Travel
... or "excess baggage" in the St. Elias Range
On the evening of June 11th, four guys descended upon the Continential Check-in desk with a crap load of gear. After checking most of our bags, our oh-so-helpful attendant did a quick count and was delighted to see that we had one too many check bags. Only then does he get to say "You have excess baggage. That'll be $75 a bag!" When we told him we'd set aside and repack, he said confidently "There's nothing you can do about excess baggage." We showed him! After packing Marcus's ski bag to capacity with tents and food, and grabbing a rope for a carry-on, we were able to fit all his gear into three check bags. One of these beauties weighed 69.5 LBS, just under the 70 LB weight limit! A hour or so later we borded our plane where Continential shafted us on both the "Snack" and in-flight movie (unless you like watching Air Bud IV). Once we arrived in Anchorage, Marcus and Phil zoomed off in a Taxi to retrieve the Ultima Thule Van that was left for us at the Claus's office/house.
Rouge Man Marcus before his run-in with Anchorage police. So... innocent
then... Photo: Phil Fortier
On the way back to the airport, Marcus got confused by wacky Alaskan traffic light systems, and ended up being pulled over by the only other car on the road-- The anchorage police. Marcus must have smooth talked him good, for he got off without a ticket, AND started wearing cool wrap around sunglasses when he drove.
Marcus takes the wheel on the long and scenic drive to the Chitina Airport.Photo:
Phil Fortier
Across Alaska we drove, spotting Glacier snouts, mountain passes, one million RVs, and big local folk. After lunch at a decent greasy spoon in Glenallen, we hurried to make it to the landing strip before the 5 p.m. arrival time of the infamous Paul Claus. We drove past the airstrip into the "town" of Chitina to do an errand for the Clauss (getting their mail). We were hoping to pick up our pre-mailed boxes of stoves and fuel bottles. However, the post office lady said that someone had recently brought all the mail down to the air strip. When we inquired if there were boxes, she said no, no boxes.... Unless you mean all those little packages. (!?!?!?!?!) Greg stopped in at the liquor store and bought some cheap vodka which was soon to become known as "Firewater."
The Chitina "Airport" where we waited for hours and hours...
The Chitna airstrip consisted of: one small plane, one log cabin (above), about 15 cars, and a local drug-dealing trailer down the road to the left. Remember, left for drugs, right for planes. While we waited (nearly 3 hours), no less than 15 cars must have shortly "visited" the trailer down the little spur road. Every now and then, some strage person would emerge out of nowhere, walk across the parking lot, and dissapear over by the trailer. Where where all these people coming from???? Alas, we had more important things to do.. like throw rocks into traffic cones, and construct elaborate blow-guns.
Greg gets creative with his PVC blow gun. After about a half hour of practice,
he could shoot a rock nearly 20 feet!!!!!! Photo: Phil Fortier
Eventually, Paul's Dad, John, shows up "early" to drop off the gear for some guys rafting out from the lodge. Turns out they wern't going to pick us up until 7pm! John made some disparaging comments about our "Load of stuff" and said it was a shame to bring it all out to the lodge, and leave so much behind. Hmm... what to ditch? Maybe that fixed rope? The flight into the lodge would have been scenic, if it weren't for the ominous clouds looming all over the peaks. An hour later we made a sharp turn and landed on a small air-strip along side the river. We had arrived, but the awkwardness continued...
We landed, loaded up this trailer, then said, "what next?" to
no one in particular. Photo: Phil Fortier
Eventually, over a complimentary dinner from the lodge,
Paul came out to talk to us. We quickly learned that he was sizing us
up, and we soon learned that we were causing him constant entertainment.
It started with our reference to what we'd seen on the maps. He told us
to forget every lie the maps had told us, with a Paul-Claus-chuckle, of
course. Then I made the stellar comment that I thought we might have seen
the Bagley icefield from the road in (it was actually the Mt. Marcus Baker
area). This gave him quite a laugh, for it's the equivalent of asking
Fred Beckey if Mt. Rainier is at snoqualmie pass. As Phil so acurately
put it, "Paul smiled and laughed his characteristic you-are-the-greenest-newbie-gumbies-ever
chuckle."
Ultima Thule Lodge. AKA Paul Claus's pricey yuppie retreat
Paul fies the Bona group to the Bagley. Photo: Phil Fortier
We had to wait for flying weather for any destination at this point. After looking through some photo albums, and finding amazing pictures of just the place we were headed to, we decided that the area up around Mt. Bear was way too scary. True, we could have done the South Ridge of Mt. Bear, but our other objectives were 50-60 degree faces with hanging ice-falls topped with flutings of powder all over them. yikes! We were informed that the Bagley icefield also gets better weather. Seeing as we were here to climb, we opted for the icefield pretty quickly. As it turned out, a guided group headed for Mt. Bona, a 16,000 ft. mountain in the Wrangell range, ran out of time with the flying weather and also headed out to the Bagley.
The very quick ditching of excess gear.
We struggled through the two days of mosquitoes and rain at the lodge by keeping our minds busy. We played Trivial Pursuit until the un-challenged master Greg showed Marcus Phil and I that we were born 10 years too late for that version. We also played croquet, inspired by my girlfriend Emily's recent family gatherings. This was fun, but the mosquitoes soon became unbearable so close to the brush.
While waiting for flying weather, we tried to kill the big red mosquitoes
with mallots. (They get really big like that when they fill up with your
blood) Photo: Phil Fortier
Finally, at 2 pm, Paul comes up the stairs and asks us how long it will take us to get ready to go. We were ready a half hour later, but unfortunately the guided group jumped changed their plans then too, so they flew in front of us. 5 hours later, it was our turn.
Big glacier in Alaska! We finally get to fly in.
Our heavily loaded plane took off, and soon passed through the clouds into the sunshine above massive glaciers and rugged peaks.
Paul Claus, our fearless pilot brings us in by Flightpath Peak.
Home sweet home, with a load of stuff.
Paul brought the plane in next to a beautiful mountain, and told us "Welcome home!" And indeed, our base camp didn't move more than 10 feet from that spot in the next 19 days! We had landed on a side valley of the Baldwin glacier, at 8,000 ft.
Bye Paul...
Basecamp.
With base setup, we had dinner and looked at the stunning view of huge glaciers that ran for tens of miles, and endless ice-clad peaks.