Beyond the West Buttress: The Route Less Travelled

May 07, 2018 Posted by: Mark Westman

In early April of 1996, Joe Puryear and I set off from the Sheldon Amphitheater in the Ruth Glacier.  Our objective was the 1954 Thayer route on Denali’s South Buttress. We encountered some skiers on our first day, and after that we did not see another person until 28 days later, when, a day after having reached the summit, we crossed over Denali Pass and descended to the 17,200-foot high camp on the mountain’s popular West Buttress route. The climb was an exquisite adventure that also catalyzed a long and productive climbing partnership.  But the weeks of isolation and toil also helped us to master two of the most important lessons of Alaskan mountaineering and alpinism: survival and self-sufficiency in this harsh environment.  

Twenty-two years later, ours remains the most recent ascent of the South Buttress.

In 2013, on the 100 year anniversary of Denali’s first ascent, I led an NPS patrol of the Muldrow Glacier, the route used by Denali’s pioneers. We were a week ahead of the only two other groups that had registered for the route. On our first day, we began wading across the McKinley River and left behind a class of students and park education specialists that had accompanied us on the initial two mile hike from Wonder Lake. Our group did not see another human until 17 days later, when we again descended from Denali Pass into the crowded West Buttress high camp. Along the way, we saw 3 brown bears, multiple moose and caribou, a fox, and some lonely tracks of the elusive wolverine. We forded two rivers; broke trail through wet snow and rain crust; found our way through two major icefalls; protected sections of exposed ridges; and dug-in protected camps wherever we felt was best. Then, on a day where over 75 people crowded onto Denali’s south summit, we stood alone on the mountain’s north summit, gazing down the 14,000 vertical foot precipice of the Wickersham Wall. We walked to the mountain, climbed up and over it, and went down the other side; just a group of close friends and the gear we could carry. It was the quintessential Alaskan mountaineering experience.  These are but two examples of how isolation and solitude can be found on Denali, and on routes that present technical challenges that are comparable to the exceedingly crowded West Buttress.

While doing some research for a project last year, I found myself sifting through old cardboard boxes of archived climber registrations from the 1970’s and 1980’s. It was impossible not to notice the much wider variety of routes chosen by Denali climbers of the time, compared to today. For example, in 1987 alone, there were around a half dozen teams registered on each of Denali’s other prominent, moderate routes: the South Buttress, East Buttress, Northwest Buttress, and Muldrow Glacier.  A quick look at several other folders from the mid 1980’s revealed a similar distribution. Elsewhere, routes such as Mount Foraker’s Archangel, Southeast,  and Northwest Ridges, Mount Hunter’s Southwest Ridge, and even the remote unnamed peaks of the Ruth Glacier’s upper north fork were also seeing traffic. As with today, the majority of Denali climbers were registered for the West Buttress, but there was also a healthy representation of climbers attempting Denali’s other moderate routes. In general, these routes are longer and more logistically complicated than the West Buttress, with lengthy approaches, and in some cases, slightly greater technical difficulties. But none of them are technically difficult by modern standards, nor do any, with the exception of the East Buttress, have substantially greater objective hazards. They do, however, generally require more ingenuity, planning, patience, and determination, as well as a solid commitment to self-sufficiency, and, like any route, a willingness to fail and try again later. 

The 1980’s were an interesting era for climbing in the Alaska Range. While moderate mountaineering was thriving, many of the range’s hardest routes were also established during this decade, including the Slovak Direct, Denali Diamond, and Isis Face on Denali, the east face of the Mooses Tooth, and the North Buttress of Mount Hunter. In addition, the testpieces of the 1970’s were seeing repeat ascents in alpine style, completing the transformation of the climbers’ consciousness from the slow, methodical, expedition style with its use of fixed ropes and stocked advance camps, to the lighter and faster- but somewhat riskier - alpine style.

