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Reaching new heights: from Tiffin to Mt. McKinley
A wind gust of 60-100 mph., temperatures of 40 degrees or more below zero, altitude sickness and unending daylight. This is Mount McKinley in Alaska in June.
The highest point in North America draws 1,300 climbers a year who are willing to subject themselves to these hostile conditions. Fifty percent of climbers routinely fail to make the summit. What draws them – and me – to this majestic peak?
I spent the first 31 years of my life in Tiffin. As a child I spent countless days in all seasons living the life of Tom and Huck, only Rock Creek was my Mississippi River. The narrow, thin collection of trees that followed the snaking creek through Hedges-Boyer Park all the way to the Heidelberg college campus provided the “remote wilderness” I truly enjoyed.
Winter provided some of the most enjoyable solitude and adventure. In seventh grade an attempt to walk on the ice of Rock Creek from East Junior High all the way to the YMCA almost claimed my life. In the deepest section of the creek near the Y, I broke through the ice. Only the pull of a close friend saved me from the icy water, allowing me to escape.
I suppose it then is logical I would be drawn to the snow-capped Rocky Mountains. In 2001, I moved to the Denver area and began climbing mountains and learning to ski in earnest. The adventures I imagined along the creek in Tiffin were now a reality in the vast open spaces of Colorado.
In March 2007, a co-worker (and climbing partner Matt Walsh) and I began talking about climbing some of the big mountains of the world. McKinley, or Denali as it is known to climbers and Alaskans, was high on our list. The idea of carrying a heavy backpack and towing a plastic sled full of gear behind us sounded fun. Maybe all those days and nights sledding on the hills of Heidelberg’s campus were preparing me for this expedition. Maybe the idea of taking a sled on a mountain climbing trip just seemed cool.
Denali, however, is quite a bit more than a big sledding hill.
The mountain reaches into the sky to an elevation of 20,320 feet above sea level. Because of its latitude of 62 degrees north, the elevation feels closer to 22,000 feet to the lungs and bodies of the climbers. Extreme cold and nearly endless wind combine to make Denali a true challenge even on its friendliest route – the West Buttress.
Climbers routinely allot two to four weeks to climb from base camp at 7,200 feet to the summit and back. For most climbers, the ascent must be slow and the body must be allowed to acclimatize.
Acclimatization is foreign to most residents near sea level. I know I knew nothing about it when I lived in Tiffin. If you have traveled to the Rocky Mountains, you probably have felt short of breath or even light headed. In its simplest terms, acclimatization occurs as the body produces more red blood cells to carry more oxygen. Since every breath contains a lower density of oxygen than at sea level, the body must compensate. Increased breathing is one of those responses to elevation.
To get an idea of the effect, visit Rocky Mountain National Park, drive up Trail Ridge Road (the highest continuous paved road in the United States) and park at one of the numerous scenic pull-offs along the way. Be sure to hop out of the car and do a few jumping jacks or even hike around for awhile. Your body no doubt will let you know you have not acclimatized as you gasp for breath.
Living in Denver at 5,280 feet has benefits for those returning to sea level. When I’m in Tiffin I find workouts that would cause me to pant and struggle to breathe in Denver only slightly raise my breathing rate. There is a reason the Olympic training center is in Colorado Springs – which is at an even higher elevation than Denver. Our Olympic athletes gain an advantage when competing near sea level.
Let’s get to the question people often ask: “Why do you climb mountains and risk your life?”
It’s the eternal question with a classic answer – “because it’s there.” But this doesn’t describe my reasons very well. I climb because I enjoy the physical and mental challenge. I enjoy the relative solitude. I enjoy the sense of accomplishment – not that I conquered a mountain, but that I conquered some aspect of myself that often holds me back. Author T.S. Eliot said it best, although he was not referring to mountaineering:
“Only those who will risk going too far can possibly find out how far they can go.”
It is this challenge of seeing how far I can go that fuels my passion for climbing. On every climb, new challenges are presented and new skills are developed. Mountaineering for me has been, and will continue to be, a gradual accumulation of skills that can only truly be learned by doing.
So, between now and June when we will attempt Denali, we will be out in the mountains of Colorado sharpening our skills and getting into the best possible physical condition. Over the next several months, the logistics and planning of an expedition will challenge us when we are not climbing.
A final thought about mountaineering for now from rock climbing legend Pat Ament:
“When you ride your bike, you’re working your legs, but your mind is on a treadmill. When you play chess, your mind is clicking along, but your body is stagnating. Climbing brings it together in a beautiful, magical way. The adrenaline is flowing, and it’s flowing all the time.”
Bernie Hohman is a 1988 graduate of Columbian High School and graduated in 1992 from the University of Toledo with a bachelor’s degree in secondary English and journalism education. After teaching at Monroeville High School from 1992-1996 and at Hopewell-Loudon from 1996-2001, he moved to Aurora, Colo., to teach at Rangeview High School and to climb and ski the Rocky Mountains. He received his master’s degree in education administration from the University of Denver in 2006 and works as an assistant principal at Evergreen High School in Evergreen, Colo.
