We Were 4,000 Feet Up An Alaskan Giant, Soloing Together. Then Disaster Struck.

“Justin! Start climbing!” my partner Ryan yells from 200 feet above. Four thousand feet of steep Alaskan granite and dark gullies, shadows and light, hang beneath my crampon’s heels. Another thousand to go. At Ryan’s urging, I dismantle our anchor of cams and start climbing while he continues to lead through steep blocky cruxes and smears of aerated ice.

Our pace is fast but not frantic. We carry no sleeping bags or tent, a little tarp, and 10 pieces of protection. Thin jackets for the both of us, and a small stove with a bit of gas.