Clint Helander reports on his successful trip to the remote Revelation Mountains in Alaska in April-May 2008, funded by an AAC Mountain Fellowship.

In April 2008, Rob Jones of R&R Guide Services flew Seth Holden, Steve Sinor, and me to the Big River Glacier in the Revelation Mountains. The range’s intimidating reputation for nasty weather never truly revealed itself during our 16-day stay, and we were able to complete one first ascent and two attempts on another unclimbed peak.

We first scoped out the stunning southwest ridge of a 9,200-foot unclimbed peak dubbed the Ice Pyramid. The ridge was reminiscent of Peak 11,300’s southwest ridge, near the head of the Ruth Gorge in the central Alaska Range. The northwest aspect had a beautiful couloir that appeared to arc right up to the peak's corniced summit, but funky snow conditions over a large schrund kept us from climbing that.

On the third day of our trip the group got an alpine start on the ridge. By midafternoon we had climbed a measly four pitches and just crested the ridge proper. On the fifth pitch Steve led out nearly a full rope length through moderate fourth- and low fifth-class rock before getting stopped by a large buttress. We bailed and decided to explore further down the glacier for other objectives. The ridge would certainly go, but it was going to take a full on alpine-style assault.

We compiled a bivy system to use on the ridge for the second attempt and took it down glacier to test it out. A Black Diamond First Light two-man tent, two sleeping bags, a puffy jacket each, and a pair of insulated pants would comprise our collective bivy gear. As we explored other options, a gorgeous unclimbed mountain marked as Peak 8385' presented itself at the confluence of the three forks of the Big River Glacier. Two couloirs linked together and appeared to lead almost directly to the summit. From the bottom we could see the summit would most likely contain a pitch or two of moderate rock climbing.

The next morning we set off with a light rack and began ascending the initial couloir to a hanging glacier. The climbing was rather quick and easy, and rarely steepened over 35 degrees. From the hanging glacier, we chose the furthest left couloir. The angle steepened significantly, but still proved quite easy, never more than 50 degrees. Once we crested the ridge, we traversed and climbed two moderate fifth-class pitches to the summit. We dubbed the route the Lefternliest Couloir. In keeping with tradition, we gave the peak somewhat of a biblical name, The Exodus, due to its prominent X-like couloirs.

After returning to base camp we rested and repacked for the southwest ridge of the Ice Pyramid. Three days of food and fuel were packed, and the weather seemed to be holding. So far the rumors of the range's terrible weather weren't coming to fruition. Almost every day, fighter jets from Anchorage's Elmendorf Air Force base flew high overhead. As they performed astonishing aerial maneuvers we wondered if they had any idea that three guys were camped out there in the absolute middle of nowhere. Occasionally, our hearts would stop as the planes broke the sound barrier and produced a sonic boom. As we sat eating dinner in our cook tent on the eighth night, we heard a sonic boom louder and closer than any so far. We jumped out of our tent just in time to see two F-18s fly inverted about 1,500 feet above the glacier and only 10 feet apart, before they broke away from each other and zoomed over the mountains. Elated like little children at an air show, we jumped around and screamed in utter amazement. Two minutes later, out of the corner of my eye, I saw something coming at us from down glacier. I turned to see the same two planes coming directly at us again, this time less than 300 feet off the deck. As they soared over us, they rocked their wings and came so close to the mountains I thought they were going to hit them. It was one of the coolest things I’ve ever witnessed.

By 7 a.m. on the ninth day, we were back on the southwest ridge. It didn’t take long to climb past our previous high point. On the first day we climbed 10 pitches before we found a small but perfect spot to lay our small tent. Most of the climbing was moderate fifth class or steep snow climbing and traversing. However, the going was slow, because the snow was deep and unconsolidated. Each pitch took one to two hours due to the conditions. On day two we all slept through our alarms and didn’t start climbing until late morning. The climbing intensified a little bit and we confronted a mighty rock fortress we had come to call the Castle. Luckily, I was able to find a way through it. Seth led a brilliant pitch above it before I swung a lead to a beautiful platform under a large roof, where we spent our second night on the ridge.

Day three was do or die. All of us were tired, but the summit still seemed doable so we continued. The climbing from the cave was the hardest of the route so far. I hung my pack below a slightly overhanging rock step. Steve carried both packs up to the belay and I pressed on, sure we were almost over the ridge’s rocky difficulties. Another full rope length put us below a large gendarme. By now the other two were anxious to begin the descent. I begged for one more pitch to see what lay above. Negotiating around the gendarme, I found a steep rock step with a very heady move. Confidence and endorphines running high, I committed and pulled the move. Looking back at Seth, his eyes were as large as grapefruits. “Wanna get some pro in, dude?” It turns out my only piece of protection had worked its way out. A steep snow ramp led to another awkward rock straddle. From here I could see we were over the technical difficulties, but there were still six to eight pitches of exposed snow plodding before the summit. After a long group debate, it was decided that we should bail. Weather always haunted us, and we still had the equally hard task of getting off the mountain to deal with.

Due to the traversing nature of the ridge, it was almost impossible to rappel our line of ascent. Therefore, we were left with the task of rappelling the unclimbed, 2,000-foot northwest face. The first three rappels went quickly. A stuck rope on the fourth pitch put us near hysterics. Seth climbed a brilliant pitch to free the stuck rope, and we decided to traverse back to our first bivy instead of rappel through the night. Around midnight, we limped back to the ledge as an astonishing sunset presented itself behind the granite spires of the Revelations.

In the morning we made five rappels to the ground and slunk back to camp. Time was running out, so we made the choice to pack up and hike out to Rob's lodge, 22 miles down the Big River. Sure enough, the weather came in strong on the 14th day. Thirty mph winds whipped snow up around camp, and conditions on the mountain looked nasty, As Rob said, “The Revelations know how to blow!”

Over the next two days we hiked down the Big River through the various alpine zones. When we arrived at Rob’s beautiful lodge, he was waiting for us with cold beers and moose spaghetti.

The Revelations are without a doubt the most beautiful mountains I have ever witnessed. Throughout the trip, I constantly had my own revelations. It is hard to leave a trip like that without coming away with some type of better self-understanding. For me, bailing from the ridge when the summit seemed so close was hard. It wasn’t until I got home and studied my aerial pictures that I realized how much more climbing we had to do. Even back at home I was still having revelations.

Months later, I still think about the weeks spent alone with two great friends in such an astonishing place. Such places are rare in this day and age, unspoiled by man. I look forward to going back. The monetary costs of getting to this remote part of Alaska are overshadowed by the rewards of experiencing its virgin splendor.

I would like to thank the American Alpine Club for making this trip possible through a Mountain Fellowship grant.

To see many more pictures from this trip, click Read More...