Day 3

Camp at 11,000'

Rest day. I stayed in my sleeping bag until the sunshine had reached the camp. Even though it never really gets dark on the mountain, the sun circles behind the ridge and you go into the shadow. When that happens, the temperature plummets. Clothes go from a single shirt to a down jacket in a matter of minutes. In the morning, if you can, it’s best to stay in the bag until the sun is shining. For all of our elevation gain, we still haven’t got on top of anything. We are still in a valley. It is a narrow valley, less than half a mile to the south side, less than a quarter mile to the north. The south side is more interesting. Enormous blocks of snow have fallen from higher up and rolled down the slope. Some are the size of apartment buildings. Someone is ice climbing on one of them, just bouldering around. Looking up to the top of the ridge, you see the huge overhanging cliffs of ice and snow, waiting for their turn to tumble down the hill. I’m imagining the momentum and calculating the roll. It won’t get to us, but what a sight it would be. We would all love it if one of them cut loose. We didn’t get lucky that way, though. In the afternoon the sun glints on the ice higher up on the ridge. A brilliant glare of stark beauty. The north side rises perhaps a thousand feet above the campsite. It’s an avalanche waiting to happen, but the weather has been stable. There should be no danger to us. At the bottom of the hill are huge crevasses and a run out that would hold anything coming off the slope. These crevasses on the north side are where one dumps the excrement bags that the rangers gave us back at the ranger station. Excrement is why I’m up early. I’ve got to go, but while there is a latrine site, no one has dug it out. So I’m digging. When I’m finished, it’s a relief. Seems that everyone else is in the same situation. Kyle says he hasn’t had a dump since Talkeetna. Mountains and long days of effort can do that. I’m getting really regular. Living outside has that effect on me.

Punches the master latrine builder

To the west the land drops off and exposes a cinematic view of Kahiltna Dome and Mt. Foraker. Mt. Foraker is always there. To the east is Motorcycle Hill - the way up from here. It’s a bit steeper than what we’ve been on so far, but still like climbing up a staircase. Nothing technical. There’s a line of people going up it that from the distance makes it look like an anthill. There are some crevasses on it, so we’ll have to rope up when it’s our turn to ascend. We will stash our skis here and use crampons from here on up.

There are a maybe 50 people camped here. It’s a scene, not as Disneyland as base camp, but still has a feel more like a KOA than a desolate wilderness.

It’s a beautiful day. Below freezing, but it feels warm in the sun. Light winds, powder snow, blue sky. Here we are at 11,000.’ It’s like a perfect ski day at the top of Vail, Colorado. I’m feeling good, but telling myself to rest today. Don’t push it. We still have a long way to go. We are still 3,000' below the 14,200' camp, and that is only half of the total elevation gain we must climb. But by noon, half the team is too antsy to rest. David, Kyle, and Dove say they are going to go down to 7,800' and retrieve their caches. Punches, Ryan, and I say we want to rest. The others plan to rest tomorrow while we go on a cache retrieval run. David was practically hopping from one foot to the other. He is so excited to be on the mountain, and can’t stand to sit still while the weather is good. He says he feels like a million bucks and maybe tomorrow, on his rest day, he will climb Kahiltna Dome. A peak across the valley to the west. We’ll see if that happens. Yet this expedition is a lifelong dream come true for him. And as a leader, he’s going way beyond the call of duty. He carries more than his share of the loads. He jumps in and melts snow, builds walls, puts out unceasing activity and is always helping others. All with no bragging or resentment, or critical comments. He’s really putting out, doing absolutely all he can to make the climb a success.

Punches is our snow expert, and he declared the trail from 7,800' to the 11,200' camp to be safe from crevasses. The snow seems firm and the snow bridges more than adequate. So we will forego the rope while we retrieve the 7,800' caches. It will be great to travel without being roped up. Especially skiing downhill. I don’t think any of us are looking forward to roped downhill skiing with sleds. But that’s a long way off.

After the skiers depart, I’m reading a book and Punches goes into engineer mode. He rebuilds the functional, but hardly accommodating, latrine that I had built. Using the shovel and the snow saw to cut blocks, he constructs a truly luxurious commode. Dump hole on one side and pee hole on the other. You can actually sit down on the toilet. Well, you’re sitting on snow, but it’s better than squatting, which is what I’m used to. The plastic bag that collects the outfall is held in place by trail wands. We’re all quite impressed and lavish praise on this obvious effort of love. Punches says he likes to sit down in the bathroom.

Climbers ascending Motorcycle Hill beyond the 11,000' camp

Ryan reported that he had found the football in his pack. But he carried it anyway. I told you he was strong! He also reported that yesterday he started having a sort throat, and today he had a cold. So now we have illness to deal with. He spent the day in his sleeping bag inside his tent.

The sun is so intense here. The camp is at the bottom of a bowl of peaks. In the sun, one could run around in a swimming suit, except you’d need boots for your feet. Yet inside the tent the little bits of snow that somehow always find their way in are not melting. Truly a foreign environment.

Even though I rested all day, sleep comes easily.