Climbing in Alaska has been a dream of mine for a long time. I've always associated the Alaskan big mountains with serious alpinism, as if everything else I've done is somehow not quite the same thing. From May 14th to the 28th, my dad, Paul Kaster, and I made the dream come true.

 Our plan was to fly into the Alaska Range and stay at Kahiltna Base Camp (sometimes called Kahiltna International Airport, or KIA) and live among the Denali suitors to climb what's become known as the "basecamp circuit" of technical routes of moderate length, by Alaska standards anyway. More serious alpinists often use these routes as warm ups for some of the giant, career-defining climbs that lurk around the Kahiltna.  As with most things, our plan didn't survive first contact with the enemy. The Alaska Range experienced a fairly abnormal chunk of finicky weather and a load of bad snow, keeping most of the technical climbers in camp. Still, we had an incredible time.

Day 1: May 14, 2016

I flew out of Boston at 7am headed for Seattle. Already, the trip was off to a great start. Alaska Airlines is the best-run airline I have the memory of using. A gate agent met me as I staggered into the terminal with my 125lbs of gear and checked me in using a tablet she was carrying around with her. No waiting in line? I'll take it!  The security line was much more manageable than other airlines at Logan, so in no time I was waiting at the gate. The long flight to Seattle was uneventful, though it was pretty cool to view the entire country passing underneath as we flew past.  There really isn't much in Eastern Montana.

If the flight from Boston to Seattle was pleasant, the flight from Seattle to Anchorage was breathtaking. We had spectacularly clear weather and the pure beauty of the British Columbian coastline was visible during the flight. Eventually we flew over the Alaskan panhandle and the icy peaks of the Wrangell-St Elias range offered us a rare cloud-free view. I saw many summits I've only read about: Mt Waddington, Devil's Thumb, Mt Fairweather, Mt St Elias, Mt Logan, Mt Wrangell, Mt Blackburn. It was inspiring, to say the least. I believe a direct quote when I met Paul off the plane was "I'm so fucking stoked!" There might have been a few "holy shits" in there as well. Dad and Paul picked me up at the airport and we finished our last minute shopping and logistics.

Pure beauty

Kluane Glacier meeting the ocean

Chugach from the descent into Anchorage

Loaded up with the essentials

Day 2: May 15th, 2016

We scheduled a shuttle from Talkeetna Taxi to pick us up at 9am and drive us to Talkeetna, a small village just south of the Alaska Range where we would pick up our plane to fly into the range. We had reservations with Talkeetna Air Taxi (TAT), the best glacier landing company in the business, though the were actually for the next day. Since we knew they didn't exactly keep the tight schedule of a commercial airline, we thought we might as well head to Talkeetna early and see if we could fly into the range a day early.

Our driver's name was Joe and he gave us a general tour of the Anchorage area as we chatted and laid out our plans. On the way north from Anchorage we saw a magnificent peak with a sheer north face rising dramatically from the valley. Joe informed us that it was Pioneer Peak, and that it was regularly climbed. We stored that little bit of information away for later.

Once at the TAT headquarters, they informed us they could fly us in later that afternoon. We jumped right in, weighing and tagging all our gear and registering with the National Park Service. We got the plane loaded and waited for word. Things on the Kahiltna Glacier sounded iffy, with low visibility and snow showers moving through. We hung around TAT for a while, making friends with the other folks waiting to fly in. There was a guided group from Mountain Trip, a Colorado based guide company who were flying in to do the West Buttress route on Denali. The West Buttress is by far the most popular climb in the Alaska Range, and it is commonly guided. It's not technical, but it does require multiple weeks of glacier slogging up to 20,000 feet. The other climber coming in with us was Will Mayo, a very serious alpinist who already had his stuff on the glacier. He'd been making progress on Deprivation, a Mark Twight route up the North Buttress of Mt Hunter. He'd flown out to Talkeetna for some R&R and was ready to head back in. I tried not to fanboy too much.

