Teddy Bear Trees

The plan was to explore the Christiana Ridge area across from Bostock but the van wouldn't start at the Visitors Center on Sunday morning. Bollocks! Non of us being mechanics we quickly exhausted our list of amateur obvious solutions. It seemed like a starter or solenoid type problem; the battery was fine but at each turn of the key the only noise heard was a single disappointing 'click' from under the hood.

Nick suggested we try to bump start it. Now I consider myself a bit of a bump start aficionado, a true connoisseur of the art, but this looked pretty dubious. The van weighs well over 2 tonnes, the parking lot was almost level and covered in compact snow, and there was hardly any space to get a good run at it. The only thing worse than a dead VW van in the middle of nowhere is a dead VW van in the middle of nowhere in a really inconvenient place. But Nick was confident so he and and Brenda (all 100lbs of her) got behind and gave it everything they had.

The van hesitated for a moment, then began to slowly, ponderously, painfully roll across the lot. After 20 meters we were moving at no more than a leisurely walking pace with no signs of an imminent increase in speed. From my place in the driver's seat I watched the snowbank at the opposide end of the lot get bigger and bigger through the windshield. I jumped out and added my own weight for 10 steps or so and then quickly hopped back in again as we ran out space. It looked hopeless. I got 'er in 2nd, popped the clutch and....

Vrooom!

No bother at all. I was amazed.

Confident in our ability to do it all again we lined the van up for a repeat performance at the end of the day and went for a couple of runs in Teddy Bear Trees.



That's the best photo I can come up with, taken from across the valley on Grizzly Shoulder. We'd been up there a couple of times before but always in poor light and we'd stayed completely in the trees. This time we were able to climb further along the ridge and drop in on the cleaner lines that begin higher up.



We had a couple of really good long runs that left the tele skiers in our group gasping for air. No photos of the skiing; it's one of those runs that doesn't really have a safe place to stop on the way down. Teddy Bear Trees must have one of the best effort-to-reward ratios in the pass.

We bump started the van again and got her home without incident, which is when I realized that Kelowna is actually a really, really flat place.

Ursus Trees and Little Sifton Traverse

The season to date in a single image. Very little snow in November and December followed by near continuous snowfall through much of January that pushed the avalanche hazard into the extreme zone. Things settled down last week and we were lured back to Rogers Pass.

We met Ross, Marni, and Deanna on Saturday morning. Most permit areas were closed (again) so we headed up behind the hotel to Ursus Trees and found some of the best skiing of the season. Marni and Deanna are long time Canmore residents and kept running into people they knew; especially Marni who has history of climbing and skiing that spans decades. Brenda and I recognized Heather from our Selkirk Lodge trip several years ago and had a good laugh over The Great Sandwich Bag Incident. Crikey we learned some colorful language that day courtesy of the hideous Grania.

Sunday dawned clear and cold. We again skied behind the hotel and ground our way up Grizzly Shoulder towards the Little Sifton Col.



No matter how many times we come this way it always takes our breath away to pop out onto Grizzly Ridge after toiling in the trees and take in the magnificent 360 degree views.

Grizzly


Tupper


Rogers, Swiss Peaks, Hermit


At the col we decided to climb the extra hundred meters or so to the top of Little Sifton. Oh man this sucked! The tiny bit of extra elevation put us right into the teeth of the wind (just listen to it in the video) and we were frozen to the core in moments. Both Nick and Ross got minor frostbite patches on their faces. Sorry guys, bad idea. We skied off the summit as quickly as possible with our skins tied into knots from the howling wind and quickly dropped behind the col into the Hermit side.



This took us out of the wind and into the late afternoon sun which made all the difference. Thankful to be warm again we whooped our way down through the fluffy snow.

Needle Peak

This past weekend we had two reasons to go west to the Coquihalla rather than east to Rogers Pass. The first was that the avalanche conditions were still kinda wonky in Glacier Park. Most permit areas would probably be closed anyway. The second was that our friend Dave had moved from Montreal to Vancouver making Needle Peak a good in-between meeting place.

Brenda and I usually make one trip a year to the Coquihalla area. It's a nice change and an easy day trip but we usually come away feeling a bit underwhelmed. The terrain seems limited. However I must admit that we haven't really explored much and perhaps it's our own imagination that limits us.



We had a few turns, got some sun on our faces, and chatted endlessly with Dave.

