Walter Taylor

Walter Taylor died during a climbing expedition on Mt. McKinley in 1967.  At the time of his death he was in a combined medical/doctoral (M.D./ PhD) program at Indiana University's Indianapolis and Bloomington campuses.  He graduated from West Lafayette High School in 1960 and graduated with a B.S. from Purdue University in 1964.

What follows all relates to the tragic expedition.

Mount McKinley Tragedy and Resulting Expedition.

TWO expeditions, the Colorado Mount McKinley and the Wilcox McKinley expedltlons, joined to climb the Karsten’s Ridge route. Seven members of the latter died high on the mountain. On July 18 Jerry Clark, Mark McLaughlin, Walter Taylor, Hank James, Dennis Luchterhand and John Russell radioed to Park Rangers from the summit; they had reached the top In a white-out after a bivouac the previous night. They were apparently caught during their descent by a violent and prolonged storm.

A seventh member, Steve Taylor, had remained at their 17,900-foot camp, feeling slightly ill. He also perished, apparently after his tent was destroyed.

Five other members, Joseph F. Wilcox, Anshel Schiff, Howard Snyder, Paul Schlichter and Jerry Lewis, had reached the summit on July 15 and had descended to a camp at 15,000 feet on the Harper Glacier to conserve food and fuel at the high camp. They were also struck by the storm, but escaped with exhaustion and minor frostbite. The Mountaineering Club of Alaska Expedition reached the 17,900-foot camp on July 28 and found a single victim there. They found two others just below the Archdeacon’s Tower the following day. No identifications were made.

To try to find and bury the bodies and learn how the tragedy occurred, Vin and Grace Hoeman, Ray Genet, Ed Boulton, Chuck Crenchaw and Dick Springgate were flown to the Kahiltna Glacier on August 19. Except for Mrs. Hoeman, they continued up the West Buttress, building snow caves for camps, the highest being at Denali Pass at 18,200 feet on the night of the 26th. Genet and Hoeman descended to near the 17,900-foot camp but found only a few inches of a bamboo pole above the snow, which had been eight feet above the surface a few weeks before. The camp was said to be 200 yards away, but probing was futile. On August 27 Hoeman, Genet, Crenchaw and Springgate headed for the top, which they reached in the afternoon. This was the latest ascent in the year yet made. Although they searched the slopes of the Archdeacon’s Tower carefully, no traces of the bodies were found.

also see: 

- Howard Snyder, The Hall of the Mountain King (New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1973)
- Joe Wilcox, White Winds (Los Alamitos, CA: Hwong Publising Company, 1981)
- James M. Tabor, Forever on the Mountain (New York: W.W. Norton, 2007)
- http://news.google.com/newspapers?nid=2512&dat=19670731&id=TSVIAAAAIBAJ&sjid=XgANAAAAIBAJ&pg=3014,3334904
- http://news.google.com/newspapers?nid=1350&dat=19670731&id=6OdOAAAAIBAJ&sjid=egEEAAAAIBAJ&pg=5821,6445173
 

Lafayette Journal and Courier All Volume 48 in 1967: 

- No 181, July 31, pg 1, col 5-8 % Pg 10, col 5-6, "Storm Stalls Hunt for 4"
- No 182, August 1, pg 1, col 1 & pg 10, col 1, "Mountain Searchers Waiting"
- No 183, August 2, pg 1, col 2, "McKinley Rescue Unit Up Again"
- No 184, August 3, pg 1, col 1, "McKinley Search Fruitless"
- No 186, August 5, pg 26, col 2, "Mountain Saga Over: 'No Hope' "
- No 187, August 7, pg 7, col 2-5, "Only One Mt. McKinley Climber Died Before 1967",  includes photo of Mt. McKinley
- No 191, August 11, pg 30, col 6-8, "Hunt for McKinley Victims is Revived"

http://www.obsidians.org/bulletin/Issues/2007_Bulletins/2007_01_Bulletin.pdf  - see its text below - the original source has illustrations and other supportive materials.

Remembering Obsidians Lost in the Disaster on Denali
By: Marshall Jay Kandell
The Obsidian Bulletin, Volume 67, Number 1, January 2007

HURRICANE FORCE WINDS knocked down everything standing in their way, blasting away snow trails and their markers in a seemingly diabolical effort to reshape the mountain itself. Those who could find cover huddled in their tents, clutching wildly shaking center poles and covering their ears to block out the screaming, howling, threatening gales. And cold? It was so cold that even time seemed to freeze! It was the summer of 1967. Twelve men set out to reach the summit of Mt. McKinley in Alaska, the highest point in North America and the monster also known as Denali.

Of the dozen climbers, only five returned. The other seven, including Obsidians Jerry Clark and Mark McLaughlin, are still up there…somewhere.

Writer’s Notes…

IN THE WEEKS and months following the Denali tragedy, expedition leader Joe Wilcox did a lot of soul-searching and submitted to many news media interviews. He and several family members of the lost men objected to aspects of a Time Magazine feature story. Perhaps in response to such media coverage, Howard Snyder published his version of what happened in “The Hall of the Mountain King” (Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1973). Snyder was extremely critical of Wilcox and his group. Norm Benton called it “the worst piece of journalism I have ever read!”

Wilcox kept a diary and began working on an item by item refutation of Snyder’s charges. In 1981, Wilcox’s “White Winds” was published (Hwong Publishing Co.).  It was a much more detailed, balanced account of events, with deeper introspection.   It reflected a great deal of research into Denali’s history and weather patterns. A whole chapter was devoted just to wind. Don’t read just one of the books. Read both.   Just about all the details, quotes and speculations in this feature are taken from the two books. I am not a mountain climber and am not qualified to judge what was right or wrong in the authors’ discussions of logistics, equipment, rations, etc. In fact, I decided at the outset to strip the story of such voluminous technical detail.

