Climbing Denali Day Three
“Good morning,” we hear from the outside of the tent. “The sky is a bit cloudy, but we are going to make the move for the cache today,” Hannah explains at 3am. We had packed our bags and went to bed with the mindset that we would cache, but there was a weather report predicting a low pressure system, so we were unsure if moving was going to be possible.
Eating a quick breakfast, we were on the trail within an hour and a half. A bit slower than we had wanted, but double checking the small details are important. Even though it was 4:30 in the morning, the sky was bright. Thankfully, the clouds kept the heat away as we started up camp one’s exit hill. Pulling our sleds with a half load, my hip flexors thanked me. They were sore from the day before.
Contemplation during a slower than expected morning at Camp 2 on Mount Denali in Alaska. Photograph by Dalton Johnson
Up the hill, step after step, time moved quickly. One hour, a second hour, three hours later and we were still on our way up. Crossing hundreds of creases, the danger became more acute. Some were large and exposed, forcing us to cross snow bridges. Others were small, but boot holes from others punching threw the bridges caught my attention. Looking down into the boot punches as I walked by, there was bottom. Only a blue-black hole stretching towards downward. Gulping, I made my strides count and was grateful we were traveling early in the morning so the snow bridges were frozen solid.
The distance between death and life have become recognizably closer over these last few years in my life. Between big wave surfing, rock climbing, and mountaineering, the ever present reality of life fuels me. In many ways, I wish I chose the safe route, but I also know this course keeps me alive. Without taking many days for granted, I mitigate the risks to my best ability, but realize tomorrow is not a guarantee.
Unpacking the gear we will cache at 10,000 feet on Mount Denali in Alaska. Photograph by Dalton Johnson
After four hours of walking, we reached our cache spot, grabbed some water and food, then begun digging 1.5 meters deep. I’ll be honest, my role is to photograph on this trip, so I did not lift a shovel. Sitting on the sideline is not my favorite endeavor, but I made the most of my time, recording the process from ever angle I could imagine. Even asking one of the guides to toss a shovel full of snow on me, to get a sweet transitional b-roll shot.
“What are we thinking, base layer descent?” Hannah questions.
“Um, I don’t know about that. It could be a bit cold.” I chirped.
“If one us does it, we all need to do it.” Shawn says.
“I’m down, but if I get cold, you’re goin to hear the baby voice coming out of me,” I semi-jokingly respond.
Returning to camp 2 on Mount Denali after caching our gear. Photograph by Dalton Johnson
Stripping down to our base layers, we march down the hill, passing other groups. In the shady spots, I move quicker, hoping to stay warm. In and out of shade for a little over an hour, but the temperature was grate. With our tents off I the distance, we guessed we were roughly an hour away still. Moving quick was nice, but now we were I full sun. Step after step, the heat beat down upon us. Layering in sunscreen was key, but the reflection of heat and light from the glacier was relentless. Sweat dripped from my brow as my toes smashed into the fronts of my boots from my growingly lazy steps. Soon, I would drink fresh snow melt and snack on some lunch.