Full writeup coming soon.... meanwhile here's a preview:

Aconcagua - Part IV.  Books and Web Links, route info, logistical support etc..  (Basic stuff that you could probably get from Secor's book or Summitpost.)  [Read More... ]

Aconcagua's Polish Glacier... Part 3 of 4.  [Read More... ]

Aconcagua's Polish Glacier... Part 2 of 4.  [Read More... ]

Aconcagua's Polish Glacier... Part 1 of 4.  [Read More... ]

The signs did not bode well. First of all the forecast was for clearing skies by mid morning - however the entire drive up into the South Fork of Eagle River was in a thick fog bank where we could see 200' at the most. And then 45 minutes into the hike we were faced with a creek crossing. The creek was 6' wide and about thigh deep. I decided I could jump 6' with a running start if I wasn't wearing a pack; so I took my pack off and gently lobbed it across the creek. It gently soared across the creek... landing in a patch of alder that bent slowly giving it a soft landing. But the alders stiffened against the strain and began to return to their natural shape - and my pack lifted with them. The pack bounced back towards me. In slow motion it lifted and sprang into the air and landed on another patch of alder. It then catapulted again, hanging ever so briefly above the waters... then it rolled into the creek.

I had always been told that a full pack floats. "If you ever get swept off your feet during a river crossing... clutch your pack. It will float," a climbing partner (who had been swept off his feet) once told me. I had never tested the theory but now in front of me my pack was floating down the creek bobbing along gently like a misshapen raft. I stood dumbfounded for an instant then sprang into action. I ran downstream for about 25' - then I dove into the water - the water coming up to mid thigh. My pack floated into me, I grabbed it, and then clambered out of the creek. I was soaked to the bone and my pack was drenched. There was no sun. It was 9am. The signs did not bode well.

Our plan was to climb Flute Peak. Flute Peak sits 10 miles from the South Fork trailhead at the very head of the Flute Glacier. The route consists of a glacier crossing, steep snow and a final rock pitch. There were 3 of us - Eric, Yvonne and I. All of us had tried it once before. Eric had actually made it to the rock pitch last spring before backing off unwilling to solo the final step. Yvonne and I had "tried" it last year; but our efforts had ended early when we ascended the wrong approach gully. We instead hiked up Ewe Peak, not willing to out the effort into additional route finding. Ideally one would climb Flute Peak as an overnight trip - taking time to leisurely hike up to the glacier on day 1 and then climb and hike out on day 2. However - we opted to try it in a day. So in we tromped... me soaking wet and the clouds thick and soupy.  [Read More... ]

Spring climbing came once again... and once again I started trolling for partners. Many options and many ideas were voiced but Yvonne and I finally announced we were going to the Alaska Range; to the Ruth Gorge. Everyone wants to go to the Ruth - and suddenly Yvonne and I had 2 other partners (Bryce Stath and Austin Thayer) to share camp and contacts with.

I hadn't been to the Alaska Range since 2004; I hadn't been to the Ruth since 2002 when I skied a bunch and attempted the Moose's Tooth. Driving into Talkeetna I glanced at the familiar sights - we ate an awesome breakfast at the Roadhouse, we chatted with friends at the NPS building and then we dumped our gear outside of Talkeetna Air Taxi and went inside to hand them our hard earned cash ("What? TAT isn't an Alaska Airlines mileage partner?!").

Around 2pm Paul Roderick piled us all into his Turbo Otter. Riding in a Turbo Otter is an experience and I was psyched! In the Alaska air taxi world it's the equivalent of flying first class in an airbus. You don't have to squeeze in a seat more suited for sled dogs rather than people with a pack on your lap. The Otter is so roomy I almost expected a hipster Talkeetna hottie to walk through serving peanuts and Alaskan Amber (TAT take note). The plane took off without a whine and we drifted towards the mountains with hardly a bump.

After flying into areas I've never been before for the past few years, the flight into the Ruth was calm and familiar. We drifted over Petersville Road, Peter's Hills and soon we flew up the turbulent moraine of the Ruth Glacier and before I knew it, we were banking past Mt. Johnson and coming in for a landing.  [Read More... ]

After eyeing them for a couple weeks I talked Bryce and Yvonne into heading up there to check them out. We opted to go for the obvious northwest direct couloir, not knowing what the other would entail. So we left one car at the Peter's Creek trailhead, parked another car at the scout camp and started the tromp up through the woods.