What was left after I did so was a dramatic human relations story…a deeply emotional story.

AS YOU READ this story – especially the breathtaking episodes of Chapter Two – you will likely feel those emotions. Anger at times, shock sometimes and sadness and suspense throughout, even though you think you already know the ending.

Reading the books, it is easy to find yourself disliking the Coloradoans, particularly Snyder. Does that make his positions and opinions wrong? Is anyone at fault? Is it primarily a worst case history for study in a class in organizational dynamics? If it hadn’t been for the weather, might any of the human high drama have mattered?  And, as was called to my attention by a couple of fellow Obsidians, consider how young the members of this expedition were.

Over the years, I have had a great deal of training and experience in organizational dynamics, leadership, team building, conflict resolution and facilitating. From the first pages in Wilcox’s book, I heard warning alarms going off in my head.   Omens of organizational stress and dysfunction.

In the summer of 1967, however, I was just 29. My career was just getting of the ground. I was married and our first child had just been born. And I had not yet a clue about all those leadership issues! I would have been older than most of the members of the Wilcox expedition. Snyder was 22; Wilcox 24. Only Wilcox was married and nearly all the climbers were still in college or connected somehow to academia. How many of us, at that age, would have been capable of better handling the expedition’s crises and decisions?
-- MJK

HURRICANE FORCE WINDS knocked down everything standing in their way, blasting away snow trails and their markers in a seemingly diabolical effort to reshape the mountain itself. Those who could find cover huddled in their tents, clutching wildly shaking center poles and covering their ears to block out the screaming, howling, threatening gales. And cold? It was so cold that even time seemed to freeze!

It was the summer of 1967. Twelve men set out to reach the summit of Mt. McKinley in Alaska, the highest point in North America and the monster also known as Denali.  Of the dozen climbers, only five returned. The other seven, including Obsidians Jerry Clark and Mark McLaughlin, are still up there…somewhere.

Chapter One

TO UNDERSTAND what happened and, perhaps, why, we need to start the story a year earlier…with Joe Wilcox, then a 23-year-old married student at Brigham Young University in Utah. After two summers working for the National Park Service on Mt. Rainier, he spent a summer as a surveyor with the U.S. Forest Service in Alaska. He returned to BYU intent on climbing North America’s most
imposing mountain, Denali, and began to organize an expedition for the summer of 1967. His first task was to select the climbing team.

“…I was rather non-gregarious, and had a strong straight-forward manner, sometimes lacking in tactful social amenities,” wrote Wilcox in his book, “White Winds.”  “Therefore, it would be important to select a couple of unfamiliar climbers, who would not be offended by my personality,nor I by theirs. Beyond this they would need to be self disciplined and completely committed to the climb and to the group: this would not be a trip for the fickle or fainthearted.”

When the experienced mountain climbers Wilcox knew proved to be unavailable for the expedition, his dream appeared stalled. That summer, however, Wilcox happened to visit Obsidian Norm Benton, who had climbed McKinley in 1964 with the Seattle Mountaineers Expedition (putting 15 on the summit) following the same Muldrow Route Wilcox wanted to take. In addition to offering information, Benton also recalls recommending Mark McLaughlin, “a young fellow in the Obsidians with a lot of experience and a bright future in climbing.”

WITH MARK CAME HIS FRIEND, Jerry Clark, who had even more experience and knew a lot of other excellent mountain climbers he suggested for the trip…including Hank Janes and Dennis Luchterhand.  Wilcox wasn’t comfortable leading an expedition made up largely of Jerry Clark’s friends, people he had never met. Jerry pledged complete cooperation and support and was ultimately named deputy climbing team leader.

Full of enthusiasm, but short on cash, Wilcox sought out backers and underwriters, creating a “research” component of the hike. Heading up the scientific/support team would be Anshel Schiff, Ph.D., an assistant professor in engineering seismology at Purdue.  Others added to the expedition were Walt Taylor, enrolled in an elite medical/Ph.D. program at the University of Indiana; John Russell of Eugene, a part time student and part time logger (who had never climbed with any of the other team members); and Steve Taylor, one of Wilcox’s original Utah friends – a 22-year-old climber with sparse glacier and high altitude experience.

Despite the high educational backgrounds and scientific resumes of the expedition members, proposed research programs attracted meager funding. As a result, the scientific/support team (which was not originally intended to go above 11,000 ft.) was merged with the more experienced climbing team. It was hoped a two-day expedition workout on Mount Rainier would “ result in the assimilation
of valuable knowledge by our less experienced members and make our diverse group more homogeneous in climbing technique,” wrote Wilcox.   Wilcox also reached out to the news media in the hope funds might be forthcoming from a documentary or other coverage. To sell such a proposal, Wilcox wrote to the expert on Mt. McKinley, Dr. Bradford Washburn, asking if some of the expedition’s proposed activities had ever been done before.

Washburn, highly offended, interpreted Wilcox’s motive as publicity seeking. In his response letter, he wrote:  “For your information, according to our records, McKinley has not yet been climbed blindfold or backwards, nor has any party of nine persons yet fallen simultaneously into the same crevasse. We hope you may wish to rise to one of these compelling challenges.” The publicity seeking reputation was to precede, accompany, follow and to this day attach itself to the expedition and Wilcox.

MONTHS OF PLANNING ensued. The nine members of the team tried out equipment, offered advice and preferences on gear and rations and mapped out the complex logistics of the expedition. They had to plan for multiple camps on ascent, figuring out how much food and equipment had to be carried to each camp, how much cached to serve on descent and how much to allow for storm-forced delays which could add a week or more to the month-long expedition.

