Mt. Marcus Baker, Alaska

 Part Two

The Summit of Mt. Marcus Baker, 13,176 ft (4,016 m).

To read part one click  HERE

Mt. Marcus Baker, the highest mountain in the Chugach Range towers above the Gulf of Alaska.  The Chugach's are internationally recognized as some of the steepest and deepest skiing on earth.  The area is also known as one of the stormiest snowy places on earth and the 2011-2012 winter broke a record held since 1955. 

After hunkering down for our first 5 day storm we had a brief weather window in which I was able to get a lil bit of skiing in. I skied this mountain we dubbed Hershey Kiss, which actually was a 1,000 ft. run at around 45 degrees.  I located wind slab layer a couple inches down and intentionally set off a perfect wind slab that propagated all the way down the run.  Skiing it wasn’t the best snow but it was steep enough to be fun.

After that sucker hole of a nice day, we got slammed with another storm that ended up burying my MSR 4 season tent.  The tent held and my friend Gavin was able to dig me out in the mourning.  It was now May 8 and we had survived over 10 days of stormy weather. 

The Germans had to fly out and return to Germany on May 8.  The famous lousy weather of the Chugach had deflated us and I wondered if I should fly out with them.  In the end I decided to stay as I was the only photog and we thought we were going to get some much needed high pressure in the next few days. 

After a gorgeous day where the Germans flew out, we wanted to give the mountain another go.  This time we changed tactics and took overnight bags up the glacier in order to camp at the base of the route.  On the way up we got a report of new storm that was supposed to be a couple of days away.  However the next mourning visibility had reduced dramatically and we started to think we were going to be completely shut down.

We skinned up to the base of the route to retrieve a heavy gear cache that the Germans had left behind and waited a lil bit.  The weather only got worse and we finally decided that that we needed to descend before the full fury of the storm hit.

It was a good decision as a very big storm enveloped us as we descended.  Before we knew it visibility had been reduced to a couple of feet and the winds were howling.  We used GPS to find finally find the camp, cold, tired, and dehydrated.  Camp was in disarray and this storm was going to be big. 

The first night gust reached 80-90 mph and my friends Obi’s tent collapsed 3 times.  It was survival time and the camp was sinking.  As glacial drifts reached the height of our wall’s our camp started drowning and my tent was first in line.  The second day, snowdrifts became our enemy and I couldn’t shovel out fast enough to keep the drifts at bay.  I gave up and became a refugee in Obi’s tent.

Everybody went into hibernation mode and we hunkered down for the long scary wait. We were able to set up a cook station in Obi’s tent in order to keep fueled and hydrated.

There is nothing like spending day’s in a tent with intensely miserable experience’s like taking a shit in a blizzard or digging for hours only to see it fill in in minutes.

The weather was slowly beating us down, making us look like half crazed snowy zombies running around shoveling, cooking, and cursing our degrading situation.  Right when we were finally starting to loose it we got a report of impending high pressure.  If we could only hang on till May 14 we could get out of there.

When high pressure finally came life was better.  Although we were physically and mentally beaten down, we really hadn’t achieved anything substantial on the trip.  I felt like we had squandered our 2 small weather windows but we were still up here and had just enough food for one more attempt.

We rested a day and then decided to send it in one long day.  We originally wanted to send at 11:30 pm but it was sooo cold we put it off till ealier in the morning, in the hope that it would warm up quickly.  At 4:00 AM Obi and I were the first ones out of the tent and on our way up the 4-5 hour skin up the glacier.

I broke trail up glacier and it was going to be a perfect blue-bird day.  I could noticeable see that the glacier had changed shape since we first got there.  The snow was hard wind crust, which made perfect skinning conditions.  Cruising up alone I was struck with the immensity of the Knik glacier as my skis swished like a clock beneath my feet.  I looked at my watch and saw that I was making good time.

I reached the base of the headwall at around 8:30 AM and set up an timelapse to wait for the rest of the crew.  Obi was pretty close behind me but the Kiwi’s were pretty far behind.  When they reached us they mentioned that the right side looked a lil easier then the normal route on the left side of the of the headwall.

Although there was some definite unknowns, the route to the right did look easier to me.  Obi and I started up the route finding a huge Bergshrund that stopped us in our tracks.  It was massive overhanging blue ice monster with a dark cavern that beneath it.  We went right and followed it up to the ridge where we found a scary crossing that led to an even scarier knife edge ridge.  On the ridge we soloed another couple hundred meters before it got really steep with blue ice.

The kiwis followed us up to the ridge but decided that it did look really steep and Gavin had limited ice climbing equipment.  They decided to descend and try the left side of the headwall despite the fact that they had come up with the right side plan.  At that point we were wondering if they were right, as it was steep 60-degree ice with death exposure on our right.

