Dana Gleason and Luke Buckingham at the Official Ribbon and Tie Cutting Ceremony!

Moving into a brand new building this January was quite the event!  We captured the three day process through the camera lens… it only took 10,369 photos stitched together to make this video!

The entries have been received, the chads dimpled, ties settled with sewing machines at 20 paces and recounts recounted. We are proud to announce and showcase the winners of the 2011 Mystery Ranch photo and video contest. Congratulations to grand prize winners Ryan Krueger, Matthew Irving and KGB Productions and thanks to everyone who entered your unbelievably awesome photos and videos.

Click here to view the embedded video.

Click here to view the embedded video.

Click here to view the embedded video.

Our expedition went very smoothly for the first ten days and we rode the good weather into our camp at 14,000 feet to take a well-deserved break. The main challenge for our team was communication. My seven clients were all from Japan and did not speak much if any English. To complicate things, I did not speak any Japanese nor have I ever been to Japan. For the guides this made for some frustrating situations since we could not communicate easily with our clients. We overcame this obstacle using a mixture of communication methods such as drawings, diagrams, and charades. Communication was a slow process and we came to expect that not everyone in the group would understand us and that we would have to explain ourselves all over again, often in rather stressful situations. For example when we traveled on the glaciers, our clients had the habit of unclipping from the rope to wander away in search of a bathroom! Despite the un-roped glacier travel, we all arrived at the our cozy camp at the base of the Mezner Couloir at 14,000 feet and were ready to continue up to high camp after our rest day.

On the day we planned to move to high camp at 17,000 feet there were clouds blowing around the summit and it seemed the weather was changing for the worse. When you see those weather indicators on your move day it is worth reconsidering the move. The team could wait out the bad weather in the protection of 14 camp rather than the exposed location of high camp. But we had something else to consider. Another team working with the same guide service was moving down today and wanted to swap camps with us if we were moving up. In a camp swap, two team can trade tents, stoves, fuel, food, and various other items by leaving the camp set up and one team moving up and the other down and into each other’s camps. The benefit of not having to move the weight of camp up to high camp was very appealing and the chance would not come again if we waited for the weather to improve. After deliberating for several hours and talking with the team at high camp via radio we decided to go for it. We packed our things and headed up. We climbed into the weather as we headed for our high camp. The wind picked up and it began to snow, making progress slow. We spent 9 hours climbing to high camp. We were glad to move into the tents left for us by the other team. We spent another 6 hours helping everyone move into camp, make water and eventually dinner. All the while the weather was settling in and the snow was coming down with out a break, but we were safely moved into our camp and I could rest.

The next morning I awoke at 7am. The walls of the tent were covered with frost and it was too cold and miserable to get out of the sleeping bag. Every time I moved I would inadvertently shake the walls of the tent and be showered with bits of frost. With considerable effort, I poked my head out of the tent and took a look around. I was greeted to an arctic snowstorm! It was plain to see that a weather system had moved onto the mountain and settled in to stay. With the other teams we anxiously made radio calls to get a weather forecast. By the afternoon it was clear the storm would get worse in the next 48 hours and then begin to clear. We couldn’t help but feel trapped. After inventorying our food and fuel supplies I decided we could stay for five nights or six days. We would be able to summit on the fifth day and then descend back to camp 14 on the sixth. There would be more food and fuel at the 14 camp buried in our cache to support us during our escape from the mountain. That was the best we could hope for.

