Related: Rogers Peak Traverse: The Long Haul

Report from September 8, 2020

Kaitlin, Mikey, Freddy and I started the day at a leisurely hour, 8:30 AM, quite unusual for a long mountaineering day. We ran up the 3km of the Hermit Trail, now quite familiar with its relentlessly steep switchbacks. We sped past the Hermit Meadows Campground onto a gentle moraine terminating at the southeast ridge of Mt Sifton.

From there, the long scramble began with the lower section featuring sustained 3rd-class climbing. We stuck to the very crest of the ridge throughout most of the climb as it provided the best rock quality. Following either side meant dealing with scree, grass, and choss. Did I mention I absolutely despise scree. I HATE IT – as most mountaineers do.

Midway across the lower ridge, we stumbled across a tilted slab linking two false summits with gnarly exposure on both sides. We crossed the slab with a few hand-to-hand moves on its high side. What a rush! Alternatively, the feature can be avoided to the climber’s left on a series of ledges… but where’s the fun in that!

After an hour of uninterrupted scrambling, we arrived at the base of the 4th-class ridge which I will call the summit tower for our convenience. This section looked step and impassable at first glance. With careful scrutiny, we planned a clean route, zig-zagging up the large blocks of quartzite. Higher up, we would traverse across a grassy ledge to the climber’s left, joining with the 3rd-class southeast buttress. Unless shit hits the fan, this route would be climbed unroped.

The southeast ridge supported some excellent climbing with large jagged flakes, deep cracks, and manageable exposure. As long as we were careful not to cut our hands on the sharp rock, we would be fine. This reminded me of the west ridge of Mt Tupper, albeit at a lower technical difficulty and with much less exposure. I’d recommend short roping this section if uncomfortable.

Midway up the summit tower, we encountered a gendarme blocking our progress. Freddy and Mikey went around to the left through a nasty gully lined with loose dirt and small pebbles. Kaitlin and I went all in. We climbed directly up the gendarme with a few awkward, overhanging 5th-class moves. This particular option is ill-advised for the inexperienced climber as it required a bit of strength.

We gained the top of southeast ridge which later terminated in a loose gully and connected to the north ridge. We choose to traverse left across a grassy ledge onto the southeast buttress. A short 3rd/4th-class scramble across a cracked slab led us to a wide bench, 50 meters short of the summit.

This was the end of the Mt Sifton Southeast Ridge. Technically, we were now standing on its north ridge. We took a well-deserved food and water break while enjoying the clement weather.

Moments later, we were back on our feet, climbing the last few meters to the summit. We followed the base of an old cornice hanging off the Sifton Glacier. At 1 PM, we had reached the summit of Mt Sifton through its southeast ridge. In retrospect, this was a top-quality climb with impressive views and even better rock.

It was now time for the descent of the north ridge, consisting mostly of 3rd class terrain. The lower technical level was welcomed with open arms as downclimbing is always harder on the body and mind. We trailed under small cornices bounding the Sifton Glacier. At this point in the season, they were almost entirely melted, granting us an intricate view of the glacier’s internals.

Once we passed the glacier/cornices, I took a deep breath. Potential icefalls were in the back of my mind the whole time. I peered down the ridge only to spot Freddy paving a way through the blocky quartzite. This guy flows through the mountains with a swiftness that’s unheard of! I looked past Freddy, across the gray valley at Hermit Valley’s highest peak, Rogers Peak, which I traversed from west to east in the summer of 2019 (Rogers Traverse: The Long Haul).

We dropped west of the ridge (climber’s left) and navigated a complex system of rocky ledges marked by cairns until we reached an obvious gendarme. From there, we climbed back up the ridge and dropped on its eastern flank (climber’s right).

I scouted ahead, looking for an easy way out of the east face. While worn footpaths beelined down the face, we stuck to our original plan and circumnavigated the gendarme. Turns out this was a great idea as the terrain below this feature terminated in a large cliff. We slowly forged a path through scree, boulders, and dirt, improvising a trail as we went.

By 6 PM, we had gained the Rogers-Sifton Col. from that location, we descended a heinous scree slope to the head of the Rogers Glacier. We staggered our path: rockfall (high-speed projectiles) was a serious concern here. I’d recommend walking further along the col to the base of Rogers west ridge before dropping down. This would avoid much of the loose scree.

By the time we approached the Hermit Meadows, the sun was setting behind the Hermit Range. What a perfect day!

Photos

Route Info

12 h	1710 m	11.5 km	1300-2922 m

The post Mt Sifton Southeast Ridge: Superb Climbing, Glorious Views appeared first on The Uptrack.

Related: Jade Pass Trail, Mt Revelstoke: Keeping It Local

Report from August 17, 2020

Day 1: Mt Revelstoke to Woolsey Glacier

Our day started at the Mt Revelstoke parking lot next to Balsam Lake. Kaitlin, Freddy, and I bolted past Miller Lake and up towards Jade Pass, skirting around tourists walking at a leisurely pace. They must have been wondering what we were up to with our loaded packs. We gained the pass in no time at all, roughly 90 minutes. Our point of view granted us a wonderful sight of Upper and Lower Jade Lakes. The hike to this point is described in detail in my previous trip report, Mt Revelstoke Hiking: Keeping It Local.

