 Denali North America |  Aconcagua South America |
| Denali (Mt. McKinley) The following is a trip report written by Alex Shockley shortly after returning from his 2007climb of Denali. |  |
Alex Shockley's Denali Trip Report
May 21st - June 15th
3 down, 4 to go. My climbing partner, Rick Havlak, and I
reached the summit of Denali on our 21st
day of the expedition, and were off the mountain several days later. The original plan of climbing with a team of four on the Muldrow Glacier fell apart shortly before the climb, and since Rick and I did not feel comfortable with the serious river crossing necessary for the Muldrow route as a team of two, we decided to climb the West Buttress route instead. |  |
 | Just as we were beginning to
get worried about running out of time, the winds decreased and we were able to
move up to high camp and take a shot at the summit. We were blessed with
incredible weather on our summit bid, and we were so acclimatized after the two
weeks spent at 14,200ft that we were even able to do handstands on the summit.
After returning to and spending the night at high camp, we packed up and moved through the night down the mountain back to basecamp at 7,200ft in one push. Our feet were in pain and we were exhausted, but we had made it to the top and back safely, and we were ready to head home. |
This trip
taught me a great deal about the importance of planning, patience, and
execution. Planning for all possible problems and disasters, like bringing an
extra weeks worth food incase we got held down due to weather, allowed us to
stay on the mountain and wait for our weather window. Remaining patient and not pushing up allowed us to avoid being stuck at high camp in 80mph winds for days on end (as several other teams were), and sure enough the weather lifted and we were given our shot eventually. Maintaining fitness and keeping spirits high allowed us to take advantage of the opportunities the weather provided us, at which point swift and efficient movement and execution was vital. Despite strong winds and being held back for weeks at a time, this trip came together very well and inspired in me a lot of confidence about completing the seven summit project. |  |
ITINERARY
| Day 1 - Fly to Anchorage, organize and re-package food Day 2 - Take bus to Talkeetna, arrange permits with NPS, fly to basecamp with Talkeetna Air Taxi Day 3 - Practice 2 man crevasse rescue, bury food cache Day 4 - Move to camp 1 at 7,800ft Day 5 - Carry a load and place cache at 10,000ft Day 6 - Move to camp 2 at 11,200ft Day 7 - Retrieve cache at 10,000ft Day 8 - Carry a load and place cache at 14,200ft Day 9 - Move to ABC (Advanced Basecamp) at 14,200ft Day10 - Rest day Day 11 - Carry a load and place cache at 16,200ft Day 12 - Rest day Day 13 - Move cache to 17,200ft Day 14 - Stuck at ABC Day 15 - Stuck at ABC Day 16 - Stuck at ABC Day 17 - Stuck at ABC Day 18 - Try to move to high camp, turn back due to winds Day 19 - Stuck at ABC Day 20 - Stuck at ABC Day 21 - Move to high camp at 17,200ft Day 22 - Rest day Day 23 - Summit! Day 24 - Start descending (reach Windy Corner by midnight) Day 25 - Arrive in basecamp by 7:30am, fly out to Talkeetna, giant steak dinner (with 3 desserts) Day 26 - Drive to Anchorage, fly home to Minnesota |  |
Mt. Aconcagua The following is an exact excerpt from Alex's Aconcagua journal - it is word for word what he wrote while on the mountain. Check back in the future for additional details on the Aconcagua and other expeditions. For additional pictures of Alex's Aconcagua solo expedition,click here. |  Alex at Camp 1 - Camp Canada 16,000 feet |
Alex Shockley's Aconcagua Summit Journal
Tuesday December 26th 2006
In the event that Rick, Mike, and Steve all back out of the Aconcagua expedition, I will climb solo. This is a decision I made while I was dreaming up this trip while in Moscow this summer after a successful Elbrus expedition, and after a month of planning it became a reality. Fortunately there are routes on Aconcagua that avoid glacier altogether, otherwise I would have been forced to rely on another unnecessary guide.
The planning, training, and preparations for this trip have been an incredible learning experience. I learned a great deal about international travel this summer, but a 2-3 week solo expedition to 22,841ft is a whole new ball game. I have spent the last several months hiking, running, and climbing stair cases as often as possible, and I have spent a great deal of time studying the mountain and route – I feel confident that I’m ready.
