Update June 2017:
Google killed the Picasaweb photo service so the photos in this post no longer click through to larger versions. Here's an album containing the photos: https://goo.gl/photos/tTYQbsSms2ygRXM56
Brenda and I are slowly working our way through the "low hanging fruit" in Rogers Pass. Mount Rogers seemed to be the next peak within our grasp. We hiked up to Hermit Meadows on Saturday afternoon with designs on a half traverse that would take us up the southeast ridge and then down the large south facing snow slope between Rogers and Grant.
We found the Selkirks North guidebook to be a little confusing in its description of the route; you can approach on the east side or the west side of the SE ridge, begin at the middle or at the end, avoid difficulties on the left, or possibly on the right, or even travel right over the ridge and join it again at a later point, all with varying degrees of difficulty. So we weren't exactly sure what we would be getting into.
Coincidentally, on the hike up we ran into a fellow, who shall remain nameless, that we kind of knew but mainly by reputation, who would also be trying Rogers the next day. He was leading a small group that would be going up by the way that we planned to come down, so after dinner we strolled over looking for some advice.
It was a really weird conversation. I dunno, some folks you click with and some you don't. Everyone has different reasons for being in the mountains. We decided to ignore the "advice" we were given and stuck with our original plan. It was the right choice, and in retrospect we were reminded of a quote: “The whole problem with the world is that fools and fanatics are always so certain of themselves, but wiser people so full of doubts” (Bertrand Russell).
The route was a fine, typical Selkirks ridge route. We went up the ramp to the notch on the ridge, and from here followed the SE ridge, sometimes on the crest (low 5th class), sometimes on climbers right (4th class). We had the rope out at a couple of points, but mainly this was to allow us stay on the ridge crest proper and avoid the less aesthetic 4th class rock on the east side.
Eventually the SE ridge joined the summit ridge above the Rogers-Grant col and from here it was mainly snow to the top.
This is the north side of the Swiss peaks (Grant, Fleming, and Swiss) a view that we have never seen before. The classic Swiss Peaks traverse goes from right to left.
As always it took longer than expected. 5 1/2 hours up. We hung out on the summit for a while trying to identify various peaks in the distance. Pretty sure we could see Mount Columbia and South Twin on the Columbia Icefields. The snow was getting sloppy on the way down but everything was pretty well bridged and we made good time down from the col and back across the glacier.
We met this fella just below the toe of the glacier and made a minor detour so as to not disturb him. I assume "fella". Do female mountain goats have horns?
A good day out and a good reconnaissance trip for doing the Swiss Peaks traverse on another day.
Edit June 2017
Google killed Picasaweb and the photos in this post will no longer click through to larger versions. Here's the full album if you're interested: https://goo.gl/photos/e4gpPFySY2QHPMf3A
A rest day was sorely needed after Victoria but we had booked the Castle Mountain Hut for the following night and now faced the rather daunting prospect of a steep 4 hour hike with overnight packs on the very next day.
So we had a lazy morning, basked in the sun on Ross's deck, and watched the insanely cute Canmore rabbits hop about the yard. But soon, far too soon, we reluctantly packed up our stuff and made the short drive north to Castle Mountain to begin the evening hike. Some day we'll take a real vacation :)
Hiking up to the Hut
Brewer Buttress is a 380m 5.6 rock climb that begins on the large ledge that girdles the mountain. There's a tiny ACC hut here where we would spend the night.
I had been to the hut once before in the mid-nineties and actually climbed Brewer Buttress, but I have few memories of the trip, other than we got caught in a thunderstorm somewhere around pitch 9 and it turned into an epic. And of course I remembered the shitter. Quality! Perched just back from a drop of several hundred meters, it's semi-composting, open to the elements, and offers an unparalleled view up and down the Bow Valley.
Brian relaxing with a cuppa (not on the shitter)
And I had forgotten about the pack rats; the little buggers were everywhere. And fearless. Especially when Ramen is on the menu.
Dinner is served
Up early the next day and climbing by 7:00. Being a party of three our biggest concern was time; Brian and I swung leads in 3 pitch blocks to minimize changeovers, but the biggest time saver was a Petzl Reverso/ATC Guide belay device that allowed the leader to belay two seconds at once. In the end we averaged something like 40 minutes a pitch so we did all right.
