Peak(s):	Mt Logan - 19551
Date Posted:	01/22/2015
Modified:	06/08/2016
Date Climbed:	06/01/2014
Author:	I Man
Additional Members:	Winter8000m, thatnissanguy

Boys of Brogan
This is a write up of our trip to Mt Logan during the spring of 2014. It has taken a long time to write and reflect on the events of our climb, and it is time to share my thoughts and pictures. This is intended to compliment both the Castle Rock slideshow and the article in the October Issue of Climbing Magazine. It is important to note that these events are told from my perspective. I got my start here in this community, and there are many of you to which I am forever grateful. That is why I have chosen to share this here first. Most importantly I met Noah (winter8000m) through this forum. My relationship with him has forever changed my life. I love you dude, and I will always be proud of not only what we did, but that we did it together. I can only hope that years from now we are all still wildly chasing our dreams and talking endless amounts of shit over beers. The East Ridge in its entirety St Elias (left) and Kings Peak (right) The Boys of Brogan: Three Coloradans Venture into the Unknown I have always been fascinated by true adventure and by mountaineering's progression over generations. What is cutting edge in one decade becomes par for the course in the next. Way up North yet close to home for us here in Colorado, lies the most expansive ice fields outside of the Polar Regions, and nestled within this group of four ranges is the great, wild, and unforgiving king of them all: The St Elias Range. Barely 40 miles from the ocean, in a land forgotten by time, rises the biggest mountain (by mass) on Earth: Mt Logan. A short blurb on MountainProject.com gave me the idea for my route choice: I wanted to climb Mt. Logan, but to throw in a flare of exploration I decided to attempt a traverse, east to west, hoping to ascend the technical East Ridge, cross the plateau, and descend the standard Kings Trench route. Noah prepares his gear. The famed Brogan van is visible behind him Historically, the route had been climbed in expedition style with fixed lines, stocked camps, and acclimatization. Unlike Denali there is no walk-up route to work with, and the sustained difficulties had proven too much for many parties over the years. To date I estimated that less than 20 parties had completed the ridge, and even fewer had made it to the summit. Despite the likelihood of failure, it didn't take much for me to get some of my crazier Colorado ice-and-mixed-climbing friends to sign on. I believe the quote from Jason was "This sounds like a terrible idea, and I will not miss out!" And so it was, Noah McKelvin (22, Denver), Jason Maki (28, Nederland), and I (28, Boulder) set out into the unknown. Our base camp on the first day, before we fortified our position Collectively we didn't have a ton of experience in the Greater Ranges, but we hoped to make up for it in determination and old-fashioned Colorado Pride. The East Ridge is huge, bigger than anything that any of us had ever seen before. In its entirety the East Ridge route is over 12,000ft of vertical climbing. For reference, the Rupal Face on Pakistan's Nanga Parbat is 15,000ft and is commonly considered to be the biggest route in the world. Again and again on our trip we would experience the Logan Effect: from our basecamp six miles away it would be impossible to grasp just how big the route was, and many times we would feel as if we were "almost there." I had experienced this feeling on big mountains before, but not to the same degree. For months we planned and planned, thought about every ounce we would carry, and studied just how close we could really push it, up north and up high. The "New Testament" as we had come to call it, Training for the New Alpinism, was invaluable, and in mid-May 2014, we set out to Anchorage intent on bringing fast and light alpine-style climbing to the St Elias Range. Alcan Adventures From the start things went splendidly. Though it would be almost two weeks from the time we left Colorado until we landed on the Upper Hubbard Glacier, the sense of adventure really took shape. A few well-spent days in Anchorage with a close friend and an eventful drive in the Brogan Van (a 1985 beater van we bought off of Craigslist) had us in Silver City by the early morning hours of May 19th. Even there at the airstrip we felt outside of time. So far we had gotten all that we signed up for, and more. It would be seven days of anxious waiting, trips to Haines Junction and countless hours mulling over every detail of our plan as we gazed out over Kluane Lake. We took a great sense of pride knowing that some of the true hard men of all time had done the same ten, twenty, thirty years before. On the 24th of May, the living legend, Andy Williams, made an attempt to land Noah and Jason on the glacier, but uttered the words "no good." On the 25th of May 2014, my 28th birthday, we flew in to the glacier. On our First Ascent attempt of a sub peak in the area Immediately, the silence was deafening and the heat overwhelming. Noah and Jason ran over to the plane to take advantage of the "wind" from the propeller. The extremes were impossible to ignore. We were about to experience the coldest and hottest temperatures of our climbing careers, and all the while we would be completely and utterly alone. Alone - what an idea, a necessary component for modern alpinism. In stark contrast to its more popular brother, Denali, who attracts hundreds of climbers from all over the world each year, Logan can barely stay in business. In fact, during 21 days on the glacier during prime season, including a descent of the standard route, we would see no one. Not a soul. As the plane left and we were left to our solitude, we loaded up our sleds, skied several miles up the glacier towards the East Ridge, and set our basecamp at 6,900'. Setting up base camp in Alaska is a project in itself, and we wanted to be comfortable before the alpine-style portion of our climb during which we would have far more limited supplies. Our camp wasn't' complete until it had a football, an inflatable palm tree, and, of course, a selection of top-shelf liquor. Noah and Jason pull sleds from the landing site to our intended base camp During our first few days, we simply tried to exist in the scorching sun of mid-day, as we continued to set up what we expected to call home for over a month. At that time we figured we would be coming back down the East Ridge at least once before giving it the old go, but in the meantime, as we waited for the perfect weather opportunity, we had other venues to play on. Climbers can only stay idle for so long, and within a few days we were looking around for other adventures. We set our sights on a 5,000+ foot face on a sub peak of Logan. As far as we knew the face (and the ridge) remained utterly untouched by