Denali or Mount McKinley

/ Andrew Szalay / Leave a comment

I just began reading High Alaska: A Historical Guide to Denali, Mount Foraker & Mount Hunter by Jonathan Waterman (1996) as part of my new focus on the Alaska Range I am about to start. Early in, I came across a curiosity about the name of North America’s highest peak.

The formal name of that mountain is Mount McKinely. It’s on the USGS maps. It was named for the American President, who (as everyone points out) had no interest in Alaska. The original native name is Denali, which means great one. Not all that original, but its true and echoes back to an even wilder Alaska where the Inuit lived and trappers and explorers renaming their landscape were rare or nonexistent.

Most climbers these days prefer to call Mount McKinley Denali instead. Still, some refer to it as Big Mac, in more casual conversations. Denali remains the preferred title and most would say that that is so out of respect for the native tradition — or in disrespect to the reference to the former president.

So I was surprised to read a simple remark by Waterman that said the great Bradford Washburn prefers the name Mount McKinley.

I have taken and used the Denali name but suddenly I am rethinking that. The formal name is McKinley. Everest is named similarly poorly but hardly anyone refers to it as Chomolungma, its original native name, meaning goddess mother.

Washburn made the first ascent up the West Buttress among other firsts on the mountain. He is an authority on the subject having climbed it extensively, photographed it an mapped it. You would think that would make it so he preferred the name Denali.

Perhaps Mount McKinley isn’t such a silly name when you take into consideration that it is the officially recognized name and is the name given by the country that holds it. The name is also nearly as unmistakable as Denali or Everest. Besides, all names are subjective; it’s the mountain that matters.

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The Climbing Community and Its Many Parts

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This past weekend I watched the television show The Good Wife with my family. In case you don’t know, it’s a court television show that centers around the wife of a politician. What interests me here is this week’s courtroom drama: It involved an Everest climber that died on the mountain but that might have lived hadn’t other climbers taken and removed his oxygen tank.

It seemed to be a takeoff on some of the current events from 2010 where stories of a climber, Peter Kinloch, stopped from suffering from temporary blindness and in need of help was left to die by other climbers. The media and blogs then claimed that climbers gunning for the summit ignored him completely, which does not appear to the case.

The take on the television show was rather entertaining and they took mountaineering seriously in this show. The terminology used was credible without being forced and thereby laughable by climbers. My singular moment of oh-gosh-they’re-trying-too-hard was when they brought in witnesses to talk about the incident. They got into the effects of altitude above 26,000 feet, which was fine, but then a seemingly affluent working professional and guided climber called Everest “my mountain” wistfully and made some comment speaking on behalf of the “climbing community.” It seemed forced and unnecessary for the show’s plot.

It also illustrated to me how complex and diverse the real climbing community really is, but that most of the public only really sees (and still don’t typically understand) the Everest guided-climbers illustrated in Into Thin Air, Jon Kraukauer’s book about the 1996 Everest disaster. The climbers in The Good Wife episode and in Into Thin Air were all primarily professional guides and clients on high altitude Himalayan peaks. If I chose to climb an objective like Gasherbrum II I would definitely be in this group on a client-guided trip. But this is only one portion of the climbing community and they don’t all tend to get along in regards to respect for their style of climbing.

As you know, there are many types of climbing that climbers engage in and various styles they prefer. Aside from strictly rock climbing, alpine climbing alone has its own factions and varying styles. For instance, contrast Alison Levine to James Pearson. Levine climbs established routes as a client like many of us in the mountaineering consumer market. She also speaks to non-climbing audiences regularly. Pearson seeks out unclimbed and rarely climbed routes and while he is known in climbing circles he is far from a household name anywhere.

In the Pearson example, he is pushing the limits of the sport. Levine uses the sport as a message platform. Both undoubtedly enjoy the self-challenge. But I hardly think that I will be able to sit down for a beer with both of them at the same time, let alone the same pub.

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Climbing Washington, DC’s High Point

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I’ve lived and worked in America’s capital city region for almost a decade. As a repressed mountaineer – alpinist in particular – that would prefer to live in a mountain setting, I deride it as Peaklessburg, though there are many peakless towns we live and work. But not in my whole time here did I consider climbing the city’s highest point.