We finally got the go ahead to fly, though the weather on the Kahiltna was still looking dicey. Our pilot was Paul Roderick himself, founder and owner of TAT and highly regarded as one of the best bush pilots in Alaska, and we were about to get a demonstration.

TAT has the most accurate forecasting model in the business

Photo: Paul Kaster

Paul and Dad with our huge pile of gear 

Getting ready to fly in

Photo: Paul Kaster

The flight into the Alaska Range is breathtaking. There's no wonder it's such a popular tourist activity, despite the cost. The forests of Talkeetna quickly gave way to Alaskan tundra, which quickly became buried under snow and ice. The whole flight takes about 35 minutes.

The Talkeetna River

"Foothills" of the Alaska Range

As we flew closer, it became evident the weather was not improving. We flew around and between narrow spires and ice-capped peaks, looking for a window into the mist. We didn't find one. We made it nearly to base camp when we hit a wall of cloud solid enough to scoop with a spoon. This was where Paul's skill really showed. Flying up the lower Kahiltna glacier, with only a mile or two of space between the massive walls of Mt Hunter and Mt Foraker, Paul effortlessly executed an impromptu holding pattern and we turned circles while maintaining elevation in low visibility, waiting and hoping for a gap in the clouds. I don't know much about flying, but I know enough to be impressed.

Flying through the region of the Alaska Range known as Little Switzerland

Enormous crevasses on the lower Kahiltna Glacier

Paul eventually decided to call it. We flew back out and landed again in Talkeetna. When we stepped off the plane, Will was ecstatic. Apparently he's a pilot himself, and he had just witnessed the most impressive bit of flying he'd ever seen. No matter that we didn't get to land, we'd try again later. Paul R. told us to check in again later that evening, and he'd decide if we'd try again. Paul K and Dad and I headed into town and grabbed some food and waited.

Finally, around 6:30pm, we got the go ahead to fly again. This time the weather system had moved out, and we were pretty sure we could land. We hadn't unloaded the plane, so it took all of five minutes for us to be heading for the runway again. The views in the afternoon light were incredible.

Ruth Glacier and the Mooses Tooth

The enormous Kahiltna Glacier. It's hard to tell scale here, but the glacier is a mile or two wide at this point.

The summit of Mt Foraker (17,402') showing through the clouds

Photo: Paul Kaster

We landed safely at KIA, the wheels on our plane lifted up and out of the way of the skis. We unloaded all our crap and found a nice place to dig in for camp. Unlike most of the people who come through basecamp, we were planning to be there for a while. We found a sweet spot near the middle of base camp with a partially filled in kitchen left by a previous party. We only did enough to set up our tents, and then hit the sack.

Paul Roderick maintaining his baby at KIA

Photo: Paul Kaster

Camp for the night. One of our potential objectives: the Southwest Ridge of Mt Frances, forms the right skyline.

Day 3: May 16th, 2016

I awoke early the next morning after some of the best sleep I've ever had. I unzipped my tent and gasped. The weather had cleared, and the early morning sun was illuminating the 17,000 foot summit of Mt Foraker, one of the Alaska Range's Big Three (Mt Hunter and Denali are the other two). I can see why people think this is the most beautiful camp in the world. We spent most of the day digging in and finishing setting up our camp. While we did that, TAT and a couple of the other air services continued to land climbers on the glacier.

Early morning light on Mt Foraker (17,402') one of the Alaska Range's Big Three

Designated pee hole, melted all the way down to the bowels of the glacier

The whole day was beautiful

Photo: Paul Kaster

Our indoor/outdoor kitchen all set up

Another view of our camp. Mt Frances on the left, Peak 12,200 on the right, and the South Face of Denali showing in the middle. The Cassin Ridge is the spur that faces us, splitting the South Face

Photo: Paul Kaster

Day 4: May 17th, 2016

The next day we awoke to a bit of a white out. Since we didn't get out and do anything the day before, we really wanted to do something today. We decided on a commonly guided route up the East Ridge of Radio Control Tower, a small summit just off base camp. It was good for us since it had some crevasse navigation, a little bit of ice fall exposure, and a sweet, exposed Alaskan snow ridge to warm us up.

