Bolivia….just the name conjures up images and ideas of a mysterious, magical, far away world. I first heard the word Bolivia, as a kid whose head was filled with dreams of adventure, and watched my heroes Butch Cassidy & the Sundance Kid, escape and eventually meet their fate in this far-off land. Same with the sometimes seemingly mythical revolutionary figure, Che Gueverra. And now…..I was headed there, to a place that once only existed in the dreams and fantasises conjured up in the mind of a naive youngster….a reality far from cowboyish outlaws and radical revolutionaries.

Since learning to climb mountains, the allure and exotic draw of the Bolivia Andes, has continued to grow in the depths of my adventuring mind, with images of staggering glaciated peaks for mountaineering set amid vast salt and high desert plains, all inhabited by a mysterious and hardy native people with a way of life preserved from Western influence.

The plan for our Bolivian Climbing Expedition was hatched not long ago on the slopes of another mythical and magical mountain of our collective psyche…..Kilimanjaro, in the heart of East Africa.  While descending from Kili’s 5895M (19,341′) summit, Ian Rennie, one of our guests for our inaugural Kilimanjaro trip, was so excited about climbing mountains at high altitude, he asked if there was one that was much harder, and surpassed the mighty 6000M height mark. Of course, there are literally hundreds throughout the world, but ‘The Catch’ he said…..”I only have one week to do it in.”

This severely limited our choices, and immediately narrowed down the scope to South America, a place offering relatively easy travel, no time zone changes, plenty of 6000M peaks, and a few with moderate technical difficulty. Thus Climbing in Bolivia’s Cordillera Real was born! Huayna Potosi, was the perfect match for Ian’s climbing desires of something harder and higher, while also being easily accessible and quick. Standing a 6088 M, this imposing pyramid of ice and snow is a mere 2 hour Jeep drive from the capital city of La Paz, and it’s international airport, and in fact the access is so easy that a mere 8 hours after standing on the summit at near 20,000′ you can be showered in your hotel room and out to a celebratory cosmopolitan dinner in La Paz.

The only difficulty…..the rapid ascent to altitude. La Paz lies between 11,500′-13,500′, thus coming form near sea level in New York would prove quite a challenge to stand at 20,000′ in only 8 days, but….Ian did well in the same time frame on Kilimanjaro, so we went for it, and the wheels of trip planning began not shortly after returning from Tanzania this past February.

Our first 2 days were spent just hanging around La Paz, and acclimating. Walking around the steep cobblestone streets of the old city, visiting the many crazy market stalls where one can buy all sorts of colorful Bolivian rugs, wall hangings, alpaca yarn knit sweaters, and the strange concoctions of the ‘witches market’…..dried llama fetuses, strange herbs and flowers, vegetables, and of course the ubiquitous coca leaves.

After 2 full-days in La Paz, awaiting arrival of some lost bags, acclimating to the 3500M+ altitude, acquainting ourselves with the Bolivian way of life, and sharpening our Spanish speaking skills (not many people speak English at all), we headed off on Day 3 for our first acclimatization hike…Chacaltayla, site of the now defunct ‘highest ski area’ in the world, at 5300M (17,700′). A mere 1.5 hour bumpy, dusty, snowy Jeep ride from our hotel in La Paz, and we were walking in fresh snow past the old lift housing and base area of the Club Andino Boliviano, and trudging in the thin air up to the 17,700′ summit. Astounding views of Huayna Potosi greeted us on the backside, and our first real glimpses of the sheer size and beauty of the heart of the Cordillera Real struck us speechless. A few short hours later we were back sharing coca tea in a local restaurant in downtown La Paz.

Day 4 we headed out for the main objective….a 2-day climb of Huayna Potosi from Zonga Pass. Here we stayed in a very basic Refugio run by a Bolivian Guide, Augustine and his wife Alicia, and many of their hermanos y hermanas. A modest dwelling with beds, table, and a llama dung fueled stove for heat, it was spartan but sufficient, as after all….Bolivia is a third world country and the poorest in all of South America to boot, a fact not obviously noticeable in La Paz, but immediately so once out of city limits.