For the next couple of days we went about reinforcing our camp to keep us safe from the storm. We built a second layer of snow blocks around the already existing snow walls that surrounded our tents. We used saws and shovels to cut and remove the blocks from the ground and then stacked them one on top of the other. Inside the walls the wind was blocked and things felt relatively comfortable, but the snow managed to find its way in and began to fill in the spaces around the tents. Every morning we would wake, after spending the previous day holed up in our tents, to the same overcast skies, blowing wind and snow for four days. But on the evening of the fourth day it was evident that storm was taking a turn for the better! It was hard not to get excited at the possibility of a summit day, but we had been let down every morning since our arrival at high camp. We prepared anyway. Packing our lunches and organizing the gear we would need, and topping off water bottles in order to be ready in case the weather did brake for us. Every one was in their sleeping bags and the sun was still shinning on high camp at 10pm. Illuminating the yellow walls of our tents and giving us the last bit of warmth before the cold of 17,000 feet settled in for the night. It was at this moment, lying in my sleeping bag and staring at the brightly back-lit walls of the tent, that I acutely felt all the preparation and work that had gone into putting us in a position to make a summit attempt. I thought back to the hot tarmac in Talkeetna and all our gear and provisions organized on the runway waiting to be loaded into planes for the flight onto the glacier. I thought about how many times we had packed and repacked and organized the food during this expedition. I thought of the heavy loads and the holes we dug for our caches. I thought of all the snow we melted into water to keep us hydrated and all the meals we had made to keep us moving up the mountain. And how many times we had set up and taken down camp and packed and unpacked our backpacks. All this work and effort we had made over the course of the past two and a half weeks and now a mere ten hours was all that was left before we would be on our way to the summit! The satisfaction of having accomplished this moment was thrilling and I could not imagine how I would sleep through the night.

Of course I did sleep that night and the morning came with clear skies and a summit push. Lots of hard physical work and the mental toughness to be patient when it counts is what it takes to climb a big mountain like Denali. Damn, it feels good!

I am lying in the tent at high camp on Denali and staring at the bright yellow nylon walls and although it looks sunny outside and feels warm in the tent, I know outside the storm is still going strong. I know, because for the past four days I have fallen for the trick countless times, sticking my head out of the tent only to find a grey sky and blowing snow. The barometer too has been holding steady and giving no encouragement of a change in the weather. We have two more days of food after today which means tomorrow is our last chance at a summit.

Our expedition went very smoothly for the first ten days and we rode the good weather into our camp at 14,000 feet to take a well-deserved break. The main challenge for our team was communication. My seven clients were all from Japan and did not speak much if any English. To complicate things, I did not speak any Japanese nor have I ever been to Japan. For the guides this made for some frustrating situations since we could not communicate easily with our clients. We overcame this obstacle using a mixture of communication methods such as drawings, diagrams, and charades. Communication was a slow process and we came to expect that not everyone in the group would understand us and that we would have to explain ourselves all over again, often in rather stressful situations. For example when we traveled on the glaciers, our clients had the habit of unclipping from the rope to wander away in search of a bathroom! Despite the un-roped glacier travel, we all arrived at the our cozy camp at the base of the Messner Couloir at 14,000 feet and were ready to continue up to high camp after our rest day.

On the day we planned to move to high camp at 17,000 feet there were clouds blowing around the summit and it seemed the weather was changing for the worse. When you see those weather indicators on your move day it is worth reconsidering the move. The team could wait out the bad weather in the protection of 14 camp rather than the exposed location of high camp. But we had something else to consider. Another team working with the same guide service was moving down today and wanted to swap camps with us if we were moving up. In a camp swap, two team can trade tents, stoves, fuel, food, and various other items by leaving the camp set up and one team moving up and the other down and into each other’s camps. The benefit of not having to move the weight of camp up to high camp was very appealing and the chance would not come again if we waited for the weather to improve. After deliberating for several hours and talking with the team at high camp via radio we decided to go for it. We packed our things and headed up. We climbed into the weather as we headed for our high camp. The wind picked up and it began to snow, making progress slow. We spent 9 hours climbing to high camp. We were glad to move into the tents left for us by the other team. We spent another 6 hours helping everyone move into camp, make water and eventually dinner. All the while the weather was settling in and the snow was coming down with out a break, but we were safely moved into our camp and I could rest.

