"Because it's there."

He jam packed so much living into his life. He lived how he wanted to live.
I am sure he is treasured by many, many people. A man to admire and honor.
 
He looks like a pirate! How did you find him?
Was he under this heading?

Browse by Claim to Fame: Criminals, Eccentrics and Oddities
 
Oh! Was the pic of Ray Genet? {I thought you were posting a pic of a real live pirate. Sorry, if I made a bad mistake. :(....}
 
Mount McKinley climbing legend Ray Genet will be memorialized Sunday in Talkeetna at a potluck and slide show commemorating the 30th anniversary of his death on Mount Everest.

Genet pioneered guiding on Mount McKinley, stood atop Denali at least 25 times and bagged the Seven Summits. In October 1979, at age 48, Genet was on his way down from the top of Everest when he froze to death in his sleeping bag. His remains are entombed on the world's tallest mountain.

In 1967, Genet was one of three men, along with Dave Johnston and Art Davidson, who became the first climbers to summit Denali in the winter. The same year of his Everest climb, he guided Alaska sled-dog racing legends Joe Redington, Susan Butcher and a dog team to the top of Denali.

The potluck begins at 3 p.m. at the Sheldon Hangar in Talkeetna.

I never made it as far as the Genet Basin. But Ray was a giant, and I'm glad people are memorializing his achievements.

RIP, Ray, and know that even thirty years after your death, people are amazed at what you were able to do.
 
I never made it as far as the Genet Basin. But Ray was a giant, and I'm glad people are memorializing his achievements.

RIP, Ray, and know that even thirty years after your death, people are amazed at what you were able to do.

You may not be aware that I climbed Big Blue in Canton, MA without the use of portable oxygen, and without help from any form of sherpa. (The locals assisting any would-be climber are actually called "townies").
 
You may not be aware that I climbed Big Blue in Canton, MA without the use of portable oxygen, and without help from any form of sherpa. (The locals assisting any would-be climber are actually called "townies").

Nice work, Sticky. That's a helluva climb.
 
Mount St. Elias

It's film fest time in Anchorage and this one, Mount St. Elias, will make you shiver.

Trailer on YouTube

From the ADN.com:

"Imagine climbing to the summit of Wolverine Peak, which looms an impressive 4,196 feet above Anchorage in the front range of the Chugach Mountains.

Then imagine stacking three identical mountains atop Wolverine, and finishing off your mountain building with another 1,225 vertical feet of rock. You'd have, perhaps, a facsimile of 18,008-foot Mount St. Elias -- assuming you blasted the rock with a steady barrage of storms rolling in off the Pacific Ocean.

Now imagine a 30-kilometer ski run from top to bottom, with portions more than 50 degrees steep on a mountain possessing more vertical (18,008 feet) than Mount Everest (11,428 feet). Imagine a mountain so forbidding that after the first successful climb in 1897, nobody reached the summit again for about 40 years.

Its nickname? Man-eater.

"Mount St. Elias" is one of the featured films at the Anchorage Film Festival beginning later this week. In it, two Austrians and an American ski mountaineer tackle Alaska's second tallest mountain, which straddles the state's border with Canada in Southeast, aiming to ski from the summit to tidewater as a camera crew documents their efforts.

The movie is one of seven outdoors-oriented Alaska films at the festival, which runs Friday through Dec. 13 at a variety of Anchorage locations. In its ninth year, the event is the northernmost film festival in the Americas, aiming to support an array of independent and international films.

Among Alaska outdoors films, the thrills of "Mount St. Elias" are complimented by the humor of "Fat Bike" and the touching "In the Company of Moose," where Alaska's famed ungulate helps unite a son and his moose-enraptured father, longtime Alaska biologist Vic Van Ballenberghe. Taken together, the festival gives Alaska outdoors lovers the chance to experience a broad array of the 49th state from a comfortable seat, popcorn at hand.

Cheap thrills, some might say.

And there's no denying that experiences like skiing down Mount St. Elias are beyond the pale for even the most skilled, most daring, most crazed Alaska adventurer.

"At times," says director Gerald Salmina on the film's Web site, "man is prone to unlimited optimism -- a mild form of megalomania. The world simply needs people who take risks. They inspire us, encourage us and reassure us.

"Oddly enough, we seem to attach more value to climbing a mountain on which others have died before us. If mountain adventures were safe, they simply wouldn't have the same kind of allure."

INTENSE EXPERIENCE

Nobody calls Mount St. Elias safe. Renowned for long stretches of miserable weather, Mount St. Elias can find itself hammered by storms for weeks at a time. Ice forms readily in the maritime climate.

