Journal from a 2005 Student
Alaska Range , Southeast Fork of Kahiltna Glacier
6-day Mountaineering School May 15-20, 2005
Mouthwatering rock faces. Ridges that go on forever. Glistening powder. Impossibly steep hanging glaciers, sheer or cracked. Take your pick. This is Mt. Hunter 's North Face. Living with such a view for five days is indescribable, but here I go.
Weather prevented us from flying out to the Southeast Fork of the Kahiltna Glacier on the first day of a 6-day Alpine Ascents International (ALP) mountaineering course. The purpose for my presence was as a student and as a new ALP Alaska branch staffer to experience base camp where climbers from around the world come to climb Denali and many other peaks in the area. It is where our Denali expeditions and mountaineering school courses begin. Alpine Ascents’ base camp for its’ for 6- and 12-day courses lies about 1/2 mile farther up the glacier away from the main base camp.
Still hopeful of flying out of Talkeenta this day, we put on warm layers under our gortex, found a sheltered location on the Talkeetna Air Taxi (TAT) grounds, and, under the instruction of guides Jon Holz and Erik Johnson, six students proceeded to practice knot tying, prussik construction, prussiking up and down ropes slung over high beams and basic map reading.
The students consisted of a couple, Rhys and Nina, two veterinarians from Australia who are making their way to England, where they will fill in for British vets for two months and then head to Nepal for a couple more months of trekking before returning to Australia; James and Kevin, best friends for 20 years, one living in San Diego and one in Denver. They meet up each year for a big trip, both are avid cyclists. One is a physician and one co-owns a company that manufactures carbon fiber components for road bikes; and Corey, a recent college grad from LA who was delightful. His uninhibited questions and enthusiasm were refreshing.
The clouds broke - sort of - around 8:00 a.m. the following day. It would take three planes to ferry the group to base. Jon, Corey and I were first to go. In a Cessna 185, the pilot, the three of us and piles of gear flew through Little Switzerland, a group of peaks resembling with Swiss Alps, then up the Kahiltna - a phenomenal entry point and the long way in. Out of Talkeetna the ceiling was low. Denali , Hunter and Foraker stood pristine and isolated above the clouds. With the sketchy flying conditions, the pilots were on the radio talking up a storm (ahh ha ha) among themselves. Initially, we headed for One Shot Pass , but another pilot warned against it. Coop then opted for Little Switzerland. As we entered the views were outrageous. With some peaks shrouded, dragon's breath floated between the blue hiding then exposing then hiding again the rock and ice falls and so much more.
The planes are equipped with skies to land and take off. A few minutes into the flight, the pilot announced that he'd be lowering the skis and that we'd feel a thump when each one dropped. He hand-cranked each ski. And, we felt each thump. A pilot flying in the 1930's came up with the idea to equip his bush plane with skis for glacier landings. Learning about planes that land on moving ice is an interesting topic. Cessna 185s and the De Havilland Beavers haven't been manufactured since the 1970's. Parts are highly sought after.
On a glacier, planes land up slope and take off down slope. Depending on conditions, a pilot doesn't stick around long after landing, partly to prevent the plane from getting stuck. Typically, climbers or tourists offload as the next group stands by to load and depart within about 15 minutes.
About an hour after we landed, the rest of the students came in, with Erik coming in on the last plane an hour after that. With time to spare during the wait, John, one of the Park Rangers, gave me a tour of the NPS camp. It proved well-organized, compact and odiferous. Alpine Ascents is one of six licensed guiding concessions on the mountain. The Park Service provides education and monitors and coordinates activities, including distributing all fuel used on the mountain and materials for disposing of waste. They also provide medical assistance to struggling climbers. The Park has been notably successful in reducing the effects of human impact on the mountain, as well as climbing-related deaths. It is a case study for management in a harsh and fragile environment.
During our wait a large military helicopter landed retrieving several P.J.'s who had been training in the area. If you read the book or saw the film A Perfect Storm, I believe it was P.J.'s that rescued the stranded sailors. They are a crazy and well-trained lot. I shook hands with one while touring the NPS tent. He had a firm grip and a direct intensity.
In beautiful weather, we set up camp about a half mile up and on the north side of the glacier in the shadow of Hunter. My tent's front door opened to Mt. Foraker . Not bad, not bad at all. We were able to take plenty of gear and food. Climbers low on the mountain often pull sleds in addition to carrying backpacks. It was plush compared to my first climbing school experience 6 years ago on Mt. Shuksan in the North Cascades - a long single haul to 7,200 feet carrying a heavy pack.