Our hosts were very kind, as they allowed us to practice our broken Spanish with them (we had no choice) and took good care of us, always smiling, laughing, and genuinely happy to share their home with us. We also  shared the refugio with 2 Swiss climbers one night and a Brazilian climber the next night, as we spent 2 days here, sleeping and acclimating to it’s 15,700′ altitude. The second day at the refugio we headed off to climb, Charquini (5395 M / 17,700′), a local peak basically out of the backdoor of the refugio, and a great training climb in glacier skills and movement, ascending a short and simple glacier and steep snowfield to it’s incredible summit directly opposite the massive bulk of Huayna Potosi’s East Face. Overall, a perfect acclimatization objective that allowed us to again get above 17,000′, while working out the basics of crampons, ice axes, rope work, and crevasse rescue skills.

After a successful, albeit difficult summit, we headed back down to the refugio for a second night of sleep at 15,700′, to continue the acclimatization process for the next day’s main event…Huayna Potosi. Now only 5 days into our trip, Ian had been above 17,000′ twice since leaving his home elevation of 500′ in New York, and he was feeling it. In the end, Charquini, turned out to be a great training climb, helping to fast pace his acclimatization, and paid off immensely, when 36 hours later we were departing under the lights of the Southern Hemisphere’s Milky Way to the 20,000′ summit of Huayna Potosi.

Day 6, we awoke early, conversed with our 3 Bolivian women (and family) porters in Spanish over load carrying limits, times, and of course payments. By mid-morning we were off, headed across the Zonga Dam and on up the steep and rocky glacier moraine trail on up to the Refugio at Rock Camp at the toe of the upper glacier, at 17,100′. With porters carrying most of our load, allowing us to be relatively light and carefree with daypacks, we slowly made our way up, chatting with climbers on their way down from early dawn summit attempts,a nd took in the amazing views of the surrounding countryside.

Our afternoon, was spent at the refugio, where we were treated to having the slightly nicer and more expensive ‘climber’s side’ all to ourselves, save some Bolivian guides and assistant guides at the last minute. Here, we rested in the late day sunshine, hydrated well, ate lots of food, talked to other climbers from the US, Spain, Netherlands, Canada, England, and of course Bolivia.

We chatted with folks in English & Spanish, looked at what we could see of our route, made nervous conversation, and spent time taking pictures and basking in the alpenglow of an incredible sunset over the high peaks of the Bolivian Andes.

And, we did our best to overcome that greatest of all mountaineering challenges….patience. As we simply sat and waited. Waited for our bodies to continue acclimating for a night sleeping at 17,100′; waited for it to get dark so we could go attempt to get some sleep; and ultimately waited for the alarm to awake us at 1:30 am, so we could finally do something, anything, begin a summit attempt after 6 days of preperation and patience.

Sleep was fitful and restless, with strong winds all night threatening to rip the ramshackle roof off the refugio, and rip the enthusiasm of climbing from our hearts. However, the alarm went off, headlamps went on, coffee was brewed, and we went through the motions of getting dressed for the cold and dark. Crampons clanked around in the dark, the metallic twang of climbing hardware echoing throughout the dark refugio, while occasional quick instructions were mumbled in Spanish and/or English.

By 2:30 am we were on our way. Crampons crunching on the frozen glacier snow under a cold, dark, moonless sky, awash with vast swaths of pure white starlight from overhead. As we plodded up in the darkness, roped together, the wind slowly began to die off, as the night grew deeper and darker, and our breaths become more labored the higher we went….18,000′……18,500′……19,000′……19,500′…..