It was great to be up high climbing real rock with Brian again. And what an excellent climb this is.
The rock is solid (at least by Rockies standards); the route finding is easy especially with the fixed anchors; and the positions get more spectacular the higher you go. The last 3 pitches are just spectacular. We took the variation ending on the last pitch and I recommend it.
Brian on the variation final pitch
Topping out
What a relief to get the rock shoes off after 8 hours. I haven't done much rock climbing this year and my fingers were red and swollen after 12 pitches of prickly limestone.
To descend Castle you need to walk back north over the summit and scramble down an ugly gully with a few short rappels. It's a bit of a nasty place and I wouldn't want to be in there below another party sending rocks down. With the fixed anchors I wonder if rapping the route might actually be the better option these days? Here's a picture of the descent gully just in case you're reading this blog for beta.
After our successful trip up Uto, Brian, Andrew and I (Brenda) went east to Canmore to join Ross on a trip to the North summit of Mt. Victoria. Victoria is the large glaciated peak immediately behind Lake Louise, so it features prominently in many postcards. The guidebook said it was appropriate for novice mountaineers. Perfect!
Our day began with consulting the tourist maps, at 5am, to ensure that we were headed to the right tea-house. Yes, the route starts at a tea-house, and yes, we were off-route immediately, headed for the wrong tea-house. Good thing Andrew was thinking straight.
Brian and Ross consult the Tourist Information. Which mountain are we going to?
Past the tea-house, up the trail, and around the lower slopes brought us to the glacier by breakfast time. On with the rope, up the glacier, and up the loose rock bands to the snow below the summit ridge.
So far, so good... we had climbed to 10,000'. Now for that last thousand feet. You would think that an 11k peak would only be 10% more difficult than a 10k peak, but somehow that last thousand feet seems to punch above its weight; I speak from my vast experience of now two eleven-thousanders.
The snow was sloppy and steep; it hadn't frozen well overnight. We hummed for a while trying to figure out which way to go. Finally Andrew found the best way up, skirting under the looming cornice that had an unmistakably bemused expression, and up to the ridge.
The cornice chuckles at us. Fortunately, it did no worse than chuckle.
When we got to the ridge, I realized with some disappointment that supper was still a long way away. The ridge was a bit icy, and after that there was a long-ish but surprisingly enjoyable section of rock to the summit.
Looking back at the long path to the summit.
The trip down was a little hair-raising for this novice mountaineer, over ice, soggy snow and loose rock bands. Andrew lent me a hand here and there, I managed to keep my sanity past the telling 12-hour mark, and soon we were past the difficult bits and on the way home.
Update July 2017:
Google killed the Picasaweb photo service and the photos in this post no longer click through to larger versions. Here's an album containing the photos: https://photos.app.goo.gl/w8Yql8xcUQDzec2L2
Accompanied by our good friend Brian from Montreal (and Trinidad) this was the first stop on a week long climbing trip. Rather than subjecting Brian to the vagaries of figuring out an unfamiliar route we opted for an oldie but a goodie in the form of Uto.
I don't know how we do it but in one way or another we always manage to climb Uto differently each time. This was my third time up the SW ridge and I was still scratching my head and asking things like "Do you remember this part?" or "How did we get around this bit?". We seem to find a slightly different way up on each occasion.
Maybe that's why it always takes much longer to get up than we think it should. At 8 hours from car to summit we didn't set any speed records. But the weather was fantastic so we didn't care.
I must admit that we had a good laugh at some poor fellas entry in the summit register.
To Kiersten,
So you told me to go without you today as you needed some time apart from me. I left you in camp. I was pretty damn sad.
Poor Scott from Seattle!
Fortunately the movement over the rock let me think more clearly and I'm happy now....I'm happy because I'm sitting on top of this mountain and I may be alone but at least I know you're still down in camp...I care deeply about you ->next
He actually writes "next" at the end of the page.
...in fact I may love you but I can't say that yet.
Okay enough! It went on for a couple of pages. Sorry Scott. Let's just say that subsequent entries in the register weren't exactly sympathetic to poor Scott's plight. Check the photos for more on this gripping drama.