The next morning I awoke at 7am. The walls of the tent were covered with frost and it was too cold and miserable to get out of the sleeping bag. Every time I moved I would inadvertently shake the walls of the tent and be showered with bits of frost. With considerable effort, I poked my head out of the tent and took a look around. I was greeted to an arctic snowstorm! It was plain to see that a weather system had moved onto the mountain and settled in to stay. With the other teams we anxiously made radio calls to get a weather forecast. By the afternoon it was clear the storm would get worse in the next 48 hours and then begin to clear. We couldn’t help but feel trapped. After inventorying our food and fuel supplies I decided we could stay for five nights or six days. We would be able to summit on the fifth day and then descend back to camp 14 on the sixth. There would be more food and fuel at the 14 camp buried in our cache to support us during our escape from the mountain. That was the best we could hope for.

For the next couple of days we went about reinforcing our camp to keep us safe from the storm. We built a second layer of snow blocks around the already existing snow walls that surrounded our tents. We used saws and shovels to cut and remove the blocks from the ground and then stacked them one on top of the other. Inside the walls the wind was blocked and things felt relatively comfortable, but the snow managed to find its way in and began to fill in the spaces around the tents. Every morning we would wake, after spending the previous day holed up in our tents, to the same overcast skies, blowing wind and snow for four days. But on the evening of the fourth day it was evident that storm was taking a turn for the better! It was hard not to get excited at the possibility of a summit day, but we had been let down every morning since our arrival at high camp. We prepared anyway. Packing our lunches and organizing the gear we would need, and topping off water bottles in order to be ready in case the weather did brake for us. Every one was in their sleeping bags and the sun was still shinning on high camp at 10pm. Illuminating the yellow walls of our tents and giving us the last bit of warmth before the cold of 17,000 feet settled in for the night. It was at this moment, lying in my sleeping bag and staring at the brightly back-lit walls of the tent, that I acutely felt all the preparation and work that had gone into putting us in a position to make a summit attempt. I thought back to the hot tarmac in Talkeetna and all our gear and provisions organized on the runway waiting to be loaded into planes for the flight onto the glacier. I thought about how many times we had packed and repacked and organized the food during this expedition. I thought of the heavy loads and the holes we dug for our caches. I thought of all the snow we melted into water to keep us hydrated and all the meals we had made to keep us moving up the mountain. And how many times we had set up and taken down camp and packed and unpacked our backpacks. All this work and effort we had made over the course of the past two and a half weeks and now a mere ten hours was all that was left before we would be on our way to the summit! The satisfaction of having accomplished this moment was thrilling and I could not imagine how I would sleep through the night.

Of course I did sleep that night and the morning came with clear skies and a summit push. Lots of hard physical work and the mental toughness to be patient when it counts is what it takes to climb a big mountain like Denali. Damn, it feels good!

Andrew Crow, Ray Baker, and Mark Seacat doing their best to keep the scale in perspective. Kahiltna Glacier, Alaska. Photo by Kyle Christenson

5/21 Day three 7800 feet

We slept as long as we could. At least until the intense sub-arctic sun drove us out of the Dutch Ovens we refer to as tents. The rest of the day was spent lounging around camp in our underwear eating cheesy meaty grits, drinking too much Dead Man’s Reach and watching the guided groups slog by in the wet snow and severe heat.

Cheesy Meaty Grits for Everyone! Photo by Matt Steen

Sun's just going down and we're just getting started. Photo by Matt Steen

While on the lower mountain, nighttime travel is the only way to go – the snow is harder, the air is cooler, and the gumbies are all tucked away in their sleeping bags. It took me a week to get over what a freaking highway the lower mountain is! There is a steady stream of overloaded and overdressed climbers from every corner of the world wandering by our camp all day long. If you are a people-watcher like me, that place is heaven!

It was particularly cool how many Mystery Ranch G-packs we saw. Every person with a Mystery Ranch pack got a big shout out from our camp. You could see them coming a mile away because they were the only ones with smiles on their faces. I surely wouldn’t want to be hauling loads like those with a Lafuma pack on my back!

Finally, the sun began to dip behind the mountains providing some relief from the scorching heat of reflected sun rays. As the heat was dissipating, we packed up our G 7000’s and sleds and prepared to take a cache to 11k. Each time we climbed to a new part of the mountain, the scenery got better and better. At the top of Ski Hill we had amazing views of the Kahiltna as it snaked towards the southern horizon.