We climbed slowly but steadily, making good time in the cold and dark, stopping every thousand feet for quick water and food breaks, and to warm cold extremities. Around 18,500′ we passed one sick climber who’d tried to ascend to fast, being brought down quickly by his Bolivian guide. Slowly we went on, Ian growing stronger with each jump up in altitude and change of terrain. Gigantic crevasses fell off to either side of the track at times, and although not seen in the darkness, their inevitable yawning, gaping enormity signaling emptiness was felt just the same. Only once we descended in the daylight did the sheer size and depth become revealed to us, and how close we would travel to the edge of these abysses.

At around 19,500′ daylight’s subtle orange and red glow began to creep over the horizon line far to the East, illuminating a thick cloud bank resting far below us over the Yunga Valley in unbelievable shades of red, pink, purple, and orange. With the sun’s warmth, our spirits lifted, cameras came out to capture the fleeting moment of alpenglow, and hands and toes began to warm up. Now, with only 500′ of elevation and a long knife edge ridge with incredible exposure to go, we were close, and feeling strong…..it seemed (barring any catastrophic fall from the ridge) we were strong and acclimated enough….we would make it.

Most of the normal route on Huayna Potosi is fairly benign climbing, with just moderately steep glacier hiking, though in the frozen midnight air a mis-step could result in a never-ending slide down and off the glacier’s edge or into an ever present looming crevasse. However, the summit ridge is absolutely exhilarating. Steep, narrow climbing at almost 20,000′, with incredible exposure on either side, with over 1000M (3,000′) of air straight down the West Face. A perfect final stretch to the summit, making for a capstone experience to the climb, with the hardest, most focusing, and picturesque climbing coming right at the very end, and neccessary to achieve the airy summit.

Catching up with the other two climbing parties on the mountain that day, that left before us from the refugio, we passed them ever so precariously on this knife edged ridge, and our timing of leaving a bit later and behind everyone, worked out perfectly as we arrived on the summit shortly after everyone else left. And, able to enjoy ourselves in the warmth of the sun at over 6000M, having the summit under complete solitude to ourselves for almost an hour was a precious experience, not likely experienced by many climbers on this rightly popular mountain.

We had done it….8-days and a 6000M mountain climbed successfully, and more importantly safely and in good style, with us both feeling strong, happy, and relaxed most of the way. For Ian, a dream achieved. One that started on the slopes of Kilimanjaro not 6 months prior, and now was a reality lived and experienced to its fullest.

And for me, a longtime magical place was finally revealed to me, and in the process none of the mystery and dreaminess of my boyhood fantasies was lost or tarnished, instead crystallized into actual hard earned memories. And thankfully, an experience that didn’t have me being gunned down in an abandoned building by the Bolivian army as my childhood heroes were.

—CBMG Guide, Jayson Simons-Jones

As most folks know by now, the winter season throughout most of the West was a bust. From Colorado to California, most people saw record-breaking years in terms of lack of snowfall and warm temperatures, and with all the predictions of La Nina bringing a snowy and stormy winter, skiers and snowboarders were let down, disappointed, and downright depressed….unless of course you lived in Alaska.

Alaska (and Europe)…seemed to making up for the low snow year in the Lower 48, with record-breaking storms throughout the year. Heck……Valdez, a sea level town, may have gotten more snow in December then Crested Butte did all season. So, for those with patience and the financial resources to make the long trek North to Alaska this season, they were well rewarded. And maybe even got some good karma laid upon them in Alaska as well, for enduring the ‘Winter that Wasn’t’ in Colorado.

Crested Butte Mountain Guides ran two Ski Mountaineering Programs in the Thompson Pass back-country area outside of Valdez, AK this Spring, and boy were they good! Having been ski touring on Thompson Pass for 4 seasons now since 2007, I can honestly say, “this year was the bomb.” Incredible snow coverage, great stability, awesome ski conditions, and lots and lots of bluebird weather all added up to making our time on skis up there some of the best back-country skiing of the winter, no doubt.

