The Arrigetch Peaks

Picture this:
you're sitting among the audience in an empty auditorium. You've got your feet on the back of the seat in front of you; you're reading a magazine. You're the very image of teenage indifference.

A small man in a frumpy suit walks onto the stage. He taps the mic.

"excuse me," he says. "We're looking for volunteers to go on a paid climbing trip to the Arrigetch."

You put down your magazine and look around. There is an awkward silence.

"um... yes, we would really like someone to go climbing in the Arrigetch Peaks. We'll cover your costs and you would be filmed for a major National Geographic special on the National Park system."

You take your feet off the chair.

The man silently acknowledges that you are the only one in the auditorium.

"we're looking for volunteers. Anyone? Would anyone like to go."

You tentatively raise your hand.

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(I was lucky enough to have a few photos and words published in the Alaska Dispatch News after the trip. Please check out the article.)
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It could have been a disaster.

Nick, my original climbing partner, bailed just a few weeks before the trip. So I invited Clint, with whom I had only been out for a day of ice climbing once a couple years before. I'd never met any of the others: Josh and Trevor had never been to Alaska. Ben's only connection to the group was that he'd met Clint at a bachelor party the previous year, and Ben brought Brendan, a 20-year-old retired professional snowboarder that had never been camping before.

And as to me - no one knew me, either. When making the plans for this trip, I was never asked for any evidence that I was capable of doing the trip. My apparent qualifications for the trip, as far as anyone knew, were that I was available.

It could have been a fucking disaster.



The full story of how it all came together is pretty fortuitous. In May I was talking with John Gaedeke, whose family owns Iniakuk Lodge in the southern Brooks Range, about work at the lodge. I had never met John before, having been put in touch by a mutual friend. I mentioned in passing that I rock climb, and he said that he had been in touch with a guy from National Geographic that wanted to film rock climbing in the Arrigetch Peaks, a group of mountains in the central Brooks Range, not so far from Iniakuk Lake. I had always wanted to go climbing there. He said that I should get in touch with him, since he was looking for people to go. So I did.

It turns out that the National Park Service is turning 100 years old in 2016, and National Geographic is doing a special on the park system, highlighting a number of parks. Uwe Anders, the German filmmaker who had the contract to film in Alaska, and I met over coffee in May.

"Suddenly they are wanting a more human story. We have lots of these glaciers and bears and all these things, but now they want more about people in the nature, you know?" he told me. "So they are asking me to film one of these dog races. This filming is all finished in November, of course. So I say 'no, that is not possible, these races are done now.' So I think climbing will be good, if it works. I am not a climber, I do not go. I have a friend who gives me this guy Josh who works in Yosemite."

Uwe turned out to be a great guy. Very solid, reliable, knowledgeable and realistic. That Uwe has a lot of experience with Alaska was obvious, and he knew what to expect, what was possible, and what was not.

I suggested a climb of Shot Tower, the most famous mountain in the Arrigetch. Myself and a partner would climb the mountain, and Josh would film it. We wouldn't get paid, but we did get all of our expenses paid. I thought it seemed too interesting of an opportunity to pass up.

A million emails and phone calls later, we had a plan. The cast of characters:
Josh Helling, from El Portal, California (essentially Yosemite) would be the cameraman.
Trevor Hobbs, from Bishop, California, would be the camera assistant.
Ben Bishop, a Masshole from Boston if there ever was one, would come along as a porter.
Brendan Hart, hereafter referred to as Boy Wonder, from New Hampshire, would also be a porter.
Clint Helander, from Anchorage, would be my climbing partner.
And me.

(calling Ben a 'Masshole' is fun, but mainly because he is such a big sweetheart.)

Shopping, Round 1.

The sorting and re-packaging begins. L-R: Boy Wonder, Ben Bishop, Trevor Hobbs. There were five of us in my tiny house - it was crowded.

Clint was not yet here. He had been almost-literally kidnapped by work, as he was surveying in a remote area and they suddenly extended the dates, which also pushed back the date of his flight out. Rather than scramble to find a new partner, we just arranged to have Clint fly in later, which made sense with loads, anyway. Ben decided to stay in town and fly in later with Clint.

Josh Helling transfers the details to ever-reliable paper.

