Bates men's cross country and track & field captain Jackson Monz '26 saw his senior season ruined by injury. Two grade 4a stress reactions in his tibiae put him out of commission for the Bobcats.

So he set his sights higher: 20,310 feet higher, to be exact. 

"Over winter break, I decided I had to do something cool," Monz says. "So my dad suggested I take a look at the National Outdoor Leadership School's Denali course." 

Denali, federally designated as Mount McKinley, is the tallest mountain in North America. And when measured from base to peak, it's the tallest mountain in the world. 

The National Outdoor Leadership School (NOLS) doesn't accept just anyone for a Denali climb. The trip is only for alumni of a NOLS program and you have to apply to show them you know what you're doing. Luckily, Monz is an alum, having already taken a NOLS EMT course, and experience wasn't really an issue either. 

Monz, who hails from Logan, Utah, is no stranger to challenging climbs. He's been backpacking and rock climbing since he was four years old. And he scaled the Grand Teton in Wyoming (a mere 13,775 feet) in two days at the age of 13.

"Growing up, my life was basically spent outdoors while also at elevation," Monz says. "But I'd never done anything like this." 

Indeed, Denali couldn't be more different than Grand Teton. While Grand Teton involves highly technical rock climbing, there's no snow. Denali is serious mountaineering, with snow all around you.

Monz applied to join the NOLS Denali climb and got his acceptance letter a month later. 

"I was able to compete in one track meet in January, but I developed shin splints," Monz says. "By that point, I had been accepted to make the Denali trip, so I shut things down and started to prepare for this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity." 

When climbing Denali, you are carrying about 50 pounds of supplies on your back and dragging even more weight on a sled. But hiking, even while carrying a lot of weight, has a lower impact on the body than competitive running. So after a little time off, Monz was able to start training for the trip and gradually build up his strength. 

"I got a lot of funny looks while on the StairMaster at Merrill Gym with my big backpack on," Monz says. "I lifted weights, hiked the White Mountains with my friends, took long bike rides, and even went on the occasional run with my teammates." 

On Sunday, May 31st, Bates College held its 160th Commencement. Monz graduated with a degree in biology. He flew to Alaska the next day.

A Denali trip up and down the West Buttress route takes around 19-21 days, assuming the weather cooperates; 17 days to ascend "the tall one" and two to descend. As the old saying goes, "the summit is optional, the descent is mandatory."

Monz joined a group of 10, seven climbers (none of whom had ever summited Denali) and three NOLS instructors, for the expedition. 

"This was not a guided trip," Monz says. "On a guided trip, most stuff is done for you. We did all our own cooking, made all our own water. We did all the things necessary to climb the mountain. We were just supervised while doing so." 

The change in altitude going up the mountain is why it takes more than two weeks to ascend. While Denali climbers do not need supplemental oxygen (that's only required above 26,000 feet), acclimatization is crucial. If climbers do not take their time, they are at risk of HACE (High Altitude Cerebral Edema) and HAPE (High Altitude Pulmonary Edema), both of which are life-threatening.

Acclimatization is so crucial that Monz and his group basically climbed the mountain twice, via a system called caching. Caching is when climbers drag the gear they don't need at the moment (certain food, clothes) and haul that stuff up the mountain to just shy of the next camp. Then they bury the cache in the snow and go back down to the previous camp. It helps expose the climber to the altitude and also helps lighten the load for the next ascent. 

"The idea is you climb high, then sleep low," Monz says. "Our first cache day was one of the toughest days. We didn't make it very far because we got hit by a blizzard! So it was like a total whiteout." 

Luckily for Monz and his fellow climbers, the weather mostly cooperated the rest of the way, making it a pleasant experience. But it was only pleasant because Monz was ready for it, having trained all semester at Bates. 

"Everything was manageable, but they were long days," Monz says. "Most were about seven-to-eight-hour days. But once you get to the next camp, you can't be spent. You have to be ready to set up the camp, prepare food, and to melt snow to make water." 

