Day 57
   
   6/23/01
   10,000 feet
   Kahiltna Pass, Denali
   
   We awoke about 2am and prepared for our departure from Base Camp.
   This is a process that takes hours.  First, tend to the body: melt snow for
   water, cook breakfast, organize gear, pack up the tent, and dig a hole
   to cache gear here, marking it with a wand.  We'd gone over and over
   our gear for months, making refinements and adjustments, and now was
   the time to go with what we had regardless.  We loaded our sleds with over
   two weeks of food and fuel, roped ourselves together in the event one
   of us fell into a crevasse, and headed out across the glacier, Mike in
   the lead and me following.
   
   There was no sound save for the crunch-crunch of our snowshoes and our
   ice axes as we manhauled our sleds up the slow incline of the glacier,
   some 8 miles long.  Soon the sun rose above the horizon, an event both
   of us would have avoided if we could have: for it meant unwelcome heat
   and sunburn.  As any skier knows, UV rays reflect off the snow and
   onto any bit of exposed skin, even place you wouldn't think of, such as the
   bridge of your nose.  The higher the altitude, the less atmosphere is
   available to screen out UV, and it only gets worse.  Failure to take
   scrupulous care results in painful burns.  We had occasionally seen
   teams returning from the climb, and many of them were fried.
   
   But the scenery made up for any minor insult.  This, we remarked to
   each other, was what we gotten into mountaineering for: vast glaciers
   carving through valleys like rivers frozen in time, granite peaks
   piercing the sky in a kind of hazardous beauty, an arctic scene the best
   we had ever experienced, and we were in the middle of it all.
   
   Just above the Kahiltna Pass, we pitched camp.  The were some seracs
   (overhanging snow) ahead, and this had been an unusually warm year so
   we were concerned about avalanche, and decided to wait here until the
   coldness of night allowed them to firm up before we passed them.  It
   was not necessary, but it made for a good stopping point anyway.  We set
   up camp, melted water, ate dinner, and got into the tent.
   
   It wasn't what you'd expect when you think "Alaska mountain".  Instead
   of a chilly shelter, it was closer to a sauna; greenhouse effect made
   the temperature soar, and there were still hours of sunlight left.  All
   we could do was lay on top of our sleeping bags, certainly not inside
   them.  And there is no real night here at this time of year - I was
   still wearing my sun goggles, *inside* the tent, at 11pm.
   
   
   ---------------------------
   Note that these entries are written for not only climbers but also
   non-climbers so that they can get an idea what the life is like.  When
   written for climbers only, many details would be omitted because they
   are standard procedure.

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