The Thompson Pass Area outside of Valdez, AK is a back-country mecca. Lying only 30 miles outside of Valdez, it is one of the higher mountain pass roads in Coastal Alaska, allowing for a longer season, and lies inland enough that it can hold more stable weather and drier snow then other areas as well.

The main area is roughly a 20 mile stretch of road that is the only human scar in an otherwise wide open Alaskan wilderness (well that, and the Trans-Alaskan Pipeline that runs alongside the road). On either side of the road are big steep alpine peaks, and glaciers as far as the eye can see, some stretching to within hundreds of yards of the highway. Access to all this is second to none. Park your car on the shoulder of the highway, pick an objective and go. There is a reason why this zone is known as the center of the universe for Alaskan heli-skiing and all other things backcountry.

Led by AMGA Certified Ski Mountaineering Guide, Jayson Simons-Jones, we ran two different 6-day Ski Mountaineering Programs from March 31st – April 15th, and avoided the dreaded ‘Val-disease’ Alaskan down-days from bad weather; getting in skiing on every day of each program, plus some bonus days before hand and between programs. Overall, an unprecedented amount of skiing in such a good and continuous weather window for the area.

Our first Ski Mountaineering Program, was actually more of a Split-Board Mountaineering Program, with Jason, Carsten, and Alison all joining us from Perth, Australia. Despite the fact that Perth has to be one of the most removed places from skiing on the planet, these 3 could rip, and we got after it.

Our camp opened up coincidentally with the megatron back-country snowboard festival that is Tailgate Alaska, and thus there was a certain air of excitement and high energy pervading Thompson Pass. The weather gods cooperated and gave us about 8″ of fresh snow by the end of the first day, with cold temps and bluebird weather to follow for most of the remainder of the week.

Days 1 & 2 were spent in the vicinity of the road corridor getting in some great powder skiing on Loveland Peak & Schoolbus Area, and an introduction to climbing with crampons and ice axes on some steeper lines to gain a summit descent off of Goodwills Peak for 4,500′ back to the car.

Day 3 we utilized the good folks at Big Mountain Taxi for their snowmobile taxi services, and got a taxi ride up close to the summit of Girls Mountain, saving us a 4,000+’ skin and turning a 4 hour approach into 25 minutes. Once dropped off, we bundled up in the     -8C temps at that altitude and made a break for the true summit of Girls Mtn. 45 minutes later we were standing on top, and staring down onto the remote Hoodoo Glacier. 3,000′+ of perfect Alaskan powder awaited us down the moderately steep and glaciated north face.

Once down on the Hoodoo Glacier, we revelled in the memory of the incredible powder turns we just enjoyed, and took in the vast and remote Hoodoo Glacier basin, a place normally reserved for heli-skiing clientele. From here we made a slow and gradual climb of 2,500′ up onto the large Worthington Glacier, travelling below some incredible looking peaks and the electric blue of the Worthington Glacier ice spilling down towards the Hoodoo.

Being on the Worthington Glacier we were tempted by the aesthetic and steep NE face of Acapulco Peak, standing at the head of the basin, tall and proud….so off we went. Quickly transitioning to boot-packing with crampons and ice axes, we were continually blasted by fierce winds and fairly frigid temps on the steep face and stopped our ascent short of the summit proper at the logical ski descent entry. From here it was a steep and uniform line of chalky pow, one can only experience in a place like Alaska, and then a 2,000′+ long and mellow descent down the vast and aesthetic Worthington Glacier to our waiting car.

By now we had logged over 12K of vertical and so Day 4 warranted a bit of a rest. Our Ski Mountaineering Programs having an element of skills instruction and learning besides daily guiding services, so we utilized the day to rest some tired legs and work on some rope and glacier skills, specifically practicing various systems of performing crevasse rescues and more in-depth snow study and snow-pit exercises.

Beginning with the easy access afforded us on Thompson Pass, and when the weather there got to windy and cold, we utilized the 30′ high snow piles scattered throughout the town of Valdez for snow storage and finished in the evening sunshine and warm temps of being at sea level.