There's a Base Camp where the bush planes that bring climbers to the mountain land. But the Denali expedition via the West Buttress route really begins at Camp 1, which is 7,600 feet above sea level. From Camp 1, the group goes up Ski Hill and makes their way to Camp 11, about 11,000 feet above sea level. Before Camp 11, a climber merely needs to wear snowshoes. After Camp 11, crampons (spikes used for traction) are needed the rest of the way. 

The next two camps before the summit are Camps 14 and 17, also named for their heights above sea level.  

"Camp 14 is a beautiful, huge, flat glacier, where you are completely above the clouds," Monz says. "When you look up, you can see up to 19,000 feet, and when you look down, all you see are clouds and other mountains. The park rangers also have a substantial camp setup there. They can make rescues using a specialized helicopter that can fly to just below the summit." 

Monz and his group actually witnessed a rescue-in-progress, but fortunately did not need the assistance of the rangers themselves. 

The cache days were the days Monz spent with his head down, nose to the grindstone so to speak. But on the days they didn't have to cache, he got to enjoy the remarkable scenery of Denali. The route up the mountain was easier the second time around.

"It was a solid mix of hard work and getting the chance to look around and enjoy the view," Monz says. "For instance, the 16-Ridge, which was our final cache sight, is probably the most aesthetic place on the mountain. You are traversing this narrow ridge that drops off 2,000 feet to either side, and it's just beautiful views." 

Walking on a narrow ridge 16,000 feet above sea level with a 50-pound backpack and large drop-offs to either side is not every person's idea of a good time. But Monz loved every second of it. 

By the time the group reached Camp 17, the push to the summit was in their sights. 

"Camp 17 is very exposed to the elements, so the goal is to spend no more than three days there, total," Monz says. "You get up there, take a rest day, go for your summit push, come down, sleep, leave, go back down." 

Summit Day is usually one of the toughest and longest days for climbers. Immediately after Camp 17, they must scale the "Autobahn," an odd name for a section that is not particularly fast. It is, however, quite dangerous. Most deaths that occur on Denali happen on the Autobahn, one of the parts of the climb that requires snow pickets just to traverse the terrain, which has been described as varied, to say the least. The American Alpine Institute says that the Autobahn can be "anything from deep winter snow to bullet-proof blue ice."

Summit Day was a 13-hour day for Monz and his group. They lucked out and the weather cooperated for a fairly routine summit push. 

"Negative 15 degrees Fahrenheit at the summit, about average," Monz says. "It was quite nice. We spent about an hour there before beginning our descent." 

The descent proved to be more of a mental challenge than a physical challenge. 

"Everybody's like, 'I need to shower,'" Monz says. "And we boogied as fast as we could to get out. I think I didn't really sleep for 36 hours on our descent. From Camp 14 to Base Camp, it's maybe 12 miles, and it's a 7,000-foot vertical descent. And we did that chunk all in one go. We took breaks to eat stuff and we had to dig up our caches along the way, but we did it. We got up at 1:30 in the morning and we were moving by three and we descended from three until one." 

One of the most darkly comedic aspects of the Denali descent is the final mile. It's uphill. 

"They call it 'Heartbreak Hill' for a reason," Monz says. "Because everyone is like, 'I just want this to be over!'" 

The group returned to Base Camp on Day 19 and they were able to get on a bush plane fairly quickly, as once again the weather was in their favor. They beat the rain by three hours. The plane took them to Talkeetna, famous for being both the launching pad for Denali expeditions and as the inspiration for the TV show "Northern Exposure."

"We spent a full day and night just relaxing in Talkeetna after our trip," Monz says. "Everybody spent way too much money on food. We were like, 'whoa, hamburgers!' And then we drove back and de-issued all our gear and whatnot. Then we went to Anchorage and I spent two days in Anchorage and flew home." 

Monz's mountain climbing is sure to continue. In fact, he has a whole list of mountains he wants to scale, starting perhaps with Mount Rainier and Mount Baker, a pair of peaks in the Pacific Northwest that the NOLS staff recommended as good mountains he could summit without instructors or guides. 

For now, he's excited to hike the Swiss Alps with his parents in August, a trip that was planned before the Denali opportunity arose. 

"Starting with the tallest mountain in North America, I suppose I am doing things a little bit backwards," Monz says. "But it was a really awesome experience. It's an unreal place. I am so thankful I was able to go on that trip."