Calgarian summits Mount Logan after two-year partner hunt

Tom Kitta didn't plan to climb Mount Logan alone. When he reached the summit just past midnight on June 3, his climbing partner stayed behind at camp, sick and dizzy from altitude. But Kitta had come too far to turn back.

The 47-year-old Calgarian has been climbing mountains for about 20 years. He's summited Alaska's Denali and Nepal's Manaslu, which sits 8,163 metres above sea level. Mount Logan—Canada's highest peak at 5,959 metres, located in Yukon's Kluane National Park and Reserve—had been on his list for a while. The problem was finding a partner.

"I usually do mountains solo, and Mount Logan was something that's really long, cold," Kitta said. "Then they banned solo climbing, so I had to find a partner."

In 2020, Parks Canada implemented a minimum group size of two people for Mount Logan expeditions. The policy was driven by safety concerns at high altitude and the burden solo climbers place on emergency response services. Kitta spent a couple of years searching. Finally, an American man contacted him. They met for the first time at Calgary airport.

"And off we went," Kitta said.

The pair climbed without a guide, moving through the mountain's long, cold approach with few chances to turn back once committed. A few hours into the climb, Kitta felt confident he would summit. "It was just a matter of moving my legs," he said.

But confidence doesn't guarantee success on Logan. The first attempt failed. Kitta and his partner nearly reached the summit, but whiteout conditions forced them to retreat. On their second try, his partner wasn't feeling well—dizzy, nauseous from altitude. Kitta decided to push ahead alone.

The day broke clear. Sun filled the Yukon sky. Kitta moved steadily upward through what he described as "more like persistent sunset for hours"—the high Arctic light that never quite disappears. The weather window felt good, maybe a little late, but open.

Kitta spent just minutes at the summit. His mind had already switched modes. "Once I got to the summit, my main thought was take the pictures, take the video, make proof of the summit as soon as possible and get out," he said. After taking documentation, he descended about 50 metres and sent a message to his mother and his partner's weatherman contact to confirm he'd made it.

"Your mind just switches to the mode of, 'OK, checkmark. I need to actually go back and survive'," he said.

The descent brought its own tests. Walking in crampons, Kitta punched through a crevasse—his leg suddenly breaking through snow and ice into a void below. He caught himself, climbed out. His partner joked later that Kitta was the "crevasse discoverer" because he'd done it a lot before.

"Kinda scary," Kitta admitted, though his trip report lists it as his only real close call.

Kitta made it back to the tent. The climb took weeks of suffering and waiting, two summit attempts, altitude sickness, and one solo push through the Arctic night. He got down alive, which is what matters on a mountain that doesn't forgive mistakes.

For a climber who'd been waiting two years to find a partner, who'd spent twenty years chasing summits, Logan was worth the wait.