The Wilcox group had about 1,900 lbs. of gear and rations that would have to be carried up the mountain on their backs.   Although horses would pack the load to the snowline, there would be no other help thereafter. Unlike the Himalayas, there would be no Sherpas, porters or yaks.

The Colorado Group

WHILE WILCOX WAS ENGAGED in planning his expedition, another man in Colorado was planning a similar expedition for the same time and same route. Howard H. Snyder, a 22-year-old geology student at the University of Colorado, planned to lead a four-man expedition to the Denali summit. All of the team members had similar climbing backgrounds and all were from Colorado.   Snyder had climbed extensively in the Colorado Rockies in all seasons; had climbed the Matterhorn, Monte Rosa,  Eiger and Mont Blanc in the Alps; and peaks in Mexico.  Jerry Lewis was a 30-year-old army veteran who had traveled the world from Greenland to Libya to New Guinea and had climbed many 14,000’ peaks in Colorado. Paul Schlichter, 22, was a cadet at the Air Force Academy who had climbed with Snyder in Colorado, Wyoming and Mexico and had peaks of 17,000’ and 18,000’ under his belt. An equally qualified climber, Steve Lewis, was to be the fourth member of the team.

Four was the minimum group number the Park Service would permit to climb Denali. The Park Service was not satisfied with Steve Taylor’s qualifications and only OK’d him after he updated his climbing resume. Still hesitant, the Park Service suggested the Wilcox and Colorado groups combine.  This pleased neither group.  “The thought of joining two expeditions with separate logistics
and leadership seemed to be asking for a lot of internal problems,” wrote Wilcox.  “We were interested in coordination, not combination,”  wrote Snyder in “The Hall of the Mountain King,” his book on the expedition.

A Forced Marriage

THE GENERAL AGREEMENT for each group to support and back up the other, a sort of separate but equal arrangement, was shattered when Coloradoan Steve Lewis had a car accident and had to withdraw. That left the Colorado group with just three climbers and forced to either join the Wilcox expedition or stay home.  Whether you would call it an arranged marriage or a shotgun
wedding, there was no love lost between the two groups.   The Wilcox group never trusted or liked the Colorado group; which, in turn, looked derisively down on the Wilcox group as inferior. In his book, Snyder fills page after page with scorn for Wilcox and his men. He finds fault with their leadership, their climbing strategies, their equipment, their conditioning and their food.

Wilcox, on the other hand, found Snyder to be insulting, offensive and a poor team player. He felt the Colorado group was aloof, only interested in achieving their own goals, not in the overall group experience or welfare. This was a marriage that was forced, but never consummated, and certainly had all the earmarks of an impending divorce…if it lasted long enough.

Just Getting There

IT’S HARD TO PINPOINT exactly when the expedition began.  In 1967, just getting to Alaska was a trek. Wilcox drove from Provo to Portland, where he met several members of the team for the first time; then headed north to Puyallup, WA, where the group unhitched their trailer and settled in at the home of Wilcox’s in-laws while doing their pre-climb training on Mt. Rainier and getting their gear in order.  Clark and Janes were delayed and didn’t get to the Rainier workout. Also missing it was the Colorado group. When the two groups met for the first time, Snyder explained that they had arrived late and didn’t think they could locate Wilcox and his group on the glacier in foul weather. It was not a first meeting with lots of hugs. The ink on the wedding certificate wasn’t dry yet and the relationship was already chilly.

Arriving back in Puyallup, all 12 climbers were together for the first time. With their 1,900 lbs. of gear and rations (the Colorado group had less than 500 lbs.), the Wilcox contingent piled into their two vehicles, with Janes’ Dodge van towing a loaded down trailer. They were about 2,500 miles from their starting point! They had to cross the Canadian border, go up through British Columbia and survive the rough 1,200 unpaved miles of the Alcan Highway – which would get them within 500 miles of Mt. McKinley.

The cost of the expedition per man on the Wilcox team was about $300, a tiny amount by today’s standards, but even that was a budget breaker for some of the team. At least one member had nothing left for meals enroute and had to tap the climbing rations. Those who could afford to do so bought necessary items for the expedition out of their own pockets. Despite breakdowns (the Colorado group wound up towing the trailer), setbacks and other delays, they finally reached Denali National Park’s Eielson Visitor Center – 33 miles northeast of the McKinley summit. It was June 17th. Having come this far, they could now start.

The Expedition Begins

THE MULDROW ROUTE started at Wonder Lake near the ranger station. It crossed the rain-swollen McKinley River and Clearwater Creek, the mosquito infested tundra and followed Cache Creek to Horse Cache at 4,500 ft. Camp I would be at McGonagall Pass (5,720’). Then it was up the Muldrow Glacier to Camp II (6,500’), through Gunsight Pass and the Hill of Cracks to Camp III (8,100’); past the Great Icefall and Flatiron to Camp IV at 11,000’. Camp V was at 12,100’ overlooking Harper Icefall. Following Karstens Ridge and climbing through Coxscomb and by Browne Tower, Camp VI was at 15,000’. Camp VII was at 17,900’,with Denali Pass above at 18,200’, Archdeacon’s Tower at 19,650’ and South Peak Summit at 20,320’.

June 18th was spent sorting, checking and packing gear.  On the 19th, Berle Mercer arrived with eight pack horses.   About 1,000 pounds of Wilcox’s gear was loaded and Mercer started down the trail to the McKinley River. The plan was for the Wilcox group to set out first, since it had some scientific stuff to do and for the Colorado group to follow a few days later with the second pack-in. With Steve Taylor falling ill, however, it was decided that Jerry Lewis would take his place in the advance team, with S. Taylor coming afterward with Snyder and Schlichter.