humans, which we found to be very appealing. We geared up, set out, and were quickly shut-down. The snow conditions were so horrid we were only able to move at night. It was quite clear to us that there are no warm-ups in the St Elias Range. "Moderate 5th Class, AI2-3, Steep Snow" Our weather advisor called via our satellite phone to tell us that a strong, high pressure system was moving in. He said in no uncertain terms that this was our window. Everything went out the window: scouting, stocking, acclimatizing; there was simply no time. We would be given the opportunity to test our plan and our system we had spent so much time developing back home. As a team we packed for our attempt, carefully considering each item. If we wanted to single carry this entire route and move quickly, we needed to accept certain hardships - for example, we would plan not to eat if we were stopped on bad weather days. I used a 40-degree synthetic sleeping bag in combination with a down suit to stay warm. We used a canister stove to supplement the traditional white gas. We chose small lightweight single wall tents for their footprint and weight. Noah heads across the 2nd part of the Satan Schrund...and (surprisingly) he doesn't fall in! It was just before 2pm on June 1st when we started the adventure of a lifetime. Right away we felt the weight of our packs; Noah could barely stand on his skis. The going was slow, and we didn't feel entirely comfortable about the basin we were heading into. We hoped that with a little luck we would find ourselves safely on the ridge by nightfall. The entrance couloir drifted in and out of visibility, and it was every bit as scary as its reputation. Later we came to find out that not only has no one been up the East Ridge in over five years, but that no one has even gotten on it. Now we knew why - though the angle suggested easy climbing, the slope was unconsolidated powder, ready to slide. To add to the situation, we encountered two serious bergschrund crossings. These difficulties hit us consecutively and we named them the Satan Schrund. It took us a long time and conditions were extremely challenging, but we eventually crested the East Ridge proper in the middle of the night. Our success can be attributed to years of experience in Colorado's horrid snowpack combined with our strategy to protect sketchy snow with rock protection. Atop the ridge we took a rest in the form of a 90 minute sitting bivy. Though challenging, the climbing was classic moderate terrain in a beautiful setting rising continually towards the sky. The route has been called the best route anywhere in the world and it is a strong argument - if the route doesn't kill you. In a marathon of alpine climbing we pushed continuously for twenty two hours, finally arriving at our first at camp around noon on June 2nd. We could hardly believe that we were only just above 9,000ft. Jason leads off the belay about midway up the entrance coolie Looking back down our tracks on the initial ridge. The entrance top out is barely visible at the back Terrain between C1 & C2 Over the course of the next week the difficulties never let up. Day after day we battled dangerous avalanche conditions coupled with fatal exposure on terrain that required constant diligence. Every step higher was a step closer to full commitment, and after going beyond the knife edge ridge crux's (12,000-12,500ft) we understood that the moment had come. Never in my life, in the Andes, in Alaska, in the lower 48, have I ever experienced such a ridge. The right side dropped off vertically to the glacier for every bit of 6,000ft. The left side was 75+ degrees of powder over hollow ice. The pro was marginal to say the least; the climbing was physically and mentally taxing and was almost too much for me. Our retreat would now be up and over the top. Finding safety and sending the route would be one in the same. One of the crux mixed sections on the ridge Initial downclimb to start the knife edge ridge. This was the single hardest stretch of the entire climb. Noah climbing on exposed terrain Jason and Noah approach our Camp 3 The Hive!!! (to-go) I win at Pack Tetris!! Seems to have more in common with a CO overnight pack than an Alaskcan giant pack After the crux section, a three-day storm spelled the emotional low of the trip, but we otherwise experienced fantastic weather and moved continually up the ridge, never climbing the same ground twice. Our hand drawn topo (climbing term for route description) was 15 years old and it showed, but still we pushed for the mark that exclaimed "end of major difficulties" just below 14,000'. A climber that saw our request for beta on an internet message board had provided us with the topo - as it turned out his map was the only beta available for our route. The third camp was our finest, and offered up awe inspiring views and a mostly safe sleep for once. Throughout the trip, all eight of our camps would leave us with some degree of uneasiness. There were some moments that though rewarding, I would prefer to forget as they put me at an uncomfortable level of risk. For example, the great feature known as the Snow Dome was truly sinister. It rose over 500ft as the ridge transitions from a narrow technical ridge to a wider glacial mess. Climbers more experienced than us had died here, and the feeling of commitment far outweighed our ability to truly assess the danger. I set out on one end of our two 60m ropes tied together, Noah and Jason tied next to each other on the other. We simply hoped for the best. Jason and Noah...chillin.... Jason leading the final sections of the knife edge ridge "Hi, my name is Noah and I want Jason to hurry the F up...I'm cold" Noah leading early on the crux Noah leading off the belay on the steepest sustained ice pitch of the route Looking back down the Snow Dome at Jason and Noah, a full 120m of rope away Talk about a view! Final camp on the East Ridge Climbing higher and higher... Forever Upwards Into the Unknown The final section below the plateau was one of the more difficult glaciers I've navigated, but it was doable and on the afternoon of June 11th we found ourselves on one of the most unique landscapes on the planet. The gigantic plateau of Logan boasts a 12-mile wide diameter, all above 17,000'. On Denali, you might flirt with altitude, but on Logan you enter into a long-term relationship with it. It was a rocky relationship given our style of ascent, limited supplies, and time to acclimate. As soon as we arrived on the plateau we knew we needed to get off of it, though that meant a long traverse at altitude. The complicating factor was that Jason was developing a nasty case of HAPE (High Altitude Pulmonary Edema) and the only cure was to descend, which we could not do until we cross the plateau. When we found ourselves exhausted and freezing above 18,000ft on the "Cuddle Col" (aptly named by us). I truly wondered