2 Mount McKinley climbers fall to their deaths

ANCHORAGE, Alaska – Two experienced climbers fell more than 2,000 feet to their deaths on Alaska's Mount McKinley, raising this year's death toll on the mountain to four, officials said Friday.

John Mislow, 39, and Andrew Swanson, 36, were roped together when they fell Thursday afternoon along Messner Couloir, a steep, hourglass-shaped snow gully on the 20,320-foot mountain, North America's tallest peak. National Park Service rangers used a helicopter to recover their bodies Thursday evening.

The climbing partners began an ascent of the mountain's West Rib route on May 30.

Park Service spokeswoman Maureen McLaughlin said many factors about the fall remain unknown, including its starting point and whether the climbers were descending or still ascending the mountain, which is in Denali National Park and Preserve. Climbers are not required to disclose their descent route, although some do anyway. Mislow, of Newton, Mass., and Swanson, of Minneapolis, did not.

Rangers hope to learn more after viewing photographs in cameras belonging to the climbers, as well as from interviews with other climbers.

McLaughlin said the men fell at least 2,000 feet to Messner Couloir's base at 14,500 feet. Other climbers saw at least part of the fall, she said.

Rangers at the 14,200-foot camp were notified by radio within minutes of the accident. Three skiers in the vicinity were first to reach the climbers.

The deaths were confirmed by rangers, including medics, who were following close behind.

Rangers say Mislow and Swanson were seasoned mountaineers. In 2000, the two received the Denali Pro Award in recognition of setting the highest standards of mountaineering for safety, self-sufficiency and assistance to fellow climbers.

The two helped several teams in distress that year and assisted with visitor protection projects, McLaughlin said.

Swanson, who was single, was an orthopedic surgeon and practiced alongside his father, Gene, and older brother, Kyle, at the Orthopaedic and Fracture Clinic in Mankato, Minn., where he grew up. Each day, he commuted 60 miles from Minneapolis to the northeast, staying with his parents if he was on call, said his mother, Eydie Swanson. Kyle Swanson headed to Alaska on Friday to bring home his brother, she told The Associated Press in a phone interview.

While on Mount McKinley, Andrew Swanson called his parents every two days from his satellite phone. They last heard from him Tuesday, when he said the plan was to summit on Wednesday. If they couldn't summit on Wednesday, the two planned to turn around and head down.

Another call announcing the summit was expected but never came, Eydie Swanson said. That made her uneasy, but she reasoned the satellite phone had given out.

Eydie Swanson's voice broke as she talked about her son. She said he was a pilot and was passionate about climbing and bicycling. Most of all, she said, he loved donating his time twice a year in Africa as part of a mission working with children with severe spine deformities.

"He had the most wonderful face in the world," Eydie Swanson said. "He was so handsome, so kind, so irresistible. If you knew him, you loved him."

Mislow, a neurosurgeon, was married with children, McLaughlin said. He was a resident in the neurosurgery department at Brigham and Women's Hospital in Boston.

Mislow's family was requesting privacy for the time being, according to department chairman Arthur L. Day, who called Mislow a brilliant surgeon and researcher.

He was tirelessly dedicated to excellence, and always exhibited and demanded the best of himself and others in personal ethics and performance," Day said in a prepared statement. "His death is devastating to us all; the world has lost a great light, and his presence will be sorely missed."

Mislow and Swanson's deaths bring to four the number of fatalities at McKinley so far this year. There were a total of four deaths last year. The most deadly year was 1992, a bad storm year, when 11 people died on the mountain, McLaughlin said. Many years there are no fatalities. Altogether, 106 people have died on McKinley since 1932, when the first two deaths occurred, according to Park Service statistics.