The 1990’s and 2000’s ushered in further refinements to alpine style, making difficult routes that formerly took 5 to 10 days to climb, climbable in 1 to 3 days. This lessened potential exposure to the frequent storms of the region, even as it trimmed the margin for error in tackling long and committing routes with very little food and gear. This evolution also occurred as the emphasis and interest of the climbing and mountaineering community at large increasingly gravitated towards pure technical difficulty. The apparent result, combined with what seems to be an increasing emphasis on reaching the summit as quickly and easily as possible, was that the classic mountaineering routes of Denali - with the notable exception of the West Buttress - have been largely forgotten and abandoned. The last known attempt on the East Buttress was in 1994. Neither the South Buttress nor East Buttress have had a party register for an attempt since the 1990’s. The Northwest Buttress has seen a mere handful of ascents in the past 20 years. It’s also worth noting that the South Buttress and Northwest Buttress had a number of guided ascents back in the 1980’s and 1990’s.

In addition, corniced ridges - once a focus of the high end alpinists of another era - have also been avoided by modern climbers, relegating notoriously difficult but classically beautiful lines such as the South Ridge and Southeast Spur routes on Mount Hunter, the Ridge of No Return on Denali, and the French Ridge of Foraker, to forgotten testpieces.  Unlike with ice and mixed climbing, rising technical standards have not made corniced ridges safer or easier. There is a nuanced combination of determination, commitment, patience, and tolerance for objective risk that is required for safely navigating such terrain. It is not for everyone, but it also seems that it is appealing to a smaller proportion of modern climbers.

Today, the overwhelming majority of Denali’s annual average of 1,200 registered climbers will be found on the West Buttress, with a small number of them additionally planning on attempting the Cassin Ridge or the Upper West Rib. In recent years, the Slovak Direct and Denali Diamond, two of Denali’s most extreme routes, have received renewed interest after going nearly 20 years without any repeat ascents. A handful of hopefuls may venture onto these difficult routes each year, but the chances of seeing another party on any other route on the mountain are near non-existent.  

Why has this happened? In the past 30 years, there has been a dramatic increase in the overall number of people who climb. Route information has never been easier to access. Mountaineering - defined here as basic glacier travel, moderate to steep snow, and easy-angled ice slopes with little to no technical difficulty - is every bit as popular worldwide as it was long ago.  Climber visitation has certainly increased on the more technical and lesser known peaks surrounding Denali. And yet, the range of moderate mountaineering on Denali has narrowed almost exclusively to the West Buttress. For better or for worse, this has had the additional effect of concentrating the bulk of environmental impacts along one specific route.

By early June in most seasons, there may be as many as 400 climbers occupying the 14,200 foot camp. At any given time between mid-May and early July, there are two to three ranger patrols on the route, along with a heavily wanded and (usually) packed trail, pre-constructed camp sites, fixed pickets along the ridge and the ascent to Denali Pass, and even 800 feet of maintained fixed ropes to protect the only technical climbing on the route. There are entire guide books devoted specifically to the West Buttress. Route-finding and trail-breaking are seldom required unless climbing in early season, or otherwise by the most motivated climbers immediately after a storm. “Group think”, especially at the higher camps at 14,200 feet and 17,200 feet, is common, with many climbers - too many, one may argue- gauging their decisions to go higher by the actions of others.

Most West Buttress climbers take away largely positive experiences, and rightly so. It is a beautiful route, and even the crowds can become a uniquely enhancing feature of the experience. Every season, the camps are filled with an international cadre of personalities and characters, each with their own styles, yet striving for similar goals. There are inarguably many conveniences in choosing this route. So much so, that one occasionally may encounter private climbing teams composed of individuals who literally just met in Talkeetna. Yet it could also be argued that the issue of convenience is relative, depending upon what one is ultimately seeking from their expedition.