if we had pushed too far. My only hope was that Jason would be able to move in the morning: he had to. We spent our first night above 17,000ft. Noah and Jason enjoy the terrain on the early plateau ...until this happens... With the morning sun came brightness in our future and our 'summit day' was quite memorable, a 12+ hour ordeal complete with a backdrop of Mt St Elias and the Hummingbird Ridge. We were all moving at snail's pace, feeling the attitude and carrying all of our gear. Over the previous days we had rationed our food in order to prevent catastrophe, so we were all feeling weak. Typically on storm days we limited ourselves to just a few snacks and no meals. On climbing days we had one dinner each. In the back of our minds, we always knew that the airstrip could make a drop should the situation call for it, and that knowledge helped us to further push in our chosen style. The easy terrain gave way to some final avalanche slopes and some fall danger that only added to our frustration. We were well into the evening by the time we found ourselves below the true summit of Mt Logan, a mere 500ft above us, but none of us were interested. When you push this close to the limit of what is possible, some things just do not matter, and none of us have regretted the decision not to top out. Finding the way down and a safe camp was our priority. Plus, our goal had always been to ascend the East Ridge and traverse the mountain - a goal which we achieved. For us, the summit was not everything. Big Red!! Around 18,500ft - just below the East Summit Zoom in of the infamous Hummingbird Ridge By midnight I was puking and crawling into my sleeping bag, feeling as utterly exhausted as I had ever been. We nestled into our camp for our second night above 17,000ft. The next day, our third day on the plateau, the weather flirted briefly with disaster. Twice we tried - like a bunch of fools - to move camp towards Prospector's Pass but the wind and snow made it impossible. Fortunately, a true Alaskan storm never materialized, and we utilized the bad weather window to rest an extra day and night. When the weather cleared, we called the airstrip to let them know that we had traversed to the west side of the mountain and that hopefully it wouldn't be too long before we were ready for pickup. The Kings Trench has a reputation of being a walk up (or down) and technically easier than the West Buttress on Denali. Still, it was not easy. The route was completely broken up, and there were no tracks. We would each take several crevasse falls, perhaps a dozen in total. The final bit onto the pass was rough, once again climbing above 18,000', and the wind was howling. We built a rappel, I punched through a cornice, rapped off the end of the rope, and solo down-climbed a steep slope for several hundred feet before finally arriving on the Kings Trench. From there, we began our glacier adventure - the fall count made it up to a baker's dozen, and the route finding was infuriating. The silver lining was that this route was truly spectacular with the best views I have ever seen. The main (central) summit of Logan (19,551') The 14th day of the trip was as hard as any other, and we felt another huge victory when we pulled into camp at 13,500' just below the great North Face of Kings Peak. Part of the sense of urgency and danger left us, though by now it was clear that we would not run into any other parties on Logan's standard route. We got a late start on June 15th with no intention of going anywhere far; the terrain was mellow and the snow was deep, going a quarter mile seemed like an eternity and we had huge packs to contend with. Still we endured, step after step. None of us even considered the remote possibility of flying out that day. Days before when we had made contact with the airstrip, our forecaster told us of a large front moving in that could shut down air operations for over a week. The last thing any of us wanted was to hunker down and wait out a storm after enduring the climb of our lives. Sure, we could get resupplied, but our morale would plummet. Motivated, we continued down, making more progress than we had hoped given the deep snow. Endless flat terrain as we move towards Prospector's Pass Noah and Jason down climb the steep slope into the Kings Trench. After rappelling off the end of the rope we each solo'd Having traveled further than expected, I called the airstrip again at 4pm on June 15th. Lance at Icefields gave us the exciting news that we had a chance of being picked up later that day, and we took the opportunity. We would try to make it to our pick-up location that same evening before conditions made it impossible. We broke into a run, leap-frogging every ten minutes to take turns breaking trail, allowing us to keep our pace as fast as our legs would carry us. Just before 7pm, Lance notified us that the plane was on the take-off roll. We were committed now - come hell or high water we would need to make the final trek out of the trench and onto the lower glacier. It seemed impossible, but by now impossible was a word we chose not to use. We ran - despite the deep snow, despite the weight on our backs, despite our food-deprivation, despite our accrued 15-day fatigue - and just as our plane touched down we reached the beginning of the lower glacier. Graciously, the pilot waited 45 minutes while we made our way to it. On the Kings Trench around 16,000ft A look back at the final crux of the route from our 8th (last) camp at 13,000ft By 8pm we were flying between the giants of the range, and by 9pm, we were safely back in civilization. Our welcome party was two people, a dog, and three cans of beer. I tell you, we are in this for the glory. Our trio slowly started to process what had happened. We each reflected on the simple fact that we were just three friends from Colorado, forever tied to one another. I understand now that in life you can only experience this feeling of true transcendence a hand full of times, and the immense risk that accompanies it can exact the ultimate price without a moment's notice. In the days spent on Mt Logan, I climbed beyond my wildest aspirations that had so long occupied my thoughts. My future of big-mountain climbs of which I had always dreamt became the present moment. The mountain engulfed my entire reality. We gave everything we had to Mt. Logan, and though it would never know our presence, in return it gave us more than we could have hoped. The biggest lesson for me is that it is possible, it is all possible. In the grand arena of the St Elias Range, I came to truly believe that I should be always pushing higher, harder, and faster. This is forever engrained in my mind. One last look at our route on the flight out The Legend of Broah...contemplating life above 17,000ft A link to my full photo album on Facebook is available Here Thumbnails for uploaded photos (click to open slideshow):

