Ok, you have purchased all the gear. You have spent the time and money to enter the wonderful world of AT ski touring. You have spent the winter walking up the local ski area, and have even done a few hut trips. You have even ventured into the backcountry in the spring and you are hooked. Ski touring the local peaks is something you have fallen in love with. You page through Face Book posts from people out in far off ranges, and you find yourself dreaming of doing this yourself. You are in the best shape of your life, and your interest is reaching peak levels; you want to do that! The only issue, you don’t know where to start.
At 8kpeak, we have been getting emails from people just like you, and we have done our best to get people geared up, and have had success helping people figure out how to make it happen. It’s happening often enough to where we realized that there isn’t a lot of information specific on the subject. Well not any longer.
Over the days and weeks to come, 8kpeak is going to take our lifelong experience of venturing to the world’s greater ranges, and we are going to be posting what amounts to as a how-to set of blogs to help people realize their dreams. We have spent the last 30 years heading to remote parts of Alaska, South America, and Asia on a natural progression that has taken us on expeditions to nearly 50 of the world’s highest peaks. In that process, we have not only taken the steps to learn how to pick appropriate peaks for all levels of expedition ski mountaineering, we have figured out some of the logistical aspects that can make or break your expedition. We have made all the mistakes, and also overcome them. So these blogs will really be a handbook of how to do this.
The areas covered will include:
1) Picking an objective. This is a critical place to start. The peak has to meet your experience level in order to make the most of your expedition. At any experience level, when you venture to the greater ranges, it’s going to put you in an arena that is simply different than local peaks of the ranges found in the lower 48 states. Altitude, glaciers, different cultures, and logistics all come into play. Picking the appropriate peak is critical for maximizing your experience.
2) Picking your mates. An expedition to the greater ranges will take more than a day to pull off. The greater ranges involve peaks that are much more involved, much larger, much higher than what you are probably used to, so they take weeks. Pick the wrong partners, and friction can deteriorate friendships into enemies. There is nothing worse than having to spend time in a tent with someone who you find is irritating or has different objectives with the expedition.
3) Picking the right gear. If you are interested in planning an expedition, chances are you have most of the gear you will need. However, the greater ranges will demand things you might not have. Ropes, hardware, tents, cook kits, and a lot of other items will need to be acquired in order to be prepared for the different environment than you have learned in. When you get off the airplane in La Paz Bolivia, if you forgot or didn’t realize you need a half dozen pickets, chance are remote you will be able to find them. Something as simple as gas for your stove becomes critical. You can’t fly with gas, so you have to look ahead.
4) Logistics. Different countries and different regions entail different forms of ID and paper work. Permits, visas, all need to be understood. Finding operators that can pick you up at the airport, get you to and from the mountain, and back to the airport are important. If you find yourself in Kashgar China at the airport and don’t have a contact waiting for you, unless you speak the local language, you won’t even be able to hail a taxi. Getting back to the gas, you need to know before you depart what the operator can obtain. There are all kinds of things that need to be known long before you head out and we can really help. Air tickets, travel and rescue insurance, and a list of other details need to be understood. You need to understand your food and what is available in country. Logistics are probably the most difficult aspect to a successful expedition and we can really help.
5) Funding. An expedition is going to entail a cost. You have to understand the costs. Much of the costs will fall out from the planning and logistics, but from experience, you have to set up budgets for everything as a first stage, and build in contingencies. From experience, there is nothing worse than getting a week out from departure, and realizing you need $1500 bucks for a garbage deposit and not having it. Our experience has opened our eyes for the questions to ask the operator, and general knowledge of what to expect.
6) Training. As the logistics are being worked out, training must be started. For logistics and training, the time to start is NOW. In general, you need 6 months to properly train. Through trial and error and years of training, we have devised a three phase program that gives us the combination of power and endurance. Climbing at altitude and skiing requires more than just endurance from getting out locally. When you are fit to climb a high peak, you need a bit more bulk and power than what a lot of people think and the program accommodates this: Strength training, then a combination of strength and endurance, phasing into more endurance.
7) Mental training. Along with the physical training, you have to “get your head on straight” in order to have a great trip. For your first expedition, things like never having been to altitude creates major question marks that can create a ton of anxiety. Anxiety before and during an expedition wastes a lot of energy so we will discuss what to expect and how to settle things down.
8) Pre trip preparation. Taking care of things at work, getting all your bases covered before you depart also create anxiety before a big trip. You are going to be gone for a long time and this is daunting. That anxiety can drag you down, deplete your immune system, make you extremely tired. This exposes you to getting sick. How to look ahead and some of the details to help organize your life are processes we have done many times. There is a phycology involved and in short, nothing drastic will happen while you are gone in the month or so that you are away. Enjoy the process.
9) Executing the expedition. We will discuss the process from the airport to the mountain and back. There are various strategies that can be used to “get up a peak”. All will be discussed as well as advice on how to “climb the peak”. You will understand a bit about the various cultures you will be traveling in which can be daunting as well if experiencing it for the first time. On mountain logistics and schedules will be discussed. This is an important aspect because making camps, doing carries, and figuring out timelines is what the sport is all about.
10) Altitude. What is altitude and how does it impact the human body. How do you deal with it successfully will all be discussed in conjunction with the execution. Altitude is the main hurdle in big mountain ski expeditions in that it exposes you to all the perils of the mountains. Dealing with altitude mandates understanding it, and then working with it. It’s a huge aspect to an expedition, but once you understand it, you can also really “enjoy” it.
Stay tuned, and in the process, you will have a better understanding of “how to do it” with regards to experiencing your sport in the ultimate venues. The blogs won’t be able to uncover every rock on the journey, but they will give you enough information to allow you to confidently approach your expedition in a manner that gives you the basics to have a great adventure.
]]>Steve and Mike Marolt sporting Tissot on Ampato, Peru...
I was wondering around Everest basecamp several years ago, and noticed that all the lead guides were wearing the same watch, a Tissot brand altimeter watch. I approached our logistics guy, Kari Kobler, who had his watch, and in his thick Swiss accent, “Oh damn, this is the best watch I ever had, fabulous! I can’t live without my Tissot on these trips…”
Upon looking at it, I knew why. Tissot is a Swiss watch company that has been around since the beginning of time, pun intended. In the watch industries most competitive arena, Switzerland, they have existed since 1853 and have evolved to being one of the top watch craftsmanship companies on the planet. Their products range in a zillion different styles, but for what we do at 8kpeak, their altimeter watches are the state of the art.
Our moto at 8kpeak is “gear we use that works”, and since Tissot came out with their adventure altimeter watches, I’ve had one strapped to my wrist. Some people relate to the Tissot T-Touch watch as the “ABC watch”, Altimeter, Barometer, and Compass. The watch is thus a piece of gear that has incredible functionality, but is actually a watch that you would want to wear-it’s cool looking.
Tissot comes in sporty models and traditional models.
The Altimeter is without question one of the most accurate on the market. Although any altimeter is dependent on air pressure sensors, the computer in a Tissot has a feature that adjusts the altimeter reading for a more consistent reading. I’ve set my Tissot to map and not had to calibrate it again for days. The altimeter also records total ascent and descent to track by the day or trip or in general. For training, it calculates feet (or meters) per minute which allows me to track how I am performing. There are alarms that can be set to tell you when you reach a specific altitude, and history to keep track of different trips.
The barometer is just as accurate, and provides a remarkable ability to anticipate storm fronts as well as weather windows. I’ve used a variety of altimeter watches, and Tissot is the first barometer that actually works well to help anticipate “what’s coming” weather-wise.
The compass is without question the most accurate compass I have ever had. It is easy to calibrate for different regions on the planet as well as hemisphere, something I never took into consideration until the detailed manual that came with the watch indicated was important for pin point accuracy.
Adventure is always a race against time. Tissot helps keep track of it all.....
The T-Touch comes with all the other functions one would expect, stop watch, alarms, etc, but it also tracks time zones at the touch of the screen. So when I am in China, I know exactly what time it is in Europe, or back home in Colorado very quickly. All the functions are encased in a sleek package, and accessible by touching the scratch proof sapphire crystal face. The “Touch” aspect makes for a very intuitive operation considering the endless functions available. Not every user will fully utilize the T-Touch and all its functions, but for anyone venturing into the wilderness, this is a tool, not just a watch.
So The Tissot T-Touch series is a remarkable “tool” for adventure. Other adventure watches take on a techy blocky look, but when you first look at the Tissot, the thing that I love is that it looks like a sleek and elegant watch, and not a small computer on my writs. It is also extremely light, so I can climb and ski, but also ride my mountain bike with my Tissot; you put it on and forget about it. It also comes in a variety of different styles with colors and bands ranging from techy red and orange silicon and nylon to gold and silver traditional. The watch goes as well with a down suite as it does with anything worn to a board meeting.
At 8kpeak, we know that spending a grand on a watch is a lot ka-ching. However, what I can tell you is that you get what you pay for. Your T-Touch is not just a “disposable” watch that you will wear for a few years and swap out when your inexpensive watch stops running. Tissot is a high quality product that lasts forever. With care, this could be the last watch you ever purchase, and could become that watch that a father passes on to his kid at graduation. But before that time comes, rest assured, this watch will be one of the coolest gadgets you ever bought, and as you get to know the functions, will become a real tool in the field. It is truly part of the “gear we use that works” and once on your wrist is a lot more than just another watch.