I am not referring to Reno Hill (409ft./125m.,) Washington, DC’s natural high point. If I was I would be significantly lowering my standards of what classifies as a climb and I might start to hate myself. I’ve casually driven passed Reno Hill before but hardly gave the thought of “hiking” to the “summit” consideration.

No, I’m talking about the mountaineers smearing on the city’s highest point of all, the Washington Monument (555ft./169m.). You have probably heard that the August 23, 2011 east coast earthquake damaged several Washington landmarks, including the monument. Last week the National Park Service, which manages the facility, hired climbers from Colorado, Massachusetts and other locations to scale the exterior of the obelisk in order to inspect and document all of the damage.

This has made me wonder whether it’s possible that I’ve been missing out of the climbing potential of my hometown. Perhaps we should send the Capitol Building rotunda (from the exterior rather than the interior staircase via the “architect’s tour.”) Maybe the Jefferson Monument by the Tidal Basin offers decent “bouldering” problems that I haven’t considered. Maybe the Access Fund ought to get involved here. Of course, none of these features ice over with waterfall ice except every few centuries… and I’m hoping this winter is the time!

Artificial mountains and routes though are just substitutes for the purpose of practice in lieu of the natural ones, in my opinion. But I cannot discount their value too much. So if we started climbing more buildings (be it the Washington Monument or the CN Tower), would they be in the same class as climbing walls at gyms or would they be in a separate category? What about the proposed artificial mountain being talked about in the Kingdom of the Netherlands for skiers and climbers? Will we start crafting mountaineering routes the way golfers design fairways?

I do want to point out before I sign off today that the climbing going on at the Washington Monument is primarily involving rappelling and not ascending. So it’s not quite being climbed. Of course, if one of these monument inspectors were to climb to the summit, I wonder what he or she would name the first ascent route? If you’ve got a suggestion, leave me comment below.

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Carpe Climb ‘Em: Follow Through on Your Life List

/ Andrew Szalay / 1 Comment

I began writing The Suburban Mountaineer in April 2010 to fill a void of climbing in my life. I’ve been a repressed mountaineer, though I did it to myself, really.

I fell in love with climbing in the Adirondacks and from reading Moments of Doubt, the short stories of David Roberts. I taught myself to rock climb through bouldering, an indoor gym in Niagara Falls and top roping short routes. I even practiced climbing a giant oak right in my backyard with prusiks. And Ed Palen and Bill Simes at Rock and River Guides in Keene, NY taught me to ice climb.

Instead of dreaming of thin Himalayan air I aspired to climb throughout North America. I wanted to train on Mount Rainier, even frequenting various routes during my infrequent paid vacations from my career in our nation’s capital. After one day reaching the summit via the Liberty Ridge, I expected to go to Alaska to take in the mountains from the snow, ice and mixed routes from Denali to little-known, remote peaks (some hopefully unclimbed) in the Wrangell Mountains and Brooks Range. I didn’t have to put up routes up the most striking lines in the most aggressive style like Steve House, one of my heroes then, to be satisfied. I just wanted mountain highs and exposure.

About half-a-decade ago, I came to a fork in the road, though I didn’t recognize it as one. At the time I was advancing in my career, I felt I had a little money to spend, and my love life was starting to take off. That’s when a buddy of mine moved to Alaska and he invited me to visit him. We went to all the usual sites, the Kenai Peninsula, Denali National Park, and I also did some modest climbing in the Chugach.

Since then, I haven’t climbed. I travel. I hike. But it’s been a while since I took my crampons and ice axe up a slope. My priorities changed. Now I was saving up for an engagement ring, a down payment on a home, and now a college fund! Plus, I couldn’t bear the thought of something occurring that would impact my family’s future because of an accident due to one of my hobbies. So here I write.