Boys of Brogan

This is a write up of our trip to Mt Logan during the spring of 2014. It has taken a long time to write and reflect on the events of our climb, and it is time to share my thoughts and pictures. This is intended to compliment both the Castle Rock slideshow and the article in the October Issue of Climbing Magazine. It is important to note that these events are told from my perspective. I got my start here in this community, and there are many of you to which I am forever grateful. That is why I have chosen to share this here first. Most importantly I met Noah (winter8000m) through this forum. My relationship with him has forever changed my life. I love you dude, and I will always be proud of not only what we did, but that we did it together. I can only hope that years from now we are all still wildly chasing our dreams and talking endless amounts of shit over beers.

The Boys of Brogan: Three Coloradans Venture into the Unknown

I have always been fascinated by true adventure and by mountaineering's progression over generations. What is cutting edge in one decade becomes par for the course in the next. Way up North yet close to home for us here in Colorado, lies the most expansive ice fields outside of the Polar Regions, and nestled within this group of four ranges is the great, wild, and unforgiving king of them all: The St Elias Range. Barely 40 miles from the ocean, in a land forgotten by time, rises the biggest mountain (by mass) on Earth: Mt Logan.
A short blurb on MountainProject.com gave me the idea for my route choice: I wanted to climb Mt. Logan, but to throw in a flare of exploration I decided to attempt a traverse, east to west, hoping to ascend the technical East Ridge, cross the plateau, and descend the standard Kings Trench route.

Noah prepares his gear. The famed Brogan van is visible behind him

Historically, the route had been climbed in expedition style with fixed lines, stocked camps, and acclimatization. Unlike Denali there is no walk-up route to work with, and the sustained difficulties had proven too much for many parties over the years. To date I estimated that less than 20 parties had completed the ridge, and even fewer had made it to the summit. Despite the likelihood of failure, it didn't take much for me to get some of my crazier Colorado ice-and-mixed-climbing friends to sign on. I believe the quote from Jason was "This sounds like a terrible idea, and I will not miss out!" And so it was, Noah McKelvin (22, Denver), Jason Maki (28, Nederland), and I (28, Boulder) set out into the unknown.

Our base camp on the first day, before we fortified our position

Collectively we didn't have a ton of experience in the Greater Ranges, but we hoped to make up for it in determination and old-fashioned Colorado Pride. The East Ridge is huge, bigger than anything that any of us had ever seen before. In its entirety the East Ridge route is over 12,000ft of vertical climbing. For reference, the Rupal Face on Pakistan's Nanga Parbat is 15,000ft and is commonly considered to be the biggest route in the world. Again and again on our trip we would experience the Logan Effect: from our basecamp six miles away it would be impossible to grasp just how big the route was, and many times we would feel as if we were "almost there." I had experienced this feeling on big mountains before, but not to the same degree.

