News Choose 2003-08 2003-07 2003-06

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Expedition Excelsior

Denali, or Mt. McKinley as it has also been called, stands 6193 meters tall on the 63rd parallel, exposed to the elements in the midst of the Alaskan wilderness. The Americans have branded it the coldest mountain in the world, and we prepare for sustained temperatures of down to negative 40. The expedition kicks off on July first, when we hope to leave Kahiltna Base Camp at 2200 meters for the near 4000 meter climb to the summit, strap on our skis and do what we came for in the first place. Get a taste of that cold and dry Alaskan powder.

Our dream of skiing the Se7en Summits was born in Alaska, on the 6193 meters tall Denali, supposedly the coldest mountain in the world. With the help of two small single engine prop aircraft we were flown from Talkeetna, the town at the end of the world, onto the Kahiltna Glacier at the foot of the mountain, far out in the limitless Alaskan wilderness. We were the last climbers on the mountain. The climbing season was coming to an end, and whether or not the conditions on the ground would allow for us to be picked up again on coming back from the mountains, was far from certain. The alternative would be a three week hike back to civilization through “Grizzly country”, so we were all keeping our fingers crossed.

Pulling sleds overloaded with climbing gear and supplies for over a month, we began skiing up towards the mountains. Progress was slow because of the high altitude and the weight of our loads. After a week of hard labour, we had reached just over 4200 meters and established our Advanced Base Camp from where we would launch our attack on the summit.

Suddenly we heard an alarming news report on the radio. “The storm of the century is headed for Denali. Several climbers are trapped on the mountain, with no way of knowing what’s to come.”

The news gave us time to prepare, and the forecast had given us 48 hours until the storm would hit. 48 hours, and possibly this season’s last shot at reaching the summit. But there was still time.

Martin’s feet were damaged from the long approach, preventing him from attempting the summit so soon, but Olof decided to make a run for it together with our two Norwegian team mates Tomas and Audun. It would have to be a “speed attempt”, and the group immediately left camp, dressed in all their cold weather gear while Martin remained to fortify our camp for the events to come.

Climbing quickly the group soon reached the top of the “Head Wall”, continuing along the West Buttress towards and passing the traditional High Camp site at 5200 meters. A traverse over a steep section named the “Autobahn” (given its name after a German expedition that was lost in a fall on this stretch) followed before reaching Denali Pass. 30 hours had passed as the flat sections of the Football Field were finally reached. With the summit ridge only meters away, the foreboding lentil shaped clouds appeared, signalling the imminent approach of the storm. The forecast had been wrong. Time was up, and with a mere two hours left to the summit, the group turned around, skiing down as quickly as possible, returning to camp just as gale force winds descended on our tents.

Digging in we spent the next five days battling it out with the elements, while Martin’s feet slowly began to heal. When the winds finally did subside, meters upon meters of snow had fallen, burying the climbing route above us. We stared at the now unclimbable face in disappointment and naively tried to discard the avalanche risk, when a distant thud was suddenly heard and the entire side of the mountain came crashing down towards us, engulfing us in an impenetrable white cloud. When the snow settled, we were presented with the 1000 meter wide tracks from the avalanche, having had the good manner to turn away and pass our camp with about 50 meters to spare. The coast was clear, the route secured. The following day we climbed the avalanche path in perfect sunshine to the top of North America. On the evening of the 19th of July the summit was reached and we could, on tired legs, ski the steep snow fields and glaciers down to Base Camp, where after two days of preparing the runway, a “gung-ho” bush-pilot finally managed to land his plane and take us back to civilization. The expedition was a success and we returned home to prepare for our next adventure.