Related: Afton Southeast Couloir, Rogers Pass: High Exposure (East Variation)

Report from December 1st, 2020

Generally speaking, I’m not a big fan of ski touring in large groups, but this day was different. The crew, comprised of Rigel, Steph, Freddy, Phil, Kaitlin, and me, assembled at the Loop Brook parking lot, ready for a fun day of introductory ski-mountaineering. For some, this was their first couloir. Phil and I picked the Afton SE Couloir as it seemed like a good appetizer for the newcomers to the sport.

After a thorough gear check, we slithered along Loop Brook, engaging early up the west flank of Mt Abbott. With the season being young, the snowpack was quite shallow. We battled surface crusts and faceted snow through the steep forest, laying down technical kick-turns and using trees for belay. There’s no sugarcoating it, the forested ascent is heinous. I broke my skin tip twice by stumbling on deadfall and buried rocks. You have to stay focused and punch through the treeline.

As we emerged from the trees, we could peer across the Loop Brook Valley. Mt Green and Ross Peak were standing proud. I took the opportunity to scope out the Ross SE Couloir, an objective I completed a few days later after it had shed during a storm cycle. We took a solid break, replenishing our energy while we basked in the early-season sun. We then continued along the wind-scoured ridge leading up to Mt Afton.

Once the snow got too hard to travel on skis, we strapped our skis to our packs and started bootpacking up the Afton NW Ridge. The shallow faceted snow would let go at every step, punching through the thick wind crust to the depth of the boulders underneath. Progress was tiring and slow, but we eventually made it up the ridge. Freddy took a wild tumble down a few boulders after he lost his footing, a stark reminder to check your holds when climbing even the simplest ridge. Due to short daylight hours, some of us avoided the summit. It’s such a quick detour that I decided to complete the ascent and bag Mt Afton. This also gave me a premium view of the Afton SE Couloir and an opportunity to scope out the snow conditions.

The couloir had been battered by high southerly winds. The snow surface was visibly wind-affected, which is pretty common when ski mountaineering. I figured the wind slabs were more than 72 hours old and wouldn’t pose much of an issue. To make things worse, solar input over the last few clear days had changed the snow. This was expected, being a SE aspect. As usual, I would first assess the conditions before committing to the descent.

The sun was setting behind the Bonney Massif. At this time of the year, daylight is scarce. While I descended from the summit to join the group, the crew readied up for the short scramble into the couloir. Phil, Freddy and I led the way, looking for the easiest way through the narrow band of rocks spanning skier’s right from the couloir’s entrance. We helped the first-time couloir skiers through the scramble, assisting them as they mounted their skis. I truly wanted to avoid a ski rocket down the hard snow.

Ready for the descent, Phil launched down the line after a powerful ski cut. The skiing was challenging, to say the least. The top section was heavily wind-affected. Phil was cutting small chunks of unreactive wind slabs as he descended the couloir. I was snapping photos. The lower portion offered excellent powder skiing since the mountains across the valley provided shelter from the low-lying sun. With the hour drawing late, the Asulkan Valley was shrouded in darkness.

Once the party had skied the couloir, one at a time, we continued down the Rampart Bowl toward the valley bottom. The powder skiing here was excellent: sheltered from the wind, with no solar input and some interesting features off which to jump. This was a literal playground! We trended skier’s left towards an isolated band of trees and followed them down to the Asulkan Brook.

From there, we glided downstream along the Asulkan Trail back to the Illecilleweat parking lot. Since we had driven up with two cars, we carpooled back to the Loop Brook parking lot in the dark. I highly recommend doing so; otherwise, you’re stuck walking a few kilometres along the Trans-Canada Highway with semi-trucks blasting their horns at you!

Route Info

7-8 h	1500m	14 km	1130-2543 m

The post Afton SE Couloir, West Variation: Easing Into The Winter appeared first on The Uptrack.

