Tears in the Wind

by Larry Semento

  Rainier Mountaineering, Inc., or “RMI,” was founded by Jerry Lynch and the renowned mountaineer Lou Whittaker. Lou and his twin brother, Jim, began their climbing careers in the Cascade Mountains near their home in Seattle, Washington. They gained reputations as strong, outstanding climbers, often guiding climbs on Mt. Rainier. The Whittakers became climbing legends. In 1963 they were invited on an expedition to Mt. Everest; Lou declined to go, but Jim went and became the first American to reach the summit of the world’s highest peak. Lou Whittaker led the first successful American expedition on the north face of Mt. Everest in 1984.

  I had a chance to meet Lou Whittaker once when I was at Mt. Rainier, where he was guiding a private group. I was awestruck to meet such a mountaineering icon. Tall, handsome and, despite being in his mid-sixties, extremely fit, Lou was an imposing figure, but was also outgoing and friendly. Under his tutelage, RMI developed into one of the most distinguished, dependable and recognized mountain guiding services in the world.

  I obtained the necessary equipment for my Rainier trip and, considering my financial investment in the gear, realized that I would certainly have to use it more than once. I also began a training program, which was a particular challenge since I was not in good physical condition. Before that, I did not maintain any regular exercise program. I was a 42 year old guy, and, other than yard work, about the only exercise I got was moving my fork between my plate and my mouth, as evidenced by my ever expanding pot-belly.

  However, to prepare for my trip to Mt. Rainier, I gradually whipped myself into better shape. After several months of jogging, training on the stair master and hiking up and down hills with a heavy pack, I felt that I was ready for the task.

  Arriving at Mt. Rainier, we met our guide from RMI, Phil Ershler. Phil is one of the leading mountain guides in the world, and it was an honor for me to be a part of his group. We spent the night in the beautiful and rustic Paradise Inn located at the base of the peak. That night, as I nervously attempted to sleep, I was haunted by the sound of the wind howling across the building. I imagined being on Rainier the next day, struggling to stay upright against hurricane-force winds, only to be blown off the mountain. I got little rest that evening.

  Paradise Inn is located at an altitude of 5,400 feet. The climbing route from there goes up the south side of the mountain to the summit. We participated in the five-day program, which included significant training on rope and climbing techniques, rappelling, the use of crampons, ice axes, carabiners, and other mountaineering equipment, mountain safety training, and the proper methods to pack backpacks, set up tents, cook and eat. The trip concluded with an ascent of the summit. I was thrilled when we made it to the top.

  At that time, it was the most physically demanding endeavor I ever engaged in. On the other hand, it was also one of the most rewarding. I enjoyed the experience so much I couldn’t wait to go again. While I was there, I learned that there are guide services like R.M.I. available to lead trips on mountains around the world, and that there are many expeditions available even for novices like myself.

  Commercial guides revolutionized the mountain climbing industry. Using guides, we “weekend warriors” have access to climbing mountains all over the globe. Guides are unique individuals; they are extremely physically fit and are skillful climbers, and possess great people skills. During expeditions, they wear many hats: cook, counselor, teacher, doctor, and navigator, to name a few. Often their skills are put to the test as they must put up with people who have no business being on a mountain. They all seem to have the patience of Job.

  Phil Ershler began guiding on Mt. Rainier in 1971, and, since 1974, he has been a full-time guide. He leads mountaineering expeditions all over the world. Phil has made hundreds of successful climbs of Mt. Rainier, and over 25 successful ascents of Mt. McKinley. In 1984, Phil became the first American to summit Mt. Everest’s north face. In 1989, he became one of the few individuals to have climbed the seven summits--the highest peak on each of the seven continents. In addition to being a superb climber, Phil is personable and an overall good guy.