Trevor demonstrates the mixing of the gorp. I believe this was around 1am the night before departure.

Trevor: I dunno, man. How the FUCK are we gonna move this stuff?
Josh: We're hosed.
(At Wright Air in Fairbanks)

We loaded the Otter in Bettles. Various others were on the plane, as well. We flew in with Brooks Range Aviation, which is based in Bettles.

We made a brief stop at Iniakuk Lake, my old stomping grounds.

Boy Wonder takes it all in.

Our first view of the Arrigetch.

The Otter leaves us in the wilderness. Those things really are remarkable machines.

It is not possible to fly very close to the climbing due to a lack of places to land a plane, and because helicopters are prohibited by the Park. Therefore, you have to hike pretty far.
People commonly fly to Takahula Lake and hike from there, a hike famous for terrible bushwhacking. After some advice from different sources, we flew to Circle Lake. Immediately after landing at Circle Lake you begin a steep, brushy 2,000 foot climb to a ridge top, where there is no water. However, there is also no brush. From there it is 6 miles to a lake that might be called Bear Lake, but that we called Midway Lake.
I recommend going this way. It was pretty good. We weren't dropped off until nearly 6pm (this included our plane out of Fairbanks returning with mechanical trouble). So we camped on the ridge top, and had to conserve water more than we wanted to. If you do this, heads up: there is no water up there.

Boy Wonder charges up the hill on the evening of the first day.

Helling epitomized the expression 'built like a brick shithouse.'

Boy Wonder couldn't hold it in.

Helling and Boy Wonder on the ridge top with the arctic night sky.

Boy Wonder and the Alatna River Valley.

Josh.

It was about midnight, and the twilight was gorgeous.

Going on a trip with Josh Helling should be on everyone's life list.

Trevor put on a strong face and carried a pack that was obnoxiously heavy. He didn't do it again, though.

We camped up there that evening, then the next day pushed on to Midway Lake.

This is a pretty flower.

We look into the Arrigetch. The twin peaks on the right that look like boobs are the legendary Maidens. The twin north buttresses, in shadow, have routes that are over 30 pitches long.

The second night we camped at Midway Lake.

There was no way we could carry all of our gear for the two week trip into Hot Springs Creek in one load. There were 30 lbs of camera gear alone. So our plan became to hike to Midway Lake and setup camp. Then we would shuttle a load 7 miles into Hot Springs Creek at the location that would be our basecamp, then return to our tents and sleep.
(Theoretically, this could lead to a very-doable four day approach itinerary - Day 1 to Midway, Day 2 to Hot Springs and back to Midway, Day 3 to Circle and back to Midway, Day 4 to Hot Springs. There is no way you'd make a single-carry in less than three days with full climbing loads, and you'd be miserable and risk injury under heavy packs. The double-carry was the way to go. I should admit that this was a strategic decision that I disagreed with, and was wrong.)

Leaving camp to shuttle loads into Hot Springs Creek.

The drainage from the pass down into Hot Springs.

It was an obnoxiously hot day in the arctic. If we stopped to take a break, we usually tried to find shade. 

We spent a LOT of time filming.

Sunglass Selfie - one of my favorite kinds of selfie. Thanks for the cooperation, Trevor!

If you haven't taken a picture of this old rope, and used Lightroom to make it black and white, you haven't been the Arrigetch.

We dropped our shit and ate lunch at the head of the valley, then headed back.

The hike up Hot Springs Creek was as good as it gets. We had pretty special conditions when we got there - very dry and very low water. We all agreed that the rock hopping in the creek bed was the best we'd ever done. The boulders were all stable and closely placed, so we could just hop from rock to rock for *miles*. It was hands down the funnest creek bed hiking I've ever done, more reminiscent of video games than drudgery. But it takes low water to make it happen, and we didn't get a repeat performance after this day. If you can't walk in the drainage, there is some bushwhacking, but not too bad.

Looking down Hot Springs Creek. I believe that pass that is half-blocked from view on the right is the pass that you go over if you fly to Takahula Lake.