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Broad Peak, Karakorum, Pakistan, 12th Highest Peak
I remember it and will never forget. My climbing partner Jim Gile had departed base camp earlier that week, and with the expedition done, my identical twin brother Steve and I were left to clean the high camps on the 12th highest mountain in the world, Broad Peak in the heart of the Karakorum Range in Pakistan. Steve and I had climbed the previous day to camp 2 at 21,000 feet, but early that morning, he woke up with dry heaves, too sick to go higher, and questionable to help haul gear at all. I would have to ascend to 23,000 feet and pick up our high camp, or at least as much of it as I could put in my pack and tie on to the outside. I was not happy with the knowledge that I was going to be carrying down what took 4 men to haul up, probably 100 pounds or more!
As I headed out and tied into the fixed lines, (ropes we attached to the mountain for protection) the snow was hard and the crunch of my crampons overtook any dread. There were no other people on the route, and I was going to experience something that I feared, but also relished, a time to be completely alone on one of the world’s highest peaks! Soon I was in a climber’s trance, rhythmically climbing step by step to the camp. Although 4 hours passed, suddenly I found myself at our high camp, and with numb fingers and toes, I crawled into the tent. I fired up the stove to warm myself, and gritted my teeth as the blood poured back into my fingertips, creating an excruciating burn. The day was completely calm, no wind, and as I peered out of the tent, the hard blue sky and expanse of the Karakorum beyond froze my gaze in wonder, and I realized how small I really was. Fear crept into my mind at the thought of it; I was alone at over 23,000 feet, with no radio, no way of communicating with anyone should I need assistance. It was as lonely as I had ever been in my life.
Camp 2 Broad Peak
In a meditative trance, suddenly I heard voices outside. I thought to myself, “who in the world is that?” I started to pack up not paying too much attention and heard voices again. I yelled “ who’s there”. Nothing. I yelled again, “who is out there?” Nothing. Then I heard the voices again. I got out and walked over to the only other tent at that camp, only to find it empty, door open, totally abandoned by its owners left to become part of the landscape of Broad Peak. Shaking my head, I thought I was losing my mind. Was this hypoxia, was it my subconscious mind coming to my rescue, or was it a spirit from climber’s past who didn’t make it off the mountain talking to me? I had heard stories from more experienced climbers who said the mountains are alive with spirits. Others had heard voices that guided the living away from harm, and others that seemed to just want to live vicariously. I thought it to be mystical embellishment but here I was, “hearing” this first hand. I didn’t know what was going on, but I also didn’t want to ponder it as it was unnerving at best. I crawled back into our tent and started packing. Then I heard a single voice. “Hey MIKE! Everything is just great! This is going to be a great day….for YOU!”
I poked my head out of the tent, saw no one, and for an instant, was on the verge of freaking out. Then I heard the voice again more reassuringly. “Mike, you are going to be ok, and you are going to have one of the greatest days of your life….”
Stunned, I looked out at the view, and softly a calm came over me. Where I was, what I was doing, everything came into focus for a brief second. It was my time to speak. I whispered to myself, “this is going to be a great day! Look where I am, alone, a perfect day. Mike, you were born for this. Pack up, embrace the pain of hauling everything off this mountain, and don’t be lazy…..like the guys who left their tent.” Then I chuckled. And thought to myself, I can’t afford to leave any of this gear up here anyway.
A high camp for 3 people consists of tents, stoves, gas cartridges, food, aluminum pickets, trash, assorted climbing gear, ropes, ice screws, and in this case someone’s camera, and a sleeping bag. I jammed everything in my pack that I could starting with the tent. Knowing my pack was not nearly big enough for everything, I had carried up a handful of straps to attach things to the outside. After an hour, I had a full pack with so much gear hanging off the outside that I had to concentrate on leaning forward to avoid being pulled off my feet backward. I could barely pick up the weight and worried that my shoulder straps would break under the strain.
At 23,000 feet, the oxygen level is about a quarter of what it is at sea level, and although I was heading down, the physical strain of that much weight on legs tired from over two months of climbing and the lack of oxygen made my body shake under the immense strain on my back. The route was extremely steep and we had attached fixed lines to accommodate getting off with loads, but being short a partner, the task was monumental. I clipped the carabiner into the ropes and felt the “clink” through my gloves; the safety of being connected to the rope was comforting. I slid down the ropes with a metal rappel device connected to my harness. I could smell the dust burning from the heat as the friction from the rope passing through the metal controlled my speed. The rope was attached at various points with ice screws driven into the ice and pitons hammered into rock cracks to connect all the lengths of ropes entailed in fixing thousands of feet of terrain. At anchor points, I had to unclip from the rope, and carefully reattach to the line below, leaving me exposed for a few moments to thousands of feet below me. A fall here and I would have become part of the landscape of Broad Peak. Concentration was critical. I would then check the anchor carefully to make sure it had not come loose, and slowly lean back hoping that my assessment was accurate. This process only took a minute, but there were many of these anchors and repeating the process was extremely exhausting.
Broad Peak Route
Soon I was back at camp 2 where Steve had packed everything he could making his load slightly larger than mine. I was relieved to find him healthy enough to help with the work. He could not find room for a few aluminum pickets, a sleeping pad, and Jim’s book. I found room on my pack, and soon we were back descending.
With the added company of Steve, I missed the freedom of being totally alone, but he was feeling better, and seemed to be enjoying the day as much as me. There wasn’t a whole lot of talking as the work required effort and concentration, but I could tell; he was also realizing he was made for this. We were carrying probably the biggest loads of our lives, in the middle of the most dreaded part of any expedition- cleaning the mountain-, and yet we were having an incredible time.
We descended past the place of camp 1, and from there down, the route was nearly vertical. Again, we embraced the unnerving challenge and kept going. We had 3,000 feet to go. I had been up since 5 and had been on the trail for nearly 10 hours. The route was now in the dark shade which dampened my enthusiasm, and I was literally and figuratively at the end of my rope. I would pick a point, get to that point, take a rest and pick another point. In a dream like state, I found myself 10 feet from the end of the route, hanging. I opened my eyes to find my helmet resting on the granite wall in front of me with Steve yelling, “Mike! Are you ok?” I shook my head, looked down, and slipped the rope the final 10 feet. Steve helped me unclip, and we both sat down and just laughed! I told him about the voices I had heard that morning, and the laughter subdued to eerie silence. Steve looked at me and rather than call me out, suggested that whatever the reason, “Mike those voices were real…” “As you headed up, the entire face of Broad Peak below let go in a massive avalanche, and I was scared out of my wits looking at it. I didn’t hear any voices like you did, but calm came over me as I listened to the roar dissipate. I felt like I was not alone, and a wave of appreciation and humility overtook me and I knew it was going to be an incredible day. It was!”
Suddenly Mohamed our base camp cook arrived with his assistant. They had a thermos of lemonade and biscuits for us. The laughter resumed and was contagious and we sat there giggling. Over two months of climbing and finally we were off Broad Peak, safe and sound.
Success came in the strangest way that trip. It wasn’t a summit victory or a life-time ski run or anything like that. It was a single otherwise unnotworthy long hard day we dreaded, companions we heard and felt but could not see, and the magnificence and power of a remote and high peak……. That was in August 1997, but reflections of that experience, that day, have remained with Steve and I since then. I’ve heard voices a handful of times since then, and always, they are at times where I am at my mental, physical and emotional limits. I can’t explain them, but they are real. I don’t seek them, they just happen. I hear them, always with encouragement that helps me realize the gift I have been given.
]]>Ascending Slopes to Camp 3, Broad Peak
Tambopaxi Hut with the beautiful conical shape of Cotopaxi in the background.
]]>Click for link to The Ski Channel Interview where they ask about how we have climbed and skied so long and avoided death. I hate talking about such things but they asked and I responded.....
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I am not proud of this story, but it definitely had an impact on my life and I have learned the lesson. You can't be careful enough, and ALWAYS, trust your gut out there. I didn't, and because of that, I now know, the worst things can happen to you. Sometimes we get lucky and learn that lesson the hard way. As they say, the mountains don't care who you are or how much experience you have.
]]>https://vimeo.com/163197958 Click link for The Ski Channel Interview.
Ski mountaineering has it's own difficulties compared to pure mountaineering. Where the mountaineer looks for challenge by difficult routes, the ski mountaineer looks for terrain that is skiable and not as difficult. However, the ski mountaineer has to haul a lot of extra gear and climb in AT ski boots making the up challenging. The ski descent at altitude also has it's own difficulties. This requires special training as well.
]]>The range of commercially guided trips to say Everest is $20K to as much as $100K per person. We like many mountaineers simply can't afford to write a check that large. So we run our own trips. That still comes at a large cost, but the difference is that the cost also comes in the form of enormous satisfaction and experience gained.
]]>https://vimeo.com/162271693 Click this link for podcast.
Mountaineering at the ultimate levels includes combining human physiology with the impacts of thin air. The human body is simply not designed to exist at high altitude. However, with preparation and experience, it is possible and the result is unparalleled adventure. Check out the link above as part of a coop effort between 8kpeak.com and The Ski Channel for the first video pod cast on a variety of subjects we will be broadcasting on all kinds of aspects of ski mountaineering in the high peaks.