After a short water break, we headed north towards Mt Williamson. I was debating whether we should climb the peak or not. We opted to come back another time for the summit. Navigating 4th-class terrain is no simple task with a heavy pack. We bypassed the peak through a rocky bench to the west and climbed up a northwest-facing gully.

Moments later, we found ourselves on top of the long, broken ridge spanning north of Mt Williamson. The views from here were spectacular. The Inverness Peaks loomed over the Clachnacudainn Drainage from across the valley. My eyes fixated on this bright blue alpine lake lying on the east flank of the ridge. This would be the first of many lakes encountered on our traverse from Mt Revelstoke to Sale Mountain.

Snapping back to reality, we scrambled over a series of small bumps through chossy rock, double-checking our handholds at every move. The ridge wasn’t particularly difficult with one short section of 4th-class rock but it certainly was endless. Up and down, we go!

Eventually, we gained the last of the series of summits, topped with two towering cairns. We weren’t quite sure what they marked but someone did put a lot of effort into building those towers. We looked at mountains beyond and planned our route. We choose to go up a scree slope between two distinct summits. For the lack of a better name, I’ll call it Twin Peaks Col.

The hike up the scree slope turned out to be quite the slog. Loose rocks, poor footholds, and difficult route finding made the ascent harder than it seemed from our previous vantage point. In the intense summer heat, beads of sweat was running down our forehead. We eventually gained Twin Peaks Col.

Finally, we reached the col. From our vantage point, we could see the second third of the traverse from Twin Peak Col all the way to Mt St-Cyr. The terrain below seemed pretty easy to navigate with a few snow slopes followed by grassy and rocky terrain. I gazed in awe at the surrounding peaks of Mt Dickey, Mt St-Cyr, and Mt Coursier.

The downclimb from the col required a few 4th-class moves, followed by some controlled slippage on dirt and scree. We landed on a mellow snow slope peppered by goat and grizzly prints. We staggered our paths to avoid kicking the loose rocks on each other. We briskly traversed above the head of the Clachnacudainn Creek and followed a goat trail through shrubs, wildflowers, and rock slabs.

As we hiked higher and higher towards the head of the Coursier/Gordon Pass, the views got progressively more glorious. I caught my breath for a second and looked back. So lush! The Claichnacudainn Valley extended beneath my feet all the way to the Trans-Canada Highway. That’s a sight very few humans have seen.

It took no more than 95 minutes to gain the Coursier/Gordon Col from Twin Peaks Col. After more than 10 kilometers of scrambling over chossy rock and scree, we finally stepped onto glacier ice at the head of the Gordon Glacier. I’ve always preferred snow travel over rock scrambling. It’s easier on the legs and, in most cases, more direct. Plus, who doesn’t like to boot ski?

We proceeded down the Gordon Glacier all the way to the southern end of its alpine lake, glissading when possible to speed things up. On our right, we spotted a sizable rockfall, originating from the top of Mt Coursier. The debris had fallen to the bottom of the glacial cirque, a reminder of the constant rockfall hazard when traveling in the alpine.

We scrambled wet slabs glistening in the dim sunlight to a rocky bench – not ideal climbing conditions with loaded packs. We climbed this section as carefully as we could, not really trusting our footing on the wet, mossy slabs. It was either that or a sketchy scree slope. After a tough scramble and some fallen rocks nearly sending me into oblivion, we crossed the Coursier/West Woolsey Pass situated at the upper west boundary of the Woolsey Glacier. At this point, we decided to set up our bivy right below the glaciated slopes of Mt Coursier. The sunset was surreal, only to be obscured by the shadowy mass of Mt Dickey, lying on its course.

Day 2: West Woolsey to Sale Mountain

From our perch, we woke up to a valley shrouded in fog. What a sight! We sped through breakfast and headed down the Woolsey Glacier towards the Latvian Col. There’s no better warmup than a fast glissade down snowy slopes.

We picked our way through the snowfield, avoiding patches of blue ice. To save weight, we didn’t bring any glacier gear. We took a moment to fill our water bottles at a nearby alpine lake. We looked up at Mount St-Cyr across the valley and planned our route. We aimed to gain the Latvian Col, an obvious U-shaped feature.

We did short work of the climb, involving scrambling over stable boulders and traversing soft snow slopes. From our height, the view of the Clachnacudainn Icefield terminated by Margareth Lake were absolutely stunning.

We pressed on the north side of the col, scouting our route in the process. Sadly, the alpine section of the Mt Revelstoke to Sale Mountain Traverse was nearing its end but we still had ways to go, precisely 5 km of bushwhacking through wildflowers and dense shrubs in the typical Selkirk sub-alpine.

