Denali 20,320 ft.

At the age of 14, I made my first trip up to Alaska to attempt Mt. McKinley (Denali), the tallest mountain in North America. I was a member of a very strong guided group. My tent mate on that trip was Dr. Rob Casserley. During our three week stay (10 days of which were spent fighting for our lives in a huge storm that eventually cost us the summit), we became good friends. After Denali, Rob would go on to climb Everest four times.

As for my story, I got invited back to Denali with the same guides, not as a client, but a guide in training. I was responsible for carrying extra weight (which amounted to about 90 lbs. in my pack and a 100 lb sled), cooking a lot of the meals (often times I had to get up at two am to get breakfast ready), leading rope teams, and catering to our client’s every waking needs. I learned a lot about myself and the mountains on that trip. At first, the extra responsibilities were almost too much, but after a week or so at that pace, I was hungry for more challenges. At the end of the day, after a hard climb, I began to get used to the cook tent and the roar of the stoves rather than the peace and quiet of my sleeping bag.

Our team and I made it all the way to the high camp at 17,200 ft., but once again Denali’s miserable weather cost the summit and almost our lives. I was thrown up in the air by a rogue gust, and the other guides and I frequently got lost in a blizzard no more than 30 ft. from our tents. A tent nearly collapsed after a night particularly bad winds (100 mph plus), and the next morning we threw in the towel.

Sitting back in the small town of Talkeetna after a nightmarish 48 hr.-all-out-retreat to base camp, the guides gave me their prognosis on my future as a guide. The verdict: I was still 15 and therefore they legally couldn’t pay me. Guiding is a full time 24 hours-7 days a week job, and they would break every single child labor law if they tried to hire me. Also, I had a limited availability due to the fact that I was still in high school and a majority of the climbing season was when class was still in session. They told me to keep climbing and get back to them when I was ready to guide for them. I took their words and our defeat on the mountain hard, but my resolve to climb Denali or lead an expedition was not shaken.

2004 was my shining year. After returning from Alaska, my father suggested that he and I attempt Denali the following summer. I told him I felt comfortable organizing and leading an expedition, but perhaps a “training” climb was in order. We settled on Cerro Aconcagua, South America’s tallest mountain (22,821 ft.). On December 22, 2003, we flew into Mendoza, Argentina. With the worst jetlag I have ever had, we arranged the logistics for our expedition: Enough food and fuel to last us for three weeks, bus transport from Mendoza to the trail head in the small resort town of Penetentes, near the Chilean border, and mule transport to our base camp. Within a day or two we were on our way, and by Christmas Eve, my father and I were celebrating our arrival at base camp over large steaks and a bottle of Argentine wine. We began our true climb on the 26th, and feeling very strong, we made our push to high camp (19,000 ft.) on December 31st, nearly a week ahead of our schedule. New Years day donned clear and beautiful, and my father and I made good time to the summit. We arrived back at our high camp in time to make some food for our wasted bodies, and watch one of the most beautiful sunsets I have ever seen. In summiting safely and quickly, I had an immediate confidence boost. It was now time to try my hand one last time on Denali.

Denali has many crevasses. I didn’t feel comfortable traveling on the glacier roped to just my dad. I have practiced crevasse rescue with a two person rope team, and it isn’t fun. I thus began looking for at least one more team mate. Rob was the obvious choice. He had since climbed Everest twice, was a fairly conservative climber and was a doctor. He immediately and enthusiastically accepted my offer and even added two more of his friends to our roster. I spent months preparing the logistics for our trip. I spent hours in the kitchen making a very detailed menu, and my father and I arrived in Anchorage three days in advance to buy enough food and provisions for the five of us. On June 20, 2004, we began our trek up the Kahiltna Glacier to the upper reaches of Denali. Though I was 16, I was leading the team and along with Rob, calling the shots. With perfect weather and a good sense of camaraderie, we made a great team. On July 1st, 2004 I stood arm and arm with my father on the summit. I’m not going to lie, I cried. I was so happy to share such a great moment with my family. Three days later, back in the small funky town of Talkeetna, we all had a great Fourth of July. Not only was my team there with me, but also several friends who I have met over the years (including the guides I had worked with).

Since Denali, I have made countless ventures out to the Sierras and Cascades as well as a 100 mile thru hike across the Continental Divide Trail. Many of the student fire fighters I live with share a passion for fitness and the outdoors, and have become some of my climbing partners. The challenges of attending a major university have limited my ability to go travel to far off destinations. While some may criticize the difficulty of some of California's "lesser peaks," we have made most of our ascents very "interesting." Memorable trips include a failed summit attempt on Mt. Shasta (bad avalanche conditions forced us to retreat), in which we left at 10 pm, climbed through the night and snowboarded down to the trailhead, and a night time hike up Half Dome. Though I haven't pushed myself to the highest altitudes in a little while, I am training harder and climbing stronger than ever before.