For months we planned and planned, thought about every ounce we would carry, and studied just how close we could really push it, up north and up high. The "New Testament" as we had come to call it, Training for the New Alpinism, was invaluable, and in mid-May 2014, we set out to Anchorage intent on bringing fast and light alpine-style climbing to the St Elias Range.

Alcan Adventures

From the start things went splendidly. Though it would be almost two weeks from the time we left Colorado until we landed on the Upper Hubbard Glacier, the sense of adventure really took shape. A few well-spent days in Anchorage with a close friend and an eventful drive in the Brogan Van (a 1985 beater van we bought off of Craigslist) had us in Silver City by the early morning hours of May 19th. Even there at the airstrip we felt outside of time. So far we had gotten all that we signed up for, and more. It would be seven days of anxious waiting, trips to Haines Junction and countless hours mulling over every detail of our plan as we gazed out over Kluane Lake. We took a great sense of pride knowing that some of the true hard men of all time had done the same ten, twenty, thirty years before. On the 24th of May, the living legend, Andy Williams, made an attempt to land Noah and Jason on the glacier, but uttered the words "no good."

On the 25th of May 2014, my 28th birthday, we flew in to the glacier.

On our First Ascent attempt of a sub peak in the area

Immediately, the silence was deafening and the heat overwhelming. Noah and Jason ran over to the plane to take advantage of the "wind" from the propeller. The extremes were impossible to ignore. We were about to experience the coldest and hottest temperatures of our climbing careers, and all the while we would be completely and utterly alone. Alone - what an idea, a necessary component for modern alpinism. In stark contrast to its more popular brother, Denali, who attracts hundreds of climbers from all over the world each year, Logan can barely stay in business. In fact, during 21 days on the glacier during prime season, including a descent of the standard route, we would see no one. Not a soul. As the plane left and we were left to our solitude, we loaded up our sleds, skied several miles up the glacier towards the East Ridge, and set our basecamp at 6,900'. Setting up base camp in Alaska is a project in itself, and we wanted to be comfortable before the alpine-style portion of our climb during which we would have far more limited supplies. Our camp wasn't' complete until it had a football, an inflatable palm tree, and, of course, a selection of top-shelf liquor.

Noah and Jason pull sleds from the landing site to our intended base camp

During our first few days, we simply tried to exist in the scorching sun of mid-day, as we continued to set up what we expected to call home for over a month. At that time we figured we would be coming back down the East Ridge at least once before giving it the old go, but in the meantime, as we waited for the perfect weather opportunity, we had other venues to play on. Climbers can only stay idle for so long, and within a few days we were looking around for other adventures. We set our sights on a 5,000+ foot face on a sub peak of Logan. As far as we knew the face (and the ridge) remained utterly untouched by humans, which we found to be very appealing. We geared up, set out, and were quickly shut-down. The snow conditions were so horrid we were only able to move at night. It was quite clear to us that there are no warm-ups in the St Elias Range.

"Moderate 5th Class, AI2-3, Steep Snow"

Our weather advisor called via our satellite phone to tell us that a strong, high pressure system was moving in. He said in no uncertain terms that this was our window. Everything went out the window: scouting, stocking, acclimatizing; there was simply no time. We would be given the opportunity to test our plan and our system we had spent so much time developing back home. As a team we packed for our attempt, carefully considering each item. If we wanted to single carry this entire route and move quickly, we needed to accept certain hardships - for example, we would plan not to eat if we were stopped on bad weather days. I used a 40-degree synthetic sleeping bag in combination with a down suit to stay warm. We used a canister stove to supplement the traditional white gas. We chose small lightweight single wall tents for their footprint and weight.

Noah heads across the 2nd part of the Satan Schrund...and (surprisingly) he doesn't fall in!

It was just before 2pm on June 1st when we started the adventure of a lifetime. Right away we felt the weight of our packs; Noah could barely stand on his skis. The going was slow, and we didn't feel entirely comfortable about the basin we were heading into. We hoped that with a little luck we would find ourselves safely on the ridge by nightfall. The entrance couloir drifted in and out of visibility, and it was every bit as scary as its reputation. Later we came to find out that not only has no one been up the East Ridge in over five years, but that no one has even gotten on it. Now we knew why - though the angle suggested easy climbing, the slope was unconsolidated powder, ready to slide. To add to the situation, we encountered two serious bergschrund crossings. These difficulties hit us consecutively and we named them the Satan Schrund. It took us a long time and conditions were extremely challenging, but we eventually crested the East Ridge proper in the middle of the night. Our success can be attributed to years of experience in Colorado's horrid snowpack combined with our strategy to protect sketchy snow with rock protection. Atop the ridge we took a rest in the form of a 90 minute sitting bivy. Though challenging, the climbing was classic moderate terrain in a beautiful setting rising continually towards the sky. The route has been called the best route anywhere in the world and it is a strong argument - if the route doesn't kill you. In a marathon of alpine climbing we pushed continuously for twenty two hours, finally arriving at our first at camp around noon on June 2nd. We could hardly believe that we were only just above 9,000ft.

