Fathers' Day morning the sky was clear and the winds were almost non-existent at 17,200 feet. When I climbed out of the tent around 9 am (after a heavy carry the day before of all of our gear from our cache at 16,200 feet) I saw almost everyone in camp either on the route to the summit or preparing to do so.
Matt and I talked and decided that we felt good enough to give it a go. We called our families and then prepared to head up and join the throng of climbers. The first stretch of the summit climb is a long traverse to basically Denali Pass. It is about 800 feet of elevation gain on a steep side slope with a long runout to crevasses down below. Thankfully, there are fixed protection anchors that rope teams can clip into along the route.
About halfway up the traverse the weather started to change. The cloud ceiling lowered and the winds picked up. As we turned the corner at Denali Pass and headed up the route, the clouds thickened. Visibility at this point was probably about 20 feet. We could hear flightseeing planes flying overhead and around us, so we figured that higher up we would punch out of the clouds.
Not long after Denali Pass a huge bottleneck of climbers and rope teams developed. The terrain was steep and icy in places and again we needed to use fixed anchors for protection. There was little to no room to allow us to pass other teams safely. Often we were just standing and waiting to move. Maybe we would take a few steps, just start to get the groove, and then, the whole line of climbers would stop. This was both mentally and physically challenging. We really benefited during most of the climb from being able to set our own pace and keep it steady. We both felt strong the entire trip, even with huge amounts of weight.
The picture above is of the only short time that the clouds opened up. On the left are the Archdeacons Towers. The elevation here is around 19,000 feet. One member of a two-man team abandoned his teammate because he was too slow. He kept asking people to check on the man for him. Soon after this picture, the weather closed in. The clouds socked us in and the wind picked up. Icy accumulations built up on the beards of the climbers.
Near the base of Pig Hill, I really began to feel out of breath. I did not have the typical symptoms of altitude sickness that I was used to--no headache or stomach ache--I just could not catch my breath. A short time later around 19,500 ft, Matt noticed that I was slurring my speech and having trouble with balance. I really did not believe him. I did not feel these symptoms. Just then, a guide walked by and confirmed what Matt said--I was definitely slurring my speech. If you know about High Altitude Cerebral Edema, then you know how serious this problem can be. We sat at 19,900 ft for several minutes, I really wanted to push on, but my excellent teammate knew better.
Three other issues weighed heavily in on the decision to descend--the long line of ascending climbers still above us, our cold feet, and the increasingly poor weather. With tears in my eyes, I agreed to descend. It was very difficult to accept defeat after almost a year of planning and preparing.
We made it safely back to our tent, but it took several hours of careful navigation and precise crampon and ice axe placements. As we came down the traverse from Denali Pass, another rope team caught up with us, and their lead climber slid--only to be caught by his rope teammates. We also saw the guy who was abandoned by his teammate. He was struggling across this dangerous traverse unroped! Matt offered him our rope to tie in with us, but he refused. Thankfully, he made it back to camp safely.
Through the rapidly reducing visibility, we finally found our tent at high camp and crashed for the night around 9 pm--making summit day about 10 hours long. We were vaguely aware that something was going on through the night. We found out later via the rangers and Skeet, the volunteer doctor from Alpine Rescue who is spending a month on the mountain, that several rescues and one search kept them busy all night.
A guide and one of his climbers had fallen into a crevasse on the Denali Pass Traverse, three Brazilian climbers had gotten lost in the reduced visibility and one had lost a glove. Two of them suffered moderate frostbite to the hands and feet. There were also several other cases of frostbite reported the next day.
Our decision to turn around seemed better by the minute. If we would have pushed on to the summit, we would most certainly been at least two hours later descending and thereby dealing with the same bottlenecks coming down the difficult terrain. It is humbling to realize how quickly conditions change and just how fortunate many climbers were that night. Matt made the point that there is no telling just how many people were so close to disaster but avoided it either by luck or skill. It could have been a lot worse that night.
After careful consideration, we decided to end our summit plans and headed down. On Tuesday we marched from 14,200 ft camp (starting at 3 pm) all the way to base camp at 7,200 ft (arriving at 2 am). Exhausted, we threw our pads down, pulled out our sleeping bags and slept under the midnight sun in the warm 30-degree air. We both agreed that this was the best night of sleep we had the whole trip.
Wednesday morning at 10 am we were flown back to Talkeetna, made arrangements for transportation to Anchorage, and flights, and our adventure was wrapping up.
We are back home safe and sound enjoying our families and friends. We are still close friends and in fact, maybe closer now. We functioned well together, and I look forward to climbing for many years with Matt.
Check http://www.thesummitridge.com in the coming days for picture galleries and more stories from our outstanding adventure.
