Pinnacle Peak Ski Mountaineering Trip (June 1998)
Kaskawulsh Glacier, Kluane National Park, Yukon, Canada
“You’re
crazy”, the assistant at the local outdoors shop told me as he handed me my telemark
skis with new emergency binding releases on them. “I wouldn’t risk skiing again
for the rest of the season. Wait until next year.” I was still recovering from a ski
accident in which I had broken my fibula (lower leg) earlier that year. But even though
the local snow had melted by now, I was determined to get some skiing in that season. Over
the last week in June 1998 I had the wonderful opportunity of doing a seven day ski trip
into the heart of Kluane National Park with Derek (now my husband) and Christine (a friend
from the Alpine Club of Canada in Calgary). Kluane National Park is located in the
south-west corner of the Yukon Territory and lies adjacent to Wrangell-St. Elias National
Park, Alaska. Together, with several other parks, they form the largest protected
wilderness in the world.
We were flown into the southern arm of the Kaskawulsh Glacier in the Pinnacle Peak area
by Andy, one of the few pilots in the Yukon highly skilled in landing on glaciers. The
flight was quite an experience for us as we had never flown in a small plane before, let
alone landed on a glacier. The pilot, a Welsh ex-patriot always had an air of mischief in
his eyes but appeared to be a rather heavy smoker so I couldn’t help thinking
“What if he has a heart attack in the middle of this flight?!!” On the flight
in, we saw Mt. Logan (the highest peak in Canada at 19 850’) in the distance as well
as numerous other mountains that looked surreal. Our first glimpse of Pinnacle Peak (about
12 000’) where our “base” was going to be for the next week was awe
inspiring; it is shaped like a shark’s tooth with a very pointed apex and features
intimidating seracs and crevasses beneath the north face. 
We needed two flights to get the three of us and all our gear into the park since the snow was quite sloppy and made landing in a heavily weighted aircraft a bit dangerous. We arrived that Saturday afternoon and proceeded to set up camp. We dug down into the glacial snow about 40 cm and built a wall around our camp; our two tents were anchored securely as we thought that over the course of the next week we were sure to get some foul weather; as it turned out, we didn’t. The week turned out to be rather a heat wave with clear blue skies every day. The bright light, reflected in every possible direction off the glaciers, was extremely intense and we spent the whole week dressed like Arabs with white scarves hanging around our shoulders underneath our caps, never took our sunglasses off, always wore long-sleeved clothing and kept our faces smeared with sun block. Despite all this our tongues were sunburnt (a rather hard spot to cover with sun block, especially when doing aerobic exercise!) and our faces were still peeling for a week after our trip…but people back in Whitehorse seemed to be rather disappointed that we weren’t more of a beet red!
There was no sign of life on these mountains - not a single piece of plant life and no
animals - merely the occasional fly that we found lying on the snow, that had been blown
into the glaciers. 
Every
day we managed to explore a new area on skis but by the end of the week the snow was
getting quite soft. It was actually pretty late in the season to be out there and all the
crevasses were opening up around us, a lot of small wet avalanches were going off on the
south-facing slopes and lots of seracs were breaking off the mountains so we couldn't do
any major peaks. We did some great ski touring though (always roped up) and there were
some wonderful untouched slopes to telemark on. It really boosted my confidence to be able
to do telemark ski turns again without having problems from a stiff/weak leg. I was always
the first one on the rope, responsible for route finding, and used my instinct a
lot…this was lucky since at one point I did fall into a bergschrund but my instinct
had told me that I should be roped up (we had actually unroped at this point, descending a
ridge) and I wasn’t too shaken since I had been mentally prepared for it. We had left
our skis down below to finish the peak; Christine had also gone through the snow
higher up and seen nothing but daylight through the “hole”. We were both
very lucky that no more had happened. The highlight of our trip was another unnamed peak
that we ascended on skis. 
We had no expectations but it felt as if there would be something exciting at
the top since, while skiing up for the last hour, there were no other peaks in sight
(nothing towering from above). What a wonderful surprise it was when we reached the small
summit, to see Mount Logan in front of us, across one or two immense glaciers. Mount
Kennedy was also immediately to the east. Unfortunately, by blood sugar was extremely high
at this moment and I was in a rather drowsy state. The insulin in my catheter may have
partially frozen or over-heated at some point. It may have also been the altitude
affecting me. Feeling rather nauseous, I curled up, gave myself a few units of insulin and
put on my down jacket; the others gave me their packs to sit on while they completed the
last 20 m to the true summit. I gazed at Mount Logan ahead of me, falling in and out of
sleep. I ended up eating little food for all the energy I was expending but a few hours
later my blood sugar was within the normal range; I was desperate for some fluids so drank
a lot and fortunately never got really dehydrated.