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Base camp Winter Himlung Himal. I've never had any issues with altitude but this photo shows me in a total daze. The Himalaya in winter is accessed via helicopter. We flew from Katmandu which is at about 4500 feet, to about 15,000 feet in a couple hours. Normally, you would trek to that altitude taking a week or so to slowly acclimate. When I got out of that helicopter, I could barely walk in a straight line. The world just started spinning. It was really a wake up call to the magnitude of thin air and gave us a great appreciation for something we have always totally respected, but never really thought of simply because the normal process of climbng those peaks takes care of it- acclimating. We were training at home to 13,000 and 14,000 feet, but that extra 1,000 feet hit us like a ton of bricks. Honestly, it was one of the scariest moments I've had in those mountains, sitting around a base camp, haha! We rested a few days and were fine, but I shudder to think of the brain cells we burned in the process. But it really painted a typical picture that happens so often in those peaks. Young strong climbers get into a race to get to BC and end up sicker than hell. Now I understand why so many people get sick in the initial parts of expeditions. Our mantra is "party down low, and kick 'er in the guts up high"......after you are fully acclimated. With the expedition season upon us, GO SLOW and have fun!
]]>Emily Harrington, Hilaree O'neil, Rob Morrison, and Adrian
Hauling loads.....
As 2015 winds down, and my brain and body dives into planning for 2016, it is also a time to look back at key moments of the past year. Our attempt to ski Makalu, the fifth tallest peak in the world (unskied from its summit) was an unforgettable trip, filled with successes and failures. But most of all, it was memorable for its hard work, and the teamwork it took to get as high as we did, and also to come home safe. After Nepal’s earthquake in the spring of this year, the mountains and trekking trails of Nepal were essentially empty. So this expedition became an attempt to help the local people of the valleys in which we climb, as well as to achieve our personal goal. Aspect Solar was one of our partners in this attempt. We already knew Aspect’s panels and batteries would provide reliable power for our expedition. We used panels and batteries throughout our climb, as high as 25,500 feet, in temperatures as cold as -25 degrees. Aspect Solar powered everything from our battery powered footbeds (essential in cold ski boots at altitude) to our satellite internet terminals, to our i-phones that played multi-duty - from music player to camera to gps. Despite extreme cold temps and some stormy days without sun, Aspect Solar kept us connected. Our favorite setup in Base Camp was the EP-60 panels combined with Power Pack 100 batteries. Higher, we downsized to the Duo-Flex 2 panel with SB-37 battery. Both performed flawlessly.
Breaking trail on the upper slopes, massive work....
But perhaps more important than our power needs on Makalu (we ultimately skied the peak from higher than anyone before us, from almost 26,000 feet. 2,000 feet of vertical still remain unskied. We will be back!), is what happened during and after our expedition in the valleys below the mountain. Aspect Solar, through a partnership with 8kPeak.com and Alpenglow Expeditions, donated 30 total power units (including solar panel, battery, and AC converter) to Sherpa families in the Khumbu, Makalu and Arun Valleys. These Aspect Solar units provide a power alternative to hydro systems damaged or destroyed in the earthquake. Power in these villages is essential for lights, the occasional satellite communication system the small villages have been provided, and cell phones which act as cameras and music devices even when no cell network exists. The Aspect Solar units were immensely appreciated in the small villages that exist as high as 17,000 feet below the world’s tallest peaks.
Kicking back at BC...
Aspect Solar high on Makalu...
In 2016, we plan on returning to the Himalaya, with dreams of climbing and skiing the world’s tallest peaks. We also look forward to continuing to support the local towns and families that are such a big part of our expeditions. Thanks to Aspect Solar for their support of our climbs, our dreams of massive ski descents, and our efforts to support local communities!
-Adrian Ballinger, Alpenglow Expeditions
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There are a lot of choices for AT skis these days, but we are stoked here at 8kpeak to see Lou Dawson at Wild Snow pipe in with his industry review:
"I truly do enjoy these skis, having been on them quite a bit last winter and now with a few days this season. They’re different. Not as solid feeling on the down as our full-on alpine skis that tour (Chugach & BMT, for example). But they have a cool silky feel that actually reminds me of Fishers I skied on decades ago. Perhaps that’s caused by more metal in the ski, or perhaps just the particular culture at Fischer, (or perhaps I’m imagining things?) but these guys are nice. You’ll find them to perform well as a wider plank for powder touring. They’re playful on hardpack though as with many touring oriented skis you’re not going to be entering any slalom races. A 180 cm version weighs around 1300 grams, good. "
Check out Lou's take on all the skis at https://www.wildsnow.com/17894/wildsnow-ultimate-backcountry-ski-quiver-2015-2016/
The entire Fischer AT lineup, boots, skis, skins, and bindings, "gear we use that works". Check it out.
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“Gear we use that works….” Is the motto we at 8kpeak.com dreamed up years ago sitting at base camp in norther China in the middle of winter where we experienced -90 degree temperatures. We didn’t have the gear necessary to handle that kind of cold, so we set out to find, develop, GET IT! We don’t have competing brands, just the stuff that actually works.
Thermacell is a small manufacturer that specializes in heated products, and our initial exposure to their gear was in the form of heated insoles. What we found was a product 25 years in the making that was remote controlled, powered by a lithium ion battery, was light weight, and of all the heated insoles we had tried, WORKED. So we took them on to sell at this new company we formed with this catchy motto.
Last year, the engineers at Thermacell were working on a new product utilizing the same technology integrated into hand and pocket warmers. They heard we were going on another winter Himalaya ski mountaineering expeditions and shipped us a few sets of the warmers and a couple pocket warmers. We were sold on the heated insoles so took them along. At over 21,000 feet my thermometer buried at -30 so I don’t know if it was -40 or -60, but it was as Steve pointed out that day “…dangerously cold boys!” Our feet and hands were the only thing warm on our bodies. Thermacell brought us the heat!
The hand warmers are the same size as standard chemical packs most people use today to keep their hands warm. They are placed on the back of the hand inside the glove where the blood enters the hand. They also fit nicely in your palm, but for skiing and climbing, the back of the hand is best. They have settings for low, medium, and high from about 100 degrees to 124 degrees. On a full charge, they will run for 6 hours on low and about 3 and a half hours on high. But the reality is, spot heating which is all you really need, I’ve been able to keep them in the top lid of my pack for a week or two to use when I really need them. They are awesome. I have used them at cold football games, walking the dog, and the other night my wife had the chills in bed and we had a good laugh at how they warmed her up. When crawling into a cold sleeping bag, they were cooooozy!
The pocket warmers are a single block about the size of both hand warmers. They are also super for cold standing around, long lift rides, and I’ve been told fishing. Ha. We have also sold a number of them to various ski patrols for their rigs when hauling victims off the mountains. It’s the same concept as the hand warmers and works really well.
The beauty of these products is that they are rechargeable. They charge off a USB port or a wall socket, cables included. So they won’t end up under the ski lift or in the landfills. In the industry, this is a huge issue. On a personal note, I run up the ski hills in the summer, and here in Aspen, running under lift 1 and then Ruthies, I counted around 150 of those things thrown away off the lift. Later I did go back and pick them up, and it was a back pack full of trash.
For extreme expeditions to walking around town and everything between, this is a product that we definitely use that works. Check them out at 8kpeak.com.
]]>Eight, nine, ten hours later you arrive at your destination. What next?
A lot of international flights seem to arrive at night—notably those headed to the Andes. You get out of the airport and hail a taxi to take you to a hotel. You get to the hotel, jump out of the taxi, ready to haul gear into the hotel, and bam! It hits you. No one has the local currency to pay the taxi driver.
While in this modern age (read: digital, connected economy) many expenses can be pain via credit card readers attached to cell phones, there are still many locations where simple, local currency is required.
I remember arriving in Kampala in 2006 for a several week trip into the Rwenzoris. When my two climbing partners and I arrived, it was pretty apparent I was the only person who’d brought cash of any kind. I had several hundred dollars in US bills, but at the airport, I’d gone to an ATM and pulled out several thousand Ugandan shillings (as I write this in late 2015, the Ugandan shilling is currently worth 0.00028 US dollars). So, for the next few days while we arranged ground transport to the mountains, I paid for everything. My climbing buddies wondered why I was so grumpy, but it was obvious. Eventually they found ATMs and paid me back, but it proved a big boo-boo on our parts in terms of preparedness.
I’m pretty anal about being ready. During a trip to Peru in 2000, a friend organized most of our trip, including free gear. When I suggested I would help him with preparations and found a hotel near the Lima airport and booked a big room for the four of us, he was floored. No one, he said, ever helps him prepare on his trips. (I got the name and number of the hotel from a climber friend who’d been to Peru recently and called the hotel from Colorado to book the room.) It proved a smart thing to do. Arriving in Lima, a city of 9 million, at night can be a pretty scary thing.
Here are a few things to consider before and after you leave on your expedition:
There are many other things to consider—snack for the plane trip; knowing exactly what you need in terms of gear; solar charges for those digital devices; what, exactly, is available in-country; what the local money is worth, some basic local words, etc., etc.—but if you start thinking creatively, you’ll figure out some of the many things that will help you be prepared for your exotic destination.
Happy trails.