Related: The Ravens: A Burly Line For A Burly Storm, Lookout Col: The Scenic Way To The Ravens

Report from December 3, 2024

Jye and I rolled into the Illecillewaet parking lot around 7:30 AM, with a few cars strewn across the flat area. The owners were staying at the Asulkan Cabin since more folks avoid the Illecillewaet and Asulkan Valleys this early in the ski touring season. We glided along the Asulkan Trail and veered left onto the Great Glacier Trail.

Within an hour, we arrive at the Illecillewaet Moraines, a convoluted arrangement of gullies, pillows and narrow shoulders leading up to the glacial toe. The early season conditions were on display here. We scrambled over alders and followed an uber-steep uptrack to the toe at 2040m. There was no convenient way to get up there – it was an act of brute force!

With much effort, we made it to the toe of the Illecillewaet Glacier. It’s always more of a slog than I remember but it’s all worth it. To our right, we could see the Glacier Crest E face and the dogleg couloir, in good shape for early December. We decided to traverse east under the toe since the “standard” uptrack seemed very crevassed. This route would allow us to establish new ways onto the glacier.

Jye, fit as ever, broke trail for most of the ascent. We navigated the successive benches under the toe and eventually spotted a possible way through the glacier bound by two gnarly-looking crevasse fields. We roped up for the ascent – 12-15m apart with multiple stopper knots across the stretch of rope. We took all the safety precautions since we’d be crossing multiple crevasse bridges with little information about the depth and density of the snowpack.

We probed a snowpack depth ranging from 160cm in scoured areas to 250cm in wind-loaded zones with about 100cm of hard snow above ground. While those aren’t ideal crevasse bridging conditions, it’s good enough for travelling roped up and probing for big holes. We were through the crevasse field and onto the Illecillewaet Neve, the nearly flat top of the glacier.

We set a track up the rest of the glacier to the Ravens Ridge, circumnavigating around Lookout Bowl. We reached the ridge by noon. The views of the Asulkan and Youngs Glacier were amazing incredible and quite insightful. The 7 Steps of Paradise run was not in great shape. Rocks peppered the last two rolls above the valley bottom. We could also see the Asulkan Cabin in the distance, granting you access to this beautiful alpine terrain.

We transitioned for the descent. Due to an alpine temperature inversion, the light winds and mild temperatures were quite comfortable, even at 2540m where we stood. We poked around the leeward side of the ridge, on the hunt for reactive wind slabs. The mellow terrain would allow us to assess the wind slab hazard in the steeper sections. We found no signs of reactivity, only some old wind-affected surfaces that made skiing variable and challenging.

We followed the loaded slope and found a way across the rocky ridge onto the west aspect. Navigated by satellite imagery, we located the first entrance to the Lookout North Couloir. Peering into the void, we could see the whole line below us. While thin and rocky, there was a way clear descent route. We opted for the first and more serious line since the wind slab hazard was non-existent. Instead, we found 20-30cm of faceted snow.

Jye led the first half of the descent as I was taking photos. The couloir had previously avalanched and offered variable hard snow as well as blower powder. The skiing was challenging, resulting in slower-than-expected progress. Fortunately, we didn’t hit any rocks! We skied one at a time to manage our sluff and exposure.

Midway down the couloir, I took the lead and was met with variable conditions – the run had slid not so long ago. We railed some turns down the exit fan and exited into Lookout Bowl. The snow was exceptional, 40-50cm of low-density, faceted blower.

After celebrating the awesome run, we glided into the bowl’s gut and traversed back to the Ravens’ west slope. It’s worth transitioning for the uphill to make that move. Another lap of blower powder later, we connected with the Asulkan Valley Trail which we followed to the parking lot. It was a slog but we made it.

Route Info

7-9 h	1410 m	16 km	1200-2540 m

The post Lookout North Couloir: A Nifty Loop Joining Two Valleys appeared first on The Uptrack.