In early May, 61-year-old climber William Hearne of Fairport, N.Y., collapsed after this team reached 13,500 feet and was pronounced dead soon after. On May 19, 41-year-old Gerald Myers, a chiropractor from Centennial, Colo., vanished after he left his climbing partners at 14,200 feet to make a solo summit attempt. His body has not been found, but McLaughlin said he is presumed dead. Searchers looking for him located the bodies of two Japanese climbers who went missing last year.

posted by Bill's friends

Bill in Yoga

Bill practiced yoga for 4-5 years, and was a certified Yoga Fit and Yoga Stretch instructor.
Every Tuesday and Thursday morning Bill would be at the Metro Y in his Run’n’Ride from 5:30 – 6:30, followed by Spinning from 7:15 – 8.00 am. In between he would squeeze a 6.30 am yoga class, for practice, and then around 9.30 he would teach his Yoga Stretch class.

Bill practiced yoga with full attention and focus. His 6.30 am practice class represented his private time, when he was not preoccupied with community building, or encouraging and motivating others. Rather, his private practice represented a challenge to let go of all that, and explore the line between what he wanted to do with his body, and what was truly feasible. His heroic persistence did not always work for him. Some people are just not able to arch into an elegant Downward Facing Dog, a Cobra, or a full Lotus pose. Though quite advanced in his yoga practice, Bill knew when to push, and when to surrender into the Child pose. He could do strong Warriors, but for some reason could not transition from Three Legged Dog into a Lunge in one move. This did not bother him. His yoga was more physical, than spiritual - he would be the first one to admit that. But he liked our yoga rituals, starting with “grounding”, and ending with relaxation (what Bill would call his Snoring pose), and closing with the traditional yoga greeting "namaste”, which roughly translates as “the light in me recognizes the light in you”.

Bill would never leave the yoga room without uttering that greeting. Whether he was aware of it or not, he had thoroughly internalized the "namaste" greeting and all that it meant. His internal light recognized the light in all the people he encountered.

Bill’s yoga friends from Carlson YMCA.

A couple of people asked me to append my talk from Bill's memorial service, so here it is:

I’m Kristen Kessler from Mercury Opera Rochester and I feel privileged to have known Bill. He was one of the founders of the opera chorus group that some of us started in the late 90s, and I got to know him very well as he became a board member and the treasurer, as well as continuing to perform with us. We sang together both in the chorus and regularly in quartets, we worked together on the finances of the group and numerous other issues, and we also ran and hiked together occasionally. I got to know Bill mostly through the good times, but I really came to appreciate him in the many struggles that the group had. In all the difficult times that we went through, Bill had an amazing ability to listen to very emotionally charged discussions, stay calm, manage the conversation, and keep everything in perspective. He had a serious side which he managed to keep under cover most of the time, but when you needed it, he was amazingly even-tempered and thoughtful.

I also appreciate Bill’s other side – the lighter side. Like many of us in the opera, Bill liked to dress up and make a fool of himself on stage. In looking through the Mercury Opera photos earlier this week, I was impressed with the number of different soldier costumes and peasant costumes that he wore. (The chorus regularly appears as either soldiers or peasants.) He was a blast to be staged with because he was never a stiff, never nervous, and he always knew his music. Sometimes he was still learning it in the dressing room beforehand, but by the time we got to the stage he had it down. He was a consummate flirt, especially on stage, and rarely missed an opportunity to have a laugh, or to go on a new adventure. He was a true energizer bunny and I still have no idea how he managed to fit in everything that he did.

Never one to miss a party, Bill was always the first one to volunteer to drive me home from the cast party when I had one glass of wine too many. That generally happens at about a glass and a half of wine, so over the years there were many varied opportunities for me to use his chauffeur services. He had a great sense of humor, and his energy, determination, and adventures were an inspiration to all of us.

The chorus of Mercury Opera Rochester had a concert last weekend, performing party scenes from a number of different operas. It seemed fitting that we dedicate those performances to him, because as we all know, Bill loved a party. And of course, Bill would have wanted to have a beer (or several) with us after the concert, so we did go out afterward to shed a tear together and raise a glass in his honor.

I sang with him, I worked with him, I ran with him, and I hiked with him. I’m sure he was just as surprised to find himself on the other side of this life as we were to find him gone from us. Bill was a great friend and I will miss him terribly.

YMCA Carlson Adventure Club 2008