Ski mountaineers Axel Naglich and Peter Ressmann, both Austrians, and American Joe Johnston make the bid. Unsurprisingly, they get trapped not far from the summit by a near-fatal snowstorm.

Director Salmina sees a connection between his movie, filmed in 2007, and Joe Simpson's "Touching the Void," the incredible account of one climber's will to survive after a broken leg forces him to crawl off the South American peak Siula Grande.

"It's about the intensity of the experience, very much like the classic surf documentary 'Riding Giants' is all about those massive waves and nature, which defines the ultimate challenge. In 'Mount St. Elias' it is a mountain that defines the benchmark of mankind's ability."

Filming on such an unpredictable and vicious mountain was precarious at best.

"Our production team was challenged all the way," Salmina said.

WAS IT A FIRST?

While there's no denying the feat is daunting, there has been some discussion in the mountaineering community about how much of it is hype, particularly film promotions labeling it the longest ski descent ever.

In fact, the descent was skied in two parts at different times of the year. Helicopters were used.

And the "Mount St. Elias" trio wasn't first, according to several climbing historians. Lorne Glick, James Bracken and Andy Ward made the first ski descent of Mount St. Elias in 2000.

"Sorry for creating a mess in Mt. St. Elias climbing and skiing history," Naglich said in an e-mail to climbing aficionado Lou Dawson that was posted on Dawson's climbing Web site, www.wildsnow.com. "We knew that this group did it in the year 2000. As we know the mountain a little better now, I can just say congratulations to the guys who did the first ski descent of the summit. I would never want to take this accomplishment away from them."

Climbing historians will eventually settle on who did what when. But most viewers will find plenty of eye candy.

THE MOOSE MOVIE

While adrenaline junkies get their fix with "Mount St. Elias," the portrait of a father and son exploring their relationship by observing moose in Denali National Park is more accessible.

"When I started making documentaries five years ago," said director Jonathan Van Ballenberghe, "I thought in a very ambiguous way about what it would be like to film my father -- a natural inclination, given that an artist of any medium will draw upon his or her experience, and my relationship with my father is a major theme in my life."

A divorce had meant that Jonathan grew up largely away from his dad. Now in his 30s, he wanted to change that.

"In 2006, I visited him in Denali and I brought my video equipment with me, hoping to get some decent wildlife footage," he said. "After reviewing the footage, I suggested the film idea to my dad and we agreed to the concept of making a documentary."

A total of three weeks of filming in Denali National Park, Anchorage and Arizona was spread over two years.

But his dad's love of moose resonates loudest. Perhaps no other film is a greater ode to moose.

"It gave me a chance to showcase my 30 years of moose research in Denali and to spend time with Jonathan in the field -- which we both treasure," said Vic Van Ballenberghe.

"One thing that interested Jonathan is my claim that moose don't just have instinctive behavior but make decisions that indicate a higher plane of mental ability. In the film, I talk about an example of this where a bull made a deliberate decision to rest before engaging in a fight.""
 
You may not be aware that I climbed Big Blue in Canton, MA without the use of portable oxygen, and without help from any form of sherpa. (The locals assisting any would-be climber are actually called "townies").

haha. nice!
 
Hey thor, you and perg enjoy. I am off to savor some sunshine. And practice my oh so pitiful land nav skills!

I had better bundle up, it's 50 degrees out! :D

Later y'all!
 
I've seen guys do that at the top of the Spencer Loop. Gasping for air, barely able to stand, take a few drags and cough a bit......

I smoked a cig or two in ABC in Kyrgyzstan every night. That would be at 13,500 feet...

Hackett and Roach did a study that showed a definitive improvement in acclimatization time among chronic smokers. Understandably, they were a little hesitant to publicize it. Not sure about Roach, but Hackett is a pulmonologist. Also a pothead, from what I've heard...
 
Rough year in Oregon.

http://www.kgw.com/news/Rescue-mission-underway-for-experienced-Mt-Hood-climbers-79133077.html