Individual motives for climbing are varied, and the intent of this discussion is to help climbers choose an appropriate setting for their desired brand of adventure. In this spirit, I offer my own perspective as just one point of data to consider. I did not venture onto the West Buttress until my seventh season in the Alaska Range. By this time, I had moved on from basic mountaineering to more technical challenges, and like some, I was using the West Buttress to acclimatize for a more difficult route I intended to do. The Buttress is undeniably a dynamic social setting and an extremely scenic route, and of course it has all the same subarctic climate challenges as anywhere else on the mountain. It has proven a challenging ascent and a grand, lifetime achievement for generations of climbers. Yet, with these observations in mind, this season I look back on 25 years of climbing in the Alaska Range, and I am appreciative of having first learned the art of Alaskan mountaineering on the quieter glaciers and more remote satellite ridges of the Great One. I am certain that I learned much more from this course, even if it may have involved an increased level of risk and a lesser chance of reaching the summit. Indeed, it took three years of attempts until I did finally stand on top of Denali, and for me personally, the achievement was that much more rewarding when it was finally realized.

I have met many climbers through the years who chose the West Buttress as their first Alaskan route. Many already had the skills to attempt more difficult or more isolated routes, but chose the West Buttress out of the perception of convenience, or were simply unaware that there were other options that were well within their abilities. In retrospect, their views of this choice are occasionally mixed. I have heard it said: “If I had it to do over again, I might choose a different route or perhaps a different mountain”. Indeed, route selection should begin by clearly defining the character and flavor of the adventure sought by the team. 

Therefore, teams of climbers who seek an all-encompassing representation of the ‘typical’ Alaskan mountaineering experience should understand that the West Buttress, for all of its qualities, is an outlier that might actually fall short of the team’s objectives. In fact, in high season, I would personally characterize the west buttress as a most atypical Alaskan mountaineering experience. In this regard, it is my view that self-reliant teams with well-practiced mountaineering skills and a resourceful, pragmatic attitude should consider deviating from the path of least resistance, and rediscover the lost classics of the Alaska Range. In doing so, climbers can more thoroughly tap into their creative and exploratory impulses, with the additional benefit of redistributing their impacts away from the heavily used West Buttress.

Regardless of one’s experience level and regardless of the route chosen, every climber should also consider that there is nothing inherently safer about the West Buttress, despite the presence of fixed protection, infrastructure and large crowds, which collectively have the potential to foster complacency and a false sense of security. It should go without saying that any route is only as safe as the skills, judgment and self-reliance of the team.

No matter which path one ultimately chooses, I encourage anyone coming to Denali National Park to look between the lines and find the treasures that the guidebooks tell you little or nothing about. There are near infinite possibilities here. As you retrace the steps of explorers past, each bend in the glacier and each mysterious undulation of the ridge ahead invoke heightened attention and a sensation that no one has ever been here before. In this increasingly developed world, the Alaska Range endures in resistance, harboring innumerable corners of stillness, little noticed by man and forgotten by time.

Finding those wildest of places is entirely up to you.

All Alone on the South Buttress of Denali at 13,500 feetAll alone on the South Buttress of Denali at 13,500 feet (Photo courtesy of Mark Westman)

Looking down onto the Traleika Spur and Mount SilverthroneLooking down onto the Traleika Spur and Mount Silverthrone from 16,000 feet on Denali's South Buttress  (Photo courtesy of Mark Westman)

A fortified camp at 12,200 feet on Karstens RidgeA fortified camp at 12,200' on Karstens Ridge, Denali's Muldrow Glacier Route  (Photo courtesy of Mark Westman)

Climbers on Karstens Ridge looking out towards of the tundra north of DenaliClimbers on Karstens Ridge, Muldrow Glacier Route, looking out towards the tundra north of Denali (NPS Photo - Mark Westman)

Finding a way through the Great Icefall on the Muldrow Glacier at 2 AM.Finding a way through the Great Icefall on the Muldrow Glacier at 2 AM.  (NPS Photo - Mark Westman)


15 Comments Comments icon

  1. (nobody else)
    January 03, 2019 at 07:41

    I really love your site.. Excellent colors & theme. Did you make this website yourself? Please reply back as I'm looking to create my own blog and would love to find out where you got this from or exactly what the theme is called. Many thanks!