Day 5 & 6, the weather began to change as the next storm system began to approach South Central Alaska. So we rallied to get in as many turns as possible before the poor visibility and poor weather limited us. For the first objective we chose the uber-classic peak and run known locally as Cracked Ice, a towering peak covered with a fairly moderate angled glacier run from summit to car for 4,700′ vertical. In fact, with snow conditions being incredible once again, the light holding, and the added energy of being joined by Crested Butte local and World Freeride Snowboard Champion, Susan Mol, as guest tail-guide for the day…..we did a second lap up high, crushing 6,500′ of split-board earned AK back-country powder turns.

Our 6th and last day, did indeed deliver the predicted storm, and we woke to solid snow in the form of huge wet flakes, and were reduced to searching out some tree riding, to have some visibility and depth perception. Now, although Alaska is not known for it’s tree skiing, we did indeed find some final good wet powder tree runs closer to town, and sent Jason, Carsten, and Alison on their way to Haines for a week of heli-skiing, happy and content with 5 out of 6 days of powder filled earn-your-turns-riding in on the world class terrain of Thompson Pass.

Thanks to the 3 of them for a stellar week of riding in the AK backcountry, and for keeping the week safe and fun, and getting the most out of the stable weather, good snow, and good stability.

3-days of non-stop snow graced us on our down days, hitting the reset button before our second and last Alaska Ski Mountaineering Program……(coming soon…..)

 —CBMG Staff

&

Jayson Simons-Jones (AK Ski Mountaineering Program Guide)

As I stepped onto the tarmac at the airport in Tanzania. The air was hot and rich with pungent smells. A stiff breeze blew, and although it was dark…made even darker when the tiny third world airport experienced one of many rolling blackouts (including runway lights) during our brief excursion through immigration….I could sense the fertile greenness of this equatorial land.

My travelling companions were Josh, Ian, & Catherine, four of us embarking on Crested Butte Mountain Guides’ first expedition to climb one of the famed Seven Summits. …..Mt Kilimanjaro (19,341’). The next day we met our main African ‘Chagga’ Guide, Abdi, and plans were laid for our 7-day climb via the Machame (“Whiskey”) Route on Kili.

We agreed on a whopping 12 porters for the 4 of us, plus 2 guides, a cook, and a server…16 people in all on our support team….for getting 4 people up the mountain. With the help of local guides (required by Tanzanian and National Park law), I quickly realized the familiar guiding skills of route selection and pacing were going to be easy for me with so much support. Instead I would be liaison between our team and the local support team, most of whom only spoke Swahili…the AMGA (American Mountain Guides Assoc) doesn’t train you in this type of mountain guiding skill!

A bumpy and dusty bus ride found us speeding up the lower slopes of Kilimanjaro, through coffee plantations and banana groves to the Machame Gate. Here there were dozens of other Western climbers, along with hundreds of porters, guides, and park service rangers…the latter heavily armed….all shouting, packing, organizing, and negotiating work contracts in Swahili. After an hour and a half Godfrey (our assistant guide) escorted us through another gate, and on a wide jungle path we began our expedition and climb.

The beginning of any climb always brings a mix of excitement and trepidation. After years of guiding, I have seen this nervous energy manifest in one way, and one way only…taking off out of the gate running! Kilimanjaro may not be a technically hard mountain to climb, but it’s big….really big. In fact it has the distinction of being the “World’s Largest Free Standing Mountain”, and with the summit of Uhuru Peak at 19,341’ it also has real high altitude issues to contend with. The scale and size of Kili is hard to comprehend. For someone used to being surrounded by jagged jumbles of the multiple peaks, spires, and valleys that populate most ‘mountain ranges’, the incredible girth of this volcanic giant, coupled with its stark and lonely nature, makes it seem just that much bigger.