by Eric Adams and Amanda Burden
Posted on December 12, 2009 at 1:09 PM
Updated today at 11:06 PM
GOVERNMENT CAMP, Ore. -- Crews on Mount Hood have suspended their search for two climbers after finding a third climber dead Saturday.
The deceased climber was identified as 26-year-old Luke T. Gullberg of Des Moines, WA.
Crews were still looking for his friends, 24-year-old Anthony Vietti of Longview, WA, and 29-year-old Katti Nolan of Portland.
Sheriff’s Detective Jim Strovink said the trio had registered to summit the mountain about 1 a.m. Friday morning, with the intention of returning to Timberline at approximately 2 p.m.
When they had not returned, family members alerted the sheriff's office, which amassed 30 volunteers to comb the westside of Mount Hood in the Reid Glacier area.
Searchers were focusing on an area at the 9,000-foot elevation, Strovink said.
None of the climbers were carrying locator beacons or anything that would provide a signal with which to pinpoint their location, Strovink said.
The search was slowed by low visibility, difficult terrain and bad weather. Crews were planning to be back on the mountain early Sunday morning at 5:00 a.m. They were hopeful they could find the remaining climbers alive.
A friend to the climbers told authorities they were "very experienced" in mountain climbing. Vietti is a member of Olympic Mountain Rescue, according to their website.
Luke Gullberg was the son of Washington State Patrol Ret. Sgt Rod Gullberg, who is a current civilian research analyst with the W.S.P.
Saturday, leaders issued a statement, saying "Chief Batiste and all the members of the Washington State patrol send our deepest condolences to the Gullberg family. We know that Rod and Luke were close as father and son, and as climbing partners. Words can not express the sorrow we feel this evening."
 
It's a really good idea to fill out those register entries thoroughly and accurately:

http://www.theskichannel.com/news/s...n-as-avalanche-conditions-prevent-foot-search


The seach continues for two missing climbers on Mt Hood. The body of a third climber, Luke T. Gullberg of Des Moines, WA was discovered sometime around 10am Saturday morning.

Unfortunately for rescuers, the information provided by the climbers on the climbing register was incomplete. Interviews with friends provided more incomplete and conflicting information. Rather than a single area in which to search, authorities have multiple.

Allan Brettman of The Oregonian has reported that two climbers from Portland Mountain and Rescue boarded a military helicopter to help guide a search for Katie Nolan, 29, of Southeast Portland and Anthony Vietti, 24, of Longview, Wash..

Foot search has been called off today because of avalanche conditions.
 
With regard to paying for rescues:
http://media.adn.com/smedia/2010/01/04/22/MatSuRescueFees.graphic_large.prod_affiliate.7.gif

From the ADN.com:

WASILLA -- Within months, the Mat-Su Borough plans to start billing people for off-road rescues.

That will make the Mat-Su one of very few entities in Southcentral to engage in the disputed practice. Most agencies rescue people for free. Only the Anchorage Fire Department charges a fee, and then only when responders leave the department's service area.

Nationally and in Alaska, many search-and-rescue groups oppose billing for backcountry saves. They say the prospect of a fee can make people wary of calling for help, or trigger delays that complicate rescues, especially in the mountains.

But the Mat-Su -- which charges for ambulance transports and responses to motor-vehicle accidents -- decided last summer it wasn't fair to charge all taxpayers for far-flung rescues when just a few people need the service.

Officials with the borough's emergency services department are working on the policy now and expect to start billing for off-road rescues by spring.

Proposed fees span various categories of rescue, including charging for the use of ATVs, airboats or snowmachines if responders go off-road -- $300 for the first hour, $150 for each additional half hour, plus $200 for trailer -- or a $150 flat rate for search and rescues of lost people.

Everyone who gets an off-road rescue will get a bill, said Clint Vardeman, the borough's deputy director of emergency services. But bill collectors will try to go easy on people who happened into trouble instead of going looking for it.

"If somebody tries to drive across the Matanuska River and they get stuck out there and they're standing on the hood of their car with water coming up, that is certainly going to be a billable event," Vardeman said. "Somebody that makes a boneheaded move, we'll probably be more aggressive at trying to collect than someone that's an innocent bystander, so to speak."

The fee scale for rescues also includes a provision to waive fees in some cases, such as when a search involves lost children.

Still, it's hard to say just how the borough will define a victim's level of blame as officials hammer out the new policy about which situations deserve more leniency than others.

"It's not going to be easy," he said. "If somebody gets into a situation that is not of their making and they literally don't have the money, it's not our method to try and take food out of people's mouths or shoes off people's feet."

ONE DIFFICULT RESCUE

Plenty of people encounter risky situations just living life in the Valley. Big as West Virginia, the Mat-Su boasts three mountain ranges, three major river systems and sprawling stretches of tundra and forest to get lost in.

Moose hunters get separated from their buddies out Petersville Road way and spend a cold night out, unprepared. Four-wheelers break down at the Knik Glacier, miles from help or extra supplies. Pickups punch through weak ice on channels near Big Lake.

At least one recent rescue would have fallen under the borough's developing policy.

Judith Willems, a 55-year-old Talkeetna woman, expects to lose three fingers on her left hand, frostbitten on an ill-fated trip into her family's remote homestead in mid-November.

