"Ya, I'd like to spend a month on a mountain sometime... It'd be a good experience" I stated these exact words only a few months before we stepped off of the Beaver onto the SE Fork of the Kahiltna Glacier, in the Alaska Range.

The three of us chucked our gear into the slurpee-like snow and watched our plane take-off, making a huge arc in front of Mt. Foraker en-route home. We were amongst mountains I'd always dreamed of seeing. As I bent to grab a handful of gear I think it dawned on me for the first time what we were getting ourselves into. "Shit man, that's a big mountain". Kees didn't give me much of a reply save for a smile an some refrains from some country song he had rattling around in his head. Hmm... so I'm going climbing with a country fan? I wonder how many songs he knows? (ed: lots!)

I met Kees this winter on a ski trip somewhere near Pemberton in BC's Coast Mountains. That weekend was one of my favorite weekends of the year, where along with our friend Andre 'Volcano' Charland, we got to ski perfect lines in perfect conditions. Typical future plans were exchanged over shitty pancakes, and oddly this one worked out. We decided to ski the highest mountain in North America -- Denali (aka Mt. McKinley for you Yanks).

It's every skier's dream to ski in Alaska, to ski big mountains and huge lines. Our friend Jonathan had skied in AK earlier in the year and despite an injury he came home with nothing but rave reviews. This one was too good to pass up. Claire and I had already planned to visit Alaska during the summer, and with a little convincing, our plans were easily changed to accommodate the Big One.

Then the real work began. Most people spend around a year conditioning to climb McKinley... we had 60 days. So Claire and I finished up work and got it all going. What people don't realize about big trips and big lines is the background work that goes into it. We needed to coordinate with Kees, who was thousand of kilometers away in Colorado, purchase and prepare 30 days of food, and get in a whole lot of practice during an unfavorably wet spring. These 60 days of prep are some of my favorite memories from the 03-04 ski season. Day trips up Baker, Adams etc are stories unto themselves.

Tune in to doglotion.com for footage of 'Raining on Rainier', that follows 6 skiers, 3 cars, and a truckload of American beer on a trip through two countries, and 3 states in the pursuit of cougars and gnarr... We picked up Kees in Anchorage and checked into the shittiest hotel we could find. Truth be told, we wanted something without crack dealers outside but they were all booked up for the solstice marathon. Anchorage isn't at all as I expected. I should think it was a whole lot more interesting prior to the cruise ship industry. I wasn't too sad to leave it behind and get to Talkeetna, the airfield/ tourist mecca from which we would catch a flight into basecamp.

The first climbers we met in Talkeetna were two guys from Montreal that looked burnt. They had been hammered by a storm for 5 days at 17,000ft that tore up tents and prevented anybody from summiting. I may be naive, but this was the first time it really hit me that we may not be able to reach our objectives... an interesting feeling of vulnerability. We flew in with Boris Zee Russian. OK, so I don't really know if that's his name but it suited him fine. We determined that he was going to solo the Cassin Ridge and this alone earned him our 'hardcore' title. Besides, I think this guy lived off of cigarettes and sardines! Although few words were ever exchanged between us, we felt a kinship with Boris. 'If zee Russian goes, vee go'. If you're ever in doubt while in the mountains, just chant this mantra. The climb up to 14,000 ft is more aptly a slog. Basically speaking, you need to move 130lbs each of gear up 7,000ft to high camp. From 14,000ft to 17,000ft is the steepest part of the West Buttress route, and from there its one long day to the top. We lucked out and experienced uncommonly good weather for the majority of our climb. In hindsight, we were on the mountain during the longest period of good weather of the climbing season.

The day we flew out, another system rolled in and shut down the mountain for yet another week. Having reached the top on a warm sunny day, we were able to ski off the summit with the best snow conditions of the trip. I'm sure Kees still gets a laugh remembering me cross the summit ridge. I'm notoriously antsy on steep ridges, and made a point of having solid footing on this endeavor. We had beautiful views from the summit, and if Kees ever forgives me for putting my thumb in front of his camera lens, I'll get to remember it for a long time. The ski back to 17,000ft was fast and easy and we even lucked out enough to have boot deep powder for the first 1000ft.