IT WAS 18 MILES from the highway to Camp I, a stretch mostly populated by voracious mosquitoes. The roaring McKinley River, more than a mile across and braided into a dozen swift silt-filled channels, was running at a record high.  Attacking its widest point where they hoped it would also be shallowest, the group – under 80 lb. packs -- soon found the icy water numbing their feet and the abrasive glacier silt filling their shoes. Following game tracks when possible, the group reached Clearwater Creek around 8 p.m. A few risked crossing the stream, which was deeper and swifter than the McKinley River, while the others decided to wait until morning on the chance the creek would be running lower then.   Both groups bivouacked for the night, rejoined in the morning and pushed on to the Horse Cache.

The horse packer had been stopped by a steep snow-filled gully of boulders leading to Camp I at McGonagall Pass. It was time for the men to start toting everything up the mountain.  First stop would be the pass, 1,200 ft. higher. It was a trip to be repeated several times over the coming days. On June 23rd, Mercer arrived with the second pack string.
  
As Wilcox and his team of “porters” were returning from Camp I to Horse Cache to pick up more supplies, they saw Snyder and Schlichter on their way up. Where was S. Taylor? “He’s a way behind and will be along soon,” said Snyder, according to Wilcox. Mercer related how he gave Snyder,Schlichter and S. Taylor horseback rides across the McKinley River (nearly losing a horse in the torrent) and Clearwater Creek.

WHEN TAYLOR ARRIVED, much later, still weak and noticeably upset, he told how the two Coloradoans had set a fast pace – goading, ridiculing and insulting him whenever he fell behind... finally abandoning him altogether the previous evening.   Snyder’s account in his book pretty much confirms Taylor’s story. The Coloradoans assumed that, although slow, Taylor would be safe. He apparently made a wrong turn up a ravine and fell even farther behind, spending the night alone.  Pushing the pace for 14 hours under a 75 lb. pack was no way to treat an ill hiker, said Wilcox, especially when such a grind was unnecessary. He erupted and directly confronted Snyder and Schlichter, who in turn further criticized Taylor.   It was a nasty scene. Without marriage counselors handy,however, they all bit their tongues, tightened their belts and pushed on.

(Note: To hear horse packer Berle Mercer’s personal impression of the expedition team, you can listen to his actual voice on an audio file at: http://uaf-db.uaf.edu/Jukebox/DENALI/html/beme.htm.)

Thinner Air, Higher Ire

THE ENSUING DAYS brought, along with worsening weather, more dissension among the troops. Although they were accomplishing their goals, cutting trails to higher camps along Muldrow Glacier, they were also finding more things to bitch about. There was strong disagreement about the use of skis vs. snowshoes (Clark and McLaughlin preferred skis, which had been ruled out by Wilcox). Some were chafing under the heavy load of supplies and, in days to come, some team members would accuse others of carrying half-loads.

On Day 7 (June 25th), John Russell angrily accosted Wilcox and said, “I want four days of food, a tube tent and a stove. I’m leaving the expedition.” After calming down a bit, he said, “This is a group leading itself in 12 different directions… the Colorado group is a clique; Clark, Janes and McLaughlin are a clique; and everyone else is strung out in no-man’s-land.”

Faced with a tempest in his group and a real storm moving in fast the next day, Wilcox called everyone together in a meeting and reminded everyone that they had accepted a pretrip list of regulations without objection and that the issues needed to be dealt with at this point…not at 18,000 feet.  THE PLAN WAS FOR alternating roped four-man advance teams to lead the way, breaking trail to the next camp (or as far as weather and conditions would allow), with the remaining men bringing up supplies and rations. “Jerry Clark assumed the awesome logistics of the expedition,” said Wilcox. “With some help from Walt, it was his responsibility to assure that the mass of supplies was kept organized, food was relayed in labeled order, fuel conserved, planned food caches made and marked, and new camps properly equipped before occupation. Jerry also had the major responsibility for outside radio communications.”

On June 27th, the camp at McGonagall was packed up and everything moved to Camp II, with several loads as heavy as 120 lbs. That same day, Jerry Lewis took a 10-foot crevasse fall, rescued when an ice screw was used as an anchor in the rock ice and he was extracted using a pulley method…a method the Coloradoans had learned from Wilcox, who wondered how much crevasse training that group had.

On June 29th it started snowing at 4 a.m. and kept up all day, depositing three feet of snow on the camp, covering everything. Pushing ahead up to Camp III, rope teams had to plow through waist deep snow, mark their trails with wands and probe each newly gained area for crevasses, marking safe perimeters. Late in the evening on July 2nd the last of Camp II was brought up to Camp III. The advance team had hoped to reach 11,000 ft., but deep snow and drained energy forced them to drop their loads at about 10,200 ft. near the Flatiron.  The next day they found the deep trail they had left was completely filled in with wind-blown snow. Again, they were defeated, dumped their loads and returned to Camp III.  “The close pre-trip friendship of Jerry Clark and Mark McLaughlin continued throughout the climb; they usually hiked and tented together whenever convenient,” noted Wilcox.  “Jerry came to the climb in less than superior shape and took a while to regain proper conditioning.”

Cold Weather, Cold Shoulder

COMPLAINTS AROSE on the rope teams. Some climbers charged Snyder with being an inconsiderate leader, not matching his speed with the others on the rope. A rope team is only as strong as its weakest member, but Snyder maintained that speed was safety on the mountain. The other two Colorado climbers amplified Snyder’s torrid pace when all three were on the same rope. What was worse, both on the mountainside and in Snyder’s book, the slower Wilcox team members were derided and ridiculed for their frequent and lengthy rest breaks.

