The Final Trail Party Finally Makes it to Camp 10

Annie Boucher July 31, 2014

by Kim Quesnel, Stanford University, photos by Alexandre Mischler, Yukon College

After sleeping for a few hours, we woke at our campsite, the Norris Cache, to another precipitation-free day. Some people meandered out of tents while others crawled out of sleeping bags after spending the night outside. We slowly tried to make sense of what had happened the day and night before and of what had happened earlier in the morning when three snowmobiles came to pick up more than half of our group members. People who wouldn’t be able to complete the traverse that day included students who had to catch a helicopter for their field work, those who had blisters the size of index cards, or other ailments so pressing that they were not able to make the final push to Camp 10 on skis.

As I zipped open the door to the tent that I was sharing with Stephanie and Natalie, I couldn’t help but smile at the hectic journey of the day before. My smile got bigger because Kate, the wonderful staffer who had come to help us finish the trek, was dancing around in the “kitchen”, boiling water for breakfast and making cowboy coffee to get us excited for the day to come. I walked over to her and noticed that in addition to the best oatmeal and coffee of my life, there was also a homemade lemon cake with marionberry frosting that had been sent in the snow machines as a present from Camp 10. The second round of snow machines came around 10:30am to pick up the tents, extra food, some of the gear from our backpacks, and the final few members of the group who wouldn’t be able to complete the ski.

Moving slower than usual, we got our belongings together, and by 12:15pm we started skiing. There were 7 of us left out of the 16 who had started the traverse day before- Luna, French Alex, Natalie, Tristan, our incredible staffers Annie and Stan, and myself. Kate also joined us for the traverse, probably mostly as a safety concern since we were all exhausted from the day before. The trip started off on a positive note as we realized within the first ten minutes that the skiing was going to be infinitely better than the conditions we had experienced the day before. All that we had to do was a simple kick and glide instead of struggling across icy suncups. To make things even better, we were following a snow machine track and could ski side by side instead of in a single file line, so we could chat while we moved. Kate even brought her JammyPack (fanny pack with built in speakers) and three fully charged iPods, so we were rocking out to music all day as we skied.

We followed a 50/10 schedule, skiing for about 50 minutes and stopping for 10 (with the exception of one slightly longer break to re-tape blisters). We skied and skied and skied, practically in a straight line across the entire Taku glacier with Camp 10 in sight (yes, C-10 is real…) for the majority of the day. We were tired, burnt out, and sore, but morale was high and we were all happy to be spending the day together. Luckily, Luna kept us laughing all day while we trekked along.

While our trail parties may have taken the longest amount of time to complete the first part of the traverse, we had one of the fastest times for the second section as we skied the 12 miles from the Norris Cache to Camp 10 in 6.5 hours. We were met at the bottom of the Camp 10 hill by bear hugs and cheers from our friends, some of whom we had been separated from for almost an entire week. As promised, Camp 10 was sunny with gorgeous views, overlooking the entire Taku glacier with endless mountains in sight. It was the perfect way to begin the next chapter of our JIRP experience.

Put One Foot in Front of the Other: A 24-Hour Day on the Trail to Camp 10

Annie Boucher July 29, 2014

by Natalie Raia, University of Texas at Austin

After several days of inclement weather at Camp 17, the clear morning on June 16th was a more than welcome sight for the final two trail parties! Our crews woke up at 04:00 to pack up and finish closing camp. Trail party one was off before 05:30, and the traverse began!

The first portion of the journey was a ski down Lemon Creek glacier. After spending two weeks on the Lemon Creek glacier practicing skiing and learning new mountaineering and glacier travel skills, it was a bittersweet goodbye to the familiar, gently sloping, and rather benign glacier we called home.

Members of trail party two begin the traverse by skiing down the Lemon Creek glacier.  photo by Alexandre Michler — Members of trail party two begin the traverse by skiing down the Lemon Creek glacier. photo by Alexandre Michler

However, the Lemon Creek glacier soon showed its icier side—rain during the bad weather days had exacerbated ablation near the terminus of the glacier. We had been warned by the second-day crew that crampons would be necessary to safely and efficiently cross the lower Lemon Creek glacier. So, around 07:00 we strapped crampons to ski boots, skis to packs, and trekked onward. For most of us, it was the first time back on crampons since our initial practice hike at the Mendenhall glacier in Juneau. It was a welcome break from skiing, and the crampons allowed for an enjoyable hike with phenomenal views as the good weather miraculously continued.

Members of trail party two navigate exposed blue ice and crevasses on the lower Lemon Creek glacier.  This was an added challenge for the final two trail parties, after days of rain increased ablation.  photo by Alexandre Mischler — Members of trail party two navigate exposed blue ice and crevasses on the lower Lemon Creek glacier. This was an added challenge for the final two trail parties, after days of rain increased ablation. photo by Alexandre Mischler

After a snack break near the end of the Lemon Creek glacier, we began a slow and steady ski ascent on a snow ramp in pursuit of the Thomas Glacier. With Director Jeff Kavanaugh expertly kicking steps and routing switchbacks, we proceeded up three separate slopes that had initially appeared to be dauntingly steep.