  2. Jed
    November 18, 2018 at 09:26

    Just got around to reading this. Terrific perspective. A team of six of us did the first ascent of the East Buttress in 1963. Tools and gear a bit different then. Forty five days. No radios, and needless to say, no cell phones. One of the best expeditions for me. In 1985, I returned to Denali with a friend from Champlain-Bishops College (Sherbrooke, PQ) to climb the West Buttress. (Successful) On about day three, we encountered about 80 climbers of varying capabilities. Shocking! But then, not too long after, there were about 1,200 attempts per year on this route, and as you say, very few on other routes. Jed Williamson, retired from many things, including as Editor of Accidents in NA Mountaineering.

  3. 1
    November 16, 2018 at 05:28


  4. 1
    November 16, 2018 at 05:12


  5. Mark
    November 12, 2018 at 11:37

    Answering to Gary, but also to anyone interested: The lower elevation glaciers have certainly changed over the years due to both climate change as well as normal glacial dynamics. But I haven't seen any evidence yet that accessing any of the routes that I mention here would be very much more difficult, at least, not consistently. I climbed the Muldrow Glacier in 1994, and again in 2013- the glacier was pretty much the same in both cases, although getting onto the Muldrow at McGonagall Pass was definitely more of a pain, as the glacier had dropped and there was much more climbing down from the pass and over moraines. The icefalls were basically unchanged. The south buttress as approached from the Sheldon Amphitheater (by way of the West Fork of the Ruth) involves two cruxy sections in the lower glacier. I attempted the route in 1995 and reached the top of Lotsa Face, and then went back and completed the route in 1996. The two sections are a very crevassed step in the main glacier around 8,500' where the glacier bends around the toe of the "Ridge of No Return". Both years, particularly 1996, there were enormous slots that nearly spanned the whole glacier, and required some exploring to get through. I skied up to this area in 2013 while on a patrol, and noted that it looked very similar. The other crux was the headwall at the end of the west fork, which climbs 2,200 feet to the pass separating the west fork of the Ruth from the East Fork of the Kahiltna. Both years, the climbing was straightforward but there were some crevasses to negotiate and a bit of risk from icefall hazard overhead. When I observed this headwall from Mount Huntington in 2009 (and numerous other times from the air over the years), the headwall appeared very similar, although there were a few years where it was quite broken. Conditions seem to change year to year, sometimes it's pretty broken, other times it appeared not so bad. So the short answer is, there's definitely changes happening, but I don't believe that they have increased the difficulty in a permanent manner. The one thing that has definitely become a consideration in the time that I've been around here is that the season for climbing in the lower altitudes has generally been pushed back by a few weeks- for example, the ice routes in the Ruth Gorge area used to be fairly reliable well into May. Most years now, May is just getting too warm for safe conditions. To quote an old saying: If you don't'll never know.

  6. John Spengler
    November 01, 2018 at 09:55

    Mark, Thanks so much for your wonderful perspective; it brought back excellent memories! In May/June of ‘92, I attempted the West Buttress with a friend. We were fresh and green from Colorado. The sheer immensity of the place was breathtaking, and sobering. We didn’t summit. I returned in ‘93 with another friend. We opted for the West Rib. Once we started up the NE fork of the Kahiltna, I knew we were in a different world; no other people, no other tracks. Three Japanese climbers attempting the Cassin, and three Germans below us, were the only folks we encountered until the upper Rib. It was a magical climb, it is a magical place. I always wanted to return... Perhaps I will...