We first headed skier’s left of the col towards a seemingly gentle snow slope and wet slabs. It turns out, the slabs ended abruptly into a cliff above an exposed glacial tongue. We doubled-back and aimed for the snow patches, skier’s right of the col. This way was much safer but still exposed, requiring a slight bit of 4th-class downclimbing on a set of overlapping ledges. There was an easier, albeit longer option further to the right that would take us through a gentle scree slope. I hate scree, as many do!

We walked along the contour of another alpine lake. This must have been our 6th at this point. My body could barely thermo-regulate in the heat. I took the opportunity to dunk my head in the freezing water. It worked.

Our path took us down a steady descent towards the sub-alpine of the St-Cyr drainage. Our scramble terminated at a steep, grassy slope blanketed with vibrant wildflowers, and hidden grizzly tracks. The over-saturated landscape was gloriously stunning to the point that it seemed like it had gone through a bad photoshop edit.

Looking back, the Latvian Col was staring at us. Even further, our bivy site below Mt Coursier seemed like a distant memory. It’s amazing how far a set of legs can take you… humans are resilient machines.

We followed the obvious ridge leading to Sale Mountain. So many ups and downs. In retrospect, I would recommend setting a trail through the burnt hills on the southern side of the ridge until gaining the ridge is absolutely necessary. This path would avoid an exposed downclimb through chossy rocks.

The remainder of the traverse was a simple hike following a faint trail. In the heat, it seemed eternal. 15 hours later spanning two days, we arrived at the Sale Mountain parking lot where we found Kaitlin’s SUV still in one piece. We drove down the Sale Mountain FSR in okay shape, dreaming of cold water and hot food.

Note: This trip was performed successfully using Ben Wilkey’s beta on Revelstoke Trails. Thanks Ben!

Photos

Route Info

15-18 h	2160 m	22.2 km	1730-2480 m

The post Mt Revelstoke To Sale Mountain Traverse: Off The Beaten Path appeared first on The Uptrack.

Related: Rogers Peak Traverse: The Long Haul

Report from July 20, 2020

I spent 3 days in this paradise and summited Crescent Spire (up the Lion’s Way route) and Pigeon Spire (up the west ridge) with scruffy mountain man, Phil Lester. This report covers the latter in great detail.

I woke up at 5 AM with no trouble as it usually is the case when an adventure awaits me. I accidentally kicked Phil in the face, lying across from me in my two-person Black Diamond Eldorado tent. Oops! We cooked a quick oatmeal breakfast and were ready within an hour. By 6 AM, we were already traversing the snow slopes west of the Applebee Dome campground, approached a few days earlier through the Kain Hut trail.

Kain Hut Trailhead Tip

The Kain Hut trailhead and its associated parking lot is a breathing ground for porcupines. Those annoying creatures have an affinity for rubber, chewing on brake hoses, electrical wires, and tasty tires. BC Parks heavily recommends wrapping the perimeter of your vehicle with chicken wire held down by rocks. With no cell signal, it would suck to be stuck in the parking lot coming back from a demanding alpine trip.

We beelined for the Bugaboo-Snowpatch Col (B-S Col) – you guessed it – nestled between Bugaboo Spire (3204m) and Snowpatch Spire (3084m). The steep 50-degree slope leading up to the col had been known for killing a few climbers. Rockfall from the overhead spires is commonplace and extremely dangerous.

We raced up the slope just as the sun was softening the surface. We couldn’t have nailed the timing more perfectly! In the meantime, we could decipher the repeated, bone-chilling tumbling of rocks on the NW face of Bugaboo Spire. We still donned crampons as we weren’t sure of the conditions in the upper part of the col. It turns out the grade wasn’t as steep as I expected. I’ve climbed way more technical snow slopes in past ski-mountaineering missions.

From the col, we caught our breath with no time wasted on the slope below. We hopped on the upper Vowell Glacier, one of the Bugs’ many icefields and followed some existing tracks heading towards the west ridge of Pigeon Spire.

The west ridge of Pigeon Spire grew steeper, as we approached the daunting peak. That’s the tricky thing about perspective in the alpine. Routes always seem impassible from a lower perspective but are always easier when viewed from a higher point. Objectives are also a lot further than you’d think. As for the route itself, the sequence is best explained in the image below.

After about 1 km of glacier travel, we arrived at the base of the west ridge that greeted us with a welcoming sight, the world’s most scenic open-air poop hole. Unfortunately, I felt the sudden urge to relieve myself and forgot to snap a shot of the famous green toilet but let’s not dive too deep in the complex realm of my bowel movements. After a short fourth-class section consisting of a smooth broken-up slab and one tricky bouldering move, Phil and I gained the ridge on which we stayed for most of the ascent.

We felt very vulnerable on that ridge. The fatal drops on both sides kept our heart rates nice and high. I love this feeling, the endless waves of stress and adrenaline when exposed to hazardous climbs. What a blast! We moved fast, unroped, and quickly gained the first of two false summits which provided us with a clear view of what was awaiting. From our angle, the remainder of the ridge seems unusually vertical. This was supposed to be a 4th-class scramble.