Willems, her husband and 16-year-old son were en route to the homestead near the North Fork of Montana Creek The family decided to head for the homestead after they were evicted from a local campground where they lived in a trailer, Willems said recently.

Then everything went sideways, Willems said. Their snowmachines wouldn't start. A broken thermometer led her to believe it was warmer than it was. Going in, she fell on the icy trail, then exposed her left hand to the cold while gripping the line of a pregnant dog.

The trip took five hours longer than expected. By dark, the family couldn't find a wall tent at the homestead and ended up camped outside. The mercury had probably dropped to about 20 below.

The group called friends in town for help, rescuers said. After a local musher crashed his sled and injured his leg trying to bring out Willems, borough rescuers arrived the next night. Another team came out a few days later and rescued the family's dogs -- including five puppies born at the camp.

The trail was pretty awful, with slick overflow in places and just enough snow to need snowmachines but not enough to cover logs and other obstacles, said Tim Morgan, a borough rescue captain in Talkeetna. On the way out, rescuers encountered one hill so steep they had to load Willems off a patient sled, walk her up the slope, and pull the machine over it with ropes.

Willems received a $900 ambulance bill, she said.

She's recovering in an assisted-living home in Anchorage.

"Don't make the same mistake I made -- always be prepared," Willems said. "Also, thanks to the fire department, EMTs, dog rescue people, nurses, doctors, the people that helped us. God bless you and thank you."

RESCUE FEES RARE

Nationally, only eight states charge for searches and rescues, according to an article in Outside Magazine in November about a New Hampshire Eagle Scout billed $25,000 for a rescue on Mount Washington.

The national Mountain Rescue Association and National Association for Search and Rescue both oppose charging subjects for search and rescue. A Colorado SAR group illustrates the problem with examples of people who refused help because of fears over a bill: A climber stuck on a 14,000-foot Colorado peak asked to be talked down because she couldn't afford help; a stranded Idaho snowmobiler told his wife to hang up on an SAR team because he'd read media coverage of rescue charges; a lost runner in Arizona heard searchers in the night but deliberately avoided them because he was afraid he'd be billed.

The Alaska Mountain Rescue Group "does not advocate charging for search and rescue services because it can cause persons needing help to delay requesting help, often making the situation more risky for rescuers," chairman Bill Romberg said.

In Alaska, few agencies charge for backcountry rescues.

The state's lead search-and-rescue agency -- the troopers -- does not charge because troopers are mandated by law to conduct SARs, spokeswoman Megan Peters said.

The Alaska National Guard doesn't charge, and neither does the U.S. Coast Guard. The Anchorage Fire Department does, but only when the calls come from outside the AFD service area, spokeswoman Bridget Bushue said. Then again, that includes high-volume rescue spots like Flattop Mountain and the Cook Inlet mud flats.

Even climbers on North America's highest peak don't get charged extra when the government's high-altitude helicopter plucks them from the windswept reaches of Denali. Instead, the National Park Service charges all climbers a $200 "use fee" before they take on the mountain, said John Quinley, a park service spokesman in Anchorage. The park also tries to reduce the number of mountain rescues with climbing brochures in many different languages and a requisite, 60-day registration period during which climbers get advice on safety and self-sufficiency from rangers.

After 13 people died in the Alaska Range in 1992, the park service evaluated charging for rescues or requiring every climber to get insurance that would pay for rescues, Quinley said. The agency rejected both ideas. Why? No other parks charged such a fee, and in terms of insurance, some studying the idea worried climbers would see the relatively small premium as a "pre-paid rescue ... a ticket down the mountain," he said.

More broadly, Quinley said, the park service didn't want climbers worried about a bill to delay rescues until the unpredictable weather at an 18,000-foot base camp deteriorates into a maelstrom of wind and snow that make rescue even riskier. "If they think they're going to have to write a $9,000 check, they may wait until it becomes some horrific life-endangering operation," Quinley said. "They're already in trouble. We don't want to put more people in trouble."

SMALL FEES EXPECTED

Mat-Su officials say their pending policy won't discourage people from calling for help because the borough rarely gets involved in searches. That job generally falls to the troopers. Many local volunteers and nonprofit groups such as MATSAR also participate.

Instead, borough officials say, their evolving policy would come into play after searchers locate someone close enough to a road that emergency crews can get to them via four-wheelers or snowmachines or Argos.

"Our piece of it comes in once they've found them. You're going to go in six miles and pick them up and bring them back," Vardeman said. "The chance of us having a huge bill is nonexistent."
 
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