“The Colorado group did not make more relays or carry heavier loads,” said Wilcox. “They simply spent less time on the trail and more in their tent. In camp the Colorado group was even more distinct, isolating themselves and offering essentially no social interaction. They had every appearance of being a separate three-man expedition.”

ABOUT HIS OWN GROUP, Wilcox said, “We were like the siblings of a large family: sometimes irritated by close living, yet with an underlying bond of brotherhood stronger than life. The Colorado climbers seemed at times bewildered by this paradox.”

At Camp III, an elaborate throne was constructed to everyone’s delight and became a highly photographed outhouse (and you couldn’t get much more out). Later in the climb they’d build a two room privy…with a his and a hers!   The details of the ensuing days are amply described in the Wilcox and Snyder books. Unbelievable efforts at higher and higher altitutes under difficult weather and ground conditions.  Seeking routes around crevasses, dodging overhanging cornices and avoiding avalanches.

On July 11th (Day 23), Dennis, Hank, Paul and Mark finished breaking trail to 15,000 feet and put in 200 feet more fixed line near top of Coxcomb. It took 11 hours. The rest arrived at Camp VI in the middle of the night. They were 600 ft. higher than Mt. Rainier, 300 ft. above the Matterhorn.  Several climbers began to notice symptoms of altitude: headaches and indigestion. The low temperature was 2 degrees. 

A COUPLE DAYS of decent weather helped them get everything up to Camp VI and an evening meeting was held on July 13th in the cook tent to discuss plans for the imminent assault on the summit. The Colorado climbers were in their tent (one gets the impression from Snyder’s account that they hadn’t been informed of the meeting). Some observed that the Colorado climbers “were avoiding the energy draining task of trail-breaking.” The forecast was for at least two days of good weather and everyone was getting excited about reaching the summit.

Wilcox went to report their plans to the Colorado group, the entire conversation taking place through the wall of the Colorado tent.  “Eight of us will be going up tomorrow for a summit climb the next day. The other four will bring up most of the Coxcomb cache and follow a day behind us.”

“And the Colorado group?” Howard asked.

“You will all be on the first team,” Wilcox replied.

WITH A STORM DUE on July 16th, the advance team would head up on the 14th and summit on the 15th. The second team of W. Taylor, S. Taylor, Russell and Schiff would move up to high camp on the 15th, giving the ailing Schiff and Taylor an extra day to rest up. If they didn’t attempt the summit, W. Taylor and Russell were well matched to be a two-man assault team.

To save weight and energy, Wilcox decided only essential items would be taken. “Just three more days,” he thought, “and then it will be all downhill.”  Snyder, however, was not happy with splitting the team, especially since the second team was composed of “four of the least experienced men in the expedition.”

Chapter Two

Day Begins with a Bang!

AT 8 A.M., A COOK STOVE malfunctioned. When the gas tank release valve was checked, it popped off, permitting fumes to escape that were ignited by a second stove. The entire tent ceiling exploded in flames and “six panicked bodies scrambled” for the exits. No one was seriously injured, but all that was left of the tent were the doorway zippers and the floor. In frustration, Russell kicked the sputtering stove, which, trailing flaming fuel, sailed across the corner of the other tent, which was saved when several men quickly smothered the fire.

Wilcox, Luchterhand (who was feeling ill), Janes and McLaughlin were on one rope team. Clark was teamed with the Colorado men and was hard pressed to keep up with their rapid pace. Wilcox’s rope tried to keep pace for a while, until McLaughlin complained, “We’re climbing this mountain too fast.” So, they let the Colorado team move ahead, out of sight, to establish high camp at 17,900 ft.

“We were camped at the upper surface of the earth’s life zone for the human species,” wrote Wilcox. “Tomorrow, as we stepped above 18,000 feet, we would enter a dominion whose scarcity of oxygen would tax our bodies beyond their ability to acclimate, a dominion where dead body cells cannot be replaced. Although fatal to the species, hearty individuals with careful attention to maintaining their physiology have lived in this realm for periods of several weeks without lasting ill effects….knowing that we would be living on biologically borrowed time was not comforting.”

FIFTY MPH WINDS woke the men on July 15th. When the winds calmed at 9 a.m. it turned out that only Wilcox and the Coloradoans were ready for the summit assault. The others would have to wait for the second group the next day.   Oxygen starvation affects the thinking processes. “Simple tasks like strapping on my crampons required great concentration and an unreasonable amount of time,” recalled Wilcox.

“The alarming revelation was that this functional slowing did not register mentally. I felt I was performing at accustomed speed. My watch seemed to be running fast!” An hour’s climb brought them to Denali Pass, the 18,200 ft. saddle between the mountain’s north and lower south summits. By 4:30 p.m., they had climbed to 19,550 ft. and crested the low ridge behind Archdeacon’s Tower. By 5 p.m. they were at 19,700 and at 6:15 they were in sight of the summit, less than 200 yards and 150 vertical feet away. Snyder was first on top, then Lewis, Schlichter and Wilcox.

They radioed their success to the ranger station, were congratulated and were told it was the “first time we’ve talked to anybody on the top of the mountain.”  After setting off a flare, planting flags and taking lots of pictures, Wilcox led the uneventful, but tiring, descent back to high camp, arriving at 10 p.m., just two hours from the summit. As they returned they found the second team just arriving from Camp VI after 10 hours on the trail. John Russell, who had become ill during the day, carried a bamboo pole decorated with strips from the floor of the burned tent.  He planned to adorn the summit with this “warrior’s staff.”