A gorgeous night for a ski tour. Photo by Mark Seacat

The teams approaching 11,000 feet. Photo by Matt Steen

Once our cache was marked and buried, we decided that the best way down was to unrope and ski. The next hour will stick out in my mind forever. We descended 3000 feet of 25 to 30 degree slopes making slow, arching turns on the west flank of Denali with Foraker illuminated against the horizon in front of us. Wanting to enjoy the scenery, I took it slow, stopping multiple times to bask in the breathtaking views. The youngster of our group, Kyle Christenson “figure 11-ed” his way to 7800 camp in about 15 minutes. It took me about 45.

As I slid into camp, it was easy to recognize the tension and commotion coming from the “kitchen.” Evidently there was a bit of a mix up with the duffels and ALL of our food had been hauled up to 11 camp. I could feel the steady stare of blame as it had been I who had divvied up the gear. This was not a good position to be in: five cold and hungry dudes all waiting for you to pull dinner out of your ass. I knew I had better come up with something quick. I nervously began rummaging through all the bags in camp praying that there was something edible. After a few tense minutes I managed to gather up some potato flakes, Asian noodles and oatmeal. I even found Dead Man’s! Oh, sweet vindication. We crashed out after a not so satisfying meal, made somewhat tolerable by the fact that we dipped into the Lagavulin. As the bottle was passed around, I remember thinking that we should have brought a case of the stuff.

Ray Baker about to learn that passing the Lagavulin trumps any and all stories! Photo by Mark Seacat

Andrew Crow and Ted Reckas preparing an early morning dinner. Photo by Mark Seacat

Sleep was quick, but I couldn’t help thinking to myself as I began to doze off how screwed we’d be if a storm came in. We had to move up to 11k the next day considering all our food is there. My last thoughts were desperate wishes that it didn’t snow overnight…

5/25 11,000 feet

Ray Baker and Andrew Crow fight heavy winds in camp at 11,000 feet. Photo by Mark Seacat

Another Day in Tropical Paradise.... Ray Baker at 11,000 Camp. Photo by Kyle Christenson

Matt Steen's fired up! Definitely not the best day to be out of camp. Photo by Ted Reckas

Super strong and super light... the Hilleburg Jannu standing up to the storm. Photo by Kyle Christenson

After hauling the rest of our gear to 11k camp, a storm moved in pinning us down for a couple of days. We ventured outside only to dig the kitchen and tents out from under the accumulating snow. Mark and I managed to watch an entire season of Californication on a two-inch ipod screen. Being snuggled up next to a dude definitely elicited some envy for Duchovny’s predicaments! Days like those made us acutely grateful that we had the best in solar charging ability Brunton makes. Two fully charged Solo 15′s kept all four ipods going for two days. Yeah for music and movies! That evening we decided to pack for the next day hoping the weather would break overnight.

The second attempt... Mark Seacat and Andrew Crow headed up Motorcycle Hill. Photo by Ted Reckas

Tools not Toys! Photo by Mark Seacat

K.C. and the 30 Somethings!!! Photo by Matt Steen

Watch your step! Photo by Ted Reckas

Day three at 11k proved to be clear, but windy. Damn windy. This was a disappointment as we were all getting anxious to get to 14K camp. There were many reasons for this, but the most pressing was to set up the Atlas base camp tents we got from Hilleberg. We had been hauling these puppies up the mountain for a week and had yet to use them. Having seen these set up in our backyard in Bozeman, we knew how posh they would be. Up to then we had been using the lightweight Hilleberg Jannu tents for the ease of setup and tear down. They are great little tents, ideal for being on the move. But living in these compact two-man tents for weeks on end would be tough. The Atlases uped the comfort level significantly, it was like moving from the RV to a Marriot. There is no better base camp tent. Even our Brunton Solaris solar panels attached perfectly to the joiner between the tents! This was as good as it gets.