As evidence of my earlier comment on perspective, the ridge’s angle laid back as we neared its base. From this point on until the “a-cheval” traverse, the climbing was exceptional with serious exposure and low-fifth-class moves. Two parallel crack systems spanning the section’s length provided secure footing and solid handholds. So good!

We eventually stumbled on the “a-cheval” traverse (commonly misspelled “au-cheval”), a 15m-long, knife-edge ridge that most people cross as if sitting on a saddle with legs dangling on both sides. Phil and I both tip-toed along, trusting the sticky sole of our rock/approach shoes.

We climbed a little more and gained the second false summit with ease. We lowered ourselves down a narrow chimney onto a ledge system extending past the summit of Pigeon Spire, to its left. The ledge was still covered with ice and snow, unseasonal for late July. After debating the facts (slippery conditions, fatal exposure below, time of day), we opted to pitch this one out with the single trad rack we brought and a single 60m half rope. We might as well use it if I lugged it all the way up there.

After struggling with placing gear in snow, the traverse led us to a 5.0 chimney which funnelled us to the base of the 5.4 crux pitch. The climb was technically simple but had a few moves that had us smearing laterally against a smooth slab with a nasty drop below. We choose to simul-climb this one although it could have been completed as a short belayed pitch followed by some unroped scrambling. Moments later, we summited Pigeon Spire through its west ridge. This was a major milestone for me as I was easing myself into the unforgivable world of alpine climbing.

With enough time spent enjoying the summit views, we rappelled down the two 20-25m pitches onto the icy traverse below. This time, we crossed it without belay with the advantage of prior experience. We downclimbed the length of the west ridge where we met a group of two climbers who weren’t quite as comfortable with the exposure, at which point we provided them with reassuring beta. Moments later, we landed back on the Vowell Glacier and made short work of the downhill snowfield with some fun glissades. I was so relieved that no one got hurt!

For safety’s sake, we rappelled down the B-S col. The slopes below strangely weren’t crevassed at all, again, a testimony of the heavy snowfall this past winter. Two rappels later, we glissaded down the remainder of the slope towards the high ground of the Applebee Dome campground.

Route Info

9-11 h	1800 m	11.5 km	1525-3156 m

For more epic trips, check out the Uptrack’s Route Map. It’s your one-stop shop for Rogers Pass ski touring beta.

ROUTE MAP

Photos

The post Pigeon Spire West Ridge: The Best Climb In The Bugaboos? appeared first on The Uptrack.

• Single rack with cams ranging from 0.4-3
• Small set of mid-sized nuts
• 6 alpine draws
• Two 30m/8.0mm half ropes for protecting pitches and rappelling

Related: Mt Sifton Southeast Ridge: Superb Climbing, Glorious Views

Report from July 28, 2020

The car stereo clock shined brightly, reminding us how sleepy we were. It was 6 AM. Freddy, Kaitlin, and I stepped out of the SUV into the Hermit Meadows parking lot and felt the warm embrace of a rather warm early morning, uncharacteristic for Rogers Pass. This was going to be a hot one. The forecast predicted a daily high of 34C, 85% humidity, and clear skies – a perfect opportunity to escape from the heat high in the alpine where temperatures would hover around the mid-teens. We looked at the west ridge of Mt Tupper. The excitement quickly overcame the morning drowsiness.

With Freddy leading the way, we literally raced up the Hermit Meadow trail. Only Freddy, half-man, half-machine, could sustain the breakneck pace. Kaitlin and I needed breaks once in while to drink some water and wipe the sweat beading on our foreheads. Within 60 minutes, we were past the Hermit campground maintained by Parks Canada and veered off the beaten tracks, forging through raging glacier-fed streams.

We picked our way through the snowfields below the Swiss Glacier and adjacent to the Lizard Tail, a prominent moraine. On a few occasions, we post-holed through the snow cap and landed right in streams of glacial runoff. Fortunately, the warm weather would dry our boots out. Although not mandatory, I donned my crampons for the final bootpack to the Mt Tupper west ridge. My watch displayed an elevation of 2500m. Only 300m left, most of the elevation gain was done.

I switched to my incredible approach shoes, the LaSportiva TX2, and scrambled up some easy 3rd-class terrain consisting of loose chest-sized rubble. This was a nice warmup for what was waiting for us further up the ridge.

Eventually, we arrived at the base of the 4th-class section, much steeper and imposing than its mellower brethren but still straight-forward. While climbing either side of the ridge may seem like a painless option, the very crest of the ridge is the better alternative, providing straight-forward pathfinding, excellent rock quality, and a higher dose of adrenaline. The scramble led us to a prominent gendarme. Instantly recognizable from the highway below, it was named the Hermit, not to be confused with Hermit Mountain across the Swiss Glacier.

While some experienced mountaineers climb over the gendarme (5.7 pitch), we bypassed the Hermit to the south, traversing along a super-exposed sloping ledge in a hand-to-hand fashion. At this point, we opted to protect the traverse with a few well-placed nuts and cams. A series of winding ledges naturally led us to the base of the crux wall with three options:

• A beautiful 5.6+ crack pitch to the left for advanced climbers
• A 5.3 (modern 5.6) corner, well-protected, pitch to the right
• A nasty-looking 5.3 chimney to the far-right offering the least exposure

We chose to climb the 5.3 corner which ended up providing the climbing experience we sought out in the first place. It turns out the pitch felt more like a 5.6 grade.

