Mike Fenner - Crossing Denali: An Ordinary Man’s Adventure Atop North America

CROSSING

DENALI

CROSSING

DENALI

AN ORDINARY MANS ADVENTURE

ATOP NORTH AMERICA

MICHAEL FENNER

Mountaineers Books is the publishing division of The Mountaineers, an organization founded in 1906 and dedicated to the exploration, preservation, and enjoyment of outdoor and wilderness areas.

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Copyright 2016 by Michael Fenner

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or utilized in any form, or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

Printed in the United States of America

Distributed in the United Kingdom by Cordee, www.cordee.co.uk

19 18 17 161 2 3 4 5

Copy editor: Kirsten Colton, The Friendly Red Pen

Design and layout: Heidi Smets Graphic Design

Cartographer: Marge Mueller, Gray Mouse Graphics

Cover photograph: West Buttress, Denali, Bill Hatcher, Getty Images

Frontispiece: Top of fractured wall at Camp III, Denali, Michael Fenner

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Names: Fenner, Michael N.

Title: Crossing Denali: an ordinary mans adventure atop North America / Michael N. Fenner.

Description: Seattle, WA : Mountaineers Books, [2016]

Identifiers: LCCN 2015031693| ISBN 9781594859915 (paperback) | ISBN 9781594859922 (ebook)

Subjects: LCSH: Fenner, Michael N. | MountaineersUnited States. | MountaineeringAlaskaDenali, Mount. | Denali, Mount (Alaska)Description and travel.

Classification: LCC GV199.92.F44 A3 2016 | DDC 796.522092dc23

LC record available at http://lccn.loc.gov/2015031693

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Printed on recycled paper

ISBN (paperback): 978-1-59485-991-5

ISBN (ebook): 978-1-59485-992-2

TO AGNES

That which defines me and binds mebody, personality, and soulis the result of all that I have been in my yesterdays. For tomorrows sake, I will make today the most important day of my life.

A personal creed

CONTENTS

AUTHORS NOTE

Denali means the high one in the language of the Athabascan people, who are native to southcentral Alaska, and this was what the mountain was called for generations. In the 1890s, it was renamed for Republican presidential candidate William McKinley. Recently, efforts have been made to restore the original name to the tallest point on the North American continent, efforts that were thwarted by congressional representatives from McKinleys home state of Ohio. In 1980, in an act of partial compromise, the wildlife resources area around Mount McKinley was renamed Denali National Park and Preserve. Then in August 2015 the mountains name was officially changed back to Denali. I have chosen to use the names Denali and McKinley interchangeably throughout this book, althoughout of respect for local traditionDenali is the one I prefer.

In telling the story of my climb of Denali, I have endeavored to be as fair and accurate as possible in regard to my teammates and the events that we shared. To provide an accurate account, I have relied on my journal notes, personal memories, and personal communications, as well as the considerable number of photographs taken by me and other members of the team. Of course, others may remember certain events differently, and my perspective will not match everyone elses in every instance. I have changed the names and physical descriptions of a few characters to better preserve their privacy.

INTRODUCTION

Jack was operating in the icefall with the precision of a surgeon. As lead guide, he was responsible for cutting a path for the six of us behind him, a path that would take us safely through the treacherous maze of ice blocks. And he was doing a masterful job of ithis line threaded us around one seemingly impassable obstacle after another.

I planted my left crampon just inches from the edge of a crevasse, and from that vantage I could see the fissure was deep enough to consume anything that had the misfortune to slip into it. Above my right shoulder was a dangerous seraca house-sized hunk of glacial icebalanced precariously on edge, surely capable of crashing down and crushing us at any moment.

It was late in the evening of our twenty-first day on Denali. We had made good progress since leaving Camp Seven almost ten hours ago, but I was close to the limits of my patience and endurance. It had been a long and difficult day, the latest in a string of long and difficult days. I hoped that our next stop, Camp Eight, would lie on the patch of level terrain just ahead, just beyond this most dangerous section of the Muldrow Glacier.

My confidence in Jack had never been greater than it was right now. But truth be told, I had more often seen him act like a jerk than a saint during our expedition. Even now, while I admired him, I couldnt fully dismiss the past three weeks of caustic arrogance.

Of course, it really didnt matter if we liked Jack or hated himwe needed him. This icefall was only the latest reminder. The conditions here on the deserted north side of Denali had turned out to be so unpredictable and dangerous that any chance of our getting home alive depended on his continued superb performance.

As Jack moved out and onto the first safe-looking ground any of us had seen in two hours, I sighed in relief. His pace picked up, displaying fresh confidencestill cautious and measured but quicker by half than his pace in the icefall.

A few minutes later, I followed Mike Hamill, our other guide, onto level ground on the second rope. The tension that had been building in my chest all afternoon dissipated over the next dozen breaths. A tiny, cautious smile came to my lips. Camp Eight was surely no more than a short walk away. Once there I could finally enjoy some real relief, in no small part related to getting this ninety-pound pack off of my back.

Now, with the claustrophobic path through the cliffs behind us, I could better appreciate the beauty of my surroundings. I faced an enormous open space, vaster than the largest concert hall. In the evenings soft light, the glacier had a magical qualityalmost angelicsublime in its various shades of white and blue. Deep shadows had taken over; looking out beyond Jack, I saw only the subtlest undulations in what looked like a completely unthreatening and monotonous surface.

A deadly quiet enveloped us. The near absence of sound, besides the rhythmic vibrations of my breath and the creaking of my walking sticks, only added to the otherworldliness of this icy amphitheater.