Jason leads off the belay about midway up the entrance coolie

Looking back down our tracks on the initial ridge. The entrance top out is barely visible at the back

Over the course of the next week the difficulties never let up. Day after day we battled dangerous avalanche conditions coupled with fatal exposure on terrain that required constant diligence. Every step higher was a step closer to full commitment, and after going beyond the knife edge ridge crux's (12,000-12,500ft) we understood that the moment had come. Never in my life, in the Andes, in Alaska, in the lower 48, have I ever experienced such a ridge. The right side dropped off vertically to the glacier for every bit of 6,000ft. The left side was 75+ degrees of powder over hollow ice. The pro was marginal to say the least; the climbing was physically and mentally taxing and was almost too much for me. Our retreat would now be up and over the top. Finding safety and sending the route would be one in the same.

One of the crux mixed sections on the ridge

Initial downclimb to start the knife edge ridge. This was the single hardest stretch of the entire climb.

I win at Pack Tetris!! Seems to have more in common with a CO overnight pack than an Alaskcan giant pack

After the crux section, a three-day storm spelled the emotional low of the trip, but we otherwise experienced fantastic weather and moved continually up the ridge, never climbing the same ground twice. Our hand drawn topo (climbing term for route description) was 15 years old and it showed, but still we pushed for the mark that exclaimed "end of major difficulties" just below 14,000'. A climber that saw our request for beta on an internet message board had provided us with the topo - as it turned out his map was the only beta available for our route. The third camp was our finest, and offered up awe inspiring views and a mostly safe sleep for once. Throughout the trip, all eight of our camps would leave us with some degree of uneasiness.
There were some moments that though rewarding, I would prefer to forget as they put me at an uncomfortable level of risk. For example, the great feature known as the Snow Dome was truly sinister. It rose over 500ft as the ridge transitions from a narrow technical ridge to a wider glacial mess. Climbers more experienced than us had died here, and the feeling of commitment far outweighed our ability to truly assess the danger. I set out on one end of our two 60m ropes tied together, Noah and Jason tied next to each other on the other. We simply hoped for the best.

Jason leading the final sections of the knife edge ridge

"Hi, my name is Noah and I want Jason to hurry the F up...I'm cold"

Noah leading off the belay on the steepest sustained ice pitch of the route

Looking back down the Snow Dome at Jason and Noah, a full 120m of rope away

Talk about a view! Final camp on the East Ridge

Forever Upwards Into the Unknown

The final section below the plateau was one of the more difficult glaciers I've navigated, but it was doable and on the afternoon of June 11th we found ourselves on one of the most unique landscapes on the planet. The gigantic plateau of Logan boasts a 12-mile wide diameter, all above 17,000'. On Denali, you might flirt with altitude, but on Logan you enter into a long-term relationship with it. It was a rocky relationship given our style of ascent, limited supplies, and time to acclimate. As soon as we arrived on the plateau we knew we needed to get off of it, though that meant a long traverse at altitude. The complicating factor was that Jason was developing a nasty case of HAPE (High Altitude Pulmonary Edema) and the only cure was to descend, which we could not do until we cross the plateau. When we found ourselves exhausted and freezing above 18,000ft on the "Cuddle Col" (aptly named by us). I truly wondered if we had pushed too far. My only hope was that Jason would be able to move in the morning: he had to. We spent our first night above 17,000ft.

Noah and Jason enjoy the terrain on the early plateau

With the morning sun came brightness in our future and our 'summit day' was quite memorable, a 12+ hour ordeal complete with a backdrop of Mt St Elias and the Hummingbird Ridge. We were all moving at snail's pace, feeling the attitude and carrying all of our gear. Over the previous days we had rationed our food in order to prevent catastrophe, so we were all feeling weak. Typically on storm days we limited ourselves to just a few snacks and no meals. On climbing days we had one dinner each. In the back of our minds, we always knew that the airstrip could make a drop should the situation call for it, and that knowledge helped us to further push in our chosen style.

The easy terrain gave way to some final avalanche slopes and some fall danger that only added to our frustration. We were well into the evening by the time we found ourselves below the true summit of Mt Logan, a mere 500ft above us, but none of us were interested. When you push this close to the limit of what is possible, some things just do not matter, and none of us have regretted the decision not to top out. Finding the way down and a safe camp was our priority. Plus, our goal had always been to ascend the East Ridge and traverse the mountain - a goal which we achieved. For us, the summit was not everything.