  As is so often the case in life, my dream to climb again fell into limbo and I did not do any further mountaineering for a couple of years. However, I returned to Mt. Rainier with another local friend, John, who had extensive mountaineering experience. During a particularly hot Florida summer day, John called and suggested that we get away from the heat. On a spur of the moment, we were able to connect with an R.M.I. group and completed a two-day guided ascent to the summit. This short but demanding trip is affectionately known as “the death march.” The weather was beautiful, clear and so warm that we began the climb in shorts. Again, the experience was physically demanding, but standing on the summit was exhilarating, and I wanted more.

  John and I returned to Mt. Rainier. We signed on with a small group of climbers John knew, to attempt an ascent on a more difficult route. Again, Phil Ershler was our guide. After a day of hard climbing, we ran into a light drizzle of rain. When we arose early the next morning, it was raining steadily. Phil studied the situation, and told us the route above was difficult and steep, and was likely frozen over. We waited awhile for the weather to improve and when it didn’t, we descended. The march back down the mountain was a wet slog through a continual downpour, so we were completely soaked. We had to stop at a laundromat on the drive back to the hotel, where all of us washed our filthy wet climbing clothes. Although we did not make it to the summit, the experience was fun and I enjoyed the companionship of some wonderful fellow climbers.

  In the fall of 1996, John and I went on a trip to climb two Mexican volcanos, Ixtaccihuatl and Orizaba. Once again, Phil Ershler was our guide.

  In Mexico, John and I joined a group of about nine other climbers. Most of them had climbed Mt. Rainier and had a fair amount of climbing experience, and they also knew Phil from previous ventures. This was my first climbing trip outside of the United States, and the cultural experience of visiting Mexico was fantastic. We spent about three days on Ixta, and two on Orizaba. The climbing was somewhat more vigorous than Rainier, and the additional altitude, with Ixta at 17,700 feet and Orizaba at 18,800 feet, was a challenge. It was enjoyable climbing in this environment with these more experienced and spirited climbers. The trip to Mexico trip was very gratifying, and it fueled my desire to continue climbing. Honestly, I was hooked. All I could think about was my next climb. Where would I go?

  Does the road wind up-hill all the way?

  Yes, to the very end.

  Will the journey take whole day long?

  From morn to night, my friend.

  Christina G. Rossetti - Up-Hill

  Denali Dreaming

  I set my sights on Denali. I talked with John and Frank about my idea for an expedition to Mt. McKinley. Frank had been there a couple of years earlier and was brokenhearted to have failed to reach the summit. He was in excellent physical condition and, although he was strong enough to complete the summit attempt, the expedition was beset with bad weather. His team spent many days confined to tents, and they were ultimately forced down without a summit bid.

  John had better luck. His group spent a longer time on the mountain with good weather conditions for the summit attempt. They reached the top. John said it was one of the most gratifying experiences of his life.

  Mt. McKinley is located in Alaska approximately 200 miles north of Anchorage. Now officially known by its native name of “Denali,” it is a massive granite dome lying beneath huge glaciers. Mt. McKinley is part of the immense Denali National Park.

  Both John and Frank related exciting tales of their Denali expeditions. My imagination was fired, and I wondered whether I was capable of such a venture. McKinley would be a substantial step up from my previous climbs. I spent a long time dwelling on it, and then broached the subject with my family. This, as you might imagine, was not easy.

  My wife and children were aware that mountaineering was dangerous. It was hard to keep that a secret, particularly in light
of the well-publicized disaster on Mt. Everest that happened a couple of years earlier. During two days in May, 1996, eight climbers lost their lives making summit attempts when a vicious blizzard battered Mt. Everest. The dead and injured included well-known mountaineers, guided clients and celebrities, and the press coverage was pervasive. My family had heard all about it, and voiced their concerns. However, I promised them that I would be cautious and safe. Seeing how excited I was about the project, they couldn’t object too vociferously. Ultimately, I decided to go.

