Bristol Bay to Mendenhall Towers
By Sierra McGivney
Photos by Jessica Anaruk
Originally published in Guidebook XIII
Jessica Anaruk and Micah Tedeschi spent the short summer season of Alaska on separate drift boats for sockeye salmon. Their days were long and filled with hours of manual labor, setting the net on the ocean and picking fish. It was not uncommon for Anaruk to work 16 hours and get around three to four hours of sleep most nights—her captain was an aggressive fisher. But at the end of their season, they were trading in their XTRATUF boots for climbing shoes and, powered by the AAC’s Catalyst Grant, heading to the big walls of the Mendenhall Towers, seven granite towers that rise high above the surrounding Mendenhall Glacier in southeast Alaska.
Anaruk and Tedeschi met while living in Durango, Colorado. A 24-hour car ride to El Potrero Chico, Mexico, with mutual friends solidified their friendship. After a week and a half of climbing on limestone in the desert, the origins of this expedition were born. Tedeschi was intrigued by Anaruk’s experience of commercial fishing in Alaska. Their conversations poured like concrete, solidifying when spoken. They would spend the upcoming summer fishing and then go on a climbing trip afterward. A unique pairing of sea and land.
“My goal throughout my life is to get to know different parts of Alaska, and [in] this season in my life, the mountains of Southeast Alaska are drawing me in. I intend to create a relationship with this part of Alaska that I admire deeply,” wrote Jessica Anaruk in her grant application.
A few summers ago, Anaruk was interning in southeast Alaska. She spent a lot of time on the water gazing at the surrounding mountains, dreaming of climbing on the tall peaks. Her passion for Alaska’s fierce oceans and grand mountains is a deep fire that runs through her.
“I think it’s fun to go to all these different places and to see the vast difference of the mountains ... and just to get to know it more and connect to the land,” said Anaruk.
They embarked on a training trip to the Black Canyon of the Gunnison in May of 2024. Since they would encounter unfamiliar terrain in Alaska, they chose The Scenic Cruise (1,700’, 13 pitches, 5.10d), a route that was longer and more challenging than the routes they planned to climb on the Mendenhall Towers.
After that, their summer at sea began, and there was no climbing in sight.
Photo by Jessica Anaruk.
Growing up in Akiachak and Anchorage, Alaska, as well as in Oregon, Jessica Anaruk was always on the water. Jessica is Yup’ik from the Akiachak community. Every summer, she and her family returned to their fish camp on a slough of the Kuskokwim River to subsistence fish for salmon, fishing for personal, family, and community consumption.
“Returning to commercial fish[ing] is a way I’m able to express this part of myself while also making an income. I learn something new about the land, the work itself, as well as myself every time I return,” said Anaruk.
In contrast, sometimes climbing feels like being alone at sea. “Being an Indigenous woman in climbing is definitely not something I see very often,” reflected Anaruk.
They fished almost every tide, twice a day. Bristol Bay is home to six major pristine water systems and 31 federally recognized tribes, including the Central Yup’ik, Alutiiq/ Sugpiaq, and Dena’ina. The bay is divided into five management districts; each opens and closes to fishing for periods of time. This allows salmon to lay eggs upriver, repopulat- ing and continuing to thrive so fishing remains sustainable. The district Tedeschi was fishing in would open for 12 hours and then close for another 12 hours, allowing more time to rest and relax.
In contrast, Anaruk’s captain and district allowed for more aggressive fishing. It wasn’t uncommon for Anaruk to work 16-hour days picking and setting the net. Despite the exhausting labor, the early-morning sunrises, the two-hour-long sunsets, and seeing bears roaming the beach keep Anaruk coming back.
“What sustains me is how it continually connects me to my culture, the land, salmon, and people,” said Anaruk.
Physically, commercial fishing doesn’t translate much into climbing beyond picking fish out of the net, which requires hand strength. But the mental aspect prepares you for long, arduous ascents on big walls. During unpredictable weather, the sky spits rain sideways, soaking the boat’s inhabitants while they scramble around picking and setting the net, adapting to any and all conditions.
“You are fishing for long periods of time, and it’s cold, and you’re tired, so I feel like that translates well, on the wall, [where] you’re also tired and cold but also trying to have a good attitude,” said Anaruk.
The long days of midnight sun on the ocean began to shorten, and on August 5, 2024, they walked into the helicopter outfitter. Fifteen minutes after loading the helicopter, they were on the Mendenhall Glacier.
“I think it’s the closest thing to teleportation that exists,” said Tedeschi.
Photo by Jessica Anaruk.