Big Red!! Around 18,500ft - just below the East Summit

Zoom in of the infamous Hummingbird Ridge

By midnight I was puking and crawling into my sleeping bag, feeling as utterly exhausted as I had ever been. We nestled into our camp for our second night above 17,000ft.
The next day, our third day on the plateau, the weather flirted briefly with disaster. Twice we tried - like a bunch of fools - to move camp towards Prospector's Pass but the wind and snow made it impossible. Fortunately, a true Alaskan storm never materialized, and we utilized the bad weather window to rest an extra day and night.

When the weather cleared, we called the airstrip to let them know that we had traversed to the west side of the mountain and that hopefully it wouldn't be too long before we were ready for pickup. The Kings Trench has a reputation of being a walk up (or down) and technically easier than the West Buttress on Denali. Still, it was not easy. The route was completely broken up, and there were no tracks. We would each take several crevasse falls, perhaps a dozen in total. The final bit onto the pass was rough, once again climbing above 18,000', and the wind was howling. We built a rappel, I punched through a cornice, rapped off the end of the rope, and solo down-climbed a steep slope for several hundred feet before finally arriving on the Kings Trench. From there, we began our glacier adventure - the fall count made it up to a baker's dozen, and the route finding was infuriating. The silver lining was that this route was truly spectacular with the best views I have ever seen.

The main (central) summit of Logan (19,551')

The 14th day of the trip was as hard as any other, and we felt another huge victory when we pulled into camp at 13,500' just below the great North Face of Kings Peak. Part of the sense of urgency and danger left us, though by now it was clear that we would not run into any other parties on Logan's standard route. We got a late start on June 15th with no intention of going anywhere far; the terrain was mellow and the snow was deep, going a quarter mile seemed like an eternity and we had huge packs to contend with. Still we endured, step after step. None of us even considered the remote possibility of flying out that day. Days before when we had made contact with the airstrip, our forecaster told us of a large front moving in that could shut down air operations for over a week. The last thing any of us wanted was to hunker down and wait out a storm after enduring the climb of our lives. Sure, we could get resupplied, but our morale would plummet. Motivated, we continued down, making more progress than we had hoped given the deep snow.

Endless flat terrain as we move towards Prospector's Pass

Noah and Jason down climb the steep slope into the Kings Trench. After rappelling off the end of the rope we each solo'd

Having traveled further than expected, I called the airstrip again at 4pm on June 15th. Lance at Icefields gave us the exciting news that we had a chance of being picked up later that day, and we took the opportunity. We would try to make it to our pick-up location that same evening before conditions made it impossible. We broke into a run, leap-frogging every ten minutes to take turns breaking trail, allowing us to keep our pace as fast as our legs would carry us. Just before 7pm, Lance notified us that the plane was on the take-off roll. We were committed now - come hell or high water we would need to make the final trek out of the trench and onto the lower glacier. It seemed impossible, but by now impossible was a word we chose not to use. We ran - despite the deep snow, despite the weight on our backs, despite our food-deprivation, despite our accrued 15-day fatigue - and just as our plane touched down we reached the beginning of the lower glacier. Graciously, the pilot waited 45 minutes while we made our way to it.

A look back at the final crux of the route from our 8th (last) camp at 13,000ft

By 8pm we were flying between the giants of the range, and by 9pm, we were safely back in civilization. Our welcome party was two people, a dog, and three cans of beer. I tell you, we are in this for the glory. Our trio slowly started to process what had happened. We each reflected on the simple fact that we were just three friends from Colorado, forever tied to one another.

I understand now that in life you can only experience this feeling of true transcendence a hand full of times, and the immense risk that accompanies it can exact the ultimate price without a moment's notice. In the days spent on Mt Logan, I climbed beyond my wildest aspirations that had so long occupied my thoughts. My future of big-mountain climbs of which I had always dreamt became the present moment. The mountain engulfed my entire reality. We gave everything we had to Mt. Logan, and though it would never know our presence, in return it gave us more than we could have hoped. The biggest lesson for me is that it is possible, it is all possible. In the grand arena of the St Elias Range, I came to truly believe that I should be always pushing higher, harder, and faster.

One last look at our route on the flight out

The Legend of Broah...contemplating life above 17,000ft

A link to my full photo album on Facebook is available Here

Thumbnails for uploaded photos (click to open slideshow):

