Day 11

We left camp about the same time as yesterday, but had no traffic that slowed us down on the Headwall. We stopped and picked up our caches at 16.2, threw them on top of everything else, and continued uphill. This would be a single carry to 17. No more double carries. An important milestone for me. I was moving slow and whining, so David took the tent from me. What a horse!

The ridge to 17

Looking back down the ridge

Although I was huffing and puffing, the ridge above 16.2 was a blast. We had another perfect day. All sun, no wind to speak of. The ridge is steep, and you have to watch your step on the narrow trail that winds in and out of the rocks. There are fixed lines for about 50' and a large rock called Washburn’s Thumb, after Brad Washburn, one of the true pioneers of Denali climbing.

Approaching a large rock named Washburn's Thumb

David disappearing over the ridge skyline

Airy, steep, with views in all directions, the ridge walk was a pleasure for the eyes and heart, but my lungs were struggling. It was physically a tough day for me. I was feeling the altitude. I hoped that I could make a quick one-night recovery before the summit push. I finally trudged into camp about 5:30 PM. Eight hours to go 1.75 miles and 3,000 vertical feet. Of course the single carry meant that the pack was especially heavy. I didn’t notice the weight, I was breathing too hard. In camp, working on pounding down my third quart of water, we heard the weather report that the winds at High Camp were supposed to increase to 30 mph on Tuesday, the day after tomorrow. Then increase to 50 mph Wednesday and 70 mph Thursday. So we had to go for the summit tomorrow. No choice of a rest day, not that any of us wanted one. We wanted the summit.

David on the airy ridge

Dove on the ridge to 17 with Foraker in the distance

David cresting out on the ridge with the summit in the distance

High Camp at 17,200'

Dove feeling good at High Camp

Punches feeling the altitude

Boys will be boys

Dove on top of his world

While I wasn’t in pain, I was tired, and my stomach felt queasy. But the worst problem was my breathing. I would start to drift off to sleep, then wake up with a start, feeling like someone had put a plastic bag over my head. I couldn’t breathe! Then I would breathe hard and forcefully for a minute or so and feel ok. Drifting off to sleep it would cycle all over again. I had read about this in a book, it’s a common syndrome at altitude, but knowing that didn’t make it any more comfortable. I even woke David up and asked for some of his drugs, but he said there weren’t any that worked fast enough to help me. Then sometime in the middle of the night, my body acclimated and I slept like a baby. Weird. This was not good for my body. And I thought to myself, do I really need this sort of thing in my life to be happy? At that point, I just wanted to go home. Go home and rest.