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The editor at Boulder Climb Ski Magazine gave 8kpeak.com the vine this week. Having started our mountain careers pre internet, this is a brief look at how things have changed.
http://www.climbskibouldermagazine.com/mike-marolt---true-adventure---dilution-by-perception.html
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By Cameron “Cam” Burns
Mike’s recent piece on funding trips got me thinking about how I did it to go climbing, trekking, or just travelling, dozens and dozens of times between the late 1980s and today.
Like a many people out there, I have a very small and limited bank account. But I also have a small and limited skill set (Hmm.… I wonder if those points are related), the most prominent arrow in that quiver being, of course, laying down words on paper. I can take a picture or two here and there, and have been labeled a professional photographer by the kids in my community, but I don’t think they’ve actually seen my competition.
So, when you write stuff, you quickly realize a few things: 1. The high level “C-Office” (VP of Communications-types, etc.) people that might hire you often can’t write very well or, more importantly, don’t want to write—and maybe that’s because they can’t do it very well. A lot of these people end up in marketing, some of them with tourists boards or economic development branches of governments, and those places have millions of taxpayer dollars to spend advertising their areas.
First thing you have to do is get over any lack of ability you’ve told yourself about yourself. You’re lying to yourself. My writing is like a kitchen where someone has pulled the top off the blender and my bad kale smoothie has spewed all over the ceiling. My photography’s worse—think bad muddle puddle of poodle vomit. You will get over that.
In 1997, I was hankering for a big mountain trip: a 6,000-meter peak in the Andes, the Himalaya—even the lower Alaskan ranges. Then, my wife, Ann, decided she wanted a break, too. She likes watching animals; I wanted to get high, so to speak. She suggested East Africa. I balked. There are no real mountains there, or very few. Certainly there’s wildlife galore. But alpine climbing? Eventually I gave in. East Africa it was. Now to figure out funding.
One thing I immediately noticed was there was only one guidebook to Kilimanjaro and Mount Kenya, two intriguing peaks that rose to 19,340 and 17,100 feet, respectively. The guidebook, written by ex-pat Briton Ian Allen, was a bit strange. The book started out with long-winded explanations of the glaciers and the flora and fauna. Those sections read like PhD papers, and I suspect they were published as some kind of favor to someone else.
So, cap in hand, I approached the Moutaineers Book, explained the unfriendliness of the Allen guide, and suggested I write a new one. They agreed, and to my surprise, gave me a $5,000 advance on the book. I figured that would easily cover airfare and three or four trips up the mountain, as well as a jaunt into Mount Kenya to do as many routes as possible there with my regular climbing partner Benny Bach. Ann and I began planning.
I wrote to a half dozen magazines and got guarantees of published articles from about three of them. I wrote to Lufthansa (the German airline that travels between the USA and East African countries) and told them my book would have a strong emphasis on preserving the environment on Kili and elsewhere. They gave us a half price deal on plane tickets. With credit card in hand, we flew to East Africa.
When we got there, we were in for a huge surprise. Trips up “Kili” were much more expensive than we’d read at home. Most were around $900—$1,200.
Apparently, in the mid-1990s, East African nations had seen the potential of making money from tourism. Until then, entrance to a park had been something like 50 shilling a day (about $5), so officials with the park services in Tanzania, Kenya, Uganda, and other African countries traveled their respective countries and changed the park entrance signs. They removed the shillings signs precursor to costs and instead wrote a big dollar sign in front of the 50s. Suddenly we were looking at a much more expensive trip. We did three traverses of KiIi, ultimately taking in nine routes, enough, I figured to draft a guidebook then get some help from the rangers, who knew the parks intimately. Ann and I then did a safari in the Serengeti.
After Kili, Ann flew home and Benny flew to Nairobi. We took a taxi to Gregoria, a small village on the east side of Mount Kenya. We found the required guides and porters for all our gear and headed off into the bush. Benny and I then spent 18 days living in a tent near Austrian Hut, climbing as many routes on all sides of the mountain. We came down, went on a cheap safari and flew home.
I tallied up Ann’s and my expenses for the trip: $13,000. Way, way over budget. Way over. I got to work writing. The book came out a year later and became one of TMB’s best-selling books. I sold a half dozen non-fiction articles about the mountains, and two years later, we hit even.
Then I wrote a piece of what’s called “creative non-fiction”—the kind of stuff Bill Bryson writes. It was a true story about the porters and their shoes on Kili. The piece, “The Shoes of Kilimanjaro” was a massive hit, and ended up being published in about 15 magazines all over the world: South Africa, England, Scotland, Canada, Australia, and at least a half dozen times in the USA. Combined with the book, we were now making a pretty decent profit. I wrote several more creative non-fiction pieces, which were again printed all over the world.
The years moved on. Eventually I put all the pieces together to create a book: The Shoes of Kilimanjaro & Other Oddventure Travel Stories. The book was a success, too, wining the 2002 North American Travel Journalists Association’s Book of the Year award.
After about eight years, the guidebook Kilimanjaro & Mountain Kenya sold about 30,000 copies. I’d negotiated a deal with the mountaineers Book so my take would be a flat 10 percent of gross sales. For every book they sold at $20, I’d get $2. Although it took eight years to get to that sales level, it was well worth it. It is the only book I’ve written that I’d call a commercial success, and I had zero idea it was going to pan out like that.
In the end, we pulled in about four times what the trip cost. You couldn’t do that today as the internet has destroyed traditional publishing. I was lucky to have caught the last wave. I later revised the book to include the Rwenzoris in Uganda, now my favorite mountain range on earth. The trip was a financial loss—it barely covered costs—but I got to see Ptolemy’s famed Mountains of the Moon. A trip I’ll cherish all my life.
So you can pay for trips in non-traditional ways. You just have to be willing to do the work and think creatively about where that work might end up. Good luck, and good climbing.
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Beauty, pain, joy and suffering. A kaleidoscope of emotions. Big mountains and small people. Powder and ice. Sun and snow. All of this and more will be showcased in the Hard Snow ski mountaineering film festival.
Scheduled for November 13-15 and hosted by the Limelight, Hard Snow features eclectic and diverse offerings from both amateur and professional filmmakers. With a mix of feature-length offerings the event is highlighted by an appearance of legendary climber and alpinist John Roskelley, who closes out the festival on Sunday, November 15 with a rare presentation on his first ascent of K2.
Benefitting the Aspen Alpine Club’s Nepal Relief Fund, the event will excite and inspire. “We wanted to pick a wide variety of films,” says event organizer Tom Winter, who collaborated with Mike and Steve Marolt on the project. “There are a lot of different layers to ski mountaineering, from serious climbs in the Himalaya to just going out and skiing a fun peak with your friends. The sport doesn’t have to be intimidating and you don’t need to do the most intense descents. Enjoying the mountain environment is the most important thing. If you are not having fun, you’re not doing it right.”
“We wanted to showcase the diversity of experiences in the mountains, throw a fun party to kick off the winter season and contribute to a good cause,” adds Mike Marolt of the inaugural event. “The festival isn’t expensive to attend and it has something for everyone. It’s a good way to get stoked for the season and a good cause to support.”
Highlights of the festival include Roskelley’s presentation as well as The Edge of Never (Saturday, November 14) and Tien Shan (Friday, November 13). Written and directed by William A. Kerig, produced by Peter Schweitzer, documentary film The Edge of Never is a coming of age saga featuring Glen Plake and Kye Petersen skiing the route that killed Kye’s father. The award-winning feature film Tien Shan features the remote mountains of Kyrgyzstan. In addition to these offerings, a variety of short films will round out the festival.
Tickets for each night are a mere $5 and all proceeds will benefit the Aspen Alpine Club’s Nepal Relief Fund, which assists those impacted by the April 2015 earthquake.
“Just because the earthquake and subsequent devastation isn’t in the headlines any more doesn’t mean that the need isn’t there,” says Marolt, who has climbed and skied extensively in the country. “It will take a long time for Nepal to fully recover, and that’s why an ongoing effort to help is so important.”
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For more information or to support this event, please contact:
Mike Marolt • marolt@rof.net • 970-920-1144
Tom Winter • tom@tomwintermedia.com • 303-525-7767
]]>My buddy Jim called and needed a photo of his 8k ski ring. His home was broken into, and they took his ring. This ring is a memento we ( The Aspen Alpine Club, Inc.) started giving to north Americans who skied from 8,000 meters. Only criteria, you have to carry your skis and can't use supplemental oxygen. It's not a big list:
Mike & Steve Marolt, Shishapangma 2000
Laura Bakos Cho Oyu, 2000
Kris Erickson Cho Oyu, 2000
Mark Newcomb Shishapangma, 2005
Kent McBride Shishapangma 2005
Mike & Steve Marolt Cho Oyu, 2007
Jim Gile Cho Oyu, 2007
Tyler Johnson Cho Oyu 2007
Rory Stark Cho Oyu 2007
Michael Aasheim and Daniel McCann skied Cho Oyu in 2005, but we have never been able to get in touch with them. (If anyone knows these guys, please have them contact us at 8kpeak.com)
Upon reflection of this list and the sport in general, it's fairly surprising in my view that the list is basically from an era pre super light technology. There are about a dozen North Americans who have climbed and skied from above 8,000 meters post 2007, but they did not fit the criteria which is a more pure form. I think that along with the light weight technology in AT ski gear, the environment of mountaineering in general has just changed. Along with the improvements of AT ski gear, all gear has evolved including supplemental oxygen equipment. A quick lookback is interesting.
