take myself too seriously, and am back in the valley feeling wonderfully pleased with the result.

And, I’ve decided to go to Alaska early, to get in 3 extra weeks of alpine climbing based on the Kahiltna Glacier!

(I still can’t figure out how to get the photos to order properly… I’ll fix this while waiting out rain tomorrow)