Staff member Stanley Pinchak and student Maya Smith ski up a track near the Thomas glacier with blue ice exposed on the Lemon Creek glacier in the lower background.  photo by Natalie Raia — Staff member Stanley Pinchak and student Maya Smith ski up a track near the Thomas glacier with blue ice exposed on the Lemon Creek glacier in the lower background. photo by Natalie Raia

With stamina rapidly decreasing, we reached “Lunch Rock” around 15:30 and took a nice break, refilling water at a clear pool in the rock outcrop and munching on a few of our five (yes, five!) allotted sandwiches. Trail party two caught up with us as we prepared to leave Lunch Rock, so we were able to compare notes on the traverse, the beautiful weather, and share a few skeptical glances at our watches—time was ticking and reaching Lunch Rock in mid-afternoon was not ideal! Our agenda after lunch initially included a short uphill and then contouring across a gently sloping ridge. At this point, we encountered some mist, but Camp 17 prepared us well! Without a hitch, we reached the base of an exposed rock outcrop. At its peak was Nugget Ridge.

Strapping skis to our packs, we began a slippery uphill rock scramble that was difficult for everyone, and downright grueling for those with large plastic all-terrain ski boots. Nevertheless, we made it to the top and immediately prepared for the crevasse field on Nugget Ridge.

It seemed as if all of the preparation at Camp 17 had been leading to this moment. We tied into our rope teams, building the fairly extensive system of knots and prusiks without a second glance, and set off cautiously into the persisting mist. Our practice traveling together in rope teams allowed for an amazingly smooth section of the traverse, and as the mist cleared it became clear exactly why we were roped up. Amazing, gaping crevasses suddenly appeared along with a spectacular view of the final two portions of the traverse: Death Valley and the Norris Icefall.

Director Jeff Kavanaugh, Melissa "Luna" Brett, Tristan Amaral, and Lexi Crisp successfully clear the crevasse field and look ahead into Death Valley.  photo by Natalie Raia — Director Jeff Kavanaugh, Melissa "Luna" Brett, Tristan Amaral, and Lexi Crisp successfully clear the crevasse field and look ahead into Death Valley. photo by Natalie Raia

Once reaching the designated “safe waypoint,” we unroped and looked at the work ahead of us. Now 20:30, it was overtly obvious that all was NOT on-track time-wise! Trail party two caught up with us again, and it was decided that we would finish the traverse as one group. The implied goal now became something like, “Move forward at any pace you are capable of and KEEP MOVING!” A large downhill slope, easily the ski resort equivalent of a serious “dark blue” intermediate hill, loomed below us. Five of us skied down, and the rest boot packed down the hill. That run was a personal highlight of the traverse and one of the best ski runs of my life (and don’t let my current university location fool you, I’ve been skiing since kindergarten!). I descended down into the valley as sunset began, catching perfect snow conditions. It was notably one of the only times my AT ski setup worked to my advantage!

Once everyone regrouped at the bottom of the hill, we began a fun but exhausting sidehill across the upper part of Death Valley. This route was faster, safer, and used less energy. Even as some of us became sleepy, our leg muscles were certainly wide awake during this 2-hour ordeal. Sidehilling is no easy task, especially with 25-30 lb. packs!

Now skiing as one group, members of both trail parties execute an extensive sidehill ski run, preparing to drop down into Death Valley.  photo by Alexandre Mischler — Now skiing as one group, members of both trail parties execute an extensive sidehill ski run, preparing to drop down into Death Valley. photo by Alexandre Mischler

Eventually, we lost all elevation advantage and were on the true floor of Death Valley. I’m not sure what the origin of “Death Valley” is (and probably don’t want to know!), but in the case of this now 17-hour traverse, Death Valley caused the slow deterioration of morale and all sense of progress. It was here that the true scale of the Icefield became acutely apparent. With dusk now well underway, the temperature began to drop. We kept moving forward by a combination of sheer grit and determination, robotic momentum acquired from hours on the trail, and perhaps most importantly out of necessity to keep warm! The snow in Death Valley turned icy, which increased the energy output necessary to ski over the never-ending sun cups (essentially snow dunes resulting from the uneven heating of the valley floor during the day). Eventually, we reached the bottom of the Norris Icefall. Now with headlamps out, we bundled up and ate what food we had (suddenly five sandwiches didn’t seem so extravagant!), waiting to regroup and decide whether we would attempt the Norris Icefall that night. In that numb and exhaustion-laden break at 00:30, the true quality of students and staffers shined. Gloves, extra layers, food, and hugs were shared, and eventually it was decided that we would begin one final push towards our ultimate destination, the Norris Cache. After all, a group of tents and food were waiting for us somewhere just above the icefall.

With freezing hands, we tied into our original rope teams from earlier in the day and approached the icefall. It was the middle of the night, and with Jeff scouting a path through an extensive crevasse zone we proceeded. Most of us were running off of adrenaline, the occasional granola bar, and the knowledge that eventually the ordeal would be over and we could crawl into tents and sleep.