There was a time I used to think that I would refuse to settle into a life that didn’t support my climbing ambitions. Parents, friends, and loved ones haven’t always embraced or accepted my passion for mountaineering. Now, despite our disagreement on where alpinism ranks (which has been long since settled,) we’ve all come to a truce to enjoy the mountains and climbing in ways other than climbing them. And interestingly, it wasn’t hard – despite my lack of notable ascents – for life to be not just good but great. I have a wonderful family and a moving career I highly value to support them. In fact, when I vacation now, my family and I visit the mountains at ski resorts, like Stowe, Whistler – you know the type. I’m guaranteed to have great food, craft beers and a luxurious “bivy” for the night.

Though life is great, I look back when I visited my buddy in the forty-ninth state, and have made a how-can-I-be-so-stupid realization: I wished I climbed Mount Rainier instead. I had the time. I had the funds. The only person I was worried about was me. At that time, I thought I would have more of both in the future to do Mount Rainier later. Life took its turns and climbing gradually became considered too expensive, time consuming and risky. Maybe that will change, but not anytime soon.

The lesson is this: The best time to climb – or do whatever you dream about, for that matter – is now. Make a plan. Execute it. If you don’t, life may still turn out to be as great for you as it is for me, but you might wish you have ticked off that other accomplishment off your life list sooner when you had the chance.

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Thank You, Walter Bonatti and Farewell

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I was on the subway on my way to work when I got the news. One of the world’s legendary mountaineers and climbing leaders has passed away. Walter Bonatti died on September 13, 2011. He was 81.

He was progressive in his climbs, often in the midst of controversy, and often lucky to survive. His routes range from the Alps to the Himalayas during its Golden Age.

Here is a selection of informed stories marking and celebrating the great Italian alpinist’s life and accomplishments:

While he is part of numerous stories of climbing, he wrote his own account of them too. Here is a link to his book, The Mountains of My Life.

Thank you for your inspiration, Walter Bonatti.

Kaltenbrunner Summits 8,000ers – Deserves More Celebration

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Shortly after the news was official, I announced through Facebook and Twitter that Austrian alpinist Gerlinde Kaltenbrunner has become the first woman to summit the world’s fourteen highest mountains (above 8,000 m./ 26,246 ft.). That feat alone is worth an accolade and a book deal these days, but Kaltenbrunner went a step further. She climbed these mountains without supplemental oxygen.

Mountaineering celebrates first the way baseball does; first pitch and first ascents; leaders in batting average and leaders in categories. Kaltenbrunner’s accomplishment has been sought after by men and women alike. While nearly 30 alpinists have topped out on all fourteen 8,000ers, only about a dozen – all of them previously men – have done so without using “gas.”

Gas is essential for climbers to get to that top. At higher altitudes, particularly above 6,000 meters, but also much lower, the lack of dense air can make mountaineers feel lethargic, similar to the feeling of a bad sinus congestion with sleepiness brought on from medication. Put into a fog that slows down reflexes and thinking processes, many climbers choose to use oxygen bottles to enhance their air density. In fact, some climbers find it necessary to use gas and would not be able to summit otherwise.

Earlier in climbing history, it was thought that it would be impossible for man to attain the summits of the Himalayas without gas. However, in 1978, Reinhold Messner showed the world that it was possible – through proper acclimatization and will power – to climb 8,000ers without, as Ed Viesturs put it, “cheating.” On May 8, 1978, Messner summited Everest completely under his own lung power.

It is unclear to me at this time whether Kaltenbrunner felt she was racing against other women to be first or had the ambition to be first. Regardless the title was clearly sought after. You may recall that in August 2010, South Korean female alpinist Oh Eun-Sun claimed that she summited Kanchenchunga (28,169 ft./8,586 m.), which if that attempt was not disputed by several reputable sources, would have made her the title holder.

Kaltenbrunner also deserves more attention. In North America, outside the climbing community, there has been very little coverage of Kaltenbrunner’s accomplishment and even less about who she is and how she got there. I suspect that it is her language and nationality that separates her from my English-speaking world. But as a woman and a climber, her story should be retold more broadly. Everyone can benefit.

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Sources: 1) “Gerlinde Kalkenbrunner Summits K2!” PlanetMountain.com, August 23, 2011; 2) Viesturs, Ed, with David Roberts, No Shortcuts to the Top, Broadway Books, 2006.