The gallery of guided climbing parties whooped it up for us as they trudged up our boot tracks. No doubt, they were wishing they had lugged up 15 pound skis as they still had a long walk to the summit and back to 17,000ft camp. Big shouts to Mario (and his three guides for lugging all the gear) for summiting at the youthful age of 71& 9 months, beating the previous record by 6 months! It is unfortunate that we couldn't have had all three of us on top at once as Claire had been taken sick by a nagging cold she picked up on the first day of the trip. Our first attempt to reach the summit had us turning around 500ft from the summit at around 3am faced with bad weather and deteriorating conditions. This attempt took a lot out of us and wouldn't allow Claire the second chance on this trip. I like to think that we were a team throughout the trip. We all had our strengths, our weaknesses, our moments of glory, and our regrettable moments. Living within 50 meters of two people for three weeks lets you share the highest highs and the lowest lows.

There's not much we didn't share on this trip and I'm thankful for having two great partners that made the trip fun and that dealt with my bullshit for three weeks. Extra special thanks go to Claire for being the butt of jokes for three weeks because she was the only girl and she had to pee with a funnel (you wouldn't want to drop your drawers up there either) and because she could shoot snot rockets better than the boys. Special thanks should also go to Kees for getting on a mountain with a couple, and for cooking most of the meals (but honestly Kees, would you have wanted me to cook more having seen what I did to the Canada day brownies?). Thanks guys, you're the best. Our team would also like to introduce a new term 'LEEP*' to your backcountry vocabulary.

Like many words, this one is the product of necessity. I had the misfortune of being the unwilling victim that spawned this valuable expression. I remember ripping down ski hill on the second to last day of the trip, strapped in to my sled, harness, four layers of clothing etc. I had just cleared another snowbridge and was in sight of our next camp when 'LEEP' took hold. I should have known I was at risk, having dropped almost 13,000ft of elevation in less than 48 hours. *For the uninitiated 'LEEP' refers to a low elevation emergency poo. We have no scientific evidence to support it, but it sure as hell happens? This trip report wouldn't be complete without a mention of Bob the Radio-man. We first met Bob at the 14,000ft camp. He was justifiably a minor-celebrity on the mountain. He had carried in over 250 pounds of gear solo up the West Buttress Route, most of it radio equipment and serious gear, including polar bear fur mittens and a rabbit fur hat. I kind of felt like a tool standing beside him in my techno-weenie gear.

Originally from Washington, he's been living in northern Alaska for a long time. This was his second trip to McKinley, and at the 17,000ft camp he was a bit of a watchful angel relaying messages from the Parks Service and generally keeping an eye on all of us. We had the fortune to rope-up with Bob to assist him across the lower glacier to base camp as the unseasonaly warm weather had reduced the condition of the lower glacier to a game of Russian roulette for a soloist. Having arrived back safe and sound in Talkeetna, we headed out for a beer with Bob and ran into many of our newfound friends from Denali. Kees and I dove into multiple servings of ox burgers, pie, ice cream and beer... afterwards I don't recall ever feeling so sick. Kees left us the following day, and Claire and I spent the next month driving back to Vancouver in Claire's little Civic via central Alaska, the Yukon, and the North-West Territories.

The whole trip was amazing: from start to finish. It's been almost three months since we got off the mountain. The three of us are spread across BC, Alberta and Colorado attending university but the plans are developing as snow returns to North America. I'm looking forward to sharing another trip with Kees and Claire. It's only one month until the season starts in the Rockies. If you love the mountains, hit the gym, get stoked, it never ends... We would like to give thanks to our families for their support, to Doglotion.com for stoking the dream, and to Evan at Canada's very own Integral Designs, makers of the best gear for the backcountry!!!