We rapped off the summit and made our way down the NW ridge to complete the traverse. Two bird sitings today; an unidentified LBJ (little brown job) twittering away on the ridge:
And a ptarmigan with chicks:
On our way through the bivy site we were informed that someone had been charged by a grizzly on the hiking trail earlier in the day. With this in mind we sang "Ride the Bear" and other bad songs all through the long hike back down through the valley. Beer, dinner, bed, and off to Canmore the next morning to find Ross.
Motivation to climb a snow-capped mountain is hard to come by when contemplating the refracted sunlight and rose-blooms through a tall gin & tonic under the shade of a walnut tree.
The solution for this weekend was to set a small goal that would still leave us with such a Sunday afternoon. Mount Sifton on Saturday would be a non-threatening day out, and get us in shape for the summer that is already underway for the more highly motivated. So on Friday night we took the van up to Rogers Pass, and met Nick at the Hermit Meadows trailhead at 7am.
Nick put our low motivation into cold perspective. "In the battle of the blogs, Greg Hill has one million vertical feet and you two got lost on the way to Eva Lake." We can always trust Nick for pithy observation.
So up the steeply winding Hermit Meadows trail we climbed, past the meadows to the foot of the indistinct and rubble-strewn south-ish ridge-cum-buttress route. Not 50-Classic-Climbs material, but within our reach. Our routefinding skills being a bit rusty, we ended up on the side of the ridge amid loose rocks and dirt. We quickly tired of that, so we gained the crest of the ridge and followed it to the base of the south-ish face.
Nick takes a break on a more-solid rock
The rock to the upper snowfield was surprisingly pleasant and solid, with the odd interesting bit that had me going back and forth wondering what to do. We three picked our way up to a large flat lunch-rock at the beginning of the short final pitch of snow to the summit. I thought I was too tired, and would just rest in the sun while Andrew and Nick ran to the summit and back down. Andrew, however, encouraged, cajoled and finally dropped a rope for me, and I joined them at the top.
Andrew on the upper snowfield. Follow me! the view is better up here!
I follow
The view was better
The trip down was uneventful, and descending from Hermit Meadows without an overnight pack was markedly less punishing than previous trips.
Our Route
On Sunday, we fell further behind in the battle of the blogs as we treated our sore muscles with G&T in the shade of the walnut tree.
We wanted to go up to Hermit Meadows over the long weekend to have a look at the Swiss Peaks or something. In the end the so-so forecast, time, and frankly our motivation, lead us to change our destination en route and we decided instead to hike into Eva Lake in Revelstoke Park.
We got the expected reaction from the nice folks at the park gate, at 4 o'clock, as it started to rain:
"You want to go where? But no one's been in there this year. It's still full winter conditions. I'll need to call my supervisor! You'll never find the trail!! You'll die!!!".
Okay no one actually said we'd die, I just threw that one in for Bruno's benefit, but they were pretty alarmed. We filled in endless forms, payed additional fees for the privilege of overnighting in a national park, and repeatedly assured them that we knew what we were getting into.
Then we then promptly lost the trail.
Okay there are absolutely no trail markings to Eva Lake. None. To be honest if we hadn't been there before I don't think we would have found the way. I mean it's not that serious of a place to get a bit lost but we didn't want to get completely turned around.
There were occasional sections where the snow had melted enough for us to see a hint of the gravel trail, but more often than not we would just aim in roughly the right direction and then trudge for several hundred meters on the snow. We would then pull out the altimeter, guess whether or not we were too high or too low, and then make a bee line straight up (or down) across the contour hoping to find a bit of the trail.
We got there in the end. Originally we had envisioned pitching the tent near the lake. Of course when we got there the lake was still frozen and the ground was still covered in a meter or more of snow. What to do. Dig? Or stay in the old log shelter?
No contest!
And we felt even better for our choice as the rain hammered down on the roof throughout the night. We woke to a misty damp morning that made us think of our little hut as one of Scottish bothies written about so romantically in "Mountain Days and Bothy Nights".
We followed our tracks on the return journey and arrived back at the car by early afternoon.
