One Life One Chance Read online

  After dinner that night we were told that the weather for the following day was expected to be good, so we would be moving to camp four and needed to be ready for an early departure. I slept soundly on our final night at camp three, my body had acclimatised well and I felt strong and confident for our push to high camp. After breakfast and packing away our tents and equipment we moved off in two rope teams. We retraced our steps to the base of the fixed lines and seamlessly transitioned into climbing the steep slope towards the head wall and onto the ridge. We were taking rest breaks every ninety minutes and the team was looking strong; the forced rest day had paid dividends. We passed Washburn’s Thumb where we had buried our extra supplies two days before and continued up into uncharted territory.

  The ridge continued to narrow as we progressed higher until we were traversing a knife-edge section with drop offs of thousands of feet on both sides. The views rivalled even those from the edge of the world the day before, and even though I was in robot mode, focusing on every single step, I couldn’t help but stop and be blown away by my surroundings. The wind had picked up slightly and it caressed my cheek with a below freezing temperature. The overnight weather report from camp four was minus 15 degrees Celsius before the wind chill so this was not a place to get caught outside of a tent in a storm. With the wind beginning to chill me, I prised myself away from the scenery and started climbing again. The ridge took a turn to the east and as I came around from behind a large boulder I could see the tent city of camp.

  It had taken us seven and a half hours of climbing to reach camp four. We had all arrived safely, and even though we were tired and my headaches were kicking in again, I was excited to be there. The only place higher from our position was the summit. We were lucky again with our camp site, finding a newly built weatherproof site, freshly vacated and waiting for us to move into. The snow walls were thick and high allowing us immediate rest instead of hours of intense work cutting blocks. The teams that had descended that day leaving us our new home had waited in extreme cold and wind for four days for a weather window, eventually deciding to abandon their attempted ascent and head down. Aiden and Andrew went back down the short distance to Washburn’s Thumb to retrieve our extra food and supplies letting the rest of us hydrate, eat and get ready for the summit.

  The weather report for the coming days was not looking great and the best day out of the next few for a summit attempt was the following day. It had a likelihood of being cold and windy but it was our best shot. Aiden asked us if we were ready for a shot at the summit and remembering the teams who waited days for the good weather that never came, we all agreed we were. He told us to take some Diamox, the medication that assists with adapting to altitude, sleep well and be ready to move by 10.30 am for the summit. It took me longer to fall asleep than usual as the altitude was taking its toll, but I was also very nervous. I had the same feelings as I lay in my tent on Aconcagua hoping I had what it takes to reach the summit and get back down safely without incident or letting the team down. Fatigue eventually overtook me and I slept soundly in a cold minus 12 degrees.

  …

  I was up early and preparing my boots, crampons and clothing layers; we were going to travel light with minimal food, water or unnecessary equipment. My pack was going to be the lightest it had been on the expedition but with the added altitude and difficulty of the terrain this would not be an easy day. The summit team of Simon, Bill, Allen and myself with guides Aiden and Erin stepped off at 10 am towards a flat section of glacier heading towards Denali Pass. Chok and Richard had decided that they were not strong enough to attempt the summit. They were both having trouble adapting to our new altitude and decided to be safe and stay at camp four. It was a tough call to make this close to the summit but I respected them more for their decision – in my eyes no mountain was worth getting killed or injured for.

  The first challenge of our day was a 340-metre elevation gain on a 45-degree traversing slope up to Denali Pass. This section, known as the ‘Autobahn’, has claimed the lives of many tired climbers descending from the summit in poor weather. It was given its name after a team of German climbers slid to their deaths on the steep slope, unable to arrest their fall. I put my head down and fell into a steady rhythm of heavy breathing and slow progress upwards. We were heating up quickly and a short rest to take off our down jackets was needed. I unzipped my shell jacket and the fly of my pants for ventilation and continued on with the hypnotic crunch of crampons on snow.

  Two hours later I reached the top of the incline and stood on top of Denali Pass at 5550 metres, puffing hard and nursing a pounding headache. We stopped for water and I inhaled some headache tablets and some chocolate to help me recover. The wind was blowing a steady 20 kilometres per hour, which wasn’t very strong but it did drop the temperature to minus 15 degrees Celsius. The team seemed to be doing well and after a short rest we proceeded up the ridge over rocky outcrops towards our next landmark, a large plateau called ‘the football field’. We stopped every hour for a quick sip of water and to check on each other’s condition – we were all beginning to show signs of fatigue. By the late afternoon, we had reached the end of the football field and come face to face with our biggest obstacle before the summit ridge, Pig Hill.