Prepping to leave camp in a white out

Navigating crevasses in a white out becomes a bit more exciting

Climbing toward the bergschrund after we cached our skis

A little bit of clearing for the climb over the bergschrund to the ridge

Approaching the summit

Photo: Paul Kaster

Our first Alaskan summit!

Photo: Paul Kaster

On the descent

Photo: Paul Kaster

Skies finally began to clear on our descent

Basecamp is the small line of black dots in the shadow of the mountain

Pretty good skiing on the way back to camp

Busy day at KIA

Day 5: May 18th, 2016

Day 5 brought pretty good weather, so we decided to skin up into the Southeast Fork of the Kahiltna and check out some of our main objectives. We skied past the mind-boggling North Buttress of Mt Hunter and scoped out a couple of smaller buttresses, known as the Mini-Moonflower, and the Micro-Moonflower (or Mini-Mini). These buttresses offer the same kind of steep, technical climbing as the famous North Buttress, but on a much smaller scale. We also wanted to check out the West Face of Kahiltna Queen, though we were already pretty certain that avalanche danger would make it too dangerous for us to climb.

Skinning up the Southeast Fork with the summit of Foraker in the clouds

A look at Kahiltna Queen from the base of the Mini Moonflower Buttress

The Mini Moonflower Buttress (right) and the Micro Moonflower (center-left). The North Couloir of the Mini Moonflower (AI5, 1000m) is the striking ice gully leading up to the ridge on the left skyline of the buttress. Bacon and Eggs (AI 4, 500m) is a more complicated line winding through rock bands on the Micro-Moonflower buttress.

Best part about approaching on skis? The skiing back out!

We decided we liked the look of Bacon and Eggs and set that as our plan for the next day. We got back to camp early then packed, ate, and headed for bed.

Day 6: May 19th, 2016

We departed camp at 2am and retraced our skin track back to the base of Bacon and Eggs. I'd had a tough time sleeping since I was so nervous/excited. This was going to be the biggest ice climb I'd ever attempted, by far, and it was going to be up to me to lead the crux pitches.  I pushed the pace up the skin track perhaps a little too fast. We arrived at the base and cached our skis, then switched to climbing boots and racked up. Dad led the initial snow slopes and the bergschrund, which was difficult and took us a long time to cross.

Skinning to the base of Bacon and Eggs early in the morning

Dad leading the initial snow slopes to the bergschrund. The crux starts at the narrow gully splitting the rock band ahead of us

Paul crossing the bergschrund

Myself taking over lead for the ice pitches

Photo: Paul Kaster

Dad following the 2nd pitch

Dad leading the 3rd pitch

So I've read about this heinous thing, 60 degree Alaska gray ice. This primeval stuff is nearly bulletproof, taking an incredible amount of energy to climb due to the impenetrable nature of the ice. Unlike the waterfall ice I climb back in New Hampshire, I found it very difficult to get rests on this stuff. The only thing that worked was hacking out a little ledge with your ice tool so you could get off your calves for a little bit. It was brutal and exhausting climbing, what Will Mayo later described as "blue collar climbing," due to it's very physical nature. I looked up at the crux pitches getting closer and I came up with many excuses: It was the first ice climbing I'd done since March due to the warm season in NH, it was harder than normal due to the brittle coating on the outside of the ice, I hadn't slept a lot the night before, I hadn't eaten enough...the list goes on.

The truth is, I was intimidated and thoroughly worked. I didn't think I could safely lead the crux pitches, even though they looked awesome and it was exactly the kind of thing I'd spent years dreaming about and training for. We bailed. There would always be next time, right?