  First, I had to consider which guide service to sign on with. Anyone without substantial mountaineering experience would be foolhardy to attempt such a trip without a reputable guide. I considered either Phil Ershler or one of the guides with Rainier Mountaineering. Actually, Phil also worked with RMI, so they were connected. Phil made one trip to Denali, near the end of May, and RMI had several trips scheduled throughout the summer. The cost of Phil’s trip was somewhat higher, but he took a smaller group and he has an outstanding record of success on Denali, having reached the summit more than twenty times. I liked him and knew how he led his expeditions, so I decided to try to go with Phil.

  I contacted him and was disappointed to learn that he limited his groups to four climbers and had no openings on his McKinley trip. I considered contacting RMI, but before I did Phil called and told me that it turned out that he did have an opening with his group. I quickly agreed to sign on with Phil.

  Actually, I felt quite privileged to have been invited to join Phil’s contingent. I knew that he would consider each member’s climbing ability and personality. Phil would expect each participant in his group to be strong enough for the expedition and to have the temperament to get along with others in difficult circumstances. I was honored that Phil believed that I was compatible.

  From the time that I had made my commitment to join Phil’s expedition, there were approximately nine months until the departure date. I had a lot of work to do.

  In preparation for the expedition, there were several areas that I had to concentrate on: developing a physical conditioning program so that I would be fit for the climb; obtaining all of the necessary equipment and gear; arranging my work schedule to take time off for the trip; and acquiring the funds to pay for the expedition. Although I paid careful attention to all of those details, I was still not prepared for what was to come.

  This expedition would be a real challenge. To describe Denali as an impressive mountain is an understatement. Standing almost four miles (20,310 feet) above sea level, it is the tallest mountain in North America. It is understandable why the natives of central Alaska named it Denali, meaning “the Great One.” It rises almost 18,000 feet from its tundra base, giving it the greatest vertical relief of any mountain in the world. It is located at 63 degrees latitude, and of all the mountains on earth higher than 20,000 feet, it is the northernmost one. All of this, together with its closeness to the Gulf of Alaska, gives Denali one of the most punishing climates on earth.

  The weather on Mt. McKinley is severe and unpredictable. The sun can reflect brightly from the snow and ice, making a climber uncomfortably hot. More often, though, the problem is the cold and wind. Temperatures well below zero are the norm, and the peak is often buffeted by hurricane force winds. There are stories of winds so strong that they have shredded climbers’ tents. Denali has the reputation of being the coldest mountain on earth. The climbing season on McKinley runs from May through July. Earlier than that the weather is too cold, although several extremely hardy individuals have done winter ascents.

  The first successful winter ascent of Denali was accomplished in 1967 by Art Davidson, Dave Johnston and Ray Genet. They were part of a larger group, one of whom fell into a crevasse and was killed early in the expedition. After reaching the summit, they encountered a storm on the descent. At about 18,000 feet, the climbers built a small snow cave and hunkered down to ride out the blizzard. As temperatures dropped and the days passed, with very little food and water, the three thought that they would perish in an icy grave. The wind chill dropped temperatures to as low as minus 148 degrees, while inside their snow cave it was as cold as 35 below zero. After six days, the frostbitten climbers were able to clamber out and descend, barely surviving before reaching their teammates below. It was a miracle that they lived. Obviously, a winter expedition is not in the cards for me.

  Climbing later in the summer is also problematic. After mid-July, the melting of the snow on the lower part of the mountain creates additional and more deadly crevasses, which are open gaps in the glacier, making it very difficult and sometimes impossible for climbers to circumnavigate them and for the transport planes to land on the glacier. Thus, the optimum climbing season is a window of only two and a half months from May to July. Considering the great number of climbers from around the world attempting the ascent, it means that there are many people on the mountain in this short period of time.

  A climber on Denali faces not only extreme weather conditions, but other obstacles such as crevasses and avalanches. Adding to the difficulty is the massive size of the mountain. Distances are deceptive, and climbing parties must carry large amounts of gear and food to survive the length of time that an expedition takes. The distance from Base Camp to the summit is about seventeen miles, but the trip is actually much longer. Climbing parties must ferry food and supplies up the mountain and place them in caches, or snow pits. By digging a hole into the snow, placing food and equipment into it, and then covering the items with snow, climbers create these “caches.” The caches are marked with tall bamboo wands so that they can be located after heavy snowfalls. After caching supplies, the climbers then return to stay the night at the lower altitude camp, later returning to pick up the cached items and then moving up to a higher campsite. Thus, in going up and down the mountain in this fashion, an expedition will cover a substantial amount of distance in making a summit attempt.