DAY 28 (JULY 16)– An immobilizing storm strikes with 70-80 mph winds. They’re holed up in four tents with just two stoves. Three vital quarts of fuel, half their reserves, are stored outside the Colorado tent and are drifted under and lost. Morale was shaky.

DAY 29 (JULY 17) – Clearing weather, not unlike the first summit day, greets the team. What to do? Clark says, “I think we’ll just wait and see what the weather does.” The delay proved to be critical. Everyone wanted to try to summit except Schiff. Wilcox wanted to stay at high camp while the others tried the summit, but Clark tells him it’s not necessary, that he should descend with the Coloradoans and Schiff. “We have the majority of the strongest climbers with us and besides it would further conserve our fuel for you to descend….”  Wilcox offers S. Taylor a chance to also descend with him, but he declines, saying, “I think I’ll just stay with the high group.”

Clark, left in charge of the high camp, radios the ranger station, which is unable to get an updated weather forecast. Wilcox tells Clark not to take any chances. “Don’t worry,” Clark replies, “If we can’t climb today, we’ll probably go down tomorrow.” Despite having to break trail all the way back to Camp VI at 15,000 ft., they arrive about 3 p.m. in calm weather. A shallow fog covers the summit slopes that evening; otherwise, the sky is clear. At 8 p.m., the ranger station relays radio communications from the high group, which was in a whiteout. The previous day’s storm had also blown away a lot of the trail marking wands left by the summiting group. “We’re just floundering around,” reports Clark. “We don’t know if we’re on the summit ridge or not.” Equipped only with sleeping bags, the group bivouacs for the night.

Summit…then Silence

DAY 30 (JULY 18) – SUCCESS! With their cold batteries weakening (reserve battery pack left at a lower camp), Clark and McLaughlin report that they are on the summit and dictate postcards to be sent to their families. They report that five climbers are on the summit…Clark, McLaughlin, Janes, Luchterhand and W. Taylor. Ill, S. Taylor stayed in camp.

There is no mention of Russell! Later speculation is that Russell was in no condition to continue the climb and decided to either wait on the trail at around 19,500 ft. or tried to make his way back alone to S. Taylor at high camp.  At noon, wind increases at Camp VI, reducing visibility to a couple hundred feet. With a poorly marked route down from high camp, Wilcox worries about the upper party having to wait until the next day.

DAY 31 (JULY 19) – Strong winds all night. Northern storm moves in and drops a foot of snow on Camp VI. High wind clouds drape the summits. Everyone watches for evenly spaced dots to descend the upper glacier, but a snowstorm obscures the mountain. “Damn, they waited too long to break camp,” thought Wilcox. “They’re going to be stuck in high camp for another day.”  Snyder speculated: “They moved straight down the slope, not veering left toward the top of the ridge to Denali Pass.  This was done either because the men had lost the route completely; or because they were trying to descend straight to Camp VII, avoiding the wind-blasted ridge ….At 19,400 ft. they left the gentle shelf of Archdeacon’s Tower and started down the steepening slope. They were marking their route, and one of their wands was later found in place on this slope. The wind was increasing steadily, and the slope was fearfully steep considering the weather and the physical condition of the climbers. A halt was called. Retreat was cut off now; it was probably beyond the endurance of even healthy men to force a way through the blinding and suffocating storm….They had no choice, they must bivouac for yet another night…in sleeping bags already icy….Perhaps they tried to dig a hole…but it would have been a shallow shelter at best, since they had only ice axes and weary hands to use as tools. They huddled together for what little warmth and protection that could afford, and were soon covered by the drifting snow.”

For the second consecutive night there was no radio contact with the ranger station. Wilcox proposed that he, Schlichter and Snyder start that night for high camp to check the situation. “Howard, there’s some kind of trouble at the high camp. You, Paul and I will start up as soon as we can get ready. We’ll travel light with only our sleeping bags, a snow shovel and fuel. We can pick up some food at the 16,500 ft. cache.”

“We can’t go up tonight, Joe,” replied Snyder. “Let’s wait until morning.”

“What’s the matter?” Wilcox exploded, “You guys have already made the summit and now you don’t want to go up any more, even when people are in trouble up there?”  Forced to wait and boiling mad, Wilcox could not understand Snyder’s attitude. “I didn’t want to battle up to high camp any more than Howard, but rescue is not a matter of what a person wants. Our commitment to the upper party was as total as if we shared their climbing rope.”  Perhaps, Wilcox thought, he was overreacting. High camp might be in fine shape, troubled only by dead radio batteries. The storm persisted, dropping heavy snow on the camp.

DAY 32 (JULY 20) -- Wilcox, Snyder and Schlichter start out from 15,000 feet. After gaining only 3/4 mile in four hours of blizzard conditions, they are forced to turn back to camp, where shoveling out their tents has become a constant chore. With their batteries weakening (and spares cached below at 11,000 ft.) communications are failing.

DAY 33 (JULY 21) – Winds increase to 65 mph… estimated at least 80 mph at high camp. Colder than the weather was the discussion Snyder and Wilcox have about mounting yet another rescue effort. It was psychologically easier, admitted Wilcox, to remain at Camp VI shielded from the desperate drama playing out above, where they would be out of fuel by now with dehydration and frostbite taking over. Snyder points out that even if they can get to high camp, they’ll arrive in as bad a shape and just collapse on top of them. Meanwhile, the storm increases its fury…winds of 100 mph howl through camp. The would-be rescuers are clinging to their own frail toehold on the mountain. They’re reduced to sharing their body heat. Trying to retrieve equipment blown down the glacier, Wilcox is blown off his feet, clutches a tent guy line as he sails by and crawls back. In danger of being trapped and buried in a collapsed tent, Wilcox and Schiff move into the now crowded wind-buffeted Colorado tent.