The climb continued on and on past a few false summits and some very exposed sections. A fall here would result in our brains being splattered all over the white blanket of the Tupper Glacier.

The thrilling scramble was complemented by a couple of short low-5th pitches requiring good footing and a sure grip. Our fast progress terminated at the base of the summit tower which we scoped out for a few minutes. While the summit pitch wasn’t difficult at all (a true 5.3), we decided to pitch out a section of it seeing the insane exposure below. There’s really no pride in the mountains. Pride leads to death if not kept in check.

After faffing around with the ropes, we summited Mt Tupper (2804m). What an adventure… that wasn’t quite over yet. We were graced with a panoramic view of the Asulkan, Beaver, Connaught, and Hermit Valleys. What a sight to behold! We snapped some photos and headed back down the way we came.

Have I ever mentioned I’m a big fan of rappels to avoid sketchy downclimbs? Naturally, we rappelled off everything. We used three bolted rings at the top of the summit bench and corner pitch, as well as on the ledges below the crux pitch.

Further down, we also used some rather-questionable cordelette (tat) stringed around a horn near the hand-to-hand traverse. Fred lowered himself first. In the meantime, I was precariously perched on the very edge of the ledge, staring 400m down at the Tupper Glacier. I usually don’t get vertigo but this position was threading the fine line between discomfort and fright. All in all, we completed 5 rappels.

We ran down the west ridge of Mt Tupper as the sun was hovering above Mt Sifton. It was about 6 PM. The evening light reflecting on the white landscape was stunning.

The descent was plagued by a constant headache, mild dehydration, and much hunger. We eventually stumbled back onto the snow slopes. After a long food and water break next to a stream of melted snow, we boot skied down the hill.

After another 90 minutes of hiking down the Hermit Trail, we crawled back to the parking lot with stiff knees, aching backs, and a sense of accomplishment. This mission was a perfect blend of mountaineering and alpine climbing, exactly what I was looking for. Total trip time: 14 hours.

Route Info

13-15 h	1600 m	11.5 km	1300-2805 m

Photos

The post Mt Tupper West Ridge: Constant, Frightening Exposure appeared first on The Uptrack.

Related: Mt Revelstoke to Sale Mountain Traverse: Off The Beaten Path

Report from September 24, 2019

Driving up the 26-km perfectly paved road to the Mt Revelstoke trailhead meant experiencing a rushed transition from summer to fall, all the way to winter. From time to time, you could spot our home resort, Revelstoke Mountain Resort, and its crown jewel, Mt Mackenzie through the wispy clouds.

After a lengthy discussion about the new 2020 line of Arcteryx jackets, we grabbed our packs and headed for our morning’s objective. While we intended on bagging Mt Williamson with an elevation of 2373m, the low-lying fog forced us to settle for Miller Lake, a stunning alpine lake entombed within a large glacial cirque.

Iannick led at the front, moving swiftly on the trail, singing classic hiking tunes as the rain was beading on our jackets. Believe me when I say that the mightiest grizzly wouldn’t dare approach us!

After passing two hikers from Belgium, we arrived at Miller Lake. It welcomed us with emerald-colored water and, shockingly, snow. We were ecstatic: ski season was fast approaching. We could make out in the distance a bit of fairy dust on Inverness SW Peak further up.

After a short snack break consisting of delicious homemade granola bars and energizing Cliff Bloks, we spotted some clear skies heading our way – a testament to the unpredictability of mountain weather. Rejuvenated by ample calories and sunshine, we ran up the Jade Lakes Trail to get a glimpse of the snow-capped peaks beyond the Jade Pass.

As we gained elevation, my breath was fogging up. The snow was noticeably accumulating on the nearby rocks. Suddenly, the western face of Inverness SW peak arose beyond the pass, scarred by several large snowy couloirs. I knew Iannick was already crafting plans to ski from the summit.

After a quick photoshoot, we summited Jade Pass and gasped at the jaw-droppingly beautiful landscape. It’s in those moments that I’m most grateful for what mother nature has to offer.

We could barely make out Albert Peak (3045m) shrouded in thick clouds. This is a mountain both Iannick and I have wanted to summit for a long time.

After taking in the scenery of Mt Revelstoke National Park, we bolted back down the way we came at an adrenaline-fueled pace. We quickly made it back to the car under a strange combination of spotty rain, sleet, and sunshine.

At 7 AM this very morning, I was far too fond of my warm bed. At 2:30 PM this afternoon, I was far too glad I came along for the ride. Thanks Iannick for showing me around one of our local gems!

Route Info

4-5 h	732 m	15 km	1732-2170 m

The post Jade Pass Trail, Mt Revelstoke: Keeping It Local appeared first on The Uptrack.