McGill Shoulder (Bostock)

Avalanche hazard peaked over the weekend. We headed for the trees at McGill Shoulder, although calling it "tree skiing" would be a bit of a misnomer. The main features here are the two main avalanche paths which drop down from the summit and several smaller paths on either side. We spent the day skirting along the edge of these paths, staying in the mature trees where we could. Good skiing. Things are finally beginning to fill in.

Stanley Mitchell Hut

Update November 2017:
The photos in this post were hosted on Google's Picasa Web Albums. Google shuttered the service and these photos no longer click through to larger versions. Sorry about that. Here's a link to the album on Google Photos if you are interested: https://photos.app.goo.gl/Au6P9N7sB1zCflAi1

The appeal of the Stanley Mitchell hut was just to be there; a place we'd never been to before, a remote and quiet location to welcome in the New Year. But the real story of this trip was about simply getting there rather than being there.



The hut is 24km from the highway. The first 13km follows an unplowed road to a picnic shelter at Takakkaw Falls. Many parties break up the trip by overnighting at the shelter and then continuing on the next day. It's only a 700m elevation gain from highway to hut but nevertheless 24km is a long way to go in midwinter with a three day pack on one's back. Another concern was the temperature which was forecast to be somewhere in the mid minus 20s.

We couldn't coax any of our regular ski buddies to join us on this trip. Wusses! Nevertheless Brenda and I felt that getting to the hut in one day was within our powers...but only just.

The alarm went off in our hotel room in Golden at 3:30am mountain time. That, dear friends, is a brutal 2:30am Kelowna time. My severe distaste of alpine starts outweighs an even greater distaste of searching for unfamiliar huts in the dark at -20C at the end of a long day. At 5:00am we were skiing away from the car.



The blowing snow flashed through the light of our headlamps and our breath froze instantly onto our faces and clothes. It was absolutely freezing. Maybe we've grown soft living in the Okanagan for a few years, but this seemed seriously, intensely cold.



We plodded along in the darkness without speaking much, the only sound being the scritch-scritch-scritch of pole tips in the packed snow. We had our skins on at this point. In retrospect it would have been much better to use kick wax but at the time we couldn't see far enough into the darkness to know if the road stayed flat ahead of us. Although I don't think we could have stopped anyway, it was far too cold to start futzing with wax.

After a couple of hours a silvery moon rose over Mount Stephen to the south and gave a bit of light to see by, and soon the sun began to inch it's way over the peaks and into the valley. It raised our spirits a bit but didn't provide much in the way of warmth. We paused briefly to take off skins and jam them quickly inside our coats. The snow was cold enough that we didn't need wax but even this brief stop left me with frozen fingers and a creeping feeling of desperation; I was getting colder and colder and nothing seemed to help. I think part of the problem was that we weren't climbing upwards and the slow shuffling along the level road wasn't allowing me to generate any heat.

By 9 o'clock I was beginning to have serious doubts about making it to the hut that night when we finally saw the first road signs indicating that we were close to the picnic shelter. Our pace quickened and soon the shelter was in sight. Was that a wisp of smoke coming out of the chimney?



Yes it was! We kicked off the skis and waddled stiffly into the shelter. Warmth! Don't get me wrong it was still well below freezing but it was infinitely warmer than outside. Someone had spent the night and the stove was still warm. In a rather rash maneuver I threw off my pack, grabbed the fuel bottle, tossed a few small logs into the stove and doused the whole lot in fuel. Whoosh! Instant heat. Heaven.



We spent over an hour huddled next to the stove, warming up and melting snow for hot drinks. As warmth slowly returned to fingers and toes so did our confidence in getting to the Stanley Mitchell. When a group of three arrived at the shelter on their way out from the hut, thus ensuring that there was a track all the way in, we knew we could get there ourselves. It took another five cold hours (we aren't the fastest thing on four legs) but we did get there with reasonable time to spare.



We had the fire roaring away and it was just beginning to get dark when three ice-encrusted apparitions appeared outside the hut. Jon, Jamie, and Tim (whose names we learned later) had made much better time than we did despite the 8 liters of wine and 1.5 liters of booze they packed in! They took pity on our paltry hip flask of Scotch and shared generously. We really enjoyed our three nights with them.

Cold, however, was the constant theme. The hut never really warmed up despite the blazing fire that was burning the entire time. The stainless steel kitchen counter was a particular challenge; anything slightly moist that came into contact would freeze instantly to the counter top. Food scraps, tea, pot drips, and damp cutlery added daily to the morass. The only really warm spot in the entire hut was right in front of the stove door where we all spent a considerable amount of time. Afterwards we learned that the temperature at valley bottom had dipped down to -33C during our stay. Being 700m higher I'd be willing to bet that it was considerably colder at the hut.