We camped again at  Midway Lake. The next day we hiked back to Circle Lake, met Ben and Clint at the plane, and carried a second load of gear to Midway Lake, a 12-mile round trip. With Clint and Ben, we hiked again into Hot Springs Creek.
This system actually worked great - it meant that we didn't ever have to back-carry gear, and minimal amounts of moving camp.

A note on Boy Wonder: we worked him HARD. He was 20 years old and had never been camping before. We stuck a heavy pack on his back and expected him to do all the same things we did. He never once complained, and only after the 14-mile load carry day did he even indicate he was tired.

Respect, Boy Wonder, respect.

Clint and Ben fly in to meet us.

For the sake of the video Josh wanted to film the plane pulling up and then cut to me and Clint getting out together, to avoid having to explain that we flew in separately and all that. Me being the Ever-Helpful Jackass that I am, I walked up to help land the plane and fucked up the shot.
Fortunately, the pilot was a good sport, and pulled the plane out and landed again. This time I stayed out of the shot.

Ben came in with Clint. Ben was 'just a porter' on the trip, except - oh yeah, he's a professional videographer and has a 5D of his own. Josh was *pretty* excited to suddenly have an assistant cameraman.

The only time Josh ever admitted to being good at anything on the whole trip was when he acknowledged that his tripod locations are a strong point.

I insisted that he pose.

Clint got an introduction to what the trip would be like as Josh had us walk up and down the hill a bunch of times - with our actual, fully-loaded packs - so he could film. But it was okay, we reminded ourselves - it was part of the deal.

but seriously, ain't Alaska beautiful?

The six of us arrived back at Midway Lake very late. The next day it rained all day, which was fine as we were happy to have a rest day after so much hiking. The day after, we made the final hike into Hot Springs Creek.

So much filming left plenty of time to fuck around. Here Trevor demonstrates that he is not merely good looking, but talented as well.

Doclights, the German production company that hired Uwe to hire Josh to enslave the rest of us, wanted behind-the-scenes footage. Here I offer you a behind-the-behind-the-scenes view.

Everyone took their shoes off to cross the stream, except me and Clint - the only Alaskans. "Man, that water really is cold. It really hurts your feet to walk on the rocks with such cold feet." the others said.
"yeah." we agreed.

Helling hoofs it up the creek.

I played with slow shutter speeds.

I looked up, saw that it was beautiful out, and took this photo of Shot Tower. A moment later....

The sky lit up in a pink rainbow. These colors are not from Photoshop - it really looked like this.

We camped at the head of the valley. After much debate, during which I was on the side that turned out to be wrong, we decided to move our camp up to the cirque at the base of Shot Tower (I thought we shouldn't and that there was no reason to - another group discussion that I was wrong about).

The East Face of Battleship - as far as I know it doesn't have a single route. Oddly reminiscent of the Grand Wall in Squamish. Except possibly bigger with more featured rock.

Shot Tower.

Shot Tower.

Ben, Boy Wonder and Trevor walk up to Shot Tower, while Josh sets up to film.

That big east face of Battleship.

We decided to camp in this cirque above Hot Springs Creek. We did it to get closer to the peak, but it had myriad other advantages - 1) it was beautiful; 2) we camped on a durable surface, rather than the imminently trampleable moss in the valley bottom, bolstering our Leave No Trace credentials; 3) no mosquitoes 4) no mosquitoes 5) no mosquitoes 6) we *felt* as though bear troublems were less likely 7) it was less like camping on a wet sponge. 

and it was beautiful.

That day, Ben and Boy Wonder hiked out. They left packrafts at Circle Lake, and they would float/slog a short distance to the Alatna River. They then spent the next 9 days floating to the village of Allakaket, where they caught a commercial flight back to Fairbanks. Ben's food shopping for the trip seemed too meager, and I was genuinely concerned for Boy Wonder's survival. I was wrong again, though I was not alone in my concern:
Boy Wonder, an aspiring ascetic and up-and-coming writer, felt the same about the food. He looked as though he was staring down the barrel of gun.
"Hemingway said that hunger is the best discipline, and that you learn from it," was all that he said on the matter.

Our concern was un-warranted, and they had enough food. They also had the time of their lives. Do yourself a favor a check out Ben's photos from the trip. Ben is a hipster to the core and brought only a point-and-shoot film camera along. However, he's got a helluvan eye, and gets those people-in-a-moment shots that I could never dream to. Also, look at his photos from their arrival in Allakaket.

