Denali:
Mountains and Milestones
Visiting Denali Base Camp
By Theresa Bakker
Every summer, curious travelers hand over hundreds of dollars
for a chance to fly over the jagged peaks of the Alaska Range. They
watch for sparkling jewel-like crevasses and the spiky summits of
Little Switzerland. They sail through One Shot Pass, where the plane's
wing tips come perilously close to sheer cliffs on either side.
Then they land on the Kahiltna Glacier, home to a bustling climbing
community 7200 feet above sea level. It's surrounded by a crevasse
field that stretches on for miles. Climbing teams camp here, sorting
their gear. Rangers answer questions and distribute fuel. Pilots buzz
in and out.
This base camp is like no other place on earth. The Alaska
Range creates an amphitheater, offering front-row views of thundering
avalanches. Visitors talk about the otherworldly atmosphere. Don
Bowers, an inspirational Iditarod musher and pilot who died in a plane
crash in these same mountains a few years ago, called it Planet Denali.
For the past five years, base camp Manager Lisa Roderick has
coordinated air traffic from a white wall tent on the glacier. Besides
cooking meals on a tiny stove and sharing gossip with returning
climbers, she's also responsible for providing on-demand weather
observations and glacier landing conditions.
It's a big responsibility maintaining the airstrip. Instead of
using a snowplow, she recruits climbers to stomp around in snowshoes
every time it snows. Roderick also has the thankless job of managing
the flow of climbers in and out of base camp. That means listening to
the moans and groans of tired travelers who might be stuck camping out
on the snow for another night when planes are grounded during bad
weather.
"Sometimes it involves prolonged storms and large numbers of
climbers waiting to fly out," she said. "They can get backed up in the
camp, so when the weather breaks, getting everyone out in an orderly
fashion can become an exciting day of organized chaos."
Fortunately, Roderick claims most climbers have a great sense of humor. Her visitors keep her laughing all season long.
"There can be a lot of drama on the mountain . . . the storms,
the flying and unfortunately, the occasional accidents and rescues,"
she said. "What keeps me coming back each year is a combination of the
creativeness the job requires, the personalities and of course the
beauty of the location."
A few years ago, I visited the Kahiltna camp to report on a
story for public radio and saw for myself the home that's been created
in the middle of this snowy expanse. As a scared newbie, I hung out
near the communications tent, getting a tour of the facilities,
including a decidedly "public" toilet a short walk from camp.
Soon a group of three climbers approached the cluster of tents
and wind-whipped flags that marked the stashes belonging to adventurers
out in the range. As they came closer, I could tell by the suntanned
creases around their eyes and the scruffy facial hair on their cheeks
and chins that these guys weren't just out for a stroll.
They were real climbers outfitted in the red coveralls popular that
season. I, on the other hand, was obviously a tourist, clad in telltale
hiking boots and jeans.
The mountaineers talked about their successful reconnaissance mission
to check out the range for a future climb. They live in the community
of Healy where a view of Denali greets them daily. The three friends
would eventually complete an inspiring traverse of Mount McKinley,
coming down on the north side of the mountain and into their own
backyards.
Later that day a couple of rangers volunteered to help me
navigate the glacier. They brought me to the edge of a crevasse,
normally not an atmosphere I would explore willingly. In a test of
faith and trust, I rappelled into the depths of the icy ravine.
Hanging about 12 feet below the surface, everything around me
was bathed in a cool, blue light reflected from the icy depths of the
crevasse. The ice and snow was compressed into intricate patterns
within the folds of the glacial cave. Sneaking a peak down below, my
mind reeled to imagine the bottomless pit underneath.
Savoring those brief moments in the chasm, I was exhilarated
by the contrast of the beauty I saw and the terror I felt. Later, I
wanted to do it all over again.
It's the same obsession that pushes climbers to the top of mountains
and inspires pilots to risk the weather and terrain day after day to
fly them here. As long as Denali and the range's other summits offer
that kind of rush, visitors will be welcome at this seasonal home for
those stepping off into Alaska's wilderness.
Theresa Bakker is a researcher for KUAC's new travel show, "Anywhere, Alaska." Send her an e-mail at theresa.bakker@kuac.org.
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