I know I know. Call me clique - call me unoriginal, uncreative, unadventurous, boring, standard whatever... I 'm back. I 've been here four times now - yet I am still awed by the presence of the Cassin and Denali's summit as it appears hulking above our heads while we dig in for the night. Snow falls, the temperature rises just above freezing - the familiar pitter patter of sleet on a glacier. Communal dinners in the tent, Roger Robinson (who organized my rescue almost 6 years ago to the day) grasping my hand his deep voice "Oh great - that's great - I see you have a team from Anchorage... No - it's not too early for that route but it has been warm - Good luck!" His tan face, lines etched deep from season after season on Denali's slopes, breaks into a smile then grows serious as he remembers Jeff, my partner who died as a result of a fall on Denali in 1998.

After our trip into the Ruth Gorge Jeff young flew back to Anchorage while Brad and I flew to the Kahiltna and started up the West Buttress of Denali.  The following are entries from my journal from May 30^th - June 6^th.