Driving the Alaska Highway one will find themselves in the small town of Glenallen. Ahead lies the road leading to the Alaskan Metropolis of Anchorage. To your left the Richardson highway will wisk one into the realm of skiers, sledders, and oil pipeline workers by the shores of Valdez. If one has any inkling to look back even for a moment there it will be, Mt. Sanford. All 16 thousand ft of the dissected strata-volcano will be there, lying at the north western edge of the largest park on the continent, Wrangell St Elias. Again it was to be myself and comrade Marcus Waring on yet another instalment on our Alaskan Crusade of 2008.

Halfway through the month of May some phone calls were placed to some local pilots of Glenallen looking for some interest in leaving some skiers out to their own devices in their natural habitat. One contact was made with only somewhat of a half interest maybe later in the week if the weather ever was to clear. This sitting and waiting was a hard sell for us two skiers who only days earlier had some of the best conditions of the entire spring ski trip. Warm temps however were now upon us so we put an end to the powder hunt, it was now Volcano Season.

Sometimes the hardest part of a journey is that first step. This couldn’t have been more true for this trip, for that first step would have sent you plummeting into the ice filled Copper River, which is one of the biggest in this, the land of BIG. Packrafts to the rescue we were past the first hurdle very shortly. Now all that lay before us was 30 miles and 14,000 feet of mountain protected by a sea of Alder and Poplar, sprinkled with smatterings of Devils Club. Being from B.C I often pride myself on my bushwhacking prowess. That pride was to be crushed over the ensuing 3 days of approach up Boulder Creek to a mountain that lurked amongst the clouds in our dreams. The motivation for such an endeavour came from the over 12,000 ft of skiable that we surmised was possible from the summit.

Camped at 5000ft with the slog behind us we were relegated to waiting in our tent eating what little precious food we brought with us for the siege. Miraculously after 2 days we were given the break we needed to make our summit bid in the alpine style to which we are so fond. Climbing through the night waiting out a few patches of zero visibility, morning dawned a golden glow washing away the -30C temps and reminding us why we had come so far to such a strange place. Cresting the summit plateau at 16000 ft after 15hours of travel we could see the true summit 300 ft higher and a crushing mile further in distance. Whether it was the affects altitude or reasons father from the obvious we clicked into our skis just shy of our ambitious goal and made the descent down the flanks of the mountain eventually, days later finding ourselves back at the highway, hungry and asking more questions than we had starting off the journey. Whether a success or a failure only we as participants have the right to question. A overwhelming feeling of dis-satisfaction hung over our heads from the self admitted failure of our trip. Much self reflection was needed to solve the mysteries that Sanford had veiled us with.

``Altitude skiing is fun” is the most common mis-understanding of this pursuit that even I find myself hiding behind sometimes. Instead I have come to know the pursuit as the chasing of goal or certain satisfaction from achieving a goal that fuels my stoke. In this case we set our goal of skiing a run over 10,000ft and summiting one of the continents biggest mountains unsupported by any other means. Was the concept ambitious? Yes. Did we do everything we could to reach our goal? Yes. Did we meet our original goal? No. Are you the reader ever going to summit Sanford in this style? Definitely No! Strangely this is where I find my solace, that fact that few others will ever ponder such an obscure endeavour. The sense of knowing that there are endless challenges out there, and that know one else will have any bearing on what I have faced in my darkest moments. The conflict of Man vs. Nature was never that at all, for nature is the constant, myself being the antagonist.

With Mount Sanford behind I am one step closer in trying to find and define the mountain of my dreams. Physically I was rendered weak. Mentally I have come out stronger than ever before, hungrier still for what that next mountain has for me to try and digest, even if fun isn’t on the menu. Thank you to Marcus for sharing this complicated journey and to the beautiful Mount Sanford for being.