Back in 2000, oxygen systems failed constantly and were almost more of a hassle than anything. It was extremely expensive, and a typical scenario was for a climber to reach base camp, be given a set amount of oxygen, with directions on where to start using it and at specific low flows. If a climber used it beyond those directions, they ran out and were subject to the chatter of “cheating”. I know for me personally, I simply never considered using oxygen, enhanced by the reality that it failed often, but was so prohibitively expensive, it was not even remotely possible. I never used it, and while the photos in books of extreme mountaineers clad in face masks at altitude was incredibly macho, what was lost in translation was those pioneer climbers were so backed into a corner with antiquated gear otherwise, they probably could not have climbed those peaks back then without it. By 1978, however, with drastic improvements in lighter gear, Messner and Habler proved it could be done when they topped out on Everest without supplemental oxygen.
By 2010, oxygen systems had improved drastically and the commercialism of mountaineering began to take advantage of the technology. Masses could now use supplemental oxygen and apparently climb to the highest summits more easily and safely. More meant the industry could grow, and along with it, the acceptable means employed. Today, oxygen systems have quadrupled the flow of oxygen, and with Sherpa available to carry the gas, it has become more acceptable and even ethical to use it.
Looking at the list of North American ski mountaineers who have taken on the highest peaks without oxygen, and then comparing it to those that subsequently used oxygen, it is not a surprise that the list of pure ski descents has drastically declined. Looking at the total list of ski descents from above 8,000 meters worldwide, after 2010, roughly 90% of all 8k ski descents have been with the aid of supplemental oxygen.
Regardless, the notion of climbing and skiing the highest peaks is an extremely difficult proposition with or without, however, for the few that maintain the purer approach, the memento is available. This will be administered by the team at 8kpeak. The ring is pure silver, and comes at a cost 8kpeak will cover. The larger cost, however, is doing what it takes to get one. So please, climb and ski high, and let us know about your adventure. And regardless of means, hats off to everyone that takes the skis. It’s a monumental task; carrying the gear decreases your chances of a summit substantially, it entails a tremendous amount of extra effort, and mentally, just taking the skis to try is something that those who have been there appreciate and understand.
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http://ascentbackcountry.com/slow-and-deliberate-winter-himalaya-ski-mountaineering/
Ascent Backcountry Snow Journal published a story I wrote and thought I would share it here. Steve Jim and I set out several years ago to find another big challenge. Skiing in the winter Himalaya seemed like an interesting thing to do. We didn't hype the project at all. No one outside of our family and friends knew what we were up to. So far, we have spent the last 4 years battling. It's a totally different sport. The story at Ascent is the first report of some of the details. Check it out and let us know what you think.
]]>My daughter is turning 14 and the discussion of college has entered her thought process, and it is clear that like so many parents, I am lacking in my college funding over the years. You have kids, and before you blink, it’s there. So I told her that she needed to get great grades to hopefully get a scholarship, to which she replied, “you’ve spent my college funding traveling around the world climbing and skiing….” Who could argue with that! When I look back over the last 25 years, I honestly can’t recall every single expedition we’ve been on, but it’s a lot. For Steve, Jim, and myself, I recall in general terms. It used to be about 40 expeditions, then it morphed into over 40 expeditions, and it seems every time I try to make a list, it’s never right. I forget this one or that one; the combination of too much time at altitude and the years makes it difficult. But looking back, we’ve never missed at least one expedition to the greater ranges, AK/Canada, the Andes, or the Himalaya, with many years doing a couple of trips.
So I got to thinking about it, and when I extrapolate the cost of those trips, it amounts to a ton of fun…and a ton of money. I have been really fortunate to have studied hard myself, and created a small CPA practice in my “other life”, but using that same hat, the numbers don’t work. The trips amount to more than what I’ve made less what my cost of living amounts to. How the hell did I pull it off?!
The financial aspect of following my passion is basically broken out into different phases. This is where it gets interesting. I started looking at my career and passion by going to the start. When I graduated college, I was fortunate enough to have had my college paid for, and then to land a job with the world’s largest CPA firm, KPMG Peat Marwick. Digging out the scrap book, I kept my offer letter which offered me a staff audit position starting out at a whopping $21,500! KaaaaaCHING! My father was fortunate enough to have provided me with my education, something now I realize was actually like handing me a million dollar bill, but at the time, co signed on an auto loan to buy my first car, and sent me off with a US Savings bond face value $100 that my grandfather purchased the day I was born, and had matured to $800. I had no responsibility, found a cheap dump to live in, and for the first time I was living large!
About a month after I started “real life”, a buddy I grew up with who living in Seattle doing the same “work thing” called and said, let’s go climb Rainier. We’d formulated a passion for the climbing and skiing over the years growing up in Aspen, but I had no clue what to expect. Long story short, Rainier is significantly different on all levels than anything in Colorado, and Steve and I were hooked. That was what we were meant to be doing. The bug was planted, and before we were off the peak that day, and we hatched out a plan to head up to Denali.
We spent the next few years training, climbing and skiing, planning, but more importantly, saving every penny we could. After paying rent, and living expenses, not much was left over, but it was all put in a savings account. We eventually made our way up to Denali, which fueled passion for more peaks and trips. Eventually I changed jobs and became a national auditor for what today is Walmart. I traveled constantly around the country, at a time when United Airlines developed the perk of perks, Millage Plus! Back then, miles actually worked well, and after a year of traveling, I had accumulated enough miles to take my two brothers, and a couple of buddies up to AK a couple of times. We continued to save our pennies, and find ways to make it happen. We all still had no responsibilities outside of work, so when not at the office we were ridiculously focused on making the next trip happen.
Now back then in the late 80’s and early 90’s, climbing and skiing in the larger ranges was really an anomaly. No one was out there doing what we wanted to do. We tapped into Dad who was a ski rep to obtain the lightest skis in his line of Kastle or Hart or whatever brand he happened to be selling, obtained the only AT bindings that worked with climbing boots, Silvertta, and tried every kind of jerry rigging we could to make climbing boots ski better. Eventually ski boot companies started to make bibs and bobs of AT boots, and things slowly progressed. So along with this initial start of the ski industries play to create the specialized gear, we gradually increased our experience by simply saving pennies, and doing a trip as often as possible. Timing was perfect.
We were headed off for a big trip in the St Elias range and I thought what the heck. I called the regional North Face rep and my stories of what we were doing registered. Next thing I knew, boxes of clothing, sleeping bags, packs, ropes, hardware were arriving at my house. Gear was a massive expense and at the time we often joked that you could not walk into a gear store to buy anything without spending a hundred bucks. So the gear was a massive financial hit that allowed us to start looking towards further ranges. We had become some of the first generation of “sponsored athletes”. Laugh out loud…
Mentors who challenged us to go to AK for our trips had expanded their own careers towards the Andes, and stories of perfect Bolivian, Peru, and Ecuador weather, steep alpine snow routes, and multiple peaks in a single trip were enough to perk our desire to head south. The gear sponsorships allowed us to save that extra amount needed for the air flights to South America, and we found we could live for about $50 a week in any-town-South America where we could head out, climb a peak, come back for rest, and repeat. We learned to winter camp in AK, and really learned about altitude and how to alpine climb in the Andes. We welcomed the change in challenge from weather to altitude. We realized we had a propensity for altitude, we did extremely well, and our passion changed from climbing and skiing in general to skiing high peaks. The seeds for the Himalaya grew with each trip as our experience increased giving us confidence to slowly and naturally progress.
By 1997 we were headed to Pakistan of all places for an attempt at our first 8,000 meter peak, Broad Peak. The over-all cost of climbing in Asia is drastically more expensive than anywhere else, so the first hurdle was figuring out how to make it happen. I remember specifically talking to my father about my desire to attempt Everest and how that was never going to happen because I’d never be able to afford it. His advice, “just keep looking ahead, and time will allow you to figure it all out…..” I had no idea what he thought was going to happen, but Broad peak made it much more clear. First, work was going well. Our paychecks were slowly growing. But the sponsorships were pushed further as well. Not only were we able to obtain gear, we were able to get people to throw marketing money at the expeditions. At the nth hour, we were still short a significant amount of money and a golden angel appeared. I was at work and got a call from Ed Viesturs. Ed was starting out with his project to climb all 14 8,000 meter peaks, and he and his partner were looking for an American permit to go to Broad Peak. He was fully sponsored and explained that he would be coming in from another big peak in Nepal, would be fully acclimated, and “would not get in our way……money was not an object” Bingo! Ed sent me a check, game on.
After Broad Peak, in 2000 we hatched out a plan to head to Shishapangma, and again, pay had gradually increased to allow us to hit South America a few times, and again, we were really scratching for the enormous funding needed for a Tibetan 8,000 meter peak permit. Sponsorship helped, I had been successful using photo sales from all my previous trips to add a good amount to the pot, but we found ourselves way short a year before the trip. Enter golden angel number two. I was at work and got a call from a new client who was in the film production business. He was looking for a film for a series he was producing for the Outdoor Life Network, and he inquired as to the possibility of joining us. “Money is not an object…”. Bingo on steroids!! Again, game on….
That trip was my introduction to the film game, and fueled my second passion, capturing high altitude skiing video. I worked my butt off learning the trade, and while I could not film anything else to save my life, I developed an eye for my film passion, shooting climbing and skiing above 7,000 meters. No one up to that point had ever been able to film this content, and only because I was able to keep up with the guys was I able to make a niche for myself. This translated to an ability to tap into corporate America and various other sources for almost complete funding of trips and related films. The rest is history.