We sat dejectedly on our packs as the mist swirled thickly around us. Loops of wet purple rope lay between us in the snow. We were somewhere on the Illecillewaet Glacier, it was the Victoria Day long weekend, and it was still a very, very long way to the Glacier Circle Cabin.
This would almost certainly be our last ski trip of the season. Giving up now would be a disappointing way to end seven months of skiing. Besides, we were really looking forward to having a couple of days at the hut. So we pressed on. Occasionally there was a brief glimpse of Mt. Macoun and we quickly took a compass bearing (and tons of photos) but mainly we were navigating by GPS.
Traveling further and further onto the icefield a little seed of doubt began to grow in our minds; we weren't entirely confident of being able to find our way down the other side once we got there. Brenda and I had been this way once before but that had been on a beautiful summer's day. We weren't sure of being able to repeat it in a complete whiteout. There is an alternative descent via the Witch Tower to the west but that would add a few kilometers of unfamiliar terrain to the journey. Better the devil you know as they say.
After many hours the GPS told us that we had reached the high point near Macoun. Very tired, we stripped off our skins, and not without a little trepidation, began skiing down in roughly the right direction. The angle was gentle at first and we slowly lost elevation, peering through the mist, keeping a wary eye for crevasses. As the glacier rolled off and our speed began to pick up there seemed to be a slight brightening around us; the mist kind of changed from grey to white. We kept going. Now the visibility was definitely improving as we could just make out the ridge coming down from Macoun. The more elevation we lost the better it became. Then quite suddenly we dropped out of the cloud and there was the Deville Glacier across the valley, Mount Fox and Mount Selwyn, everything! It was amazing. The transition was so sudden, and so magical after being worried for hours. We were elated.
We weren't there yet of course. Snow that transitioned from slush to ice in the space of six inches provided it's share of heartbreaking moments with our big packs, and finding our way down the ramp wasn't quite as straightforward as we had hoped.
But before long, just as a snow squall began dumping thick wet snow flakes on us, there was the cabin, and we were sooo happy to be there.
It's a magical spot glacier circle; the history, the isolation, the stunning scenery, the effort it takes just to get there; all make it an exceptional place to visit. We stayed for two nights and reveled in every moment. We drank gallons of tea, chopped wood, dried our boots in front of the wood stove, watched some interesting ducks on the half frozen lake, took naps, and watched through the open door as snow squalls whirled passed the cabin.
And as if it couldn't get more idyllic, at least for me, I came across a book named "Among the Selkirk Glaciers" by William Spotswood Green. I had been looking for this book for years and had assumed that it was simply unavailable. First published in 1890 it's an account of a visit by the very first climber and explorer to visit Rogers Pass just a few years after the area became accessible by train. He was the first to survey and map the Illecillewaet and Asulkan drainages and made the first ascent of Mount Bonney among others. It was fascinating to read about his adventures 120 years ago in the very places that we had just traveled over to get to the cabin. I tracked down the publisher and now have my own copy to marvel over at home.
The discovery of an old pipe and tobacco had us trying to emulate Chic Scott's iconic photo of Ron Robinson, Dave Smith, Don Gardner and himself at Glacier Circle Cabin in 1973.
Those guys define cool. We on the other hand...
Our second morning at the cabin dawned with blue skies and we chose to try and return by the Witch Tower. It was a stunning setting. Avalanches regularly came down off Fox as we kicked steps in slush-over-ice with sweat streaming down our faces in the hot sun. We gave Fox a wide berth.
The Witch Tower route is far more straight forward than the Macoun route, but it's really steep and feels more exposed than the Macoun side. You'd definitely want good stability to come this way. This gives a rough idea of our route in and out.
After a few hours we joined our original track from two days ago and made our way back across the glacier. The return journey has much more downhill and what had taken us hours to climb up we gleefully skied back down in a matter of minutes. Things were getting pretty marginal by the time we got near treeline and it turned into real character building stuff as we got near the highway.
Nevertheless it was a great trip to a great place with great people. Thanks to Nick and Steve and everyone else for a great winter in sometimes trying conditions. We look forward to next year and let's all pray that we don't hear the acronym PWL any time soon. Only five months until ski season!
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