Click here to view the photo + video album for this part of the trip
What follows is my account of the longest summit day I’ve ever had, clocking in at over fourteen hours. As you can expect, it was wild!
We started late. Really late – around ten in the morning. The weather was shaping up beautifully, and if you recall, many teams had been camped out at high camp for a long time. During our rest days, all of the British crew had arrived, along with several others, making for about a hundred people up there. When climbers get good weather, they take it. There were probably a hundred people attempting the summit this day, with groups from the UK, France, Korea, and elsewhere.
That kind of a crowd is a recipe for traffic jams of epic proportions. Our route took us up the Autobahn – an extremely narrow trail etched onto the side of a very steep slope. It got its name from all of the people slipping and falling off – once you stop, you don’t ever slow down. If you survive the fall, you’re right in the middle of crevasse territory. Several people have died trying to get out.
Of course, with the proper precautions (rope teams and running belays), the risk of falling is nearly nonexistent. But the narrow route meant that no one could overtake anyone else, which meant an epic traffic jam that spanned the entire hour-long route. Hoping to avoid getting stuck in the jam, Colby had us wait in the warm sun at the base. He even managed to convince other (non AMS) teams to wait! Soon, we had about five or six rope teams all arrayed around us, waiting to go up.
After sitting around for another half hour, Colby gave us the signal to start climbing. It was slow going with the traffic, something that caused Colby no end of grief. One team even had an exhausted climber literally sit down on the route, blocking everyone behind him.
What should’ve taken one hour took two, but we made it to Denali Pass, where the going gets really steep. You basically make a U turn and climb up the back side of the Autobahn to ascend to Archdeacon’s Tower, and then on to the flat area known as the Football Field. But here again, we ran into hordes of people. Colby tried passing teams on this steep, icy slope, but the accelerated pace completely winded me and we weren’t able to make headway.
Once past the steepest section, Colby was at his wits end and called for an hour long break. His intent was to allow all of the climbers to pass us up, so that we’d be the last ones on the mountain. This plan concerned me a bit. We had phenomenal weather – not a single cloud in the sky and nonexistent wind. It was as perfect of a summit day as one could hope for, but I knew that weather on the mountain can change at the drop of a hat. Idling by had me worried. But Colby assured me that this weather would stay, so we parked ourselves at a scenic spot (seriously, the views were breathtaking), and waited… and waited.
One hour passed, and even then, the horde had barely moved past us. I told Colby that I’d rather make some progress, even if it was slow, and we set out once again. Luckily, we weren’t really slowed by anyone for a while. We trudged up past Arch Deacons, then onto the flat of the Football Field. From here, we’d ascend Pig Hill – an altitude gain of one thousand feet – to get to Denali’s summit ridge. From there, it’s a thirty minute traverse along Denali’s knife-edge ridge line to the summit.
We were about six hours into the climb by this point, but the situation on Pig Hill made me cringe. Pig Hill is quite steep, and as such you can’t really overtake teams easily. There is an upward route, and a separate route for people coming down. But some highly intelligent climbers decided to go down the up route, halting traffic entirely in both directions.
On a fifty degree incline, with my ice axe plunged into the snow for support, legs splayed at an awkward angle and muscles burning, I waited… for about forty five minutes. Literally just standing there trying to balance myself for forty five agonizing minutes. I went from being frustrated to depressed, to outright furious at the imbeciles causing this stupidity. We were so close, but at this point I felt like the weather was sure to turn and deny us the summit. To make matters worse, Jason and Grace had already summited and were on their way back down! We met up with them on the Football field.
It was only an hour later, when we stood at the top of Pig Hill, did it sink in: we had a chance at the summit!
At this point, we were literally the last climbers going up. Everyone else was headed down. As usual, there was a lot of traffic – going the other way – on Denali’s summit ridge. But I will say this: I have been to many places in my life, and I’ve climbed many varied peaks all around the world. But nothing , nothing compared the jaw-dropping beauty of Denali’s summit ridge. The view was simply… vast. Mountains stretched for hundreds of miles in all directions. We were so high up that the highest clouds were far below us, and far below them were the peaks of lesser mountains, underneath which were the flatlands of rural Alaska.
My journey through the summit ridge was almost a spiritual experience. Forgotten were the frustrations and worries of the climb. This leg of the journey was almost meditative for me. Flooded with a myriad of emotions, I felt like I was walking toward something… special.
Thirty minutes later, and we had made it. I stood upon the summit of the tallest mountain in the North American Continent. Denali! It honestly didn’t sink in. Not for a few days. You could say this was two years in the making, but in reality it was far more. I’d signed on to climb during the 2020 season, but then Covid hit. And going even further back in time, I’d discussed climbing this peak with my good friend Rushi in 2014. All the mountains I’ve climbed until now were done to allow me to summit Denali… and one more peak after it.
The summit of Denali is not a place most people ever get to see. It is so high up, so remote, that it genuinely does not feel like Earth. The sky is such a deep blue, you feel like you’re on some alien planet. It’s serene, and a little shocking. But more than anything else, it is a privilege to be able to climb this mountain, and to stand upon its peak. I will never forget this feeling for the rest of my life.
The wind had picked up, but we were the only ones on the summit, which only made the experience even more special. After taking our photos and etching the image deep into my head, we began the long march down.
We were of course faster going down, and didn’t have to deal with any traffic, but it was still a slog, especially after having spent so much time getting to the summit. But the sun dipped low, and we were treated to some amazing sunset lighting the entire way down, enhancing the surreal experience. The exhaustion, the views, the sense of accomplishment… it all combined to create something that can’t be described. Only those who’ve been there truly understand the experience. Spiritual, is the closest word for it.
At long last, after spending what felt like an eternity on the Autobahn, and after plunging my leg into a mini crevasse (I was fine!), we made it back to High Camp at two thirty in the morning. Feeling more dead than alive, I crashed into my sleeping bag and was out.
Planetary Muffin Expeditions 