While making all the necessary preparations at college, I was very naive to the level of stress and anxiety I’m forcing upon my friends and family, and sitting here waiting to board a flight to Buenos Aires I can’t help but feel a little selfish. My family has been extremely helpful with the financial and logistics planning of this expedition, and for some unexplainable reason I feel much safer knowing I have their love and support, though I’m not exactly sure how I convinced them that spending 3 weeks of Christmas break, at age 19, in Argentina, by myself, climbing a big-ass mountain, was a good idea… My parents dropped me off at the airport this afternoon, and as usual my mom was crying and my dad appeared proud. I have always approached the mountains with the “the decision to turn around is never the wrong one” mentality before, but feeling their love, care, trust, and anxiety for me now gives me confidence that I will make safe decisions later.
Friday December 29th 2006 I made it to Confluencia. Yesterday I arranged for a mule to carry some of my gear to base camp, and they told me to get off the bus in los Penitentes, about 10 km from Puente del Inca. It took me about a half hour to track down the hostel where I was to meet “Erica”, and then she told me there would be a bus at 12:00 that could take me to the Horcones Ranger Station about 15 km up the road. The first bus to show up was at roughly 12:30 and it was headed back to Mendoza. Frustrated and desperate, I approached a large tour-van at the little gas station. They said they had no room for me and my pack, but when the European tourists heard I was going to climb Aconcagua they all fought for me to hop on the van because they wanted to hear about it. I rode with the tour group up to the ranger station where they all wished me good luck. From the ranger station it was about a 5 mile hike to Confluencia, which was made much, much harder due to the ridiculous heat. |  |
Saturday December 30th 2006
Confluencia to Plaza de Mulas is one tough hike with a 65 lb pack on. It was about 14 miles and 3,500 ft of elevation gain (with a lot of ups and downs), and scorching heat to boot.
 | The reality that I’m actually doing this solo for another couple weeks really set in on the hike today when no more than “hola” and “que tal?” was uttered all day to and from the passing mule guides. I’m in good health, and pretty good spirits right now, and I’m looking forward to spending sometime in Plaza de Mulas tomorrow. I ran into Sandra today, she was on her descent. She had some horror stories of wind and snow from camps 2 and 3, and I’m really hoping to have better luck. Not surprisingly, a lot of things have gone wrong so far, the main i8ssues being with the video camera. I packed two batteries, but one died when I accidentally left it on the first day, and now I’m at ¼ batter life already for some reason on the other. Then, while recording in the tent yesterday, it was so hot and the camera heated up so much that the tape actually melted and I lost about 20 minutes of footage. |
Sunday December 31st 2006 - New Year's Eve
 |
I found out that rest days at Plaza de Mulas aren’t so relaxing. Unfortunately the heat didn’t decrease one bit resulting in sweat and heat exhaustion from 9am to 9pm. Unable to sit in my sauna of a tent for too long, I spent the day exploring base camp and the surrounding area. I hiked the half mile through los penetentes to the Aconcagua hotel. The fact that there is a hotel here complete with gift shop, restaurant, and ping-pong table is ridiculous to me. The views from base camp are absolutely beautiful, and I can’t wait to move higher up. I have enough food and supplies to last me for at least another 12 days once I leave base camp, though I envision only needing 6-7 to summit. All climbers have to check in at the medical tent at Confluencia and Plaza De Mulas so they can record your blood pressure and blood oxygen level. An hour after arriving at Confluencia I was as at 110 over 70 and a 92, today I was at 120 over 80 and an 86. I feel strong and ready to move on. While packing up for the carry tomorrow and laughing to myself about the excess food I have, I came up with an interesting idea. Camped in Plaza de Mulas the rock outcropping on the cliff to the east blocks the view of Aconcagua, but I have been allowed some incredible views of Co. Cuerno, an impressive peak due north of base camp. Standing at over 5,500 meters, it would be an incredible addition to my Aconcagua solo expedition. I decided to skip Camp Canada altogether in order to save an extra 2 days for a side trip to Co. Cuerno. I’m really wondering how excited I’ll be to climb another mountain just 2 days after summiting Aconcagua though… |
Monday January 1st 2007
I’ve come to feel increasingly isolated amongst this sea of people on the mountain. It’s interesting and a little upsetting, how few people here care as much about how they make to the summit as actually summiting in the first place. There are about 5 or 6 different tents here that sell pizza, burgers, coke, beer, etc. and they’re always full. The vast majority of those coming in from Confluencia are carrying no more than water and the remains of lunch – the rest they passed off to mules and porters. Sitting on the little ledge beside my tent watching the herds of people come in and out I feel a huge distance between them. How you could ever travel to the ends of the earth only to have every little thing handed to you, then return home and call yourself a “mountaineer” is beyond me.