I found out I was going on the trip with only three days notice. Fortunately with a complete array of climbing gear and food packing supplies at Alpine Ascents, it was not difficult to organize. I planned to sledhaul my non-water proof canvas duffle by using compactor trash bags to keep the contents dry. Unfortunately I had neglected to check the size of the duffle until after 8:00 p.m. the night before we were scheduled to fly out. It was hilariously tiny. As I was scrambling for another option, we received a call from TAT who informed us that one of our Denali climbers had descended the mountain early and was flown out. He needed to be picked up. By now, it was about 9:30 p.m. I dropped everything and headed for TAT.
While waiting for the climber to check out, I told Camma, a TAT staffer, my duffle bag dilemma. She and a pilot both offered larger bags that they said they would bring in following morning before our flight. As it turned out, the climber I was retrieving overheard this exchange. When we reached his evening accommodations around 10:00 p.m. , he said "I want you to take this bag." I said, "What? Those are expensive. Thank you for the offer, but I cannot take it." He insisted saying he was grateful for the late night assistance and claimed it would only sit in storage for years. I eventually relented, saying that I would “pay it forward” (the kind gesture) and walked away with the perfect bag, a large yellow waterproof North Face duffle.
In our private base camp, a Posh tent (named for the designer) served as our gathering place for meals out of the almost constant sun. The days are long, and even though the sun sets, in the all-white environment it never gets fully dark. Jon had dug out the kitchen area during his previous course. It was a large circle dug deep into the snow pack with walls formed out of snow blocks above the surface. Inside the Posh, the walls could be formed into shelves for items requiring refrigeration or simply to store until the next meal. A sort of high circular snow table sat in the center and supported the study round metal pole that held up the tent, which was wall and floorless and consisted of simple blue and white nylon triangles sewn together that came to a point in the middle.
We placed our cooking gear and ourselves on the perimeter's circular bench. Our first night’s seat selection would serve as our personal cooking area for the duration. Though I ended up at the back of the circle away from the single entrance/exit steps, I had the best view, Mt. Foraker straight-on. It also happened to be a direct line of sight to the pea-hole used by the men. I doubt that it was planned that way, but I was able to report on who would soon be entering the Posh for breakfast each day. (Note: Nina and I used a hole in one of the "private" circular restrooms constructed of blocks of snow.)
Each day, activities included preparing to dress, dressing, preparing to eat, eating, cleaning up after eating, preparing to drink (all liquid came from melted snow), drinking, preparing for our next instruction, the actual course work, cleaning up after course work, preparing to eat, eating, preparing to sleep, sleeping. I brought a tent that could sleep up to 4. The space was sheer luxury. Extreme cautionary note to aspiring climbers: these are not standard alpine climbing living conditions. Given that we were hauling sleds in addition to carrying packs and traveling only a short distance to our camp, taking extra clothing, and fresh and weighty canned foods was acceptable.
During instruction, everyone in the group was a Rhodes Scholar compared to me. I've done some climbing in the Cascades and elsewhere, but given the company that I keep, I've barely done anything at all and it showed. The entire group had rock climbing experience and all were exceptionally mechanically-minded. Jon proved an exceptional instructor, passionate, patient and he knew how to make a concept clear. Erik’s depth of knowledge in geology as well as climbing, brain teasers and tying one-handed knots was evident. On this day especially, guide compassion for those to whom mechanics do not come easy was especially apparent and appreciated.
One day we snowshoed, kicked steps, then cramponed up the final icy slope to the summit of Control Tower (a.k.a. Radio Tower ), a small peak on the north side of the southeast fork. It has arguably one of the best views in the area.
As we approached the top of Control Tower, we saw an enormous avalanche break on the opposite side of the glacier between Hunter’s North Buttress and Mini-Moonflower. Jon said it was in the top ten in size of his avi sightings. Watching the massive and force-filled cloud move down the mountain and then out across the glacier almost to the other side was indescribable. We watched, waited and then swam in crystalline flakes that dusted our two rope teams. Avalanches occurred frequently throughout our trip but none other like that one. Erik and I were closest to the top of Control Tower. Hopefully from our vantage the photos turned out well. Erik, who is also a photographer, got shots of the other rope team in the same frame with the avalanche.
Throughout the trip, we covered knots, setting protection, basic ice climbing, rope work, crevasse rescue, self arrest, snow travel--moving with efficiency and stability, up, down and across steep slopes--and route finding. The best learning opportunities came simply by observing Jon and Erik throughout the day.
On the last day our flight out through One Shot Pass was more direct, though we barely beat a front coming in from behind Mt. Crosson . This time in a Beaver, we flew nearly close enough to touch Avalanche Spire.
Thanks Jon and Erik.
Returned yesterday baked and happy. And, I can now tie a one-handed clove hitch.
Laura Bedford
May 21, 2005
Return to Top of Page