Solar Space Station!!! Photo by Matt Steen

Breaking trail heading for fourteen camp. Photo by Andrew Crow

We broke trail up Motorcycle Hill through 2 feet of fresh snow. As we crested the top of the rise we were immediately hit with 50+ mph winds and the ground turned to scoured hardpack. We switched from skis to crampons and continued towards Squirrel Hill. It was slow and difficult going. We were each hauling 100-pound loads between the packs and sleds while getting tossed around by 50 to 60 mph wind gusts. As we continued along, climbers and guides began trickling down the slope. The gusts were gaining force as we continued, and soon they were strong enough to knock you to your knees. This ridge is not knife-edge, but one would not want to go for a slide. We decided to cache our load right there on the hillside after we had to dodge a second climber who had slipped and skidded down the icy slope towards us. We returned to camp hoping the wind and crowds would die down by the evening.

Andrew Crow, Mark Seacat, and Ray Baker make their way towards Fourteen Camp. Photo by Kyle Christenson

5/27 14,000 feet

Due to heavy loads and strong winds, we were now on our third (yes third) carry to 14000 feet. If this isn’t thorough acclimatization I don’t know what is! We left 11K around 8 pm when the winds died down and arrived at 14K camp around 12am. Most of us were still feeling good at this point so we decide to go ahead and start building the platform for the Atlas tents. These tents are huge, each with an area of over 18 square meters (vestibule included). It took us almost 8 hours to shovel out a large, flat platform and cut blocks for the wall. Some good Alaskan weather (below zero temps and blowing snow) motivated us to stay on task and get moved in.

14,000 Camp Excavation Crew.... only 7 hours and 45 minutes to go! Photo by Matt Steen

Got Cold? Andrew Crow looking a little chilled. Photo by Mark Seacat

Once we shoveled out the platform and had the walls up, it took less than 20 minutes to set up both tents. Hilleberg suggested we bring two, one with the removable floor and one with the standard bathtub-style inner tent. This worked fabulously. We had the most posh and comfortable camp at 14K. I think even the park service employees with their “permanent” camp were a little envious! These two big green domes were pretty conspicuous, bringing daily visitors – most of whom just wanted to catch a glimpse of what they looked like inside.

The Hilleberg Atlas Tents having no problems at all in 50 mph winds. No wonder we called this Camp Comfort. Photo by Mark Seacat

It must have been an interesting event for those already living at 14 camp. We arrived like aliens from another planet: stealthily, in the night, erecting a massive platform with walls and huge dome tents while all other inhabitants slumbered in their cocoons. They woke to a spectacle on the edge of camp that looked not unlike massive, green-bikini-clad breasts rising out of the snow.

With six hungry guys to feed, we needed a kitchen this big! Photo by Mark Seacat

"Where'd my sleeping bag go?" Matt Steen surveys the down-filled sleeping area. Photo by Mark Seacat

When connected, these tents set up as a tunnel with the rear vestibule of one connected to the front of the other. The front tent was the “floorless” one. This allowed us to excavate a sweet little kitchen and bench area with plenty of room to store all our food, fuel and gear. The rear tent, with its bathtub-style floor, was ideal for the sleeping area. Since these are eight man tents it was really roomy for the six of us. I could not imagine spending three weeks in anything else. With this setup you can do everything without leaving your tent. You can stand up to get dressed, gear up or to just walk around and stretch your legs during storm days. You can enter the floorless tent without taking off your boots and crampons and sit down to remove them under the cover of a roomy shelter. They made life on the glacier as easy as it could be. The level of comfort and ease of cooking, eating and sleeping in these tents played a huge role is being able to stay healthy and strong for the entire trip.