  Although the standard route up the mountain, known as the West Buttress, is not considered by climbers to be technically difficult, the lower part of the route is strewn with crevasses, often hidden, while the upper part is steep and very exposed. Even though we were taking the standard route, I knew that it would be an incredible challenge. The success rate for reaching Denali’s summit via the West Buttress route is about 50%.

  It was with this background that I embarked upon my mission. I faced the upcoming challenge with excitement and trepidation, both of which grew as the expedition drew nearer.

  Training for a climb is always difficult. It is a problem finding time for workouts. I stayed busy with my law practice, and often worked sixty hour weeks. Also, family commitments demanded time. I particularly enjoyed activities with my wife and youngest daughter, our last child residing at home, and always felt guilty working when I should have been at home. Yet I knew that undertaking an expedition like McKinley without being in top physical condition would be a serious mistake.

  I began training in earnest about eight months ahead of our scheduled expedition. As I knew from previous trips, the closer the departure date, the more anxious I became about physical conditioning, but it is difficult to stay focused on a goal so many months away. I had been keeping up with a running program with varying degrees of seriousness; I had entertained thoughts of entering a marathon well before I decided on the Denali expedition, and had worked on gradually increasing my running distance for that, but I had never gotten comfortable with a marathon-like distance. I established a fairly regular schedule of running three miles every other day, and then a longer distance, such as five to ten miles, on Sundays. Since it gets incredibly hot in the afternoons in Florida, I did my running in the early morning hours.

  Weight lifting had never been my forte, but I decided to go out in the garage and dig out the set of weights that were buried there in an attempt to increase my muscle mass. I dusted off my old set of barbells and worked out on the weights every other day. My goal was to gradually increase the weight that I was lifting so
that I would build up the muscles in my legs and upper body.

  Exercising with a backpack on is an important part of a mountaineering training program. Most of the time climbing is spent saddled with packs containing various amounts of weight. On previous climbs of Mt. Rainier, we carried about 35-40 pounds of gear in our packs, and sometimes less. It would be different on Denali, where we would each be responsible for carrying over 100 pounds of gear, which we could split between a backpack and a plastic sled which is dragged behind the climber.

  It is difficult to properly train for a climb without hiking up and down steep terrain, which is hard to find in Florida. Most of the state is at sea level and very flat, making it a challenge to find an appropriate area to practice mountain climbing. We do have several hills in our area. Although not mountains by any stretch of the imagination, they provide some areas of drops and rises in altitude sufficient to allow a good workout. One of these, a road aptly named Thrill Hill, is actually a large sink hole that drops steeply down and rises abruptly back up. You can feel your stomach drop, and create quite a scare for your passengers, if you drive quickly down the hill. Another area, that surrounding Sugar Loaf Mountain, has roads that rise and fall in varying degrees of steepness. Bicycle riders often take on the challenge of peddling up Sugar Loaf Mountain. Although I have never tried that, it looks daunting. I headed out early each Saturday or Sunday morning and hiked up and down along one of these roads with my backpack on. Over the weeks, I gradually increased the amount of weight in my pack until I was able to comfortably carry 90 pounds. I also increased the amount of time that I hiked, from about one hour until I could go for four or five. One Sunday morning while hiking up and down along these hills, my brother, Don drove past me as he was returning from an overnight campout with his daughters. He slammed on his brakes and backed up his truck. “Larry,” he yelled, “is that you?” “We thought it was a homeless guy!” Although this type of training was true drudgery, and often embarrassing, it is much like actual climbing. I believe it is the best training for an expedition-style climb.