We hugged, and they were gone.

Go morning! We LAUNCH!

Trevor and the startling Mt. Arthur Emmons.

Looking up the North Face and West Ridge (right hand skyline) of Shot Tower

Clint hikes up the appallingly loose talus to the base of the ridge.

Badile and Disneyland.

Arthur Emmons, Battleship, and Shot's shadow.
The right-hand wall is the big, unclimbed east face of Battleship. As the east face turns south there is a buttress, more or less facing the camera (and just right of Shot Tower's shadow). Make a note of this buttress. 

Xanadu taunts me because he knows I haven't climbed him.

Xanadu is the peak on the left, and the tallest peak in the Arrigetch. I believe that when I go back to the Arrigetch, it will be to that mountain.

This Halloween Clint went dressed as Richard Simmons. Here he gets into character.
(also, this was the crux pitch, but Clint slayed it.)

Higher on that same pitch, with Clint belaying while I follow. This au cheval ridge was cool, but licheny (and pretty steep, actually - you definitely could not stand up and walk.)

Looking back at Clint belaying the famous traverse pitch. This pitch was really cool and pretty straightforward, but I managed to make it look hard while Josh filmed it.

Looking out into the Kobuk Valley. 

Trevor led the famous aid pitch before the summit, but my photos of it aren't really very special. A few minutes after I jugged the pitch I joined the others on the summit. I'd wanted to climb Shot Tower for as long as I'd been a climber. I was elated.

The really aesthetic ridge leading towards the foreground was something Josh and I talked about climbing later on, but filming kept getting in the way.

Helling never ever quits working.

I came to be somewhat fascinated by Josh. I think he always carried the heaviest pack, but he never said a word about it. In fact, nothing ever really seemed difficult. And I don't have many pictures of it, but he constantly set his camera up on the edges of cliffs. I mean right on the edge of cliffs that you could BASE jump off of (such as the drop on the left side of the this frame), and he'd hang out there for 20 minutes while he puttered with the camera. I reminded myself of my mom at times by actually getting pretty uncomfortable about where Josh was hanging out. One time, on a wet day a few days later, when I could see in the distance that he was on a sloping, dirty ledge over a cliff, I just looked away.
But he was unfailingly humble. The only way I can describe a trip with Josh is that it's like watching a heavy metal concert with the sound off - you see this incredible rock and roll, but it just doesn't match what you hear.

The next mountain to the east. I'm not sure what this peak is.

Looking west. I was just trying to get a photo that showed the prominent peak in the far distance, and the zoom lens created the compressed effect that works well to show how densely packed the walls are. 

Looking again towards the Kobuk.

Clint and Trevor, chillaxin'.

What is love? Love is photoshopping the bits of chew out of your climbing partner's teeth before you put the photos online.

Trevor didn't stick around for the group summit shot, instead wandering back down to set the first rap. I was briefly irate, hollering that he wasn't allowed to claim the summit of Shot and had violated a sacred trust and blah, blah, blah. I got over it.

This fin of rock is the "fin below shot" in the "Granite Meadow Below Shot." I scramble up it later.

Helling wanders down through the talus at the end of the day.

I know, huh? Tick! 

I love my new fisheye lens.

Trevorski Hobbslinka, Polish Hardperson

Josue Hellinski, Polish Hardperson
(this and the above photo were taken with the fisheye, hence the swollen noses)

My old buddy Forest Wagner was in there as well, with two of his students from the outdoor rec program at the University of Alaska Southeast in Juneau. They climbed the peak the day before us, making, I believe, the only other ascent of Shot Tower all summer. Forest is a kickass dude, and it was fun to see him again.
This is down in Hot Springs Creek. Me and Clint hiked down the after climbing Shot to get more whiskey, food, whiskey, fuel, whiskey, gear and whiskey.

We often stayed up late bullshitting, taking pictures, drinking whiskey and generally acknowledging that we were really lucky to get to hang out in such a cool place with such cool folks.

Trevor poses on a shoulder immediately west of Shot Tower. This was the following day, and we wandered around to do more filming, including interviews and other awkward shit. We hung out on this shoulder for most of the day.

