Summit note

One tragedy marred an otherwise great expedition: on summit day, at the top of the highest mountain in North America, Jim, one of our climbers, suddenly and simply collapsed. We gave CPR for over 35 minutes in an effort to revive him, but he never regained a pulse. Due to the steepness of the terrain, our quickly-chilling group did not have the resources to conduct a complicated recovery to bring him down; we simply had to say our goodbyes and bury him as best we could at the request of the Park Service. Two other Alpine Ascents teams summited a few days later, and were able to rebury his body in a more secluded spot, where it will likely remain.

Here's the Park Service's press release: http://www.climbing.com/news/hotflashes/fatality_on_mt_mckinley_july_4_2008/

As much as accidents and deaths in the mountains are often subject to endless debate and scrutiny, this is a rare case when there's really not much to rehash, fortunately for those of us involved. We may never know what caused his collapse, particularly if he remains buried on the mountain; he was climbing as strongly as anyone else, and had shown no previous signs of anything out of the ordinary, no trouble with altitude. He was climbing with a friend who was also on our trip, and as traumatic as it must be for him, hopefully some small measure of closure and comfort can come to his family through this friend's presence at his death.

We were able to get the rest of our team safely off the mountain with the generous help of many other guides and people both on and off the hill. Everyone we worked with has been incredibly helpful and supportive, particularly the NPS staff. They have to deal with this sort of thing regularly on a professional basis, but manage to do so while being incredibly human and caring on a personal level as well. Huge thanks for everyone's help, and many condolences to those who will feel Jim's loss.

Off to the (other) big hill

Spring has been cold and wet and long in the Cascades this year, which has been great for the glacier snowpack but not great for my soggy boots! Courses led for Alpine Ascents went well, managed to tag the summit of Rainier a couple times, and now have left the northwest, just as summer is setting in, for Denali.

Writing from Talkeetna, I'm excited to get up on a new mountain. I've spent the last few days checking out the tiny town (a tiny little cemetary with figures from Denali history), watching the group before us get ready and take off, and getting everything packed up for our expedition at the little Alpine Ascents compound about 10 miles outside of town. We meet our climbers tonight, one of whom was on my trip this winter on Aconcagua, and hopefully fly on to the glacier tomorrow. Weather controls the flying here, so let's hope it holds.


We will have a cybercast going again, posted with several other Denali expeditions on the Alpine Ascents website: http://www.alpineascents.com/denali-cybercast.asp We are Team XI (eleven), and I may be calling most of the posts in, so look for me or the lead guide Mike online.


We fly the day before summer solstice, so enjoy the summer! I'll be trying to sleep in 24 hours of daylight...

On your marks...

And so begins another season of Rainier and North Cascades climbing. Our Denali Preparation course was a mixture of terrible and perfect weather - great for preparing for the big hill. Thirty-one degrees and raining to bluebird skies and 80 degrees... you never know what you're going to get up there.

But we did get to summit of Mt Rainier, the first Denali Prep course of the season to do so, thanks to strong climbers, perfect weather, and a snowpack that was solid enough not to avalanche in the first warming cycle of the year.

Even better, with the sleds required to pull heavy loads on Denali, we were able to slide down the 4500 feet elevation back to the parking lot, a normally obnoxious descent in soft snow. Sweet!

A couple Rainier summit climbs and a 6-day glacier course will keep me busy for the next month while summer tries to arrive in Seattle...

Wilderness time

After yet another plan change once I left town, I did indeed manage to get out kayaking. Turns out Ross Lake is down 100 feet below its normal level (managed to make room for spring runoff), so there's a whole lot of bare gravel surrounding it currently - not the serene experience I was looking for. So off to Lake Chelan...

So it has the occasional motor boat, passenger ferry, and float plane, but pre-Memorial Day, it was actually pretty peaceful. The ranger station was closed for the weekend, so I hand-copied the display board map and set off.

The farther up the lake you go, the windier it gets, apparently, even early in the morning. I did make it within looking distance of Stehekin, at the far end of the 55-mile lake (I started about mile 10), but at that point there were whitecaps and 1-2 foot waves in addition to a pretty strong headwind, so looking seemed sufficient. I turned around and went back to a camping spot.

Not a lot to say or take pictures of on a solo kayak trip - there's water, trees, mountains, and the occasional beached-kayak picture. The last three days were all pretty rough water, and my arms were definitely ready to be done, having let my legs do most of the outdoor work for the last several months. This morning, tired of fighting the wind (a tailwind is actually much more tiring to control the boat in!), I pulled up about ten miles short of my car, walked/hitched to where it was parked and drove back to the kayak.

It was, however, overall great weather - a nice dose of sunshine for those of us who are convinced spring will never actually come to the Northwest. (It snowed briefly as I was coming back over the pass!) Now it's back to work until September...

Chaos

Last week on Rainier was, indeed, cold and snowy - all except the last day as we were leaving, of course. The better to prepare folks for Denali, I suppose.

These two weeks, however, have been much less structured - it's amazing how hard it can be to make a trip happen. Of the solicited suggestions from friends, I've probably planned and changed plans to include nearly all of them:

Week-long canyoneering trip to Zion. Nope, conditions are bad, so week-long kayak trip, then ski St Helens. Nope, I actually have a place to stay for the week so short bike trip and ski St Helens. Nope, people are coming back early, so long bike trip and ski St Helens. Nope, St Helens friend can't do it, so back to a week-long kayak trip. Next!!

Currently planning to kayak somewhere for a week, not sure where yet. Until tomorrow, when it will all change again...

Off to work

The weather has been crazy for the last little while - snow and hail in the city for the last few days, and more this weekend. Freezing levels have been around 1500 feet, so there's a lot of snow out there! Good for the climbing season, bad for poor Seattlites who are starting to wonder if we'll ever see the sun again.

Fortunately, I have to get out, even if I would rather sit on the couch and eat chocolate - the Denali Prep courses mean a week of whatever weather Mt Rainier hands us. Off we go!

Picked up and brought in

Ah, the damp and chilly experience that is the Northwest in spring. Of twelve days out, eight of them were spent in rain gear, sometimes admiring the shining aliveness of the rainforest, sometimes head down wishing I had decided to bike in Arizona instead.

Took the ferry across the water from Seattle and caught the Hood Canal bridge to Highway 101. Around the top of the Olympic Peninsula, then down the coast and around the various harbors at places like Aberdeen. Crossed over into Oregon with a few days left, so kept going south a bit past Tillamook before taking a left and heading in to Portland - about 588 miles all together.

Camped mostly along beaches, logging land, and closed campgrounds and didn't see another person camping the whole time. Beautiful. It's been a while since I did a solo trip (too long!), and possibly longer since I was over on the coast. It cleared up for a beautiful weekend heading into Portland where a friend came down to do double duty visiting his friend there and picking me up.

The funny thing is, despite the rain, I didn't really want to come back. At least once I found myself thinking that I could just keep going and head all the way down through Mexico... I felt like I ran away from home and got picked up, taken back, and told to play by the rules. I'll try to pretend, at least for a while.