For aspiring adventure seekers that don’t have deep pockets, I think it first boils down to a few things. First, if you are truly passionate, you will make sacrifices needed to follow your passion. I ate a ton of Ramen and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches during my first decade of “real life”. I found a big jar, and pocket change and whatever I had left after I paid my monthly bills went into that jar. I watched the level grow. That satisfaction translated to a larger balance in my “climbing fund” savings account. That took great discipline but was easy because I truly found my passion. Second, my dive into sponsorship was not concentrated on making a brand out of myself, but rather using my accounting hat to figure out the dollars and cents. Neither my partners nor I are very well known, but that was never important. It boiled down to the money. Along those same lines, gear is probably the greatest single cost of adventure. The more you get into the adventures, the better the gear needs to be. Take the gear. It’s way more affordable for the gear companies than writing checks, and the value may not be as great for your ego as a pay check, but it’s more valuable, and if you are successful with that gear, it often turns into a pay check later on. But put your ego in the back seat regarding sponsorships. Very few athletes ever make the grade for high level multi media, so if it happens, great, but if that’s your goal, you will overlook a lot of benefits that will make it all happen at lower levels of sponsorships. Frankly , we would receive gear and never hear back from the manufacturers. If that happens, be a good worker. Send photos, content, even if they never use it. Don’t be the lazy athlete that doesn’t try to reciprocate, and always be appreciative. We’ve been sponsored by Mammut for 15 years, and not once have they utilized our image or story, but they have never accused us of not being appreciative. We don’t abuse our sponsors, we use gear until it’s used up, and then we have an open door for whatever we need. And finally, and this is huge, don’t confuse your passion with having to give up everything to follow it. I could give you a list a mile long of people that traded a “real life” career for becoming a “professional skier”. The fact of the matter is that expeditions and adventure takes it out of you. Alone, it’s a grind. Add the pressure of having to find money just to live between trips, and that is a guarantee for a really short career. It’s too much. In short, get a freaking job. For those out in the world trying to make it as a pro, step back and think about this. I laugh at my initial salary of $21,500 for my first real-world job. Even today, how nice would it be to have $21,500 to fall back on? The argument I get from people about this is that unless I am free to climb and ski as much as possible, I can’t make it. My response is simple. After a major expedition, I need to go to work to recover. Recovery includes physical, mental, and financial. Go to work, rest, recover, and let the time away from your passion build into the energy you will need to plan, train, and execute the next great trip. Here I sit writing my story, and while I don’t know if it’s 40 expeditions or 50, what I do know without question is I seriously doubt I could have done any more than what I have in any other way short of becoming a professional guide. That’s not a bad profession, but you have to be careful in that when your passion becomes your job, things get sticky.
There are obviously more ways to the super market than one street, so the point is this. Distilled, whatever path you follow, be prepared to make the sacrifices. Keep pushing towards your passion, and one way or another, I guarantee, if it’s truly your passion, you will find it, and it will be worth it. Back to my latest adventure…..finding a way to put those kids into college. Do yourself a favor. Stay in school, get a job, and “keep looking ahead….the rest will fall into place”. I better get back to work! No, my ski career didn’t tap into my daughter’s college fund, but by keeping perspective on life, I have been fortunate to have been able to spend my life climbing and skiing, and also to be practical enough to realize the real world ain’t so bad either….
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Just cruising through Wild Snow and thought I'd link back to a story that they published on a trip the 8kpeak.com crew took to Illimani in 2012. This was a massive big ski for us! We had been on expeditions several times over a period of 16 years and skied dozens of peaks in Bolivia, but in 3 previous attempts for a variety of reasons, never managed to ski 21,150 foot Illimani which is really the crown peak of the Cordillera Real Range. So nearly 16 years to the day from the first attempt, we pulled it off with style. It was a single day effort and the altimeter registered 8,995 feet of climbing when said and done. When I got back to the tent that afternoon, I was too tired to try and get it to an even 9,000 feet. Check out the link to Wildsnow.com from last November.
https://www.wildsnow.com/14949/ilimani-bolivia-ski-descent-climb/
If interested in heading down south or Asia to climb and ski, send us an email. At 8kpeak, we are about helping people follow their passions. We've been to a lot of cool places for climbing and skiing and promise you we will never charge for advice. So fire away. info@8kpeak.com.
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Well, the highest peak in the world has debuted on the big screen with the mega film Everest, and along with it, social media has been sparked to a frenzied banter of opinions and comments as if the terrible tragedy in 1996 occurred yesterday. It’s fairly remarkable in my mind how this mountain and specific event has impacted so many people, and deeply those that consider themselves to be “climbers”. It’s been 20 years since this tragedy occurred, and in that time, it’s been a constant barrage of hurt feelings, destroyed reputations, and incredibly harsh and varied opinions that make it seem we have a terribly difficult time letting the dead die. Even more interesting, because there isn’t anything that can be done about bringing those souls back to life, very little of the discussion revolves around how terrible that day really was, but concentrates on perpetuating the finger pointing and business of making it perfectly clear how terrible some of the survivors were and what “ass holes” they are today.
For example, I was surfing face book this morning, and a story that was published in the New York Post came up for about the 10th time in as many days: “Socialite vilified after Everest catastrophe breaks silence.”
This article is about how famed Jon Krakauer wrote his account in a book Into Thin Air, and completely threw Sandy Hill under the bus, something that has haunted her for 20 years. The book is the greatest selling adventure book of all time and a national best seller, and the point of controversy starting literally from the day at Everest base camp as a reporter for Outside Magazine, Krakauer wrote it. The book makes a definitive stand, in his opinion, on rights and wrongs and points this gun at not only Sandy but also legendary mountaineer Anatoli Boukreev. Without getting into the details, what I can tell you is that knowing both Sandy (and having known) Anatoli, there are most definitely two sides to the story, the difference being, Sandy and Anatoli didn’t have a national best seller to tell their side of the story. So let’s move ahead 20 years. The movie in the theaters today does a bit of damage control for those less spoken, and while the producer claims he did not intend for the movie to vilify or spread light on the controversy, it appears that without knowing it, that’s what it has done. Hence the break of silence from Sandy in the article has become a bit of a pulpit for vindication, and with it, more hurt feelings in the other direction; Krakauer is not happy at all with how he is portrayed in the film.
I know many people who were there on Everest that terrible day, and I assure you, when I refer to hurt feelings and destroyed reputations, that is not an exaggeration. In 1997 at base camp on Broad Peak, I spent days listening to Anatoli describe how badly his reputation was hurt. I saw the man literally cry over the situation. I’ve seen Sandy shake her head in disgust over the topic. And today, I’ve seen the video of and read the comments from Jon Krakauer and beyond crying all the way to the bank, the guy has been hurt. This pain is relative to these people as human beings. It’s real, and it’s terrible! No one I know that was actually there in 1996 has come away from that with normal grieving from tragic death experience, but all have had to endure the microscope of society and opinions that have flowed vehemently from the media, social media, each other, and on and on…….for 20 years!
The thing about mountaineering is that it appears to be a “sport” played between the foul lines of a base camp and a summit. The truth of all these expeditions is often lost in how we relay the stories when we get back home. Because there are no definitive rules, and because what happens between the lines of a base camp and a summit are so varied, there really is no bench mark to relate to. This opens the door to bringing ourselves up at the expense of bringing other people down. It happens all the time in this game, and I’d be lying if in my 25 year career, I didn’t fall victim to this. There is no clock to compare to in mountaineering. There is no scorecard. There is no definitive box score or record book where standings are kept. So what we have is an environment where we often compare ourselves to what others are doing, and with few exceptions, this results in diminishing others accomplishments in an effort to make our own more substantial. I’ve read that “Krakauer is a total ass hole”, “ the commercial guides are responsible for all the deaths on Everest”, and on and on. But one stands out as the ultimate. One prominent and extremely successful climber suggested, “….my only hope is that the Nepalese close the mountain to all commercial guide companies…..and give the mountain back to “climbers””. What you end up with is a seriously hyped sense of reality and elitism controlled by nothing other than what we want elitism to be. Because there is nothing preventing it, we define it to fit our personal needs. Even where true elitism is present, it happens as evidenced in Messner’s latest book where he refers to commercial clients on Everest as “kindergartners being served hot chocolate….”
I won’t suggest that there are not inherent issues in mountaineering today, but that’s not my point here and that’s an entirely different subject despite the fact that it is what drives many of the opinions I am referring to. My point is, the tragedy of 1996 has been a microscope for an aspect of climbing that is not new, and for me, is a source to change the way I approach the subject. The reality is, Krakauer had strong opinions no different than a lot of climbers, but they didn’t have a national best seller as a blow horn to propagate those opinions . I seriously doubt that Krakaur realized he was going to write a best seller, and while he was most definitely venting, I doubt he intended to put on the hurt that he did for some people. So we need to learn the lesson. Fact is, he did hurt people, and regardless of the pulpit we throw our opinions from, in this game, none of us are free from the same type of opinions he had at the time he wrote Into Thin Air. The face book posts I have read lately prove this loud and clear. While it is impossible to prevent people from having opinions, it should be clear that possibly keeping them to ourselves is a better course of action, or at a minimum, a bit of evaluation of the subject. Regardless of the truth, what is really to be gained? In mountaineering, it’s so ambiguous that the truth is tough to find, and throwing out an opinion more than likely is only going to hurt someone. While this has been part of the game thus far, I think ultimately the best course of action is just to shut up and climb. Mistakes will continue to be made, people will die, and while analysis of those mistakes is important to prevent problems down the road, there is a fine line between discussion and finger pointing. In that discussion, there needs to be a bit more thought, a bit more self-evaluation, and a lot more acceptance of the reality that no one tries to make mistakes. When the guns come out, just remember, the target of mistake you are aiming at in these situations has more often than not already been hit. Especially when there are related deaths, we don’t need adversity of opinions pointing out our faults. We need support, understanding, and respect to let the dead die, and help each other move ahead in what is probably the most difficult times we as humans can experience.