Looking straight at the West Ridge of Shot.

With hours spent laying around, we had time to goof off. Here Clint lays back this sick crack, He is slightly inverted.

Isn't he magnificent???

I take a picture of Trevor taking a picture of Josh taking a picture.

I asked Clint to get a few pictures of me, because I wanted pictures of me where I don't look like a dickhead, enjoying the outdoors. I failed, obviously, but it was worth a shot.

When you go trundling with a National Geographic film crew, the documentation is top notch.

Just below camp, where the water was coming out of the toe of the glacier.

Just behind me the water pours off of a cliff.

The weather was not exclusively immaculate.

Tragically, it turned out that the floor of my tent leaked like a sieve. It made days like this one very soggy. 

Out for a hike. This is looking down (hundreds of feet) into the aforementioned Granite Meadow Below Shot. I like this picture partly because it is one of the best I managed to get of the cool red lichen that grows on rocks in the area, and partly because I will use it when Montrail decides I'm so badass a user of their shoes that they just have to give me money.

The fin in the meadow.

While I went on this hike, Trevor and Clint decided to "climb a few recon pitches" on the beautiful buttress on the south side of the big big east face of Battleship. They ended up going almost to the top, before deciding at around midnight that they reached a good spot to traverse off. Their unfinished route ended up being 11 pitches, 5.10 A1, and some of the best rock either of them had ever climbed (bearing in mind that Trevor lives in Bishop).

Looking up at Shot through some Cottongrass in the meadow. I'm such a fucking artist.

Looking back to Shot from the fin. The ridge facing coming towards me and to the left has not been climbed. It looks mostly moderate, if you go around the big wall that forms the toe of the ridge, and also except the dead vertical 6 pitches to the summit.

Look up Hot Springs Creek from the summit of the fin, which was not entirely easy to get to the top of. However, there was lots of evidence of sheep having been there. Below me is a very large wall leading into the valley bottom.

Looking down valley.

The Granite Meadow Below Shot Tower was a really neat spot. This is a reflection of Shot 

Josh wanted to get some footage inside the glacier. I went along, and did some "behind the scenes" filming as well. This is the toe of the glacier, and it is only about 10 feet thick. It looked awful down in there, and I wanted nothing to do with going in the hole - but Josh is a helluva hard worker. He is standing on granite slabs under the glacier and I'm standing on the surface of the ice.

We moved back into the valley bottom. It was wet, wet, wet. 

Pyramid Peak and another one. I forget which lines have been climbed, but some very prominent ones remain unclimbed.

Pyramid.

With a lot more of this weather in the forecast, and only a few days left before we needed to leave anyway, we began to hike. This time without double-carries or porters. At the start of the day it was raining, had been raining for days, our packs were heavy, and I was being pretty bitchy. Clint and I intermittently wore GoPros, to record the hiking. Inevitably, we accidentally recorded some of our bitchiness for the editors back in Germany, including bitching about them. Sorry, folks. We were just cranky.

I was quietly adept at avoiding carrying a lot of extra weight. Obviously, we never weighed our packs, and we avoided such unproductive activities as lifting each others' packs to determine who was shirking. But I never really minded the weight I was carrying, and I often sought out dense gear to carry my share of the weight without the awkwardness of carrying a flea market on my back.
Eventually, Trevor pointed out that I was the biggest guy and was carrying the "lightest and most streamlined pack." Chastened, I stepped up. This load ripped the shoulder straps on my pack and nearly broke my spirit.

It took two days to hike out, after another night camped at Midway Lake.

The fall colors began to come.

We made it back to Circle Lake! And our cache.
(Clint and I arrived a few minutes before Josh and Trevor. We told them that there were only three beers left, and that Ben and Boy Wonder must have taken the rest. They believed us, but we immediately caved and told the truth, since they looked so sad.)

We had a great trip, and celebration was in order. 

Such a short closing to the trip doesn't seem to do it justice. The whole thing could have gone so bad, and yet it went so good thanks to the harmonious convergence of a bunch of cool dudes. We had a great time. We fulfilled a long-time dream of mine to climb Shot Tower. The whole thing was amazing.

Thanks, guys.

And special thanks to Uwe, and John.