My first trip to Alaska came about because I ran into Mark Ewing in Chamonix and then Mike Brochu in Yosemite. Of course, in those days Park regulations were strict: you had to have at least a party of four, radio communication, an onerous gear list, and names/addresses of your standby rescue team. We were all good except when our fourth - Patt Carr - bailed, and was replaced by a complete dud.
Over the span of years here are a few snippets from my potpourri of my memories: We got sponsored by Chuck Roast and North Face. Drinking whiskey with Bridwell at the glacier landing strip. Foolishly cutting loose my sled full of gear for a five mile ride down the glacier. Crawling out my tent one morning to see all the glaciers had turned black from a volcanic eruption 125 miles away. Sitting out a 17 day storm at 14,000’. Our Titanic drinking at the Fairview Inn after two summits as well a couple of our failures. Finally, I would love to go back for a week, just to ski around the glaciers. (Selden painted this watercolor off a photo from our first trip.)
Posts