Related: Avalanche Mountain Southwest Ridge: High Above the Asulkan

Report from September 3rd, 2019

After a short hour drive to Rogers Pass from Revelstoke, Fred and I stepped out of my CRV and were greeted by the smell of fresh pine and a cool morning breeze. We organized our small 25-liter packs having decided to go fast and light on our ambitious mission.

The morning hike was phenomenal. Temperatures were hovering just below the 20C mark which allowed us to move at a brisk pace. Fred bravely carried our 50-meter 7.5mm rope up the Sir Donald Trail.

After less than two hours, we reached the Sir Donald campsite, basically, a small clearing surrounded by boulders and a plastic toilet. We found a small pond 100 meters west of the campsite where we filled up our water bottles and enjoyed the surrounding vista.

After a short break, we proceeded up a scree slope to the col between Mt Sir Donald and Uto Peak. Fred and I aren’t very fond of scree slopes after too many twisted ankles, but this specific trail was in good shape. After all, climbers use it day after day in the summer to complete one of Rogers Pass’ most popular climbing route, the northwest ridge of Mt Sir Donald.

As we reached the top of the col, we gazed at our first objective, Uto Peak rising 2927 meters above sea level. From our angle, the route seemed pretty complex. It revealed its true nature once we found ourselves clinging to the rock slabs with potentially fatal falls below us.

The rock was solid, blocky quartzite, the kind that provides ample friction and huge jugs. Our route led us through a collection of 4th class scrambles with thrilling fifth class pitches consisting of exposed slabs and corners.

We soloed the entire climb, in part due to the added confidence of wearing fitted rock shoes. In addition, the rock quality was supreme and holds were plentiful. The exposure made this classic climb an epic. We bolted passed a couple of giddy Albertan climbers placing protection.

After only two hours of climbing, we summited Uto Peak at an elevation of 2927m. We gazed at the ridge leading to Eagle Peak, a long way to go. It consisted of 3rd and 4th-class scrambles and a few sketchy pitches with rappel anchors. To speed things up, we choose not to rappel as we felt comfortable on the steep face. As I heard from friends, the rock quality wasn’t as good and we constantly had to double-check our holds after a few close-calls further down the ridge.

As we approached Eagle Peak from the south, our progress grinded to a halt. We were blocked by a mighty obstacle, a large talus hill that had to be circumvented.

With careful route finding, we downclimbed a super-exposed ledge system, passing below the talus hill and watching out for rockfall from above. In retrospect, roping up would have been the safe decision.

Exhausted from the long climb, we crawled up yet another scree slope leading to Eagle Peak. We gained the summit at about 4PM and snacked on our usual trail mix.After far to short of a break, we headed down the SW ridge past “The Eagle”, a prominent rock formation in the animal’s shape. We didn’t dare to sit on the edge. We already had our fair share of exposure for the day.

As a hyper-saturated pink glow engulfed the mountaintops, we found a chute skier’s right of the ridge which led to a talus field 100 meters below the Avalanche Crest Trail. Pressed for time, we choose to follow this path, preferring to avoid scrambling further down the ridge into what seemed like a solid bushwack. Around 8 PM, the last glimmer of daylight disappeared behind the mountains.

The chute was much steeper than expected. We descended the entire 150-meter on all fours grasping at what little rock and vegetation remained in the chute. I checked every single hold thrice and cursed every now and then when my foot would slip. A fall would have been fatal. By the time we gained the talus field, it was nightfall. After stumbling around the precarious rock debris, we paved way up a side-hill groaning as we blindly stepped in an unexpected glacial stream. We could barely make out the trail in the distance. At 9:00 PM sharp, we made it back to the car. Total elapsed time: 13 hours in paradise.

Route Info

13-14 h	2090 m	14.5 km	1200-2930 m

The post Uto to Eagle Peak Traverse: 13 Hours In Paradise appeared first on The Uptrack.

Related: Skiing Rogers Peak on Halloween – Rogers Pass

Report from August 14, 2019

I took a deep breath of fresh air as I stepped out of my SUV onto the perfectly flat asphalt of the Hermit parking lot. We hiked up the Hermit Trail at a brisk pace reminding us far too soon how insanely steep the trail is. With temperatures hovering around the 25C mark and humidity at 100%, we were sweating buckets of water.

We felt much relief when the cool glacial downdraft caressed our dripping faces. It only took 90 minutes to reach the Hermit Meadows Campground, passing a flock of young hikers coming back from an overnight trip in the alpine. After a brief conversation, we pressed on through fields of vibrant wildflowers. What a sight!

We eventually arrived at the end of the Hermit Trail and contemplated our options. We chose to climb a steep lateral moraine leading up to a chossy couloir near the foot of Rogers Peak west ridge. We stopped by a glacial lake to resupply on water and gazed at our objective.

After some easy 2nd class scrambling through a low boulder field, we gained the west ridge. The first half of the climb consisted of some easy 2nd and 3rd class scrambles through loose scree. The elevation definitely hit us like a rock. For a second I wish I was born high up in the Himalayas. Where are the Sherpa lungs when you need them?