It definitely never hurts to have a southern boy as the camp cook! Andrew Crow prepares another meal from scratch. Photo by Mark Seacat

Not quite "Morning Fresh"... in fact they didn't help at all! Photo by Mark Seacat

6/1 17,000 feet

Kyle Christenson takes in the view from 17,000 Camp. Photo by Matt Steen

Woke up at 17K camp after a cold and restless night. We’d been using the marginal weather over the last four days to acclimatize to the higher elevations and test out the gear we were planning to use on route. We had set up a camp there with the small Hilleberg Jannu tents so we can go back and forth between 14k and 17k easily. Mark and I were planning to use our Valandre Mirage down sleeping bags for the Cassin, but we wanted to do some thorough testing before we took off with these ultralight down bags. They weigh in at scant 1 lb. 8 oz. and are rated to 23 degrees (F). After almost a week on the mountain we were beginning to think we might be pushing the limits of sanity using such lightweight bags. However, our test runs proved them to be tolerable even down to minus 25 degrees as long as we were wearing all our layers. A key component of this system was amazing insulation of the Pacific Outdoor Aero Mountain 2/3-length sleeping pads. They are compact, lightweight (18oz) and use a material they call Aerogel to provide unparalleled insulation. Greatly motivated by how compact and light both items are, we decided that they would be enough to keep us alive (hopefully) and the matter was settled. Ready to get back to the “Castle” at 14K, we packed up quickly, slamed a couple of Gu’s for breakfast and took off down towards the fixed lines and comfort camp.

Ted Reckas descends the West Buttress between 17,000 Camp and the fixed lines. Photo by Kyle Christenson

Andrew Crow descends the fixed lines above 14,000 Camp. Photo by Matt Steen

Stay Tuned for AKO8 Mystery Ranch on Denali Part II

Mark Seacat on the Cassin's Cowboy Arete. Photo by Andrew Crow

My sleeping bag looks more like a frozen loaf of bread this morning and less like the slightly lofted down sack I had once considered satisfactory for this adventure…. The word synthetic comes to mind. I definitely didn’t get the best sleep last night, and the spindrift has built up outside to somewhere around 18” and counting. Condensation from last night’s breathing has grown to extraordinary levels on the walls, and to be honest, each time someone bumps the tent, it’s hard to tell which side of the silnylon I’m on.

If we had any food, we wouldn’t be headed higher in weather like this, but we don’t, and it’s not something worth worrying about now.

A tough thousand feet later, the lack of calories and long gone comforts of base camp living have crept up on me. I’m forced to relinquish the post holing to Andrew only minutes after relieving him from the same arduous task. One look tells me he’s not 100% either, but we have little choice, and he’s stronger today. I am relegated to slowly following his tracks in the snow. Where has my power gone? I feel completely drained. Every few minutes I scan the storm clouds for any signs of relief, but nothing appears. Four hundred feet higher, I’m slumped over my ice axes; Andrew waits patiently at a rest, silently observing my progress. I’m suddenly feeling much worse. The vomiting begins and I watch helplessly as the energy I will need to continue disappears into the snow.

Andrew looks upon my display in disbelief, I feel like I’m letting him down. We’re far past the technical difficulties, but I’ve just reached my personal crux. I wipe my mouth and nose with an arm and the puke immediately freezes on my jacket. “Are you okay?” I hear his question, the real answer is no, but my only choice is to say yes, yet nothing comes from my acidic lips……

Looking to my left, there’s no option for traversing to safer ground. We must go up, period. I reach into a pocket and grab out two of my remaining GU’s. Andrew asks if I’m okay once again in a tone I’ve never heard before from a climbing partner. I open the two packets simultaneously and drown them both with my little remaining Perpetuem. I take a deep breath and with as much confidence as I can exude, tell him, “Okay, I’m ready.” We don’t waste any more time mincing words, continuing our ascent into the storm clouds.

Five hundred more feet pass and we climb out of the clouds and into a magical scene. The entirety of North America lies below this cloudbank. Nothing but sunshine and blue skies surround us now…… We’ve just entered into the blue room.  Our spirits are lifted, our confidence boosted, and we seemingly skip from the horn to the summit and back. No one else is above 17,000 feet on this mountain but us today, and we break trail all the way to fourteen camp.

Andrew Crow summits via Denali's Cassin Ridge. Denali, Alaska. Photo by Mark Seacat