Huddled inside my tent to avoid the intense light, I’ve had a lot of time to think about future trips and challenges. Sitting and watching all the different guiding services and looking back on my guided trips in Tanzania and Russia, I can’t help but take note of what I like that they’re doing, and what I would do differently. My plan throughout high school was to go to college, major in entrepreneurship, and open my own brand of outdoor gear, eventually… But what about the idea of opening a guiding service company; maybe for the 7 summits, maybe more, or maybe less?
Matt said he wanted to start a company in a 3rd world country that would benefit the society there, what about an American/Tanzanian guiding service on Kili? Having Americans on board, we’d be able to charge more than the local companies, and in turn distribute the wealth to the local employees. I can only assume that very few of the local companies are run by someone with a high school education or higher – let alone a degree from a business school. I think there’s a lot of potential.
Tuesday January 2nd 2007 After ferrying a load yesterday, I moved up to camp 1 at 16,450ft. I brought with me 9 days worth of food and supplies, an amount which borders safe and a dying urge to descent in a state of gross obesity. My plan had been to spend 2 days ferrying loads and then moving camp to camp 2 at 17,800ft, taking a rest day, moving to camp 3 at 30,505 ft, taking a rest day, then summiting (if weather allows). After talking with a handful of climbers who summated from camp 2, I’m beginning to think that sounds like a good idea. It would only put me at the summit 1 or 2 days earlier, but it would allow me a better/safer nights sleep, and less taking down/setting up camp in potentially fierce weather. The weather has been clear and ridiculously sunny so far, but there has been a strong early morning wind the last 2 days, as well as some clouds moving in. Other than a slightly increased heart rate (55-80 bpm) I have felt little to no effect from the altitude. I’ve grown more used to hiking, eating, and sleeping in solitude – though I wish I brought along more to keep myself entertained – I’ve read the same 350 page book a couple times already. With nothing to do and nothing to read, I lie in my tent for hours daydreaming, waiting for the relentless sun to set and ironically bring some colder temperatures to these high camps. Idiotically, the only book I brought on the mountain is “EPIC: Stories of Survival from the World’s Highest Peaks”. Though not dampening my mountaineering dreams, it has made me question my confidence in my skills, ability, and perseverance. Reading those stories I can’t help but feel that those men are selfish in they way that they embark on such questionable expeditions, often times so ill-prepared, knowing how much stress and anxiety they’re forcing upon all who care for them. I like to think that I’m a different type of mountaineer – one who takes more calculated and educated risks, and only embarking when I know I have the love and support of those I hold closest. |  |
Wednesday January 3rd 2007
Maybe it was the altitude, or maybe it was the anxiousness of what lies ahead, but I was unable to sleep last night. It wasn’t until about 7am – 30 minutes before my alarm went off, that I finally found a warm, comfortable position that I was able to catch a little sleep in. I awoke an hour or 2 later to violent winds shaking the tent, and even though I was finally in a position to sleep, I had to get dressed and head out to pee. I returned to the tent in uncontrollable shivers to find that not only was all my water frozen, the 2 bagels I had been looking forward to for breakfast were hard as a rock.