We skied back out with me dragging my tail between my legs. As we were passing the North Buttress, someone was skinning up the skin track making really great time. We got closer and he hailed us, wanting to know about conditions. I was not prepared.

"Holy shit! You're Raphael Slawinski!" Dammit. Way to go, fanboy.  Raphael is another very serious alpinist from Calgary. He's also a career role model of mine, as a professor of Physics and a Piolet d'Or winning alpinist who does hard ascents around the world.  He was nice about my gushing, though, and we were able to talk business. We told him what we found and turns out he and his partner Juan were camped not more than 100 feet behind us at basecamp.  They were hoping to get on the North Buttress of Hunter.

Skiing back to camp after bailing off Bacon and Eggs

Doing what I call "Alpinist Yoga" due to the cramping in my quads

Day 7: May 20th, 2016

Day 7 we awoke to a lot of fallen snow and a lot of snow falling. Nobody at camp stirred, and since we got spanked yesterday we decided we could use the rest. We gathered in the cook tent for a big breakfast of pancakes, powdered eggs, potatoes and sausage, then retired to our tents for the rest of the day.

Snowy day at camp

Kindles make passing time in camp much easier

The other thing to do is snuggle up and take selfies of your sunburned nose

Day 8: May 21st, 2016

The snow continued through the night and into the next morning, but the temperature dropped significantly which meant we could go out and play in the snow without as much danger of getting soaked. We decided to skin up another fork of the glacier to check out the approach to the East Ridge of Mt Frances, which would be the descent route should we attempt the Southwest Ridge and a fine ascent in it's own right. We again set off in more or less a white out and navigated the crevasse field to the base of the East Ridge access couloir.

We found seriously soft snow conditions in the couloir and I set off a small storm slab when I skied the bottom of the couloir. We realized that the snow would have to consolidate significantly if we were going to be able to ascend or descend that route.

Navigating another crevasse field in a white out

Booting up the East Ridge Couloir

Photo: Paul Kaster

Skiing the East Ridge Couloir

Photo: Paul Kaster

Skiing back out in a white out is a bit harder

Day 9: May 22nd, 2016

More unsettled weather arrived through the night and into the morning. I wasn't feeling so hot, so I elected to stay in camp while Paul and Dad skinned up the West Buttress route a bit, to see what things were like. I gather they made decent time up the glacier route, passing 7800' camp and making it about halfway up Ski Hill before deciding to turn around. On route, they met a friend-of-a-friend of mine, Jimmy, who works for Alaska Mountaineering School. I was really bummed I wasn't there as well. We'll climb together soon Jimmy, I promise!

Back at camp I felt a little better, and got to work refilling our water stores. It's not small task to melt enough snow for water for three people. While I was putzing around camp, Raphael came by and we had a bit of a chat about the conditions, and moving on to alpinism in general. I was feeling better about bailing on Bacon and Eggs, and I was getting into the appropriate headspace to give it another serious go. I really appreciate all his advice

Day 10: May 23rd, 2016.

I was feeling a lot better, and the weather gave us a brief window. Paul was still tanked from the long ski yesterday, so Dad and I decided we'd re-establish the skin track up to Bacon and Eggs in the hope that the good weather lasted enough to give us another shot at it. We found the faces in the Southeast fork of the Kahiltna were seriously loaded with snow. It would take at least a day of sunshine to get those faces stable enough to climb again.

Denali finally appears again, a few hundred feet from basecamp. The West Face of Radio Control Tower (right) looked incredibly dangerous

Dad skinning through the powder on the way to Bacon and Eggs. Check out all the snow on the North Buttress of Hunter

Day 11: May 24th, 2016

We awoke to clear skies and cold temps. It was the coldest morning we'd had by far, so it got my hopes up that things might have stabilized enough to climb. I gave Dad the go ahead and we climbed out of the tent and prepped to make another attempt at Bacon and Eggs. Paul elected to stay behind again, his hip was bothering him and he didn't want to make us miss what might be our only chance at the route. Almost as soon as I was ready to leave, a massive serac came crashing down the North Face of Mt Hunter (not to be confused with the North Buttress, which is the big wall everyone wants to climb). This massive avalanche swept debris completely across the valley, though most of it was pounded into dust by the time it reached our skin track.