Related: Christmas Couloir, Rogers Pass: Near-Death Avalanche

Report from December 15, 2022

We began our day at the Rogers Pass Discovery Center, at the highest road-accessible point of Glacier National Park (of Canada). It must have been closer to 9 AM, a late start by ski-mountaineering metrics. Thankfully, it doesn’t take very long to reach the top of STS Couloir, as it barely pokes out of the treeline terrain. We glided along Connaught Creek, rehearsing in our minds what the route would look like. It’s the early season after all during a low-snow year. Things could get pretty rugged in there.

After crossing the massive Grizzly Slidepath, still covered in thick alders, we ascended the valley along the Balu Pass Trail, now covered in packed snow and surprisingly with little rocks showing. After an hour or so, we traversed across the Cheops North 4 avalanche path, the notorious STS couloir – our day’s objective. As expected, it was pretty rugged in there. While the cornices at the top seemed small and manageable, a benefit of our thin snowpack so far, the upper section was covered in exposed rocks, a true shark attack in there. In the middle section, we could clearly see a rock/ice choke as well as tossed-up snow from previous dry loose avalanche activity (now refrozen). That all sounds like a fun adventure!

After we’ve scrutinized the couloir from across the valley, safe from potential avalanches, we continued along to Balu Pass. The morning’s biting wind was slicing through our bones. A glimmer of hope arose as we saw the low-lying sun shining upon the top of the hill. The Beatles were ringing through my ears: “Here comes the sun!”

We gained Balu Pass to the climber’s left as fast as possible and gazed upon Cougar Mountain and its valley below. Sure it’s a pretty mellow ski from there, but the views are absolutely incredible! We marched across the pass, approaching the Cheops West Ridge. From here we had two options, brave the windswept ridge crest, with little snow and much rocks, or ascend the west face, sparsely treed but with a deeper snowpack. Ultimately, we weren’t too worried about our snowpack at this location, so we climbed the west face.

After half an hour, we gained the first bump which lined us up with the standard entrance of the Cheops North Bowl and Nicci’s Notch. The sun was shining, the views were glorious and the snow was still cold. Perfect! After a short snack break, we continued our climb up the west ridge, with one last steep slope between us and the entrance of STS Couloir. We borrowed an existing uptrack and modified some of the switchbacks. I was hoping to minimize our exposure to the progressively deeper, but still very faceted snowpack as we strayed away from the ridge. I couldn’t quite tell what was wrong with it, but it just didn’t feel good. Sometimes, it’s best to trust your instinct.

After the short sprint up the slope, we gained the entrance to STS Couloir. I set up a fixed line off a questionable tat nest wrapped around a small frozen tree covered in rime ice. We both carefully approached the cornice using a prusik backed up by an overhand knot at the furthest extent. Jack ski-cut the top entrance and triggered a 10-cm deep wind slab. Unfortunately, the cut only cleaned up part of the slope, with large portions of the slab still intact. We both weren’t comfortable with those odds as we risked toe-triggering the rest of the wind slab as we started our descent. I tip-toed along the ridge to the lowest potential entrance. Bingo! I saw a narrow ramp, about as wide as our skis that led us to a flat bench rolling into the central couloir.

We leapfrogged down the couloir, communicating important information via our radios. We both hit quite a few buried rocks in the upper third of the run. The skiing was definitely challenging. The snow was a mix of old wind crust, refrozen crud and the occasional powder. We regrouped at the ice/rock choke midway down the couloir. With careful consideration, we ended up straight-lining through the choke as our bases skidded over the ice. It was a lot smoother than we had anticipated. We skied down the bottom third on delicious supportive powder. This was our reward for the horrid conditions up top.

After a few wholesome high-fives, we proceeded down the Connaught Valley following the bobsleigh track of an uptrack. With no one in sight, we arrived at the parking lot in record time. While the conditions were challenging at the best of times, I actually enjoy the tough skiing as long as I know what I’m getting into, especially when it comes to strategizing a descent through a complex couloir. See you on the slopes!

Route Info

5-6 h	1150m	8.3 km	1330-2375 m

The post STS Couloir, Rogers Pass: An Absolute Beast appeared first on The Uptrack.