(Famous for its storms, the Mt. McKinley area endured some of the worst in history during the Wilcox expedition. At lower levels, heavy rains caused rivers and their tributaries to overflow, roads to be washed out and a federal flood disaster to be declared. Wilcox’s account relates what he experienced.   Analysis of weather data afterward led Wilcox to conclude that the Clark party higher up experienced average temperatures of 2.2 degrees during the eight and a half day storm, with lows of –10 degrees. And one must also consider the wind chill factor, the group’s already wet gear and winds probably averaging 80 to 100 mph, with gusts well above 150 mph. In 33 years of July observations, not a single wind velocity recording aloft was as high as the 1967 storm. Of course, Wilcox could know none of this at the time.)

DAY 34 (JULY 22) -- Lewis was seriously ill and, according to Snyder, Schiff and Wilcox were “as weak as rag dolls.” In their first radio transmission in over 36 hours, Wilcox indicated only one person (himself) was feeling like going up. At 11 p.m., Snyder wants Wilcox to tell the ranger station that they have sick men and won’t be able to go back to Camp VII. Wilcox tells them they can’t travel that night and are waiting for morning. Snyder takes the radio and tries to make the ranger station understand their situation, “We have three people pretty sick up here…We have to get these people down.”

Wilcox is astounded by Snyder’s “desperation to justify the desertion of the high party.” He knew Lewis and Schiff were weak and wondered who the third sick man was supposed to be.

DAY 35 (JULY 23) – Wilcox awakes to find his hands numb and has to have Schiff strap his crampons on for him.  He had to accept the fact that he would be going down the mountain with the others. “I had joined the deserters,” he wrote. “No despair can be as great as that of abandonment.”  Descending in milder weather, Lewis collapsed to the snow every 50 feet. At the top of the Coxcomb they clipped onto their fixed line and eventually, far down the ridge, they saw something that lifted their spirits: Their 12,100 ft. camp was occupied by the Mountaineering Club of Alaska Expedition. With the weather deteriorating again, the MCA climbers ascended to meet the Wilcox contingent at 12,500 ft. and helped them back to camp, hot food and rest. And even medical care, since the MCA group included Dr. Grace Jansen, an anesthesiologist.

Wilcox approached Snyder with the idea of borrowing a couple of dry sleeping bags and going back up with the MCA group, but was again rebuffed. So, thought Wilcox, perhaps he could get off the mountain quickly, dry his gear and return with an airlifted rescue group. Radio discussions with the ranger station involved possible overflights, air drops and allout rescue efforts, but confusion, bureaucracy and continuing bad weather pretty much left the small MCA group the best bet.

DAY 36 (JULY 24) – In dense fog, two rope lines started their descent…the Colorado climbers on one and Wilcox, Schiff and Dr. Jansen (who was suffering migraines and decided not to continue her ascent with MCA) on the other.  The descent was slow and treacherous.   During the day, the two ropes became estranged, operating independently. Changing boots at Camp VI, Wilcox felt frostbite
attacking his toes. Late in the evening, they reached Camp III. Throughout the night, they hiked on.

DAY 37 (JULY 25) – The Wilcox rope stopped on Mount Moraine for food and a few hours rest. Snyder’s rope passed by and kept going. Refreshed, Wilcox moved on, ultimately reaching the tundra’s rain sodden surface, so different from the snow and ice they had been on for a month. A mile below Horse Cache, they passed the Coloradoans’ tent. At 9 p.m., they reached an MCA camp and stopped for the night.

DAY 38 (JULY 26) – The difficult hike resumed and at 8 a.m. they came to Clearwater Creek, only to find no likely crossing. Kicking, struggling and using his pack as a float, Wilcox crossed one channel, then threw his pack into a second channel until collapsing in exhaustion on the far shore. There was no way Dr. Jansen or Schiff would be able to duplicate his effort. He tried throwing a rope back to Schiff, but couldn’t reach him. The Colorado group with Lewis’ frostbitten feet wouldn’t be able to cross either. Dr. Jansen said Lewis would need medical attention soon and signaled to Wilcox to send a helicopter back for them. Determined to move on, Wilcox dragged his water laden pack up the bank and found he couldn’t lift it. Taking a couple packs of fudge and mixed nuts, he left his pack and
moved away from the dripping figures on the far bank.  Plodding alone on the tundra, he topped a ridge in midmorning and saw the flooding McKenzie River…not the braided river of before, but a single, roaring, mile-wide devastating force. A 14-mile detour around the head of the river was out of the question. He threw himself into the swirling nightmare. 

For someone Snyder had described as weak as a rag doll, Wilcox was either miraculously revived by the lower altitude or found some amazing hidden reserve. His crossing of the river reads like something out of an Alistair MacLean adventure story…or a Rambo movie. The frigid water made the Clearwater seem tropical by comparison. Time and again, the current tore at him, sucked him down and thrashed him against rocks. His baggy wind pants filled like a parachute and were ripped down to his ankles, binding his frozen feet.  He fought to get them up, only to have it happen again. Finally, exhausted, his body went limp and the current took him at will. He felt he had reached the end of the line. Against all odds, he was eventually thrown upon a rock bar. Coughing, vomiting, bleeding…but still alive.