Camping right on the glacier, we could never escape the sun and I ended up not being the culprit. The day before we were planning on being flown out, Derek woke up with a fever and displaying some of the classic signs of heat stroke. Christine and I had to act quickly since the tent would soon be extremely hot inside and it would be very difficult for Derek to escape from the sun. We tried to radio our pilot on the channel he had given us to contact him; we had, in fact been trying all week but had never managed to communicate. We had only picked up something on our first night when he was talking to a group on one of the faces of Mount Logan. We decided at this point, that our only hope would be to try some other channels and try and communicate with anyone. We switched to a channel that appeared to pick up some local people chatting and asked if anyone could hear us. Someone did! A trapper was picking us up from his cabin near Watson Lake, about 1000 km east of us! We explained our situation and he said that he would try and radio someone local who had a telephone. Through all this, someone else telephoned Parks Canada who then telephoned our pilot who at long last radioed us on this other channel. Radio communication had been poor all week, he said, since there had been no clouds to reflect the radio waves back down into the mountains. He could come in right away to pick us up and fly us out but this was pushing it since the snow was already getting soft - almost too soft to be able to take off from the glacier. He would be there in 45 minutes to take the first plane load out. Quickly, over the next 45 minutes Christine and I dismantled and packed up everything around our base camp while Derek lay in the tent, feeling very sick but trying to take in some fluids. I took the first flight out while Christine and Derek waited for the next hour and a half, on the immense glacier, surrounded by so many mountains, far from any other humans. What if the pilot couldn’t get back in to pick them up? We had left them with some of the basic supplies (tent, food, stove etc.) in case this should happen but the pilot managed to pick them both up and take off again with no problem since the second load was lighter. Back at Silver City, where a dusty road acts as a runway, we were safe and back in civilisation, walking around on solid, dry, dusty ground. There were so many colours around us - not just the white brilliance shining off the glaciers, contrasting with a dark solid-blue sky. Part of me wished I was still out there, exploring these virtually unknown corners of the planet where so few humans ever go…with no signs of humanity or life other than ourselves…but in other ways I was quite relieved to have made it back in one piece. All in all, it had been a wonderful experience and I had learnt a lot, being my first real mountaineering trip.
Being an insulin-dependent diabetic, some of my observations from this trip that may help others on similar trips follow:
- Emergency food and diabetic supplies: Parks Canada recommends that anyone participating in a mountaineering trip for which they have to be flown in, take an extra week’s supply of food and fuel with them in case the weather conditions make it impossible for aircraft to land on the glaciers. Being diabetic this was even more important and extra diabetic supplies were crucial. One can never be certain that a plane will be able to rescue them or even communicate with them via radio so being prepared for any emergency (or merely living out there for a prolonged time!) is crucial. I had not managed to get any glucagon for my trip since all the local pharmacies in the Yukon were out of stock. This was a risk since we could only radio a pilot from our base camp (the radio was way too heavy to carry around with us) and we were often a 4 hour ski from our base; even if I was rescued by a plane it would have taken at least 2 hours to reach any medical establishment. I provided my two companions each with a packet of Monogel and an outline of diabetic emergencies. Luckily, they had both done numerous trips with me and I have never yet had to use glucagon. I also gave Derek a complete set of diabetic supplies to keep separate from the supplies I had in case I should lose or damage mine.
- The wide temperature fluctuations: Being the end of June and north of the 60th parallel, the sun was up for approximately 20 hours of the day, however, there was still a dramatic fluctuation in the outside temperature. Around 9.30 p.m., when the sun disappeared behind the mountains for a few hours, it went below freezing (to about -10șC) but by 8 a.m., when the sun was high up in the sky again, it had become virtually unbearable to remain in the tent (probably 25+șC inside the tent). This meant that I had to always keep track of where my insulin and other diabetic supplies were being stored; at night time, I brought it all into the tent with me and in the daytime I put it in the plastic cooler we had brought on the plane with us, which we buried under the snow throughout the day. Being on a glacier, I could have easily lost my insulin if I dropped it in the snow.
- Insulin pump: The insulin pump worked very well for me on this trip since I could just hook it on my ski pants or my harness with all the other paraphernalia. I had to be careful to not get it all tangled up with everything but it was a lot easier than having to fiddle around with a syringe and if I suddenly felt high as I was skiing along I could easily take a bolus. I was a bit concerned that my climbing harness and pack would rub against my pump site and aggravate it but this proved to never be a problem. I have had the insulin in the catheter freeze on other ski trips but this didn’t seem to be a problem on this trip since in the daytime it was always above freezing.
- Meals: The three of us each took turns at making the suppers so I always ended up guessing how much carbohydrate I was consuming which did not make it easy. Simply boiling water at that altitude took a long time so sharing meals with others was more efficient. Luckily, I could take food to bed with me and keep it inside the tent overnight since no animals exist up on the glaciers (there is no danger of bears attacks!). For breakfast I took no insulin and ate a complex-carbo. muesli immediately before setting off skiing which worked well. I would literally be eating as the others were laying out the rope and getting their harnesses sorted out. I also kept snacks in my pockets so I could always access food as I was skiing along if I needed it. Being able to access some food would also be helpful if I ended up falling in a crevasse for several hours. Optimal control of my diabetes is not a priority on these trips and mere survival and simply being at a comfortable blood-sugar level become more of a priority. I did reduce all my basal rates and boluses though and often tested my blood sugar level in the middle of the night.
Katherine Brandt spent two years living up north in the Yukon Territory and is now
residing in Victoria, BC. Anyone wishing to contact her is welcome to email her at kmbrandt@islandnet.com
© Katherine M. Brandt, April 9, 1999.
"Pinnacle Peak Ski Mountaineering Trip." was published in: The Challenge:
Newsletter of the IDAA. Volume XIII, Number 2. Summer 1999. pp.12 - 13, 16.