“Pole, Pole”…meaning “slowly, slowly” in Swahili. This is the secret to climbing Kilimanjaro, to help with the acclimatization for a peak with such extreme altitude gain in such a fairly short and easy amount of time. “Pole, pole”…our group heard it early on Day 1, and frequently throughout the trip….and I now have one more language in which to express my wishes as a guide to temper folks’ pre-climb enthusiasm and nervous energy.

The lower slopes of Kilimanjaro along the Machame Route are a beautiful and slightly steep walk through dense jungles filled with plants and trees in every shade of green imaginable. Colobus and Blue Monkeys crash through the tree canopies, and Tarzan-like vines twist and hang from all directions. Through all this one cannot even actually see the summit cap of the mountain until the beginning stages of Day 2.

Kili is so big it creates its own climates, and it has various plant and animal life found nowhere else in the world. The Machame Route offers a unique view of the mountain by its circuitous nature–starting far to the west on the south side of the mountain, climbing up to the Moorland environment of the Shira Plateau, a long broad bench around 12,500’-14,000’ that stretches across the south side of the mountain between the old volcanic peaks of Shira and Mawenzi. Combined with the main summit crater/plug/peak of Kibo, this massif is widely known simply and singularly as Mt. Kilimanjaro.

Days 3-5 were spent traversing east along the Shira Plateau, and working our way to the east/southeast side of the mountain from which to make our summit attempt from the Mweka Route and the SE Ridge. Travelling in this way, gave us a few days of acclimating at altitudes between 12,500’ and 14,600’, before heading up to Barafu Camp (high camp) at 15,100’ from which to make our summit push. What we soon learned was that this strategy also offered us an incredible journey through all the varied eco-systems, environments, and terrain features that Kilimanjaro hides amongst its cracks and folds and that can only be seen up close.

This sub-alpine environment is home to the mists and rains of Kilimanjaro, which gathered us into a cold, damp, white fog of clouds and light rain every day from late morning until sunset. This is the zone where the mountain slopes receive the most precipitation, while just a few thousand feet higher in the alpine desert the precipitation rate is less then a quarter of what falls here.  So days were spent walking amidst a moonscape of orange lichen and moss covered volcanic boulders in a foggy haze of weird plants and surreal landscapes more like the scenery of a Dr Suess story then a mountaineering environment.

After an afternoon in camp of hot tea, popcorn, travel Scrabble games and maybe a nap or two, the mists would dissipate, hot dinners of local veggies and rice and meats would be served, and we would watch the sun light up the peak above in shades of pink, red, and orange alpenglow before setting over blankets of clouds and dust from the East African plains far below.

By Day 5 we had arrived at Barafu Camp, a fairly desolate place lacking windbreaks and with no water. This was to be a brief stop, staging ground for our summit attempt, as our porters were carrying water for our group up 2,000’ from the last camp in five-gallon jugs and buckets, and we could only be here as long as water lasted…likely one night.

It’s always hard to settle into camp before a summit attempt. And the longer to get to this point in the trip, the more difficult it is trying to settle in. We say–and truly mean it too–that the summit is not ultimately the goal, it is the journey along the way that matters most and where the richest experiences are gained.  Even so, it is hard not to be anxious and feel the tug of failure and uncertainty in the back of your mind. I know my clients were feeling it, as we all had an early dinner and tried to force ourselves to fall asleep by 6 pm with the sky still lit by the sun’s rays.

11:30 pm the alarm buzzes, and Kejinga comes to the tents saying “hello….good morning….how are you feeling”….in his unique African-English accent. Choking down some quick calories, layering up, and off into the night we go….up the SE Ridge to the Kibo summit crater and Uhuru Peak.

You haven’t seen stars until you’ve seen the stars on a moonless night from 17,000’ on the slopes of Kilimanjaro. They weren’t stars as much as they were clusters and bursts of white and yellow on a black canvas. At times in the pre-dawn hours one is not sure if you are looking at stars against the night sky or looking at an old dark, threadbare blanket pulled over a blinding white light, with intense rays and glimpses of the light beyond showing through the thin and holey patches.