  Pig Hill was a 40-degree slope which at sea level would be a lovely afternoon hike but up here, above 5790 metres and after six hours of climbing, it was a serious challenge. We dropped our packs at the bottom of the hill and tied our down jackets around our waist. We would make the last push up as light as possible, taking the bare necessities. We started up the hill and I knew after the first few steps this was the make or break point. I was taking three deep breaths for every two small steps and I couldn’t catch my breath. High altitude robbed the body of oxygen and made physical work near impossible. I set small goals telling myself, ‘Make ten good steps then have a few extra breaths, now make twenty to that small chunk of snow.’ These little goals gave me a small sense of achievement every time I made it and ever so slowly I was chugging my way up the hill.

  Ninety minutes later I felt light-headed and had a pounding headache as I crested the top of the hill and stood on top of the summit ridge. In between panting breaths I looked across and laid eyes on the summit of Denali. I knew I wasn’t there yet and the dangerous summit ridge still had to be crossed, but just to make it this far and be within an hour of the top filled me with confidence and the pain didn’t feel so bad. We rested at the top of Pig Hill, throwing on down jackets to protect us from the freezing wind.

  It was the last leg and we stepped off from the top of the hill onto the knife-edged ridge to the summit. We had to stand aside as two other climbing teams were descending from the summit. A few smiled and gave us a thumbs up as they passed but most of them were in their own worlds and seemed to be fighting to get back down. We traversed across large hanging build ups of snow called cornices, that have been hanging strong for decades, but if they ever let go while we were all on the top I doubt our bodies would ever be recovered. I was watching every foot placement as we made the traverse and as I looked up to take in another deep breath Aiden was staring back at me from the highest point of the ridge, the summit.

  I took small steps up onto the summit and put my fists in the air, the pain went away and the joy and excitement overtook me as I stood tall at 6190 metres, on top of the tallest mountain in North America. I pulled out my sponsors’ flags and had Aiden take some photos of me and then I let one of the others take my place to do the same. We were all ecstatic to share this moment together and as I sat down to drink some water and watch the others on the summit, I was beaming.

  We had the entire summit, to ourselves and after fifteen minutes my mind started to refocus on my environment. We were now at a halfway point, and the most exposed section of the mountain. I needed to get ready for the climb back down to high camp – most of the deaths and injuries in mountaineering occur during the descent when energy and focus are low and exhaustion is setting in.
Once we had all taken some pics and we had a group photo together it was time to start our descent. I was feeling good with only a slight headache and the added surge of adrenaline from summiting pulsing through my veins.

  We traversed the summit ridge carefully and made it back to the top of Pig Hill, welcoming a short rest. I started to descend the hill treading carefully and making sure to not get my crampons caught in my pants or trip myself. A fall at any stage on these steep sections would put the whole team in danger. Descending was far easier than going up but with every passing minute I could feel my body getting tired and I started to realise how hungry and thirsty I was. With minimal food and water all day my body was running on fumes and adrenaline, my legs were getting heavy and my head was starting to pound. We reached the bottom of the hill in a third of the time it took to ascend it, arriving at our backpacks where we had another short rest. I inhaled a chocolate bar, the last of my food and drank some water I had left behind in my pack.

  We set off again down and across the football field. It was physically easier during the descent with less hard breathing and no need to set myself little goals to reach. However this ease was allowing my mind to drift away and as I lost focus I was snapped back to reality as a crampon caught on my boot causing me to stumble. I scolded myself for the little incident and tried to stay fully alert as we reached the other side of the football field and began to descend the rocky outcrops towards Denali Pass. I could feel the air thickening as we descended and breathing was becoming easier with each passing hour. We slipped beneath Denali Pass along the Autobahn, using the fixed lines as protection. The team was very tired and our clipping and unclipping drills along the fixed lines were taking a long time to complete. The light was fading to a twilight in the late evening and the amber glow set the scene for incredible views as we descended. I was too tired to pull out my camera, instead I visually absorbed this amazing place that in all likelihood I’d never see again.

  We stumbled into camp four and the safety of our tents twelve and a half hours after departing. I was exhausted and as the excitement and adrenaline of the day dissipated I felt my body shutting down and begging for rest. We ate enough hot food to feed a small village, drank copious amounts of water and tea then crawled into our sleeping bags. I fell asleep within seconds, proud of what we had accomplished yet knowing that we still had many miles of descent to make it off the mountain. The job wasn’t done yet.

  …

  We slept in late and after a quick breakfast of oats and coffee we loaded our packs with all of our tents and equipment and departed camp four. My body was very sore from our summit day but my mind was alert and I had a smile on my face thinking about the day before. We descended the ridge, past Washburn’s Thumb and rested at the top of the fixed lines. Clipping into the fixed line we took it very steady descending. Freezing temperatures overnight had left the route icy and dangerous and extra care needed to be taken with rope management and foot placement. From the bottom of the fixed lines we had an easy hike down to camp three; it had only taken us three hours to get back down to where we dug up our cache of sleds and remaining supplies.