The second half of the climb was more in line with 4th class terrain, requiring technical moves here and there. We definitely felt slight vertigo throughout the whole climb as we tip-toed on knife-edge ridges and starred at the gnarly glaciers looming half a kilometer below. Fortunately, the rock was solid and blocky. We felt right at home soloing the climb.

After too many false summits, we bagged the peak at an elevation of 3169m which completed the first half of the Rogers Peak Traverse. We spent 15 minutes enjoying the stunning landscape of the Columbia Mountains and decided not to attempt the Swiss Traverse as it was already 3 PM. Whew, time flies!

Once we recovered from the strenuous climb, we forged a path through slushy snow on the super-exposed summit ridge. Progress was slow and it resulted in much frustration as we had to constantly triple-check our footholds. With an 800m drop on the right and a heavily crevassed glacier to the left, slipping was not an option. I cursed as I remembered why I foolishly brought my microspikes instead of large crampons thinking the snow at 3200m would be frozen. We ended up roping up for most of the snowy descent.

The south face was a real test of patience. We carefully side-stepped down the steep slushy snow knowing too well that a large crevasse (bergschrund) was waiting for us at the bottom of the face. This meant we couldn’t use our preferred descent technique: a rather precarious butt slide, steering left and right by plunging our ice axe in the snow. As we lost elevation, the snow was increasingly giving way under our weight complicating things further. It certainly didn’t help my weak left ankle slowly recovering from a bad fall while rock climbing!

Two hours later, we finally stepped off Rogers Peak south face onto the icy expanse of the Swiss Glacier. Navigation here was relatively straightforward and required avoiding a few shallow crevasses.

At 8 PM, we returned to the Hermit Meadows Campsite to witness a horde of jolly campers setting up their tents. While they were just about to head to sleep, we still had a few kilometers of hiking left. As the sun vanished behind the Rogers massif, we headed down the steep switchbacks of the Hermit Trail armed with our headlamps.

We crawled back to the car at 9:30 PM exhausted from the 12-hour long Rogers Peak Traverse, crossing one of Glacier National Park’s highest peak.

Route Info

12-13 h	2000 m	14.5 km	1300-3170 m

The post Rogers Peak Traverse: The Long Haul appeared first on The Uptrack.

Related: Skiing Avalanche Mountain, Rogers Pass: The Burn

Report from July 30, 2019

With two consecutive days of clear weather, we felt blessed. It doesn’t happen often enough in Glacier National Park. Interestingly, this mountainous area is situated at the confluence of coastal and continental air masses. The sheer height of the surrounding peaks forces the humid air upwards, rapidly cooling them down. The result: constant heavy downpours in the summer and an overwhelming amount of snow in the winter. Yay!

I quickly packed my overnight bag after work. I keep it always half-packed allowing me to leave Revelstoke at a moment’s notice. The crew drove east on the TransCanada Highway. After multiple stops due to it being prime orange cone season, we left the Illecillewaet Campground parking lot at 3:15 PM. The Avalanche Crest hiking trail was pretty steep but thankfully short. We got really stoked the moment we reached the alpine meadows above which Eagle Peak was looming. Fred and I were already planning its ascent on our following days off.

While Megan was catching up to us, we searched for the perfect basecamp. It didn’t take long for us to find two nearly flat spots on top of a lateral moraine shaped eons ago by the retreating glacier. We couldn’t believe how incredible the spot was. We were standing next to this milky turquoise runoff, with the glaciated Asulkan Valley as our backdrop. We fell asleep to the calming sound of the stream running by us and marmots frolicking under rocks.

The next morning, we woke up at 4:30 AM intending to climb the Avalanche Crest ridge to witness a dramatic sunrise. It would also be the start of our ascent up the peak. We hadn’t had breakfast yet, I was hungry: the short climb up a scree field to the ridge was slower than usual. In the end, we were rewarded with a stunning sunrise basking the valley in a faint purple glow.

With our hunger satisfied by a hearty breakfast of triple-stacked PB&J sandwiches, Megan headed back to the campsite to get some more sleep, while Fred and I geared up for the coming ascent up the western ridge.

We simul-climbed up the Class 3 scramble with intermittent Class 4 stints. We improvised a belay by having the lead snake my 60m, 8.1mm rope around jagged rocks. The follower would then free the rope as he progressed while the leader belayed from an improvised anchor off a sturdy boulder. While it isn’t the safest climbing technique, it’s definitely faster than building static anchors every 20m and cheaper than buying 100$ cams.

It took us two hours to reach the final crux, a 6 to 7 meter-high vertical face with little to no holds. After scoping out the area, we progressed climber’s right of the wall where we found a sizable crack to shimmy up. Fred volunteered to lead and successfully sent it. I followed with the safety of a top belay.

We staggered up a loose scree slope choosing to take parallel paths to avoid climber-triggered rockfalls from above. One step back, two steps forward. As the sun reached its zenith, we bagged Avalanche Mountain through its southwest ridge. We were standing at an elevation of 2861m. It was no more than 10C with a solid breeze. Sometimes I wonder if I climb peaks just to avoid the blazing heat at home, waiting in the alpine wilderness for the winter to roll in.