The helicopter dropped them off at the base of the fifth tower, and their first objective was the South Buttress (1,200’, 10 pitches, IV 5.10a) on the third tower, about a half mile to the west. This was Tedeschi’s first time on a glacier, and Anaruk had limited glacier travel experience. So the Extra Tough Salmon Sisters—their new nickname, inspired by the classic Alaskan boots with fish and octopuses printed on the inside—sat down and got to work on their own glacier travel school. Tedeschi strapped microspikes to his sneakers, the only other shoes he had, since he had come straight from Bristol Bay. Like many expeditions, the pair soon found themselves well aware of the depth of knowledge they didn’t possess. They quickly dove into filling the gap by watching YouTube videos on glacier travel and practicing mock rescue drills.
Along the way, they met Clay, Sam, and Brandon, another group of climbers on the glacier. They warned the Extra Tough Salmon Sisters that the bergschrund at the base of the South Buttress was a bit sketchy. They had just climbed the South Buttress and had broken some of the ice at the base, so conditions were questionable.
This didn’t faze them. The next day, to mitigate the risk, Tedeschi started off by climbing a 5.9 to the left of the main route, and connected it to the first pitch of the South Buttress. The two enjoyed a day of stellar climbing on granite in the Alaskan alpine.
The higher up the two climbed, the better the rock quality was. As expected in the Alaskan alpine, the lower pitches had a fair bit of loose, muddy rock. Not all pitches were 5.10; they ranged from 4th-class terrain to 5.10, so some pitches were more exciting than others. Anaruk loved pitch seven; it was exhilarating for her to be so high up on the tower on a challenging pitch. Tedeschi worked his way through a steep headwall with a splitter crack on one of the last pitches.
Photo by Jessica Anaruk.
“Those upper headwall pitches were absolutely bullet rock, really exposed and just really incredible climbing,” said Tedeschi.
There is no topo for the South Buttress, and the main beta for the route is a limited description on Mountain Project. They spent several hours searching for the 5th-class route to the summit, and once they had found it and summited, they began a very involved series of rappels. By the time they were back on the Mendenhall Glacier, the sun was setting, and they had been en route for 16 hours.
That night, they sat in their tent discussing whether they should do another route tomorrow, and deal with getting only five hours of sleep. They would have to start ahead of another group and be down in time to be picked up by their helicopter.
They heard the other group getting ready in the morning and kicked it into high gear. They packed up camp and hopped on the Solva Buttress (1000’, 10 pitches, IV 5.8). The first section proved scrambly, flowy, and more relaxed than the day before. Halfway through the climb, Tedeschi pulled out gummy worms. A smile spread across Anaruk’s face, despite being worn down and tired. It was the perfect surprise. The day was spent having good conversations, laughing, and moving through fun and easy terrain.
From the summit, the Extra Tough Salmon Sisters looked out at endless glaciers with granite peaks sticking out and the ocean not too far away. Once back on the glacier, they enjoyed Modelos and a charcuterie board while waiting for the helicopter. A deep sense of satisfaction settled in.
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Photos by Jessica Anaruk.
Alpine climbing is not something Anaruk’s family and community think about. This trip transcended climbing for Anaruk. It was a way to show her family and community that you can make anything happen. Challenging expeditions inspire Anaruk to keep pushing herself.
Anaruk would love to connect with other Indigenous women in the climbing space and usher in more representation within the climbing community. Even though she is not from southeast Alaska, she believes connecting to and protecting the land is extremely valuable, especially doing so through an Indigenous lens. She also believes that climbers should consider consulting the area’s Indigenous communities when making decisions that impact the land they are climbing on.
Tedeschi’s reflection was interwoven with Anaruk’s. Most of Tedeschi’s climbing partners look like him. Anaruk is a skilled, competent climbing partner who brings a different lived experience from Tedeschi.
“I found it to be a cool outlet to express myself too because I am queer, and it’s not something I talk about often within the climbing community. I’m straight passing, so it’s just not a conversation I ever have with my male climbing partners. It was cool to be on the glacier with Jess and just be ourselves,” said Tedeschi.
They brought nail polish and painted their nails on the glacier. It was simple, but they felt they could be unabashedly themselves. They met three women on the Mendenhall Glacier— Keisha, Kaitlin, and Bailey, who had each climbed there many times before—in addition to another women’s team.
“There were more women on the glacier than men that day, and it was cool changing what is considered the norm in these spaces,” said Tedeschi.
Two all-women teams, Tedeschi, a queer man, and Anaruk, an Indigenous woman, were the majority on the glacier, a space that historically hasn’t been full of people like them. For Anaruk and Tedeschi, it was deeply impactful for their expedition to be part of the change they want to see in the climbing community.
It was a trip about reveling: reveling in the endless days Tedeschi and Anaruk spent on Alaska’s ocean, and how those days cascaded into sunsets on top of rock towers and poured into long nights filled with dancing colors.