 | I decided last night that I would move directly to Nido at just under 18,000ft and skip the day of ferrying loads. I took my time packing up camp, for Nido was only just over the ridge according to the aerial photos I’d studied. Leaving behind 4 days of food and a little bit of gear, I packed what ended up being the heaviest lode of my life. I brought with me 4 days worth of food, and enough high altitude gear to survive through a storm of epic proportions. My load ended up weighing roughly 80-90lbs, and it ended up taking me about 6 hours to climb the 2,000 vertical feet and cover another mile or 2 more than I had predicted. I had never carried a serious load this high before, and it proved more challenging than I had predicted. Exhausted and out of breath simply from shouldering my pack, I quickly found myself stopping to catch my breath in embarrassingly short time intervals. I subconsciously began setting goals for myself of how far I would make it before my next pause. When I made my goals I would hunch over, supported by my trekking poles digging into my shoulders (a minor discomfort by comparison). When I reached the bottom of an outcropping which I believed marked the entrance to camp, I set out at a full spring (or as close to it as I could get) to the top of the hill. When I got to the top I realized I still had another ¼ mile to go and I collapsed in a fit of hyperventilation, gasping for oxygen in this thin air like a fish out of water. I slowly regained my breath and was thrilled to stagger into camp 15 minutes later. |
Shortly after pitching the tent and getting camp constructed I sat down to brew a well deserved cup of hot tea. The tea was the greatest thing my dehydrated body had tasted in several days, but almost instantly after enjoying the tea, things took a turn for the worst… Out of nowhere a blanket of white engulfed the whole camp – bringing with it a driving snow that seemed to come from all directions. Having never felt a sign of altitude sickness in my life, I was shocked to begin feeling extremely queasy and light headed. About 154 minutes after the feeling hit I began a violent fit of vomiting and eventually dry heaving for about 10 minutes. I put my hat and down parka on, crawled into the tent, and after drinking a liter of water the feeling gradually subsided. The intense cold, wind, and snow, tied with my fit of vomiting, began to make me extremely nervous about what lies ahead. The weather forecasts say we should have a 2 day window starting tomorrow, and I hope I’m feeling fit enough to take advantage of it the next day.
Thursday January 4th 2007
I awoke with a great sense of optimism this morning. I was able to get a good night’s sleep last night, and my pulse was just under 60. Being that it was a rest day, I lounged around in the tent until around 10am, which time I remembered I was making pancakes with dried strawberries today. I spent the afternoon reading and resting until about 2pm when I began the preparations for the summit bid. I melted snow and boiled water for several hours, it’s amazing how much longer it takes to boil water at high altitude. I’m looking forward to summit day tomorrow, but I’m a little apprehensive… I feel fine right now at 18,000ft, but starting at this altitude and climbing almost 5,000 vertical ft. is a bit crazy. I have confidence knowing there is always a safe and easy retreat, but the fact that if I don’t summit tomorrow I’ll have to go back down to Camp Canada to get more food – thus making it another 3 or 4 days before I can try again is a little unnerving. |  |
Friday January 5th 2007 – SUMMIT DAY
The plan was to get up around 2:30, eat a quick breakfast, and be on the trail by 3:00am. Unfortunately I was one of the last ones leaving camp – so I was woken up and kept awake by those starting as early as 12:30. I lay in my tent pondering what lies ahead; I’ve climbed this much elevation at a time once before, but that was ending at 18,000ft, not starting at it. I haven’t even been on the mountain for 7 full days yet, far less time than is recommended prior to summiting. But the weather forecasts said this was the day, the day Cerro Aconcagua will allow climbers to her summit to penetrate the heavens. I skipped 3 days of the itinerary, and by my seventh morning I was poised and ready. The morning started off with a series of issues – the water bladder containing ¾ of my water for the day had frozen overnight in my sleeping bag – but no matter for I had an extremely optimistic look on the day. I hiked alongside 2 fellow Americans I had met on the mountain, and we started off at an incredible pace; 1 hour to camp Berlin, another 30 minutes to White Rocks (19,000 and 20,000 ft respectively).
The other 2 Americans, Ty and CJ, stopped to change layers while I led on with speed up to the top of the ridge. I have stood at elevations where I’m looking down on the clouds before, but sitting on top this ridge I had the privilege of watching a thunderstorm from above the clouds. It reminded me of a little kid watching the beginning stages of popcorn popping in the microwave. Your attention is undivided and you’re using your peripheral vision so as not to miss anything, suddenly there’s a flash and a pop, and you count the seconds until the next one.