The night wore on, and deep into its depths we climbed higher and higher….pole, pole….into its darkness. The combination of higher altitude and an incessant bitingly cold and strong wind had us all buried deep in layers of down and Gore-Tex, trying to stay warm, deep in our own thoughts, too focused to talk.

Just about 6 am, we began to crest the edge of the crater and summit rim, known as Stella Point. Well over 18,000’ this point seemed to re-energize and re-invigorate the team. As if on cue, the sky to our east begin to show the magnificent deep reds and oranges of the approaching dawn, and we could see Uhuru Peak, the highest point on the crater rim, marking the true summit of Kilimanjaro.

It was a surreal last hour of walking. The new rays of an electric dawn burned on the eastern horizon, the icy blue walls of the remaining glacial ice bathed pink and orange in the morning alpenglow just to our left, all of Africa spread out beneath us under a sea of clouds far below.

I have seen many sunrises in the mountains in my 12 years as a mountain guide, but that sunrise from the summit rim of Kilimanjaro borders on a religious experience. The mountain itself is not a very aesthetic climb–for true climbers it is much more of a long, dusty, high altitude hike. But sunrise over the exotic horizons of East Africa, surrounded by strange remnant glaciers, snow, and rock and dirt and ash, will soften even the most jaded alpinist.

The word “Uhuru” in Swahili means “freedom.” The highest point on Kilimanjaro was christened Uhuru peak in 1961, the same year Tanzania gained its independence peacefully from Britain, its colonial ruler.  Uhuru has recently been fitted with a shiny new sign in bright greens and yellow…colors of the Tanzania flag, green symbolizing the forests and fertile land of the country, and yellow signifying corn, and the abundance of food the land and people provide. It is a huge summit sign–much bigger than the wrought iron crosses that decorate the summits of the Alps and the rock cairns that celebrate the tops of the Rocky Mountains highest peaks, and more aesthetic then the aluminum poles, prayer flags, and stone stupas that decorate many of the worlds big mountain tops.

 We walked…pole, pole…along the rim to Uhuru Peak taking it all in. After months of planning, long days of travel half way around the world and 5 days of trekking, everyone on our team had reached the 19,341’ summit of Kilimanjaro…..congrats to Ian, Cat, & Josh. We fought to stand against the 60 mph winds, then made a quick turn around, putting the last 7 hours of climbing time behind us in a 90 minute dash back down scree and loose dirt to high camp.

The summit experience was as fleeting as the early dawn light in that unearthly environment. While we only spent an hour bounded by the snow, glaciers, ash and lava of KIli’s summit….being there while a new day broke in all its splendid color on the horizon and watching it all happen form the highest point on the African continent, as shades of pink, orange, red, a and yellow changed seemingly with each breath of the thin mountain air…that brief moment will for sure be etched in each of our minds for many more summits, and mountains to come. It certainly will be in mine.

-Jayson Simons-Jones (Guide)

Backcountry skiing and riding conditions in Crested Butte have finally come around from the slow start to our season. More continuous snowfall beginning in late-January has finally filled in most all slopes close to town and deeper in the range, and allowed us to get out and take advantage of what the Crested Butte Backcountry is known for….deep snow & lots of places to go ski !

At Crested Butte Mountain Guides, we’ve been busy getting out and enjoying the new snow ourselves, while also being able to share it with an in-flux of new and old ski guests alike, that have also been able to join us on taking advantage of winter’s late arrival. Backcountry ski & split-board tours, hut trips, and AIARE Avalanche Courses are all in full swing and enjoying some good conditions, while also managing some tricky avalanche conditions.

Spring is just around the corner, as we head around the bend into March….and that means our favorite season of all….Ski Mountaineering season !!! Put the winter’s ski legs to the test on our Colorado Spring Ski Mountaineering Camps in Crested Butte, or head farther and bigger to Alaska or Europe….we sure will be.

-CBMG Staff