WITH GRINDING GLACIER SILT in his boots (but not daring to remove them), Wilcox staggered to the campground at Wonder Lake and got a ride to the ranger station.  That afternoon, re-nourished by a meal that included roast moose, Wilcox was still trying to convince Ranger Wayne Merry that, since he was already acclimated for high altitude, he should go back up the mountain with a rescue team. He blamed his hobbled gait on glacier silt in his boots, trying to hide the fact that his feet were frostbitten.

Told that no military helicopters were available, but the Alaska Rescue Group would secure one the next morning, Wilcox blew his stack. “I risked my life to come here and get a rescue helicopter and I’m getting goddamned tired of this dilly-dally Mickey Mouse. I want a helicopter sent right now – today! And I don’t give damn how much it costs!”  Meanwhile, the MCA were at 15,000 feet, searching for a supply airdrop in two feet of fresh powder snow and asking for more supplies to be airdropped so they could climb to 17,900 without having to first relay food and fuel up Karstens Ridge.

That evening, a chopper from Farewell, AK, 120 miles away,made two trips to bring back the Coloradoans, Schiff and Dr. Jansen. Schiff told Wilcox the Coloradoans were upset that he had called a helicopter without their permission.

DAY 39 (JULY 27) – By 8 p.m. the MCA had climbed to the Wilcox cache at 16,000 ft. and planned to camp for the night. After a considerable delay, they had located most of the July 25th air-drop. It had been packed in white pillowcases, which hadn’t been removed before the drop.

DAY 40 (JULY 28) – MCA proceeds to 17,900 ft. under mild snow and weather conditions. Airdrops being made a half-mile down the glacier from MCA…as high as the light plane could go. A larger C-130 was requested to make a large airdrop near Denali Pass ASAP.

At 8 p.m., MCA radios: “…we found one body – one body, over.” They do not know who the body in the tent is and there is no sign of the other six climbers. They plan to go to the summit tomorrow and search along the way. Asked to try and make and identification, they respond, “We cannot look at him. He’s decomposed greatly…over.” The temperature is hovering around zero with winds of 25 mph and gusting higher. The first guess was that the man in the tent was Steve Taylor, who had stayed behind.

DAY 41 (JULY 29) – Two more bodies are found…on the east side just above Denali Pass. Again, no IDs. The men were not roped. The impression MCA had was that “they tried to weather out the storm and the wind just blew ‘em away.”  No packs were sighted, but a Stubei ice axe (Steve Taylor’s) was found. And one of the bodies had an Eddie Bauer sleeping bag wrapped around him. Asked if they could take photos, MCA answered, “Negative, negative.” Indeed, MCA couldn’t do much. Weather was worsening and they were locked in a whiteout. The next day, MCA began their descent, seemingly anxious to get down out of the unstable weather and, suspected Wilcox, spooked also by the bodies they found and a mountain that could vent such destruction, a mountain capable of killing men, apparently dropping them in stride. They brought back nothing from the mountain… not the bodies, nor any identification papers, nor any journals (if there were any to be found). No photographs of the bodies were taken.

A COUPLE DAYS LATER, the MCA climbers hiked out to Wonder Lake. Lengthy debriefing clarifies a few details.   About halfway up the upper icefall, they found the Stubei ice axe, leaving it where they found it. At about 17,800 ft., a couple hundred yards below high camp, they found John Russell’s bamboo pole, still bedecked with neoprene streamers, stuck deeply into the snow. Around the base of the pole was a sleeping bag.  At high camp, they found a discolored, decomposed body partially wrapped in the tent’s shredded remains. The body was in a crouched or sitting position, as if he had been trying to steady the tent’s center pole when he died. Based on the description of the body’s matted hair, Wilcox later decided it was Russell, not Steve Taylor. Wilcox guesses that Russell got back to high camp in very weak shape and that Taylor tried to descend alone, taking just the sleeping bag and ice axe with him…discarding both enroute and, perhaps, wrapping the bag around the bamboo pole in the hope that it might be spotted. 

The other two bodies, found near 19,000 ft. on the steep crevassed slope beneath Archdeacon’s Tower, were 300-400 ft. apart, unroped and without ice axes. MCA described one as sitting with one leg extended “like he was trying to protect himself from the wind.” His pants were orange and he had a red or orange parka. The lower body had an Eddie Bauer bag wrapped around him. Although the upper body could have been Walt Taylor, the lower body was easier to identify.

Only Dennis Luchterhand had a cloth covered Eddie Bauer sleeping bag.  In retrospect, Wilcox describes a scenario taking place below Archdeacon’s Tower that is somewhat different than the one given above by Snyder…stretching the drama for perhaps another day or two…but with the same sad, final result.  The other climbers were never found.   Reminiscent of the Japanese drama Roshomon, Wilcox and Snyder give eye witness reports that appear to come from different sides of the looking glass. And yet another book on the tragedy is due out next summer, promising to delve into the fundamental questions of risk and responsibility.

As for Jerry Clark, Mark McLaughlin, Henry Janes, Dennis Luchterhand, John Russell, Steve Taylor and Walter Taylor…  they remain silent. Resting, perhaps forever, under Denali’s cold white quilt.

1967 Wilcox Mt. McKinley Expedition
Climber Age Height Weight
Joseph F. Wilcox, Leader 24 6-1 180
F. Jerry Clark 31 5-7 145
Henry Janes 25 5-5 140
Jerry Lewis* 31 6-5 220
Dennis Luchterhand 24 6-4 175
Mark McLaughlin 23 6- 1/2 150
John Russell 23 5-9 165
Anshel Schiff 30 5-10 175
Paul Schlichter* 22 6-4 200
Howard Snyder* 22 6-2 175
Steve Taylor 22 6-2 155
Walter Taylor 24 5-8 150
Names in italics are still on Mt. McKinley.
* Colorado contingent

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