I scrutinized the Avalanche Glacier and the Beaver Valley below, seldom seen by climbers and skiers for its difficult access. Meanwhile, Fred was writing a note in booklet stuffed in a 15lb iron pipe. We comically wondered who dragged it up here. That’s motivation right there!

Once our minds were saturated with images of endless peaks, we jumped off the summit. Preferring to downclimb a different route, we headed down the south ridge towards Eagle Peak.

We traversed a scree slope that terminated with precarious cliffs. Due to the exposure, we slowed our pace ensuring we had good footholds over the loose pebbles. After getting cliffed-out several times, the fun really began when we were forced through a steep ravine which required soloing (without belay) through two gnarly sections. Having known him for a while, I could hear a whisper of panic coming out of Fred’s usually low-key humble demeanor.

We eventually made it to camp. We packed our camping gear and promptly headed back to my trusty adventure-mobile at around 4 PM. It was already settled that we would grab an enormous pizza at the Village Idiot in Revelstoke. After all, I was still hungry after my breakfast PB&Js.

Photos

Route Info

10-11 h	1660 m	8.1 km	1200-2845 m

The post Avalanche Mountain Southwest Ridge: High Above the Asulkan appeared first on The Uptrack.

Related: Rogers Peak Traverse: The Long Haul

Report from July 23, 2019

We began the climb at 5 PM knowing we only had to hike roughly 6km and 1500m to reach our campsite below the Begbie Glacier. I was warned by friends of the endlessly steep switchbacks to reach the alpine meadows. In all honesty, the way up wasn’t too strenuous – just bring a good friend and debate which pair of skis is better. Time will fly!

After 2.5 hours and some unexpected showers, we reached the official Begbie Meadows Recreation Site. It’s a free campsite paid for by the province of BC. Keep it clean and leave no trace folks! Now, this would be a great camping option if it wasn’t for the swarm of giant mosquitoes sucking us dry. We pushed on hoping to find a spot higher up in the alpine. It took us no time to find the perfect campsite just below the Begbie glacier next to a crystal clear glacial stream. Best tasting water I’ve ever had!

As planned, we woke up at 5 AM to enjoy the sunrise over the rugged Selkirk mountains. There is no better feeling than that of the fiery morning light thawing our frozen face. What a sight! We could decipher the individual rays filtering through the thin clouds. The sun was putting up a show for us – most likely only for us as the town would see it several minutes later.

After sorting out our climbing gear, we left camp at 7 AM pumped for an incredible ascent. We traversed the glacial plain at a brisk pace, clipped in our crampons, drew our ice axes and roped up for the short glacier crossing. To our relief, the landscape was barely crevassed. We easily found a safe way up to the infamous Begbie Ledge.

The Begbie ledge was now right above our head.

Before we could claim victory, Fred volunteered to cross a precarious ice bridge over the final crevasse. I belayed him using an ice screw driven in the glacier and a munter hitch. Next up, he had to climb a short vertical section. Reminding me several times that we should have brought cams, Fred was understandably spooked by this 6m high 5.6 rock climbing wall. The glacier was hanging over his head, the melting snow rendered the holds slippery at best and he had bulky mountaineering boots. One cam placed on the wall would have made a huge difference. Eventually, he made it through the crux. Interesting note: we learned the ice bridge collapsed under a friend’s weight a few days later. If you were wondering, she climbed out, alive and safe.

Now on the ledge. The half-meter wide band of rock traverses the bottom of the summit ridge and is sectioned by a few exposed cruxes requiring basic rock climbing skills. One loose foothold and we would fall to our death into the bergschrund below. Fortunately, a kind soul installed a few bolts and belay chains along the way.

The ascent continued on to the C3 scramble up the rocky ridge. While some sections required a few free climbing moves, the rest of the scramble was a breeze.

After an hour or so, we got a good look at the Polar Bear Glacier with its striking serac dangerously hanging over the valley below.

A bunch of bumps later, we reached the summit of Mt Begbie at an elevation of 2733m. We were STOKED. There’s something about conquering a peak you can see every day from home.

The moment we began the downclimb, a storm rolled and blanketed the area with rain. Now that the rock was wet, the scramble down was twice as hard. We slowed our pace, ensuring we had handholds at all times and patiently headed down the ridge. We ruled out the gnarly rock climbing section and decided to rappel down from a chain on the ledge.

We ran off the glacier, packed our camping gear and proceeded down the mountain through the mosquito-infested meadows. While the way up the switchbacks wasn’t too hard, the opposite direction was not so. The uber-steep trail combined with the crushing weight of our camping and climbing gear destroyed our knees. Can’t wait for that tendonitis to settle in! We endured the pain and crawled back to my vehicle at 6 PM, dreaming of that exquisite sunrise, this very morning.

Photos

Route Info

14-15 h	2185 m	17 km	666-2733 m

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