We eventually made it to Refugio de Independencia (a broken down shelter at a little under 21,000ft) to watch the sunrise. The morning’s optimism was inspired by a low pulse and complete lack of altitude sickness related symptoms, but something changed at Independencia… Maybe it was the dehydration, maybe it was anxiety, or maybe the beginning stages of pulmonary edema, but I felt dizzy and a strong urge to vomit. We took a long break here because Ty couldn’t feel his toes and was busy trying various methods to warm them; the longer we sat the worse I felt. It was now 7am at roughly 20,750 ft, and I was seriously considering going down. Since I had no headache or bloody nose (2 of the first signs of AMS), I chalked up the feeling to severe dehydration. I drank what wasn’t frozen in my nalgene (which I had buried in my down parka in my pack), which only resulted in a few sips…
The trail became increasingly steeper and softer after this ridge, and as we increased in altitude my desire to vomit and my balance and coordination grew worse and worse. I encouraged CJ and Ty to pass me, and I was soon playing catch-up. The trail thus far had been a series of hard packed switchbacks, but when I caught up to the guys, we were about to start the traverse. The east face of Aconcagua has a relatively featureless scree slope from near the summit at 22,841 all the way over 5,000 ft down to Nido de Condores at a relatively constant 35 degrees. The traverse is in a southerly direction and it climbs the face at a remarkable pace.
 | Shortly
after beginning the traverse I began my first fit of vomiting, which
(given my dehydrated state) quickly turned into dry heaving. I crossed
this traverse at a pathetically slow pace. For at this altitude a
single heave will leave you gasping for air. At about 11:00am I met up with the guys for a break before the crux of the climb – 1,000 vertical ft of scree which conveniently has little to no trails or switchbacks in it. I began leading this section, but quickly pulled off as I felt their desire to go faster. With the sun beating down on us, I decided to use the excuse of removing my down parka as my reason for a break. |
Somehow in the process of putting my parka away and catching my breath, I fell asleep for what must have taken at least 15-20 minutes. When I awoke Ty and CJ were nearly out of sight, and another guided expedition had walked right past me. I was feeling worse and worse by the minute, but with the summit in sight and only an hour away, I was infinitely confident I could make it there without any problems. Encouraged by the desire to go up so I could go down, I slowly made progress on CJ and Ty, though they were still a good distance ahead. The path of least resistance was along the right hand side of the slope, until it reached snow indicating a sharp left turn that led directly to the summit. I had spent the last couple hours watching Ty and CJ look for routes, to save me the trouble, and on the last stretch not 10 minutes from the summit, I noticed some yellow fabric tucked into the rocks and ice about 5-10ft off the trail. CJ was there first, and it wasn’t until he yelled for us to help him that I realized it was a person. It was a man in his late 30s early 40s, who had apparently spent several nights here at roughly 22,800ft. When I arrived on the scene, several minutes after CJ, I couldn’t help but notice how unbelievably frost-bitten his face was, his lips blue with lack of oxygen.
As I continued a visual inspection of the man I continued to be shocked. He had a pack next to him with a sleeping pad, sleeping bag, and gloves all visible at first glance. His hands were terribly swollen and appeared to be ghostly white and hard as wood. After noticing the man’s disturbing appearance, I listened in as CJ tried to gain some insight as to who he was and what he was doing there. In his extremely hypothermic state, he had returned to the mental capacity of a 4 year old; he didn’t know his name or where he was from, and every time we put mittens on his hands or a hat on his head he immediately tore them off. We spent the next several hours, only 5-10 minutes walk from the summit at 22,841 ft, forcing warm and dry clothes on him while we melted snow to make some hot tea and cider for him.
As the time went by, he gradually became more receptive and alert, where as I on the other hand was feeling terrible with the symptoms of AMS adding on by the minute. Fully aware that I was hungry, cold, dehydrated, and in dire need to make the summit before it was too late, I continued to help feed, cloth, and take after this man from Austria, or Australia (he forgot). Every time I looked into the eyes of this sad, frostbitten man on the verge of death, my own fears and trepidations about my condition disappeared; the fact we all flew to Argentina, and spent 10 hours today carrying these supplies up the mountain today for us to summit was completely irrelevant – our one and only concern was for this man’s survival.
After about 2 hours had passed, a couple guided expeditions came strolling by. They were shocked and almost mad at this man, who was now much more alert and coherent than when we had found him, for sleeping on the summit. They became increasingly frustrated when the man didn’t know if he’d been with a guide or with friends, or whether he’d been there for 1 night or 10. One of the guides agreed to help him down to independencia where a helicopter could reach him – allowing us a shot at the summit.
