Connecting the Dots

I arrived in Talkeetna Sunday evening and knowing things were going to get busy on Monday morning, I took the opportunity to familiarize myself with the local scene. Talkeetna is reminiscent of an old frontier town resting on the banks of the braided rivers that lie just off the main street. The vibe radiating from the streets is both quaint and rugged. Walking from the hotel I pass by the shed- sized offices of K2 Aviation, Talkeetna Air Taxi, Hudson Air, etc. In such a small town these businesses are the kernel for all the popcorn. If you plan to embark on an Expedition in or around Denali, this is where you fly from. As deep as we are in the interior of Alaska, you expect to see folks walking around with animal skin coats and worn out jeans. Quite the contrary, Talkeetna is alive with adventure. Mountain climbers from all over the world are wandering the streets and occupying the chophouses telling stories of success and defeat on North America's greatest mountain. The sight of animal skin clothing has been replaced by synthetic names such as First Ascent, Mountain Hardwear, Patagonia and the like. After spending a few weeks back at my childhood home in Western Maryland, I finally feel like I have returned to my tribe. The time accelerates by as I peek into the village craft stores and search for a venue to hunker down and satisfy the void resting just above my belt. Choosing the local brewery, I find a seat to belly up to. A group of climbers just off the mountain are clamoring at the table just behind me. Without any auditory effort, I hear the circle of conversation and take away from it that they experienced an unfortunate failed summit. One of the team members took off his gloves at 18,500 ft and got frostbite, forcing the entire group to retreat. Note to self: NEVER make that mistake. Finishing up a fresh halibut sandwich, I walk back to the hotel as the sun is perpetually resting on the jagged horizon, and feeling a bit tired, I lay down - looking over my shoulder the clock reads midnight.

Monday morning was the beginning of an incredible series of events that have altered the logistics of the expedition greatly. Things that needed to happen on Monday: determine the exit route from the glacier to the headwaters of the river we would be kayaking; find a suitable landing zone near there headwaters to have the kayaks and my paddling team member flown into; arrange a climbing partner for the second stage of the journey (the glacier descent); arrange getting the kayaks to Talkeetna for the outbound drop and a few more odds and ends.

I had originally planned to descend from the mountain via the Kahiltna glacier. After meeting with a National Park Ranger and one of the pilots, the possibility of this plan coming to fruition started to get increasingly grey. The landing zone at the toe of the glacier was out of commission; the next option was another 20 miles below the toe of the glacier requiring a heinous amount of bushwacking. By the time I would be descending the glacier, the snow would be melted out, leaving an enormous breadth of jagged, tunneled, unstable and dangerous blue ice stretching over a mile and a half in width. It was time for a new plan.

I decided to head over to Alaska Mountain Guides to find an adventurous soul who may have exited in the vicinity I was considering. It was there I met Joe Butler, a true Alaskan mountain guide, a bit rough around the edges, hair greasy from a few weeks on the mountain, sandpaper hands, and a red beard extending the length of his neck. I knew I had found the right guy.

Joe immediately filled with excitement when I told him of my plan and was eager to join me for the descent! We pulled out a few detailed sectional maps of the region and he began to show me a number of alternative routes that we could use. With a much better idea of the land travel, it was time to go back to the flight crew at Talkeetna Air Taxi (TAT) to find a drop zone to bring LJ and the kayaks into, and to fly Joe out.

On the ride over to TAT, the driver suggested I talk to Danielle. My immediate thought was (pardon my ignorance), no, I would rather talk to a pilot directly than a woman in the office. Ohhh how wrong I was. It turns out Danielle is widely knows as the “Real McCoy” up here in Alaska. She is a hardcore climber, a bush pilot, and the aircraft mechanic at TAT. My driver ran out to the hanger to get her, and as she approached the intensity of her presence was piercing. I shook her weathered hand and was immediatly calmed by her somber voice. Breaking out the charts once again, I showed her our newfound traverse from the Kahiltna Glacier over the exit pass and into the Tokositna drainage. Danielle's eyes lit up, my curiocity arose, and she began to tell of her experience making this same traverse. She assured me of a wonderful experience through this route filled with epic scenery, fun and challenging climbing, and BINGO, the perfect landing zone. Working out the final details with her, I now felt the plan begin to solidify. Wishing me luck on the adventure, we parted ways and I shoved off to grab some grub and call it a day.

Click here to check out TAT's video featuring Danielle