We explored the area but didn't stray too far afield. In exposed areas the wind had been howling resulting in a classic shallow Rockies snowpack of styrofoam over sugar. Down lower in the trees there was better snow and we had some fun with Jon and Tim skiing the gentle slopes south of the cabin. I didn't remove a single layer of clothing the entire time.





New Years Eve was celebrated in fine style as Brenda and I did our Good Christian Duty by helping the others work through their stash of booze. We slept in very late the next morning.



The trip out was still cold and the slog along the road was still tedious but it only took just over 5 hours to get to the car.



Somewhere near the end I asked Brenda which modern convenience she was thinking about most. Her reply of "Car batteries" put a bit of worry into the final few kilometers. Thankfully when we got to the car the engine did spark to life but it was touch and go for a moment.

Often the measure of success for a trip like this is whether or not you'd do it all again, and sometimes a day or two of reflection is required before deciding one way or the other. In this case we had already decided on the way out that this was a trip we'd do again.

A couple of things worth noting, for ourselves as much as for anyone reading this blog who is considering making the trip. As mentioned we aren't particularly fast but we did manage to get to the hut in one push and on one of the shortest days of the year. However we didn't have to break any trail. That could easily have added a couple of hours to the journey. Another point which struck us was how challenging it would be to follow the final six or seven kilometers of trail after a snowfall, especially if one wasn't familiar with the route. A GPS would be a massive help. Finally, for those considering an overnight stay at the picnic shelter, I don't think it would be as dire as some sources have made it out to be. It didn't appear to be overrun with pack rats and there was a small supply of wood available inside the shelter -- but I can't say if there was more available nearby. Even the outhouse was operational. Nevertheless we would still go from car to hut in one day.

Happy new year.

8812 and Video Peak

Falling behind on the blog! Here's a quick recap of a trip to Rogers Pass a few weeks ago.

On Saturday we joined an ACC group for a trip up to 8812 bowl. It was clear and cold with lots of other skiers up in the Connaught drainage; we certainly weren't going to get first tracks. This is Gerald contemplating a scratchy drop from Bruins Ridge into 8812.



We took a line more to skiers right than usual, found some good snow, and enjoyed the long mellow decent.



Not without incident of course; I found some crust and provided a crowd pleasing face plant for the peanut gallery above us on the ridge. Thankfully not on film.



The highlight of the weekend was running into Val and James. I know James from a trip to the Bugs several years ago. And Val from...I have no idea, through Brian somehow. It was Val's 50th and she was celebrating in style with friends from all over.



On Sunday a diminished group headed back up the valley again. Here's Val enjoying her first day of life at 50.



The day before we had a good view of this line on Video Peak shining in the sun and couldn't resist.



The day had begun clear and sunny but by the time we scrambled to the top of Video the clouds had come in and the visibility wasn't great.



We skied down the front face on Video instead of the one we had originally been interested in. It's a good ski right off the summit but...meh...after the tromp up the valley and the roly-poly decent back down it seems like a long way to go for a few hundred meters of good steep skiing.

Aren't we getting spoiled?

Bow Hut

It was a very dark and very stormy night. Had it been any darker or any stormier, we would have stopped driving. But we pushed on slowly over Rogers Pass, because we had an invitation from Ross to spend the weekend with him, D'Arcy and Deanna at the Bow Hut. We weren't about to miss the guaranteed spontaneous fun.
On Friday morning we met up in the parking lot for the trip up to the hut. It was a perfect day in the Rockies - still, mostly clear, and a little bit cold. The Bow Hut it stunning from below - a palace perched high on the rock:

In the next few days we had good turns on the glacier above the hut in the fairly flat light. We had the whole hut, yes the whole hut, to ourselves, for wine and cheese followed by gin-fueled dice games.
D'Arcy getting powder turns:
Apres-ski at the lodge - perhaps the carbon monoxide is getting to me?

The superb weekend was made more memorable by a spectacular crash on the ski out, in which Ross and then Andrew met the same rock, landing in a pile and leaving the trail strewn with gear. Thanks to Andrew's control on one ski, the worst damage was done to the ski that met the rock:

Then we got lost - or rather, off the main trail - thanks to some sneaky navigation by Ross and myself. The shortcut turned into a bushwhack, bringing back fond memories of eastern glade skiing.