  7. John Spengler
    November 01, 2018 at 09:55

    Mark, Thanks so much for your wonderful perspective; it brought back excellent memories! In May/June of ‘92, I attempted the West Buttress with a friend. We were fresh and green from Colorado. The sheer immensity of the place was breathtaking, and sobering. We didn’t summit. I returned in ‘93 with another friend. We opted for the West Rib. Once we started up the NE fork of the Kahiltna, I knew we were in a different world; no other people, no other tracks. Three Japanese climbers attempting the Cassin, and three Germans below us, were the only folks we encountered until the upper Rib. It was a magical climb, it is a magical place. I always wanted to return... Perhaps I will...

  8. Gary Kofinas
    October 27, 2018 at 01:11

    22 years since the South Butt has been climbed? Really? I, too, am shocked. My three comrades and I made it up the S. Butt to just short of Thayer Col in 1986 via the Sheldon. We only say three other people the whole way. After our traverse of the ridge (felt v long!), we realized that we were low on petro and a long-lasting storm would leave us without the ability to make water. So we turned around as a huge storm approached; making for a grand adventure rapping Lotsa Face in whiteout & high winds! Yes to self-sufficiency! That said, I would not trade my month up there for anything. that wild setting for anything. Mark, Do we know the extent to which there been changes in lower glaciated areas because of a changing climate? Might the "approaches " to the upper mountain be more difficult on wilderness routes with many more cracks? Thank you for an interesting story and photos that bring back memories. gk

  9. Jon Waterman
    October 26, 2018 at 03:02

    After a 23 year hiatus from the Alaska Range, I was shocked (in 2016) to see and learn of the lack of "adventure" climbing on Denali and the surrounding peaks. Thank you for getting the word out Mark. Is this the decline of western mountaineering?

  10. Daryl miller
    June 20, 2018 at 11:39

    Mark, That is a great article and also it has lots of credibility in the words spoken coming from you! Also, the “Group think” is right on and was used even in the 80's. You should write more as you have a great talent for defining what it feels like to be in the range! Cheers, Daryl

  11. john B
    May 24, 2018 at 08:26

    Thanks Mark. As someone who has only idly considered an Alaska trip it's cool to see what else is out there. Thanks, I hope you're doing well.

  12. Matt
    May 16, 2018 at 05:14

    Beautifully written, thanks for sharing.

  13. Jay Kerr
    May 16, 2018 at 03:15

    Nice analysis, Mark. And I could not agree more. I didn't climb Denali (via the West Buttress) until my 6th trip into he range, and then only because it was too freakin' cold to attempt the North Buttress of Mt. Hunter. We've skied into and out of the Range from the East via the Buckskin Glacier, the North via the Muldrow and Traleika, and the South via the Kanakula. The most remote place I've ever been was the headwall at the end of the Traleika, reached after 9 days of skiing with a two-person team. Once in the Range and ready to climb something, our approaches were themselves great adventures. We climbed the South and East Ridges and the West Face of Mt. Huntington from camps on the West Fork of the Ruth, climbing over the Huntington/Rooster Comb col or the French Icefall. We crossed the South Buttress of Denali on our way from the Ruth to the Kahiltna. We faced down angry gold miners while hiking out through the Peters Hills. Exploring these remote areas and routes on foot is the best way to truly understand the vastness of the Alaska Range. Recently I've been trying to interest young alpinists in a sailboat supported tidewater approach to Mt. Waddington, and have found no takers. Many of today's climbers are focused on smash-and-grab lightning ascents, and don't see the value in long hard approaches to the peaks. I'm glad we got our licks in back in the 70s and 80s. It is a time of my life that I will take with me to my end of days.

  14. Bob
    May 15, 2018 at 11:47

    Flying over to the Dall Glacier earlier in April was incredible. There is still so much unexplored objectives and first ascents to be had. Made me feel Alaska Range was untapped. Of course Denali is the great one, but there are many hidden gems, unexplored glaciers, ski lines and smaller unnamed, unclimb peaks out there. Good perspective Mark!

  15. ED
    May 07, 2018 at 09:17


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