Mt. McKinley, The High One (Denali)

No matter what name you use, the mountain is awe-inspiring, both in size and in beauty. Normally shrouded in clouds of her own making, she was out in all her glory for the three days we were in Talkeetna.

From the banks of the Susitna River (Talkeetna, AK), some forty miles away.

Because it was so clear, Ward flew me around the peak on Friday. He took us up to 14,500 feet, and still the mountain towered above us.

We flew over the base camp for a set of climbers beginning their several day trek up the peak.

What looks like confetti strewn across the snow are actually tents, the two planes show much larger than they appear. The base camp is around 8000 feet, so well below us.

The use of a base camp is a relatively new occurrence, made possible by advances in aviation during World War II. Before that, climbers would start from Talkeetna (a town with a orange Manx cat named Stubbs as its mayor) with several weeks of hard travel before they even attempted to summit.

Approaching the mountain up the Ruth River valley.

The "small" mountains early climbers would have to traverse on their way to the base of Denali, 

where they would start their real climb.

One of three glaciers climbers would use to speed their approach. I believe this is Kahiltna Glacier, 

though I'm not sure since we were actually a little lost at this point.

Even though glaciers are called rivers of ice, I was surprised to find they are far from smooth.

One of the smoother sections, but note all the lakes and crevasses. 

I can't imagine crossing one would be much fun.

On the way down, we flew through one of the glacial canyons 

on the flanks of Denali, to check out the scenery.

Even though this year the weather has so far allowed an 80% success rate for ascending the mountain, on average only 50% of all climbers reach the peak, which is not surprising since the wind can blow across the ice fields in excess of 80 miles an hour and the weather can turn on a dime.

Here you can see the clouds forming along the peak, filling and obscuring the valleys and crevices, and

making climbing much more difficult for those on the mountain.

And while Alaska is rife with heroic tales of aviators flying this wild and beautiful land, one of the best known and most beloved was Don Sheldon (1921-1975), who perfected the art of glacier flying and high-altitude rescues. After seeing first-hand the places where he would have landed, my respect for his courage and skill are immense.

Don Sheldon in front of the hangar, then.

Don Sheldon's hangar (from the other side), today.