Mt. McKinley (2011) - Day 20

Summit Day

08:15 - Wes has got the stove going and snow melting. There's a light breeze, clear skies; it's definitely a summit day.

10:30 - We're on the road. There are at least a few teams above us on the autobahn leading up to Denali Pass, including Billy's team of six. I've got my mitts on, as is recommended when climbing into the shadow of Denali Pass, but not my parka. There's an occasional breeze, but otherwise it's very still. This is the first time Wes or I have climbed the new route defined by the rangers. It's way steep. I don't understand why they changed it. I suppose that was one of those details they went over during orientation that I didn't pay attention to due to the frost bite pictures.

12:30 - Despite the lung pounding nature of the ascent from high camp to Denali Pass, we are slowed down by a couple of groups, including one oriental duo, on their way down, for whom we step high off the trail to let them pass and they sort of take a break while not yet having passed us. It's not like I have plans for the strength in my legs today....

Unlike the ascent to Denali pass, once on top of the pass, it is rather windy. Probably 25 mph. Lisa claimed 10 - 15 mph winds today. Thanks Lisa. We take our first break of the day while getting hammered by wind that seems to come from every direction.

We run into a Japanese (?) team of four or five, who, after a failed summit attempt from high camp some days ago, returned to 14k camp, found this weather window, and decided to try to summit from 14k. Bold. They look strong though. I bet they'll make it even though it's a 6,000'+ ascent followed by the same descent.

xx:xx - Our second break. Wes doesn't care for stopping periodically, so I really needed this one. We've been accosted by winds ever since our first break. My face feels so-so, which is good, because I don't want to stop and put on goggles and all that. Memories of Jerry flash through my mind.

I break off a section of a frozen 3 Musketeers candy bar. Mmm. Not so mmm, actually.

At this break, I break out my parka for the first time during the trip. It is warm, of course, but it's completely impossible to do anything while wearing it.

A team of three pulls up along side us and the third guy on the rope proceeds to yark, and again, and again. And them there's some spitting. Not good. He forms an impressive pile of puke in the snow and ice. I fully expect to see him take a break and then continue on up, like a moron.

This other team which includes the gabbiest woman you've ever seen is on their way down, and, well, she starts to gab with everyone taking a break here - the Japs summitting from 14k, Team Yark, etc. In a fit of wisdom rarely seem, the namesake of Team Yark clips into Team Gabby's rope and heads down. Amazing. One life spared today.

xx:xx - The football field. It is calm as always. I can see the trail up Pig Hill and line of folks ascending and descending the summit ridge. It doesn't look like an 1,100 foot ascent from here, but I know it'll feel like one. Or more.

Having ingested half a candy bar and some water, we pack up and get in line to ascend Pig Hill - a line brought about by yet another new route definition by the rangers, and it now includes a single section of fixed lines over the steeper part. They could just switch-back the route as in previous years, thereby making it less steep, right? I don't understand their thinking.

Team Yark is right behind me, and we start talking. It is a private Mountain Trip team with two guides and a single client. After finishing Denali, the client need only do Elbrus to complete his Seven Summits. Pretty impressive. What's also impressive is that the client is wearing a full down suit. I'd be dying in there of heat exhaustion.

The traverse across the summit ridge is just as amazing as I remember it from 2008 and 2009; definitely the best part of the whole climb.

There are maybe ten people hanging out on the summit when we finaly arrive. On the summit proper (the very highest point), I have Wes take a picture of me with the g-form case and another with the iPad. Someone else takes a picture of us. I take a couple standard summit shots of Wes and then we move down a few feet so someone else can take pictures.

Wes pulls out his sat phone (excellent service up here as one might expect considering the unobstructed nature of our location) and calls his wife and parents (in that order). I take the opportunity to call Aimee, but she never answers calls from numbers she doesn't recognize, so I leave a voicemail. I hope she is happy with herself; once in a freakin' lifetime phone call and she let's it go to voicemail. Uggh.

After about 15 minutes on the summit, we start the descent. There's no wind, bright sun light, and the visible clouds are thousands of feet below us. Still, a safe descent is a slow descent. Most everyone who gets hurt on this mountain does so during the descent. I set a very deliberate and steady pace.

We stop in the football field for more food and water. My water is freezing over. My thoughts turn to my iPad. I hope this abuse is forgiven of me.

Sadly, the descent isn't all a descent. You have to climb something less than a hundred feet to get out of the football field. It's not much but it still sucks.

We've been right behind a three-man Mountain Trip team since Pig Hill, where the front most client managed to take a small spill that was arrested by the guide, in the back. At the top of the autobahn we take a break. We're ready to go moments before the Mountain Trip team, and the guide gestures for us to go first.

Before leaving, Wes gives me all of our biners in case some biners are missing from the pickets. A lot are missing. I place biners, Wes cleans them. Clockwork. Until ... the Mountain Trip team starts yelling at us, from a distance, about stealing their biners ... which makes perfect sense, because who wouldn't want to carry extra weight down the autobahn?

We try to explain, yelling back at them, that we're doing no such thing, but that we'll leave our biners in place for them, if they'll clean them on the way down. We might not have enough to make it all the way down. We try yelling this. I'm not sure we're getting through.

A few minutes and a few anchors later, a group way in front of us yells, "look behind you!" I spin around and see two of the three in the Mountain Trip team dangling off the autobahn in pretty much the same location the Alpine Ascent team "bought-it" just a few days before. I point it out to Wes, and we start a rapid ascent back up. The guide is perched on the trail, holding the clients up. Both of the clients are in arrest position, below him.

By the time we get to him, the 7-summits Mountain Trip team has descended to him, and the perched guide encourages us to "go down and take our biners with us." Yeah, he is blaming the lack of biners on us, and the fall on the lack of biners. Awesome. We explain we have prusiks, pickets, etc., and can assist. He says the same thing again and the other guide starts setting up an anchor. They ask the two clients to climb up several feet so they can put then on belay, and then their gradual ascent begins. We hang around until we're sure everything looks good and then start our descent all over again. The sun has set. It's getting dark. Thankfully there's no wind. Perfect weather really.

After unpacking our gear and marveling in the feel of walking around without a pack, boots or crampons (it's like floating), Wes takes our collective left-over water (about a liter and a half) and warms it up. We mix it with cup-o-noodles and crash. Way dehydrated. But that's a problem for tomorrow.