trip report
Going With The Flow On Denali
April 11, 2024
Trip report by Marissa Krawczak
In June 2023 I took the opportunity to join what felt like an Alaska shred trip on steroids. Kaytlyn Gerbin, Amanda Hankison and I set out on an unguided expedition to Denali. The plan was to spend three weeks on the glacier, do some fun snowboarding, and if the weather and conditions played along, ride off the top of the tallest peak in North America.
We waited in the Talkeetna rain for four days before a weather window opened up and allowed us to be flown onto the Kahiltna Glacier. Our pilot seemed to enjoy the fresh snow as much as we did and landed the Cessna in an untouched lane on arrival. We were dropped off in the late afternoon, but immediately rigged our sleds and started walking. Our motivation paid off as we quickly pulled ahead of the several large guided parties that had been dropped off in this wonderland with us.
You have to walk a fine balance when you are roped up to two other people for hours at a time. I started in the middle of the rope team at the beginning of the trip and it was not easy being pulled in two directions. But the constant attention to pacing my stride made the long days flash by in an instant. Beyond the rope logistics, our sleds felt awkward and heavy. We were dragging 125 pounds each and every pound tried its best to drag us down icy sidehills into the abyss.
Thankfully, the route up the Kahiltna Glacier was fairly obvious with bamboo wands marking the way. When we could see the wands anyway. Clouds would push in forcing us to walk in a whiteout following a gpx route to keep from falling in the many menacing crevasses. From 11k to 14k camp it was especially cold and stormy which had us skinning in our goggles, big down jackets and our warmest mittens. We walked long into the night when moving camps, energized by the light of the Alaskan midnight sun.
Sleeping for twelve hours a night was not unheard of for us on this trip. It took an intense amount of effort just to stay alive out there and time didn’t seem to exist. We spent our energy feeding ourselves, melting snow for water, shoveling out our camp, digging caches and trying to make sound decisions in negative 15 degree Fahrenheit weather. Time to snowboard was a luxury only afforded after accomplishing the daily chores that ensured our survival. Luckily, frequent storms provided some great turns on cache retrieval missions.
With all the fresh snow came a lot of shoveling around camp. I enjoyed the meditative art of cutting blocks with my avalanche saw to stack wind walls, building an aesthetic maze of rooms: the kitchen, the patio, the lavatory. In the little downtime we had we played Yahtzee. Our minds acclimated to being patient on rest days.
We went for short missions out of 14k camp to ride fresh powder in between crevasses and ice falls and let our blood acclimatize to our high elevation home. We stayed away from the fixed line, as there were often people falling down the mountain. People asked what our plan was. We were just snowboarding.
We made friends with the park rangers and many other climbers as our large dome tent drew attention to our camp. We also had a kitchen tent which helped us preserve our sanity in our sleeping shelters. Most people on the mountain had small three-man tents that looked cramped, and frankly, too close for comfort. We often hosted guests, some came to vent, others to use our glitter nail polish.
When we were ready, the Rescue Gully was our chosen route up towards the summit. We chose the gully because it was away from other climbing groups. My feet were not happy as we front pointed up the super steep gully over crevasse exposure. Because it was so cold, I had to cram foot warmers in my boots to keep my toes from freezing. When we got to the top of the gully at 17k feet I fell to the ground and immediately took off my boots.
A huge lenticular cloud shrouded the summit as we were resting at 17k camp. Soon after the cloud rolled in we saw climbing parties start hiking down, unable to summit due to the weather. We knew this would be the high point of our trip as well, and took a few minutes to sit in reflection. Amanda set up some prayer flags and a photo of Hilary Nelson under the looming skies that signified an incoming storm.
After a group photo and some small talk with climbers arriving back at 17k camp, we strapped in for our descent down the Rescue Gully. Amanda dropped first and then radioed back up that it was all clear for Kaytlyn to drop in next.
When the radio crackled again Amanda said I could drop. Making my way down carefully through the mixed conditions, I had to hop turn through the choke before cruising down to reconvene with the girls. It was a line that ruminates boldly in my veins to this day.
Safely back at 14k camp, we checked the weather forecast. It didn’t look good. A heavy storm was about to hit the next day that might last a week. Like it or not, we had to leave now or risk being stuck on the glacier for who knows how long.
It took some convincing to break down our comfy home, but after making the commitment we started our descent down the glacier at around 10pm. My entire being was engaged around Windy Corner as I was roped to the back of Kaytlyn’s sled and holding up my own sled that was hanging below me. I walked with a heavy uphill lean and plunged my ice axe into the slope with every step. A trip on the rope sent me sliding for a few feet one time. Thankfully I was able to quickly self arrest and yell out for the girls to stop.
When the slope allowed, we rode our boards, towing our sleds behind us or in front of us. But no matter walking or riding the sled wrangling was a battle as we fought to find a balance between a dance and complete disaster.
We walked all night into the bright morning sun, picking up our last gear cache as the sight-seeing planes started flying over. Watching plane after plane bypass the airstrip and fly out of sight over the ridge had us nervous. The clouds were already building.
Forty five minutes after arriving at the airstrip we were told a plane was coming to drop people off that could pick us up. After over 30 straight hours of moving we were getting on a plane back to Talkeetna. Bittersweet relief washed over us. The trip had pushed us in ways we never thought possible, but we were leaving with a sense of fulfillment. We had made some turns we’d never forget, and most of all, created a space where we could trust our intuition and learn skills we’d use on a lifetime of future adventures.