Comments or Questions

Steve Climber	Amazing trip... 1/22/2015 7:32pm Was fun to watch it come together and so stoked for you guys to have success! Really enjoyed the pictures and story. Bravo, gents!
MountainHiker	Wow! 1/22/2015 8:13pm Amazing experience. Thanks for sharing.
LynnKH	Well done, my friend 1/22/2015 8:25pm Congratulations on the climb of a lifetime. I’m thankful to live vicariously.
JosephG	Very nice, very impressive. 1/22/2015 9:11pm Really nice report, and a most impressive read. Very high risk, well above my pay grade. Clearly you put a lot of effort, planning, anticipation, and execution into this peak. Fantastic pictures and descriptions, to the extent of leaving me wanting more. Love the views back down the ridge. You are absolutely right about true transcendence coming along only so often. Congrats to you three.
mtgirl	Impressive ! 1/22/2015 9:37pm Looks a lot like Bross, no ? What ever happened to the Brogan van ? Love the paint job !
geojed	Jaw Dropping! 1/22/2015 10:02pm Missed out on Castle Rock so I’ve been hoping you’d do a TR on the climb. Very cool. Congrats to all!
kansas	Nicely done 1/22/2015 10:44pm I’ve been wanting to see the finished version for a couple weeks now, perfectly done. The last paragraph speaks volumes, I wish you the best on your future adventures.
Mickeys Grenade	Big Red 1/22/2015 11:47pm I like the one piece down suit. Congrats on a badass climb and going beyond the limit!
jbchalk	Big Red & Big Orange 1/23/2015 12:35am Matt, love the one–piece. Noah, love the parka, pants, & mitts. Now, this is what a mountaineering adventure should entail: Awesome scenery, the largest massif on the planet, amazing route, remoteness, steep climbing, cold temps, unbelievable vistas, smart decision–making, pushing it to the edge (but not over the edge) and of course the brotherhood of the rope. Just awesome, guys. Great write–up, Matt, and wonderful pics. I know I’ve told you guys several times, but congrats on pulling off a hell of an adventure. Its a big accomplishment that you should be very proud of.
zsmith	Incredible adventure! 1/23/2015 1:59am That is truly an amazing adventure! Kudos. Great photos and TR. I’m glad you guys made it back safely. That was a huge accomplishment
jmanner	Well done! 1/23/2015 2:25am Great write up! Thanks for putting it down for us arm chair guys to read. Great pictures. Edit: Reread this when I got home. Really enjoyed reading this. Definitely worth the wait.
hansolo35	You’re gonna get alot of this... 1/23/2015 6:22am ...but this was an amazing read. Congrats on a fantastic adventure! I’ve flown over these Icefield Ranges and have always wanted to get back in there... This report just increases my thirst. Thanks for sharing this wonderful experience with this community.
SHmids	Wow 1/23/2015 12:39pm What a unique accomplishment in this modern era of commercialized high altitude climbing. Way to sieze a dream and pursue it! Glad to see crappy Colorado snow conditions are good for something! :–) Kudos on your persistence and sound decision making and congrats on a successful adventure and safe return!
dsunwall	Excellent 1/23/2015 2:36pm report and adventure, I enjoyed the read.
SurfNTurf	Worth the wait 1/23/2015 3:17pm Nice writeup Matt, cool to see in words what you guys expressed during the CMC/Arc’teryx presentation. Fleshes it out a lot more. Best of luck in the Karakoram.
dillonsarnelli	wow Matt 1/23/2015 4:03pm I’m gonna bookmark this one. This is living man! Great job to all of you and excellent job taking us along, Matt.
astrobassman	Congrats Matt 1/23/2015 5:10pm Excellent write–up. Just the right amount of selective narrative and jaw–dropping pictures. And the adventure speaks for itself. Well done guys.
jblyth	Insane in the membrane 1/23/2015 8:53pm So happy you finally wrote this up. What an incredible experience you all had. Glad you made it back safe and sound. Great trip report!
coltex	Most incredible 1/23/2015 10:53pm Glad it was a success.
Jvinro	Thanks, guys 1/24/2015 3:05am Thank you.
Cookiehiker	Simply in awe 1/25/2015 2:00pm ...of you three young men! This is one story I will not forget reading. Matt, thank you for bringing your trip of a lifetime to us all to enjoy through you!
vip-valet1	Amazing! 1/26/2015 5:36am What a great climb. A true adventure and not just a vacation set in the mountains. About as close as you can come to a real old school mountaineering tale in this century on this continent. Even as you guys go on to higher mountains with sexier routes, this one may be hard to beat. Congratulations!
FireOnTheMountain	wow 1/31/2015 7:20am finally took the time to read through this. man. what a serious adventure. thats some no joke commitment. i must ask. the route did not seem vastly technical (this is coming from a reader of course!) Would I be correct in saying the cruxes were very consequential but mostly a matter of are you comfortable on steep probably sketchy snow? Guess my real question is, was the real challenge the endurance and coping with the cold? what was maybe your biggest lesson, collectively or individually? great job to you 3.
Winter8000m	Miss this. 7/31/2015 9:41am I find myself thinking about this trip, daily. Still. I miss the hardship, the suffering, the struggles, the fear, the high emotions. All shared with two close friends. A larger then life experience....without a doubt. Would love to write about it one of these days but I find myself deleting the first two paragraphs every time. I just CANT put a trip so powerful into words.

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The Boys of Brogan: Three Coloradans Venture into the Unknown

Alcan Adventures

"Moderate 5th Class, AI2-3, Steep Snow"

Forever Upwards Into the Unknown

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