The drive home was even more epic than the drive there - nine more hours of dark and stormy night driving. But worth every minute - thanks for a great weekend all!

Balu Pass

"Minus 17! But it's our first night out this season!?"

Sunday morning in the van. In general car camping is comfortable enough at these temperatures. Warm sleeping bags and a down duvet keep the chill off at night. A hot cup of tea and our small heater do the job when we're not actually in bed. It's the transition between these two states which can test one's resolve to keep doing this.

We've thought about installing a propane heater for a while. Thermostat. Timer. Mmmmm...just imagine the toasty mornings. But they're expensive, and drilling holes in the van and messing around with propane fittings seems like a recipe for a DIY disaster. Maybe next year.

(I say that every year.)

Joined by Nick and Steve we got our winter permit paperwork sorted out with minimal fuss and headed up the Connaught. An icy wind blew down the valley and it felt shockingly cold.



Rather than thrashing through the alder to get up high we simply went straight to Balu Pass to yo-yo up and down the variety of short runs there.

Greg Hill passed us. As usual.



Our first run was a little rough on the skis. The unconsolidated snow hid the lurking rocks but didn't support our weight and there were a few base gouging clangers that I still haven't had the nerve to investigate. We eventually figured out where the snow was better. At the end of each run we took turns pointing back up and saying "Okay let's ski that one next".





A fine day out with a good skiing and minimal effort to get there.

All the pics.

Asulkan Cabin

Last year the ski season started with a real bang. This year? More like a scraaape!



It was a little rough getting to the cabin, but getting back out was full combat skiing (to steal a phrase from Nick). Nevertheless we did get to the hut, and I think for possibly the first time ever in November, we spent two days skiing above the hut, rather than down below in the tree triangle.



Our first order of business had been to make a quick repair. The ACC had let us know that there was a problem with the propane line and that there might not be any heat. Thankfully Sylvain at the ACC recognized Fred's name on the list of people going to the hut (they had skied together years ago) and he suggested a possible fix. Upon arrival we jury rigged a propane line de-gunker and soon had the heater humming along at full blast. It would have been a cold night otherwise.





We had the hut to ourselves on the first night. On the second night we were joined by John, Jeff 1, Jeff 2, and Dustin (who we already knew) and Shane and Ben (who we didn't know). It's a long story as to how we know these guys. John, Jeff 2, and I all suffer together through a yoga class in quiet dignity. Fred also knows them through mountain biking.

Then there's Dustin. When went to the Asulkan Cabin in November 2005 Fred had asked Dustin to join us. At the hut Dustin met Jeff 1. They hit it off immediately and they now live together in Nelson. So this trip was an anniversary of sorts for them.

We had a ton of fun with them in cabin and I hope we can do this again some time. As for skiing with them? I dunno, not sure I could keep up!

Tying the Knot

We got married in October! A tiny wedding, we spent a week on Grand Manan Island in New Brunswick at my parent's B&B with just our families. The ceremony itself took place at an idyllic rocky cove within walking distance of the inn. The sun was shining, seals played in the water, folks waved hello...it was great! And in the tradition of this blog here's an arm's length "summit" shot:



There are a bunch of photos here if you can stomach other people's wedding photos :)

Of course weddings are about family and friends. After leaving the island we made our way first to Montreal for a quick visit with Brian (and lots of bagels) and then to Keene Farm in the Adirondacks.





The Adirondacks hold a special place in both our hearts. I've spent more days and nights in the Dacks than I care to count, along the way learning to climb and ski in these hills. And it was on the Wright Peak ski trail that Brenda and I first met, although admittedly that day was more memorable for the horrendous skiing than for the meeting of my future wife. I think only 3 of 7 people skied out under their own power that day!

And then everyone came to us!



Ross made the trip from Edmonton; Martin and family from Dundas; Bruno and Sheri from Connecticut; everyone else from Montreal and Ottawa. It was brilliant to see everyone, especially in this place where we all have such good memories of days gone by.

In many ways it was if nothing had changed; just another weekend in the Dacks. But then I'd realize that a teenage son (or daughter) was sitting at the picnic table with us, someone who wasn't even born when we first came to the Dacks and began drinking Scotch under the very tree that we were now sitting under.

Climbs were climbed...



Songs were sung...



And the old traditions were kept alive...



What else can be said? Thanks to everyone who made the effort to be there with us. It wouldn't have been the same without you. Have a look at the rest of the photos.