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While out West is known for its exceptional backcountry skiing and deep powder, the East Coast is known as the “Ice Coast” rarely getting enough snow to cover up the snowmaking at the resort. But when you dive a little deeper and leave the chairlift behind, there lies a hidden gem, where the snow is still as firm as a chalkboard and the weather is more often than not low visibility.
The Range’s biggest attraction is Tuckerman’s Ravine, however that is just the tip of the iceberg. There’s nothing quite like making the pilgrimage to “Tucks”, or going to some of the less popular areas in the Presidential Range, such as the Gulf of Slides, Ammo Ravine, Great Gulf, Huntington’s Ravine or the Cog Railway. The 40-‐55+ degree slopes, with often-‐bad snow conditions (i.e. ICE) and sub-‐zero temperatures, are a great training ground for high altitude skiing in exposed terrain. No matter what aspect you decide to skin up, you’ll find steep skiing everywhere you look. I was fortunate to be an East Coast skier when the wood met the snow on Denali!
The Presidential Range also holds the last snow you’ll find in New England, allowing you to ski up till the Fourth of July on a good year. This is because of how much snow is naturally deposited by the wind into various drainages that coat the Presidential Range. If we look at Tuckerman’s Ravine for example, a whopping 50ft of snow is blown in over the course of the winter and covers all of the stuff that ruins your p-‐tex.
While I always wish we had the vast amount of terrain and altitude that some of the other states out west have, the East Coast certainly makes a perfect training ground for difficult skiing conditions and bad weather. The only problem is the thick air. Now to get back into my hypobaric chamber to acclimate….
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I picked up a copy of a new book, The Calling: A life Rocked by Mountains, a autobiography of one of North America’s legendary alpinists, Barry Blanchard. What an adventure!
In the context of mountaineering literature, the body of works, in my experience, and I collect and read a ton of this stuff, really is concentrated on the European climbers with an emphasis on the Alps. With good reason; the Alps is really where mountaineering was born and evolved. Just google world class mountaineer, and while there are instances of North American’s the bulk of what is out there is most definitely European based. However, growing up in America, and starting my own mountaineering career before the advent of the internet, through mentors and meeting people living and driving through Colorado, my base camp, I have always sought the stories of North American elite alpinists. Through that, I have been exposed to many super hardcore elite alpinists, their stories and even a handful of super books. I have known about Barry Blanchard for 30 years through various articles by and on him in various portals for stories, in relationships depicted in other books, and on and on. The man’s reputation precedes him. While I have never met Barry, he is without question a legend not just in North American mountaineering, but on the international stage.
When his latest autobiography came out, I was immediately interested on getting a copy. Not only for a personal collection of this type of literature, but to learn more about the man. In very general terms, I could tell you of his major accomplishments with great enthusiasm. I won’t mention them here; it’s all in the book. But as I started to read the book, I found that this was a lot more than just a chapter by chapter recap of his notable climbs. The book gives you a history; pre climbing Blanchard, his roots, his background, through his entire life, and immediately makes clear why he titled the book the way he did.
Laterally from the first climb Blanchard ever managed, the book then chronicles his entire career with a body of work that by the end of the book, leaves you in utter awe. He is a master, and I mean one of the best, story tellers I have ever read! In detail down to conversations from even that first climb, he paints a picture of his career, his personality, his likes, dislikes, everything about what makes him tick. He opens himself up to some of the most personal and basic aspects to what it is to be a world class mountaineer, but also what it is to literally be a human being named Barry Blanchard. This is all key because without this part of the picture, what he did in the mountains would possibly be difficult to believe, and at a minimum render him nearly insane. The rhyme and reason for what he did in those peaks, on all those climbs, “the calling”, makes perfect sense. The book flows and leaves you waiting for not only the next adventure, but the next aspect to this guy’s life in general. This is not just an autobiography with a demographic of mountaineers as an audience; it’s an adventure book with not only a world class climber, but an enormous character.
From a mountaineer point of view, the book left me with even more admiration for the guy. Growing up in the generation of alpinists after Barry, I always recognized Blanchard to be one of the hardest alpinists in North America. The book proves this, but it also adds to that, with the details of first ascents and climbs many people without reading the book would have no clue about. The depth of what Blanchard accomplished is revealed in his stories and accounts, and in my view, leaves him to be arguably one of the greatest alpinist in history. This book is a literal page turner that makes the history of his career known, and with that, will make this book a total mountaineering literature classic.
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I stopped by the Colorado Ski Museum the other day to pick up some gear I used on the first American ski descent of an 8,000 meter peak, and looking at the skis and boots, it really brought back some great memories. But as I checked them out, it also came back loud and clear the advancements that have taken place in AT ski gear since we skied Shishapangma back in 2000.
Back From the Archives, Ski Gear Used on First American Ski Descent from Above 8,000 Meters, 2000
Today, ski mountaineers take for granted what we have to access the goods these days. Back in 2000, gear was just starting to evolve, and while the gear we used in 2000 was state of the art, there were still questions in your mind. There was literally no technology put into ski design simply because there was no market. Ski manufacturers took middle of the line rental ski technology and slapped extreme titles on the top skins in an effort to manufacture the only concern of the day, weight. They didn’t use high tech carbons and metals like titanium to enhance performance which was badly needed, especially up high where snow is generally super hard and icy. So what you had was a fancy short pair of very soft wood skis. They were lighter than your on-mountain skis, but had little or no performance. And while they were lighter than normal skis, they were still massively heavy compared to modern skis today. It was sketchy at best and you went with them only because they were slightly lighter, and the only thing available.
Boots were a massive issue. New models would come out and the comparison was always made to whether or not you could ski bumps and crud on any black diamond. They walked and climbed ok, but they were soft….soft forward, to the side, and often would crease backward if really putting them to the test. Boot manufacturers used soft, light plastic, and again, didn’t have the engineering in place to make them ski. Approach was far more the objective than skiing, and so with the skis, you were forced into a survival mode to swish your way down the mountain, hanging on for dear life even in utilitarian mode.
Modern Gear in Action. Lighter, Stiffer, Way Better!
The bindings were plastic and brakes were not manufactured. DIN for AT bindings was non existent, but comparing them to later models with DIN settings exceeding “any AT binding to date” in marketing at 8, first generation bindings were probably around an equivalent of DIN 5. You would crank them down as tight as a vice and two hands could possibly make them go, effectively locking them down to prevent a pre release. Pre release was a massive fear, and for example when I skied the north ridge of Everest on ice and rough boiler plate, technique was drastically employed to ski like a complete beginner; a pre release would have been without question fatal. The snow was too hard to self-arrest, and the ridge fell off thousands of feet to both sides.
Today, skis are so incredibly light, my old frame of mind is skeptical before I jump on them. Carbon fiber and titanium make for a combination of feather light skis that are stiff enough to handle all snow conditions….well. Manufacturers have incorporated design, width, and shape to make AT performance skis. For this old dog, it’s mind blowing.
Dynamic Turns on Modern AT Gear...
AT boots today are so light and stiff that most people who have any inclination for off piste or even side country skiing use one pair of boots for all their skiing. My Fischer Trans Alp boots are in my view the single greatest advancement in the AT skiing game.
Today, bindings weigh a fraction of what we used in 2000, with DIN settings as high as 15. You can slam bumps, huck cliffs, or ski steep ice couliors, and pre releasing is not even a remote concern. The whole package, today, offers a set up, boots, skis, and bindings, that completely takes all questions out of your mind. The gear is so light that as we have aged into mid life, we are able to continue to plan trips to the highest most difficult peaks on the planet. That’s something that when I skied Shishapangma back in 2000 at age 35 I never imagined. What I have lost in power and endurance at age 50, has more than been made up with gear that has enabled me to not only survive while skiing the highest peaks, but thrive. As I look at that old gear, I am honestly surprised we were able to ski some of the things we did back then.
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I found myself stuck in the middle of tropical storm Billy Bob down in Mexico recently, and after finishing a handful of books on my kindle, I downloaded a book, “Shishapangma” by Doug Scott and Alex Macintrye. The book was first published in 1984, but was published again in 2014 which to my delight included the digital version. Having a connection to this peak with a first USA ski descent from an 8,000 meter peak along with my brother Steve Marolt and good friend Jim Gile in 2000, it caught my attention. I had tried to find a copy for years, so finding it while surfing my Kindle was super.