Finally a clear and cold morning...

Clear and cold, and anything but calm. A massive serac fall caused an avalanche on the North Face of Hunter, sweeping across the entire Southeast fork and burying our skin track in pulverized debris

Dad and I skinned up toward Bacon and Eggs anyway, avalanches on the North Face of Hunter were a nearly daily occurrence. We made good time into the Southeast Fork, but every time I looked up I saw more sloughs and avalanches. We stopped and watched, and I lost count at 25 avalanches in about 20 minutes. Even Alaska Range noobs like us knew what that meant. So we turned around and skied amazing snow back to camp.

Dad skinning in the early morning with a sunlit Foraker in the background

Another avalanche coming down the North Face of Hunter

I managed to catch a beautiful avalanche coming down the North Couloir on the Mini-Moonflower. As soon as the light touched one of those corniced ridges, the faces went wild. 

Nothing to do but ski home and admire the surreal beauty of the valley we were in

We made it back to camp still early in the morning. We told Paul what we had found, and Raphael and Juan were interested in our report as well. We discussed our options and got another weather forecast. It would appear that this weather window would end in a few hours, and the next one wouldn't be for a couple of days. We could either sit and wait out the storm, hoping that the next window would arrive soon enough and last long enough to give us one more shot at Bacon and Eggs, or we could see if we could fly out while the weather was good. We eventually opted to fly out and seek other options elsewhere. We remembered our shuttle driver Joe and his mentioning of a peak in the Chugach called Pioneer Peak, so we kept that in the back of our minds. 

We passed much of our leftover food and fuel on to Juan and Raphael, who lamented our leaving. Apparently our stoke to get out and do something each day even while the weather was crappy was shaming them into getting out for the day. I have to admit, I felt a bit of pride at that. We also said goodbye to a new friend Riley, who had set up camp near us a few days before. This intrepid soloist from California had been the first one dropped off at basecamp for the season at the beginning of May. Having never been to Denali before, he put in the trail by himself all the way to 14,000' camp, where he acclimated and summited the West Buttress route all to put him in position to solo the Cassin Ridge, one of Denali's classic hard alpine climbs.  Unfortunately the bad weather we had at basecamp was worse at 14k camp, so he had come down.  Still, a seriously impressive trip.

I was really bummed to be leaving basecamp, especially without accomplishing really any of the goals we had set out. Such is the nature of alpinism, however, especially in Alaska. I've learned that you don't come to the Alaska Range to conquer, you come to do what it lets you.  The skiing was friggin awesome, though. If this had been a ski trip, I'd have been ecstatic with all that we did.

Our plane picked us up at 3:30pm and we were off to Talkeetna. Another super gorgeous flight out let us say goodbye to the Alaska Range as we headed for hot showers. Once in Talkeetna, we checked out at the ranger station (in front of many wide eyed tourists I might add, not sure if they were wide eyed because we looked like hardcore, grizzled alpinists or that we smelled like hardcore, grizzled alpinists). A meal and a hot shower later, and we were back on a shuttle heading for Anchorage, where His Colonelness Paul was able to get us lodging at Ellmendorf Airforce Base for the next few days.  To our surprise and his, Joe was our shuttle driver again and so we pressed him for more info about Pioneer Peak. 

Leaving the Alaska Range. Denali dominates the skyline, and if you look really closely, you can se the tiny dots and lines of KIA on the right hand fork of the glacier, below the little spire of Radio Control Tower

Back in Talkeetna, eagerly awaiting comfy shoes

Stay tuned for Alaska 2016 Part 2: Getting our asses kicked in the Chugach!