The instant the man was safely on his way to the hospital, I realized the condition I was in; I was not prepared to spend several dehydrated, starving, and freezing hours at damn near 23,000ft. They all began the final push, and I paused to consider my options. The fact that I was getting sick and wouldn’t have the strength to make a second attempt this trip hit me during the early stages of the rescue operation, but unlike at the current time, it didn’t seem to matter the slightest bit. I thought to myself, no blood is coming up from my coughs or dry heaves, and a headache is to be expected at this altitude. I lost my balance and fell over into a snow bank, but I tried to tell myself it was intentional. Almost the instant I began to move my feet up, I was doubled over with an excruciatingly painful fit of vomiting; this time including blood. The moment I finished, I turned around and started down, and the quote “all mountains are beautiful, but no mountain is worth dying for” by Greg Child popped into my head.
It took a minute, while I was throwing this mystery man’s gear into my pack to bring to the ranger station, to realize what I had just walked away from. I was 5 minutes away from being the youngest American and the second youngest in the world to solo Aconcagua, no more than 40 vertical feet from being well on my way to becoming the youngest to climb the 7 summits. It will now tack on another 8 months to my 7 summit schedule, giving more freedom for other mountaineering youngsters to snap my dream away from me. Dizzy from the altitude I now began my long 5,000 vertical foot descent to Advanced Base camp. Unable to hold myself up during the coughing and dry heaving, I found myself falling and sliding considerable distances down the scree. The awareness of what I was walking away from was in my every thought, and I felt as though I was outside my body, watching it struggle and stumble down the scree with nobody else around.
| Sometime shortly before I was to head north and traverse back towards the way I came up, I fell on my back and began a quickening slide. Instinctively I tried to get on my stomach and arrest myself with an ice ax, but my mitted hands holding trekking poles did little to slow me down. I dug my knees and elbows into the ground (avoiding my feet so as not to break my knees and/or send myself flipping), and as my knee collided with a rock stuck firmly in place I began to roll. Somebody must have been watching out for me because my pack, now filled with my parka and this man’s sleeping bag, smashed into a solid rock outcropping, bringing me to a relatively padded halt. I laid their motionless, un-hurt but unable to move, and then I noticed a tear trickling down with my cheek. I must’ve laid their motionless with a silent stream of tears trickling out of me for 15 minutes, at which point my body had no more fluids to donate. Was I crying because I had just been one of three men that saved a total stranger’s life? Were various emotions of disgust for the man pouring out of me because he had just thwarted my summit? Or was it the realization that had I crashed into the rocks any other way I would be dead or seriously injured that brought me to this state. Whatever the reason, or combination of reasons was, I decided that saving someone’s life is far more important than any title. |  |
Saturday January 6th 2007
Today has been a day of reflection. Back at base camp, only 15 miles from the bus stop, I’m wide awake and thinking about the last several months of preparation, and the last several weeks of work on the mountain. I slept until 9am this morning – a good 13 hours of sleep, and when I awoke I remained motionless in a trance-like state for several hours. I wasn’t really asleep, but not fully awake. I spent the morning and on into the afternoon wondering; wondering if my now throbbing headache would have been much, much more serious had I gone that extra little bit. Wondering how the man from the summit is feeling, or even what his name was for that matter.
 | I have always thought, but it wasn’t until today that I knew, that my reason for mountaineering and pursuing the 7 summits is because I enjoy the experience, the challenge, and the simplicity it brings. The title would just be a cool perk. During the preparations and training for this trip I couldn’t even fathom the idea of not summiting, but in retrospect I’m glad I made the choices I did. There’s no way of telling how many dozens of people, blind to anything and everything other than the summit, had passed this man; what I do know is that in another 6 hours, 12 at the max, this man would have been dead. I had fun on the mountain, I learned a great deal about everything from expedition planning to high altitude mountaineering, and I made it to 22,800ft, I consider it a successful expedition. |
The mountain will be there for another shot in the years to come, but put in the same situation I will always make the same choices that I did yesterday. I love the mountains, but they are only mountains – nothing more.
- Alex Shockley, January 6, 2007
"I love the mountains, but they are only mountains – nothing more."
- Alex Shockley, January 6, 2007
blog with Alex and his friends