Contact him at
bh@thesummitridge.com
The highest point in North America draws 1,300 climbers a year who are willing to subject themselves to these hostile conditions. Fifty percent of climbers routinely fail to make the summit. What draws them – and me – to this majestic peak?
I spent the first 31 years of my life in Tiffin. As a child I spent countless days in all seasons living the life of Tom and Huck, only Rock Creek was my Mississippi River. The narrow, thin collection of trees that followed the snaking creek through Hedges-Boyer Park all the way to the Heidelberg college campus provided the “remote wilderness” I truly enjoyed.
Winter provided some of the most enjoyable solitude and adventure. In seventh grade an attempt to walk on the ice of Rock Creek from East Junior High all the way to the YMCA almost claimed my life. In the deepest section of the creek near the Y, I broke through the ice. Only the pull of a close friend saved me from the icy water, allowing me to escape.
I suppose it then is logical I would be drawn to the snow-capped Rocky Mountains. In 2001, I moved to the Denver area and began climbing mountains and learning to ski in earnest. The adventures I imagined along the creek in Tiffin were now a reality in the vast open spaces of Colorado.
In March 2007, a co-worker (and climbing partner Matt Walsh) and I began talking about climbing some of the big mountains of the world. McKinley, or Denali as it is known to climbers and Alaskans, was high on our list. The idea of carrying a heavy backpack and towing a plastic sled full of gear behind us sounded fun. Maybe all those days and nights sledding on the hills of Heidelberg’s campus were preparing me for this expedition. Maybe the idea of taking a sled on a mountain climbing trip just seemed cool.
Denali, however, is quite a bit more than a big sledding hill.
The mountain reaches into the sky to an elevation of 20,320 feet above sea level. Because of its latitude of 62 degrees north, the elevation feels closer to 22,000 feet to the lungs and bodies of the climbers. Extreme cold and nearly endless wind combine to make Denali a true challenge even on its friendliest route – the West Buttress.
Climbers routinely allot two to four weeks to climb from base camp at 7,200 feet to the summit and back. For most climbers, the ascent must be slow and the body must be allowed to acclimatize.
Acclimatization is foreign to most residents near sea level. I know I knew nothing about it when I lived in Tiffin. If you have traveled to the Rocky Mountains, you probably have felt short of breath or even light headed. In its simplest terms, acclimatization occurs as the body produces more red blood cells to carry more oxygen. Since every breath contains a lower density of oxygen than at sea level, the body must compensate. Increased breathing is one of those responses to elevation.
To get an idea of the effect, visit Rocky Mountain National Park, drive up Trail Ridge Road (the highest continuous paved road in the United States) and park at one of the numerous scenic pull-offs along the way. Be sure to hop out of the car and do a few jumping jacks or even hike around for awhile. Your body no doubt will let you know you have not acclimatized as you gasp for breath.
Living in Denver at 5,280 feet has benefits for those returning to sea level. When I’m in Tiffin I find workouts that would cause me to pant and struggle to breathe in Denver only slightly raise my breathing rate. There is a reason the Olympic training center is in Colorado Springs – which is at an even higher elevation than Denver. Our Olympic athletes gain an advantage when competing near sea level.
Let’s get to the question people often ask: “Why do you climb mountains and risk your life?”
It’s the eternal question with a classic answer – “because it’s there.” But this doesn’t describe my reasons very well. I climb because I enjoy the physical and mental challenge. I enjoy the relative solitude. I enjoy the sense of accomplishment – not that I conquered a mountain, but that I conquered some aspect of myself that often holds me back. Author T.S. Eliot said it best, although he was not referring to mountaineering:
“Only those who will risk going too far can possibly find out how far they can go.”
It is this challenge of seeing how far I can go that fuels my passion for climbing. On every climb, new challenges are presented and new skills are developed. Mountaineering for me has been, and will continue to be, a gradual accumulation of skills that can only truly be learned by doing.
So, between now and June when we will attempt Denali, we will be out in the mountains of Colorado sharpening our skills and getting into the best possible physical condition. Over the next several months, the logistics and planning of an expedition will challenge us when we are not climbing.
A final thought about mountaineering for now from rock climbing legend Pat Ament:
“When you ride your bike, you’re working your legs, but your mind is on a treadmill. When you play chess, your mind is clicking along, but your body is stagnating. Climbing brings it together in a beautiful, magical way. The adrenaline is flowing, and it’s flowing all the time.”
Bernie Hohman is a 1988 graduate of Columbian High School and graduated in 1992 from the University of Toledo with a bachelor’s degree in secondary English and journalism education. After teaching at Monroeville High School from 1992-1996 and at Hopewell-Loudon from 1996-2001, he moved to Aurora, Colo., to teach at Rangeview High School and to climb and ski the Rocky Mountains. He received his master’s degree in education administration from the University of Denver in 2006 and works as an assistant principal at Evergreen High School in Evergreen, Colo.
Contact him at
bh@thesummitridge.com
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