“We were running out of time,” explained Rob. “Brian and I were alone in our tent, the wind hammering the thin nylon walls into a thunderous drum beat. We’d been in there for five days waiting for a break in the weather. It looked like it wouldn’t come. We were running out of food and our scheduled time on the mountain was quickly disappearing. Thankfully, this area of the northern hemisphere provided nearly 24 hours of daylight during the summer months – we wouldn’t have to fight through darkness. Brian said to me ‘we go up or we go down; we can’t stay here any longer.’ I felt strong, I trusted in Brian’s strength, ‘let’s go for it’ I said. We gathered needed gear and donned our down-filled suits. I unzipped the tent’s vestibule and stepped out into the frigid, near white-out tempest at 18,000 feet. I thought to myself only a couple more thousand feet to go.”
After the successful attempt on Mount Aconcagua in South America back in 2004, Rob immediately began planning for his next summit. Teaming up with Brian Jones of the Canada West Mountain School once again, this time the climbers would head to Denali, or Mount McKinley as it is often called, which towers 20,320 feet above the Alaskan tundra to mark the high point of the North American continent. Denali is famous in the climbing world for its treacherous conditions. Sitting high in the arctic latitudes, Denali challenges climbers with frigid temperatures, fierce storms and thin air. While a shorter mountain than Aconcagua and Mount Everest, Denali’s high latitude location provides thinner air than mountains of similar height found closer to the equator. The summit of Denali feels a lot like the high camps of the Himalayan mountains.
The team from Vancouver, BC, had six members when it set out in the early summer. The logistics in getting into Denali pose some unique challenges. First a flight from Vancouver to Anchorage, Alaska, followed by a short hop into Talkeetna where the teams need to register with the US Park Rangers who administer the Denali National Park. Alaska is famous for attracting adventurers and mountain dreamers. Denali is famous for stealing the lives of would-be climbers who may not have given the mountain the respect she deserves. The Park Rangers do their best to ensure this doesn’t happen.
The team had to sit through a two-hour orientation session. Before they were issued their climbing permit, they had to prove their climbing experience was sufficient to the rangers. “In our orientation session, two climbers from another group were denied a permit,” said Rob. “Denali had already claimed the lives of two experienced climbers that year; the rangers were doing their best to make sure there would be no more deaths. We got our permits, then headed over to Talkeetna Air Service to coordinate our flight onto the glacier below the peak.”
Denali is a remote mountain. There are no roads leading to its base. Climbers usually charter a flight onto the glacier above base camp. The pilots that call Talkeetna home are world famous for their mountain and bush flying abilities. They have to be great, the conditions demand it.
Thankfully, for Rob and the rest of the team, the flight onto the glacier was routine and uneventful. After landing, the team moved down the glacier to the base of Heartbreak Hill and set up their camp. Gear had to be sorted into carry-able loads and the rest was put onto sleds the climbers would tow behind their snowshoes up to 14,000 foot camp.
Right from the start the mountain would prove to be unforgiving. The previous deaths of climbers were never far from the team’s thoughts, especially those who left children at home. On top of the emotional challenge of remaining focused, the team had to fight through blizzard conditions almost every step of the way. Progress was painfully slow, but eventually all hands made it to 14,000 foot camp directly below the Headwall after several hard days of progress.
Gear had to be re-sorted and prepped for the carries to 17,000 foot camp, where summit attempts would be made from. “We got a few breaks in the weather here, but the terrain was incredibly steep, so our progress became even slower and more tiring,” explained Rob. “We had to line up to get onto the fixed ropes and then jumar our way up the lines with a hundred pounds or more of gear and food on our backs, often getting hit with strong winds and blinding snow as the different weather systems moved through our area.”
Attrition slowly caught up. One member of the team decided he’d had enough. The risks of climbing Denali were weighing heavy on his mind, dominated with thoughts of his family back home. He turned back and made his way off the mountain to wait for a plane ride back to civilization.
Rob tells us:
“Our first carry to 17,000 foot camp was almost disastrous. As we neared that lofty height, the snow and wind returned to hammer us once again. We took a few more vertical steps before Brian wisely made the call to bury all the gear we’d brought this high in a cache in the snow. We then retreated to the relative safety of our tents in the camp below. After a day or two, we tried again, carrying another load up to 17,000 feet, knowing we’d need reserves because of this crazy weather, established camp then returned to collect the gear we’d buried in the snow.
The exertions continued to claim climbers though. Two more of the team decided they’d gone high enough. One of them said to me ‘Rob, I fear I’ll just slow the rest of the team down. My strength is sapped and this mountain is only getting more difficult. If I continue on, the rest of you may not make the summit. I’m headed down.’ When that decision was announced, another climber elected to quit the mountain too, so Brian sent the other guide Dave down with them, leaving the both of us to continue on to the summit together. Our team of six was now down to a partnership of two. No sooner had they left and we’d moved up another thousand feet, when the storms settled in to resume their conquest of the No Guts Know Glory team. I think I slept most of the next five days away waiting.”
Being tent-bound is no strange occurrence in the mountains. Weather systems move faster and with more strength at higher elevations. The pair would take any relative lull in the wind to step outside to relieve themselves and shovel the snow that threatened to collapse their tent away. They read, made soup and food, slept and fought their mental boredom battles over those five long days. Time became their biggest enemy.
“We were running out of time,” explained Rob. “Brian and I were alone in our tent, the wind hammering the thin nylon walls into a thunderous drum beat. We’d been in there for five days waiting for a break in the weather. It looked like it wouldn’t come. We were running out of food and our scheduled time on the mountain was quickly disappearing. Thankfully, this area of the northern hemisphere provided nearly 24 hours of daylight during the summer months – we wouldn’t have to fight through darkness. Brian said to me ‘we go up or we go down; we can’t stay here any longer.’ I felt strong, I trusted in Brian’s strength, ‘let’s go for it’ I said. We gathered needed gear and donned our down-filled suits. I unzipped the tent’s vestibule and stepped out into the frigid, near white-out tempest at 18,000 feet. I thought to myself only a couple more thousand feet to go.”
The pair made slow progress initially. They’d only been moving for about 20 minutes when a break appeared in the clouds; the break quickly turned to blue and the clouds disappeared. “The sky just opened up. I stood in awe at first, then quickly realized I was wasting precious time,” said Rob. “We motored up from then on.”
It was still a very long day. Rob and Brian had much ground to cover but the weather cooperated and the two made swift progress towards the summit. They found themselves at the bottom of the Football Field, an area just below the summit ridge they’d have to traverse. Roped up, they travelled in step together, taking turns breaking the boot-deep snow trail to the steep summit ridge – a narrow band of solid ground with drops of several thousand feet to either side.
“When we found ourselves on the summit, all I could think of was how close we’d come to not making it,” said Rob. “We didn’t have much time there. I couldn’t steal a few moments for myself, we needed to get down safely and quickly after a very long day of breaking trail through boot-deep snow. We snapped a few triumphant photos and made our way down the ridge again. I was thankful though.
Thankful of Brian’s perseverance and patience. Thankful of the unselfish acts of the rest of the team members who were waiting for us back in Anchorage. Without their efforts to carry so much food and gear up the mountain, Brian and I couldn’t have lasted those days in the tent. But I think most of all I was thankful for that weather window. We made a calculated decision to risk moving up in the storm. Sometimes you get lucky.”