As a testament to the safety training we received at Camp 17, we efficiently and safely ascended the crevassed snow ramp with excellent communication, especially given that there were four rope teams skiing consecutively. After reaching the flag marking the safe point, we unroped and looked forward, expecting to see tents nearby.

With the early summer sunrise, members of both trail parties unrope after the Norris Icefall and prepare for the final ski to find our tents at the Norris Cache.  photo by Alexandre Mischler — With the early summer sunrise, members of both trail parties unrope after the Norris Icefall and prepare for the final ski to find our tents at the Norris Cache. photo by Alexandre Mischler

Nope! Finding a wanded track we trudged forward at abysmally slow rates, some of us in serious blistered pain, others just overcome by mental and physical exhaustion. WHERE WERE THE TENTS?! Looking forward about half a mile, it seemed that some of the faster skiers had reached a stopping point and were grouping up. But, wait! Why could I see half a mile in front of me? It was supposed to be the middle of the night, too dark to see any significant distance! A glance up at the sky (as opposed to the spectacular view I had been looking at for the past 22 hours—the top of my skis!) revealed that the sun was rising! In that moment, there was nothing to do but laugh at the absurdity of the situation. 03:30, just half an hour shy of being awake and on my feet for 24 hours and I was still skiing toward the cache for day one of the traverse. Laughing, wincing, and crying with my fellow JIRPers, we skied toward the tents at the cache and collapsed on the ground at the camp.

We have a running conversation about types of fun on JIRP: “Type A Fun” is fun during and after the event, “Type B Fun” is not fun during the ordeal but is fun retrospectively, and “Type C Fun” is fun during but not after! Day one of the traverse to Camp 10 was most certainly Type B fun. That day we each learned lessons in perseverance, self-awareness, inner willpower, and teamwork. The traverse was rewarding not because of the absurd, JIRP record-breaking amount of time it took to complete, but because the not one of us could have completed the traverse alone. We learned that together we function at a higher level in adverse conditions than would be possible as individual entities.

Camp 17 to Camp 10 Traverse

Annie Boucher July 28, 2014

By: Melissa “Luna” Brett

Our team got an early start on the traverse from Camp 17 to Camp 10. The sky was cloudless and blue, and there was a sense of adventure throughout the group. A not-so-graceful ski down the Lemon Creek glacier ended at the blue ice, where we prepared ourselves for the trek with crampons and some excitement about the alien landscape.

There is no other blue like that of a glacier, freshly exposed from the melting snow pack, alive and creeping slowly along. Aware of the quiet river beneath us, we trekked on and on, up and up, to Nugget Ridge. The clouds crept in around us just before the crevasse zone, where we roped up in teams, double and triple checking each other on the skills we learned at Camp 17.

Getting roped up in the clouds at the top of Nugget Ridge.

Slowly through the foggy mountain pass we forged ahead, watching our tracks and the slack in our rope with a heightened sense of things, ready to react to any movement, any change in landscape. The fog let up just as we finished the heavily crevassed trail, and we all stood in silence with our first view of the deep icefield. Peaks jutting from the ice as far as any heart could imagine, and farther than our eyes could see. The sun turned the mountains purple and blue, with soft orange and pink snow and ice hugging every slope. A view of our campsite, the Norris Cache, was a tiny spot in the distance, above the Norris Icefall, with Death Valley sinking between us.

I knew right then, that everything I had ever done had led me to this one moment, to this one place. I found my limit and left it 6 miles behind me, 1000 feet below, pushing past my breaking point to find out who I am, and where I belong. Down we went, following with tired eyes and weakened legs into Death Valley, which seemed to go on forever. As the sun sank behind the peaks, the sky gave up its starry secrets, and we pushed on under the shining constellations, the Big Dipper leading the way. We finally reached the base of the Norris Icefall, weary from the relentless push. Everyone was helping each other, from layering up, to eating and drinking, staying warm, staying positive, getting prepared for the final push. We roped up for the crevasses on the icefall, checking each other’s exhausted knots 5 or 6 times, just to be sure. We began the climb up the icefall, slow and steady, calling out to each other as we went along to help keep the focus. The crevasses were deep blue canyons, as dark in the bottom as the night sky above, only there were no stars down there. It was like climbing the back of a sleeping blue dragon, slowly we inched our way to the top. At last, the tents were in sight, and the sweet thoughts of a warm sleeping bag sank into our minds. We all arrived safely, together, and sleep came easily that night. The next morning was bright and quiet, with a long straight shot to Camp 10 across the Southwest Branch and the Taku Glacier. The aches and blisters were no match for the need to finish the trek. We geared up and headed out early, taking it hour by hour, minute by minute, step by step, and enjoying the wild view the entire way. After what felt like days we got a glimpse of Camp 10, perched high on the rocks ahead of us. The last push took us to places we never could have imagined, and there was no greater gift than taking off the skis and hiking up the rocks to Camp 10. Tears of pride and joy brought me to my knees, and as I looked back at the ice below I felt strong and happy. Happy to be part of something so vast and meaningful, proud to be here with this team, in the most wild classroom on Earth, the Juneau Icefield.

Juneau Icefield Research Program