Obi and I roped up and put in some equalized anchors with ice screws and started to pitch it out.  With ski mountaineering you mostly bring small ropes due to large packs and route selections where you aren’t going vertical till the descent.  We had only a 30-meter rescue rope and therefore it took some time to safely climb through the crux of the headwall.

I was still feeling very much in the zone and found the view simply amazing.  The south side of Mt. Marcus Baker drops 10,000 feet strait down to sea.  We could see College Fiord and some amazing Chugach spines far below us.  Time seemed to slow as we focused on the moment, the timeless space where you enter climbing bliss.

We climbed up and over the crux of the headwall and were ecstatic to see that the route was going to go.  We had a to navigate a couple of crevasses and then we could hit the football field and up to the summit pinnacle.

We wasted no time in getting up the football field, as I knew the climb was far from over.  Skiing up the football field the feeling that we were probably going to finally summit this thing hit me.  Obi and I took a small break and learned that the Kiwis were slowly making their way up the left side of the headwall.

We were just over 12,000 feet and we knew we had some distance to still go as we started up the final summit slopes.  There was quite a bit of blue ice at around 45 degree’s that slowed us down a bit.  We weren’t however over much exposure and we decided to solo climb up to the ridge that led to the summit. 

When we reached the ridge the angle eased off and we gave a big sigh of relief.  After 25 days on the Knik glacier we were moments away from standing on the summit of Mt. Marcus Baker.  Obi and I wanted to take our final upward steps together and we both summited at the same time. 

The feeling was unbelievable; At 6:00 PM on May 16, 2012, Obi and me finally succeeded in making it to the highest point in the Chugach at 13,176 feet.  The Chugach Mountains are the mountains that I grew up in and standing there I was filled with a immense happiness and a simmering sense of accomplishment.  We had done it!!

Out of our crew of eight we were the only people to make it to the top.  Without hardship success means less, and through suffering a brotherhood is born and eternal memories are created.  Mountaineers call this the “Brotherhood of the rope.”  For me it was that millisecond where everything in time and space makes sense, that moment where you bask in the glory of pure energy and happiness.

On the top of a summit, that pure moment is followed by a one of pure evil.  The safety net comes crashing down when a climber realizes that the journey is only halfway over.  The dangerous descent monster wakes as you realize that you have to get off this summit and down to safety.

The 45 degree blue ice and the fact that Obi wanted to speed fly off the summit intensified that feeling of dread.  At that altitude speed flying can be quite dangerous as the air is thinner and it takes longer to inflate the canopy.

Despite the danger Obi stepped up to the plate and strait lined it from the summit ridge which would become the first speed fly on Mt. Marcus Baker.  After what seemed like a scary eternity, he was able to sit back in his harness and fly away.

After watching Obi land safely, I had the pleasure of skiing down 45 degree blue ice.  As I scraped my way down the ice I prayed that my edges would hold and a ski wouldn’t pop off.  Luckily they held, and I was able to make it down to Obi on the Football field.  Now we only had to descend down the headwall to where we would be in relative safety.

The problem was that the headwall was really, really scary and filled with our nemesis more blue ice.  While we were skinning back up the Kiwi’s finally topped out on the top of the headwall.  At this point it was 7:30 PM and it was getting late.  The Kiwis finally decided to give up the summit and descend while there was still light.

One of the Kiwi’s, Rory thought he could ski the headwall without a rope.  I decided to take pictures of him with the hope that his descent would give me confidence to ski it.  Watching him scraped down the steep 60 degree blue ice and almost started sliding on it, I looked at Obi and said, “There is no way in hell I am skiing that without a rope.”

At this point we had two 30-meter ropes and we prepared to ski rappel down.  The sun was setting and colors popped out of the sky and the slope we were descending glowed a pink hue.  After 2 scary pitches we were in reach of better snow conditions and were able to ski down to safely. 

When we reached the base of the route it was dark and we were all starting to freeze.  We wasted no time getting back to camp in order to warm our frost-nipped digits.  Rory cooked up a tasty diner of Ravoli and we crashed hard at around 12:30 am. 

We had finally made it to the top of the Chugach and now we could go home not utterly defeated. The next day Obi called our pilot and he could come get us at 1:00 pm.  Problem was that we were nowhere near packed after the chaos of summit day.  Scrambling, we threw together our mass of gear that we used in our luxurious base camp.

  We packed fast as there was no way I was missing this flight out of here after almost a month on the glacier.  Before I could blink, we were airborne, flying over the heart of the Chugach Mountain range once again.

Which brings me back to the BearTooth restaurant, ordering a pint of beer and marveling at the modern conveniences of life.  Water without floaties in it, a sink with hot an cold water, and food that tastes soo good that it has descended strait down from heaven.  I look at the name of my beer, “The Fairweather IPA”, and I smile.  I am once again back in society drinking a beer, laughing about past times and dreaming of new grand adventures with good friends.