  While we ate a hot meal together in the afternoon Aiden gave us a weather update and a decision to make. We could stay the night at camp three and start our descent the next day or we could load up and push down the mountain all night back to base camp. He said there was a good weather window for the next twenty-four hours where a flight out of base camp back to Talkeetna was possible, after that we could be waiting out a few days of bad weather for another chance. As a team we decided to push on – it had been a tough trip, filled with extreme weather and physical challenges, so one more big push to finish the expedition sounded like a great final test to me.

  After dinner we moved off, roped together, to start our descent. It was late afternoon and the early evening twilight was starting to blend itself into the background. As we made our way out of camp three, past the same huge glaciers that had filled me with dread a week earlier, I felt confident and able to handle myself in this harsh environment. We fell into our standard routine of taking short breaks every hour as we skirted Windy Corner, which once again wasn’t overly windy, to our relief, and went down the slope to where we had our original camp two. It was late evening by this stage and everyone was sleeping in the small community of tents at the camp. Aiden knew one of the guides and teams sleeping there and with a few whispered words he was able to get us some rest time in their cook tent and a hot brew. The temperature had dropped to well below freezing and this little respite was a big bonus.

  We stayed long enough in the cook tent to get warm and comfortable and I knew that starting our death march to base camp again was going to be hard. As we were roping up I had my big down jacket on to combat the cold and I remembered I had a heap of caffeine chewing gum in the top of my pack. Knowing they would be ideal for our current situation I fumbled them out and gave them to Bill and a couple of the others as I shoved two into my mouth. We would be needing the extra kick as we descended through the twilight hours and into the following day. My down jacket came off as we started our descent, moving quicker in the beginning to warm up and get the blood flowing back into my numb feet.

  We fell into rhythm again and the hours ticked by – moving through this rugged environment in the twilight with nothing but the sound of crunching snow and sliding sleds was truly amazing. The colour changes in the mountains as the sun crept up from the horizon again were incredible and as we stopped for a break at our original camp one, I thought to myself, that this was one of the most beautiful places on earth. We had been going for almost twelve hours straight and as much as the caffeine was giving me a much needed boost my body and mind were starting to fatigue.

  The sun was up and starting to warm everything and some clothing layers were removed before we stepped off again down the Kahiltna Glacier. This was our last push to base camp, the only issue was we had left our trek across the lower glacier a little too late in the day and the snow was beginning to turn to mush. We had originally crossed this section during the evening when the snow was frozen and the snow bridges were solid, now I could see the gaping holes of the crevasses and the mush snow covering them; I was getting very nervous. It wasn’t long after this my foot broke through the snow into the black void below, I jerked it out quickly staring into the foot-sized dark hole with my heart pounding.

  As we continued on I could see the others having similar experiences and it wasn’t long before I broke through again, this time up past my knee. By this stage I was terrified. I hadn’t expected this at all and the thought of falling into the crevasse as I pulled my leg free pumped adrenaline into my blood. We were roped together and I knew that if I did fall through completely that my rope team could stop my fall but the protection did very little to ease my fear as we continued on. We were caught in the middle of the crevasses and had no choice but to keep moving through to get to the solid land on the far side.

  Walking across the glacier in these conditions would have to be the closest simulation of going through a mine field. Every time I placed my foot down I was expecting to break through, or for the snow bridges to give way completely. Another thirty minutes of this constant anxiety had passed when I looked across to Andrew on the other rope team, who was smiling. I thought to myself, that he was having a great time, right before he disappeared completely below the snow. He had fallen straight through the snow bridge and as the rope pulled tight on his other three teammates they dove onto their ice axes burying them into the snow to arrest his fall. He was suspended in mid-air below the snow bridge inside the crevasse. The rope connected to him cut into the snow a few metres back from the hole he had vanished into.

  Aiden took charge yelling at the team ‘hold firm on your axes’, before bringing our rope team over to attach onto theirs, acting as more anchor support and more power to pull him out. Before we could haul him up Aiden moved to the very point where the rope cut into the snow and used trekking pol
es to build a ledge for the rope to pull against. If he didn’t do this when we started to pull the rope would cut deeper through the snow and could get caught or cut on protruding glacier ice. At this stage Andrew was hanging in open space with a black void underneath him but he was an experienced mountain guide and knew he was in safe hands. He stayed calm and managed to take a few photos while we were getting organised – the pictures he showed us later that night were incredible. Once the edge was prepared, together both rope teams applied our weight and we slowly brought Andrew back to the surface and into the light.

  The entire rescue only took fifteen minutes, if we didn’t have two rope teams and the extra bodyweight it could have taken a lot longer. Once everyone was separated we had a small rest to refocus our minds on the job at hand then continued our descent. We were only a couple of miles from solid land and when I finally placed my foot onto snow that I knew had ground below it, the sense of relief was overwhelming. The final push to base camp was an uphill sled drag that had been our first downhill section when we departed two weeks prior. A few of the team were totally exhausted so Aiden attached their sleds to his and took the extra weight. No way was I going to let someone help me, especially this close to the end.