Shishapangma is the 14th highest peak in the world at 26,335 feet. It is the only 8,000 meter peak that sits entirely in Tibet. It was first climbed in 1964 by a massive Chinese team. Tibet remained closed to foreign travelers for decades, but in the early 80’s it was opened up for tourism, specifically mountaineering. For a team of British mountaineers, the draw of unknown Tibet and the 8,000 meter peaks was immense.
Through the 60’s and 70’s, big mountain mountaineering really evolved into the place for Europe’s greatest mountaineers to take the sport to the highest levels. Names like Joe Brown, Don Whillans and Chris Bonnington lead expeditions to the highest peaks with a new alpine style that took on the massive walls of the Himalaya in great contrast to the standard expeditions of the day that pioneered mountaineering via large scale projects to these peaks on more standard routes. By climbing the great walls of Europe, style, technique and frame of mind lead climbers to the Himalaya in a manner that was both unheard of and daunting. Between the initial big Himalayan wall climbs of the day and the 80’s, Doug Scott was the beneficiary of the older generation of pioneers, and he developed the desire and skills to push things further. Scott transformed as the apprentice of the greats to being the father of the next generation of young guns.
For Shishapangma, the south face of Shishapangma became an obscure objective with literally no beta for route to the base camp let alone the face. No one had ventured into this area of Tibet, and the draw of Tibet and the peak were immense. Scott found himself as the mentor for the next generation of British hot shot mountaineers in Alex MacIntyre and Roger Baxter Jones, about a decade his junior. They obtained permission to make the expedition, and set out to find sponsorship for the expedition literally up to the night before they were to fly to China.
From the get, the expedition was the quintessential climbing bum expedition with an all-in-do-what-it-takes effort to do something big. Big at the time was defined by the major known peaks such as Everest, and selling the expedition to sponsors was a monumental task. People with the means had never heard of the peak, and to anyone outside of hard core mountaineering, the magnitude of the project was only defined by the names of the climbers, and it was not of great interest. But reputation of these mountaineers prevailed, and by the skin of their necks, they were off.
Once in Tibet, the budget, or lack thereof, ruled everything. The Tibetan Mountaineering Association had little or no faith in the team’s ability to pull off such a project, and starting with the liaison officer assigned to accompany the expedition, help was far and few between. Previous massive scale expeditions had set the table for unlimited budgets, but the money grab was clearly not to be had with this expedition. The Chinese pushed to squeeze funds out of the expedition that didn’t exist, and the result was disbelief and inability to care for the wellbeing of the expedition. The team persists in the low budget approach, and in contrast to normal expeditions that utilized multi car and bus caravans that greased the pockets of so many locals, achieved loading all gear and members into a single truck, and headed to Nylam in what then was on rough dusty roads for nearly a week.
Upon arrival to Nylam, a village located near the continental divide of the Himalaya, the expedition was met with skepticism, and very apparent lack of money. This was combined with the community’s lack of experience in facilitating expeditions which created massive problems. No one had ever made the trek to this base camp, and finding yaks let alone herders to help haul their gear to base camp was a near disaster. Black sheep yaks of the herd combined with inexperienced youth herdsmen were assigned the duty of getting the expedition to base camp, and the weak yaks were not nearly up to the task of hauling massive loads, nor were the herdsmen even remotely aware of how to handle the weak beasts. Arguments pursued, and better yaks arrived with senior herders that eventually helped get the expedition to base camp, but in the process, set the expedition behind schedule in terms of weeks. Added to the nightmare, the liaison claimed the base camp was well above 18,000 feet, the limit to where a base camp could be placed. Maps and altimeters proved that it was actually below the limit, and it is found that in reality, the officer is suffering from an ailment preventing him from hanging out at altitude. The expedition sets up a lower camp for the liaison, and sets to climbing the mountain. But it is clear that for a project of this magnitude, nothing has gone right.
Tempers flare, and the easy going Scott is the brunt of skepticism from the “youth” of his partners, in what amounts to a bit of a midlife crisis. Scott has bad knees from a previous expedition and tends to lead to rock where the youth see ease of entry on ice and snow. Scott comes to the conclusion that he is not appreciated and bows out. Alex and Roger see they have insulted one of Brittan’s true legends, see the error of their ways, and realize they need the wisdom of Scott to achieve ultimate success. The team changes gears, generates cohesion, and sets out to achieve greatness.
In the end, after first descents on sub peaks, and stocking the descent routes, the team finds themselves on task, climbing the massive wall of Shishapangma. The book is a compilation of the words of the individual members writing after the fact and from journals. What this does for the reader is to give insight in the difficulties as well as the spirit of what this team experiences in their journey. The stand out contrast of the insights from three individuals paints a picture of immense respect for what they are setting out to do, but also depicts the intense brotherhood of the mountain. Despite the hurdles this expedition experiences literally around every corner to get to the mountain, once they are on the mountain, it is clear that this is a team of some of history’s greatest mountaineers coming together to pull off one of mountaineering’s greatest achievements. Despite the magnitude of these mountaineers as leading individuals in the sport, there is definitely no I in team. It is clear that the threesome is the secret sauce in the ultimate success they achieve.
For the modern mountaineer, the respect this generation had for climbing the highest peaks in the world is something that is diluted today. For me, and I believe the reader, this book sets the table for the reality that while techniques and gear have made ease of entry to the highest peaks in the world significantly different than in the past, those mountains have not changed. By reading about the approach of these greats, and seeing how they persevered both getting to the mountain, and then while on the route, Shishapangma is a classic read, despite the book and the expedition’s relative obscurity. It’s a fantastic journey that takes a reader to a place mentally, spiritually, and physically that is both inspiring and interesting. This book is a classic on many levels.
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H2O Guides just completed the 2015 Alaska helicopter skiing season, our 21st consecutive season of providing skiers and snowboarders with mechanized access to the extreme, remote backcountry wilderness of the Chugach Mountains surrounding Valdez and Prince William Sound in Alaska.
It was an odd winter in Alaska, with below-average snowfall in many regions. Yet Valdez proved itself once again as one of the snowiest places on the planet. The snow pack in the surrounding Chugach was average to above average in the regions we access. After guiding here for the last 25 years I'm still blown away by how much snow we get every season no matter what's happening in the rest of Alaska or the world. Skiing on a 30-meter base makes you feel super human. Chugach snow has a cushioning effect that absorbs the energy of your turns making it feel almost effortless to ski and snowboard on incredibly steep terrain.
We hosted skiers, snowboarders, and mountaineers visiting from North America, South America, Europe, Canada, Asia, and Australia. It's always a pleasure to meet the passionate people that travel so far to ski and snowboard in Alaska and to share this experience with them. Every day of guiding here is rewarding, and the guides and I can't imagine doing anything else.
People ask me all the time to describe heli skiing in Valdez, and years ago I came to the realization that what we do isn't just heli skiing. It's actually remote guided aircraft operations.
We're providing mechanized access to more than 4,000 square miles of incredibly steep and glaciated terrain that is buried by up to 30 meters of annual snowfall. It's hard to imagine that much snow and people can't believe it until they actually fly out into the Chugach with us.
The reason so much snow accumulates in the regions surrounding Valdez is because the glaciated micro-climates supercharge the snowfall. Warm, moist air from the Gulf of Alaska cools as it passes over the cold Prince William Sound and then slams into the massively glaciated Chugach Mountains. The cold glacial basins combined with orographic lift and other local effects results in legendary Chugach snowfall each season. During a storm cycle, one basin may get 30 cm out of a storm while the adjacent basin gets 230 cm of blower powder. It's mind blowing.
Remote guided aircraft operations is about being flexible to select a daily region of operations based on weather, snow stability, group ability, and not on doing a circuit and trying to get people to finish their vertical footage by early afternoon.
Since 1995 we have pioneered 28 regions and established more than 3,000 Landing Zones. We have amassed unparalleled knowledge of these mountains giving us the ability to provide a safer and thrilling experience utilizing helicopters to access remote terrain. One day of operations is like having the whole Teton Range reserved for you and several other skiers and snowboarders. Having all of these regions available gives us the ability to find the best snow on any given flyable day and not be restricted to the major wind corridors in the range.
We also give ourselves safety nets with nearly a dozen staging areas available that get our fuel trucks, high power radio, communications, and rescue gear closer to our daily region of operations. Our guides strive to maintain regular communications with the helicopter, flight following, and our operations base in Valdez so that we know where groups are operating and their intentions.
Remote guided aircraft operations is also about implementing backcountry terrain management protocols from the top down, maintaining visual/verbal communications with everyone in the group, assessing snow stability and terrain on the go, and selecting routes accordingly for the ability of the group and with safe zones.
These mountains are so dynamic and massive that it's not enough to just dig a pit at the start zone and take it top to bottom. On-the-go assessment from the top down is paramount, and as I always say, never pass up a high point to scope your line. Skiing the apex increases safety and lets us see our lines better, and this helps take our skiing and riding to a whole new level.
The skiing and snowboarding in Valdez is world class. I call it the "North Shore" of big mountain skiing, and that's why I've stayed in Valdez for 25 years building my company and raising my family. But accessing these truly remote mountains by helicopter is just as rewarding. It's like flying through a chandelier of crystals and diamonds. Having the ability to fly so remote and get a bird's eye view of the range every day lets us see the Chugach in a different way and provide our guests with electrifying Alaska experiences. Remote guided aircraft operations is what H2O Guides does, and it's the highest level of accessing big mountains in Alaska.
Dean Cummings
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