The approach was quite easy this time of year; there was a little devils club to deal with but little snow and in less than an hour we had reached the base of the couloir and started up. The bottom portion had mounds of debris from a season's worth of slides, but everything was quite stable so we headed up.

About 500' up we finally encountered the ice; a thin ribbon snaking uphill. We had hauled ropes, screws, pins and pickets so dug out the ropes and Bryce headed up. Unfortunately the ice only last about 25' - and then it was back to snow. Bryce set a belay and brought up Yvonne while I soloed up ahead and began booting up the couloir. Above the ice, Yvonne unroped and then we all set off.

The rest of the couloir was straightforward; essentially you climb close to 2500' of snow that averages 45-50 degrees while you twist and turn up a very narrow gully with steep rock walls on either side. It took us about 3 hours to reach the top.   [Read More... ]

The forecast called for clouds and isolated showers; not ideal conditions given that isolated showers usually have a way of finding me, but I wanted to get out so I studied the maps and my photos. I finally decided to give the North Face of Eagle Peak a try. My reasoning was that 2 weeks ago north facing slopes were still powder and south facing slopes were isothermal - whereas a week ago south facing slopes had turned rotten. I was hoping for isothermal conditions on north facing aspects - but I knew we couldn't go if the sun was shining due to avalanche hazards. After much thought I figured the clouds would shade the route giving us the rare opportunity to ascend the route in spring conditions.

So I rounded up a team who all bit on the first cast: Dan, Eric, Bryce and Yvonne and at 5:30am on Saturday we met and were soon driving. We dropped off a car at the South Fork of Eagle river (thinking we might have to traverse the peak to avoid late afternoon avalanche conditions) and then drove to the Eagle River Nature Center and were hiking by 7am.

The North Face of Eagle Peak towers 6500' above the nature center with a prominent gash straight up the North face. There's a little viewfinder sitting right outside the center and we trained it on the route and checked it out while trying not to think about how steep it looked...then started down the trail.

We followed the regular Crow Pass trail to Echo Bend, then changed out of our long pants and began wading across Eagle River. The water was only thigh deep and soon we were across and thrashing through dense devil's club in search of game trails that might take us up to the hanging valley between Eagle and Hurdy Gurdy.  [Read More... ]

My pilot, Mike Meekins, maneuvers his plane between granite towers and we float out into the open, the Talkeetna glacier spread below us, her many forks outstretched and the plane spiraling over them with my eyes glued to the window looking at ice, granite and snow.  Meekins studies the snow and we aim for a calm tongue of powder unscathed by the winds. 

We drift in, the landing so smooth I can barely tell when we've touched down.  And then Mike opens the door and we step out into deep snow and blue sky.  He passes me my bags and then he's off leaving me standing alone and 50 miles from the nearest road.  If I were to escape on my own I'd be a modern mini Shackelton, skiing down glacier past yawning glaciers to a wild river meandering through thick brush with sleepy bears waking up hungry, no food since October.  I stand still and silent for a full minute after Mike's drone disappears into the next valley.  It is so quiet it's deafening.  The overwhelming silence makes me squint and shake my head and then I roll back my head and scream "YAAAAAAA!!!"  There's not even an echo... my voice fades the second it leaves my mouth. 

Mike is flying a Supercub, which means 1 trip per person.  Each trip is one and a half  hours round trip so I busy myself making camp.  Over the course of the next 5 hours the rest of our party arrives. Eric Parsons comes after me, followed by Yvonne and finally Bryce Stath. We amuse ourselves by watching their eyes and face light up as each person steps out and looks around.

Finally the transportation cycle ends and Mike shakes our hands.  "The 28th right?" he says.  "Call me on your sat phone and give me the weather."  We all wave and he takes off and then we're truly alone; no one around for miles - no overflights, no flightseeing tourists.  We are totally removed and it feels good!   [Read More... ]