Related: Cougar Creek East, Rogers Pass: A Break In The Storm

Report from March 11, 2021

After claiming two epic routes over the last two days, the Sir Donald to Macdonald Traverse and the STS Couloir, I was properly zonked but not enough to pass on skiing Cougar Creek West, an advanced ski-mountaineering line accessed from the Loop Book parking lot. In the last week of clear, calm weather, the sun had baked the southern slopes, causing several wet loose avalanches while the shadow of northern aspects had preserved blower snow. The snowpack showed some all-time stability by then. This was our chance to ski this uber-exposed alpine line. And so, we toured along the Loop Brook, past the Elephant Trunk and quickly gained the base of the Bonney Moraines.

We continued past the moraines towards Ross Pass, only to veer off right in Ross Peak’s direction. We crossed the Loop Brook, bridged over by some delicate pillows, and ascended the SE face through sparse trees and an open slide path. The steep, alpine SE face laid above our heads, a considerable overhead hazard now baked by the blazing sun. Unaccustomed to the spring warmth, we were sweating bullets in the 3C temperature. Our bodies were clearly acclimatized to the cold winter days and had a difficult time venting off the heat.

Since the surface was already wet by the time we reached an elevation of 1700-1800m, an indication of a rapidly warming snowpack, we debated the pros and cons of crossing such an open terrain feature. Taking a closer look at the amphitheatre of couloirs, we noticed that all of them had already run in the past 48 hours and the nearby cliffs weren’t shedding. We were so close to pulling the plug on the whole mission. While the risk was deemed great, we committed to the climb by 11 AM, knowing that the SE aspect had already seen the brunt of the sun – it would only get colder as the sun ran its course.

Since we were getting bogged down by the heavy goop, sticking to the base of our climbing skins, we opted for a bootpack up the left slide path (not the Ross Peak SE couloir), which seemingly widened into a large alpine funnel at the ridge. We climbed an auxiliary chute to the right in order to avoid the hazard of the main slide path – if something were to release up there, it would barrel down the main path. As snowballs were pinwheeling down a nearby cliff onto our helmet, we laid an efficient track up the dense avalanche debris.

At 2100m, we hurried across the main path, covered in re-frozen chunks of ice after a recent avalanche had ripped through the feature. I had to constantly knock the snow accumulating under my crampons to shed some weight. We eventually reached a bench that split into two gullies We employed the left option as it was sheltered from the steaming SW face to our right, overhead. We transitioned back to skis, drained by the long, trying bootpack, and moved up the steep, narrowing gully. We must have used 40 switchbacks to gain the Green/Ross ridge. It was ridiculous! A friend who headed for Mt Green a day later commented on the aesthetics of my uptrack. After more than 2 hours, we reached the entrance of Cougar Creek West out of the enduring solar hazard.

At our final elevation of 2390m, we scoped out the entrance. Fortunately, the elongated cornice hanging on the lee of the ridge (above our planned descent) smoothed into a gentle roll to the east. Easy! We didn’t need to cut the cornice or rappel down. Freddy put a first ski-cut on the 30° slope, traversing hard-right under the cornices. Nothing would budge, except some minor sluff. I heard his hooting and hollering as he completed a few turns. BLOWER!

We moved quickly, minimizing our time spent under the dense snow/ice formation that might break at any time. A portion of the cornice was still in the sun, weakened by the warming snow. Freddy led the way, cutting above the narrowing couloir and sending some sluff downslope to provide some terrain definition.

We skied down the couloir that narrowed into a 4m choke. The snow was all-time, providing absolutely no resistance. We charged down the feature with a few short-radius turns and launched into an alpine bowl. Simply amazing! After catching our breath and recognizing our stoked energy, we pressed on through a complex system of gullies that required careful navigation. We played the micro-aspects to avoid a nasty sun crust that had formed below 1600m.

At the bottom of the run, we looked back at our work. What a line! I scrutinized our satisfyingly symmetric turns below the gullies. Our skin was basking in the soft afternoon sun, warming our tired souls. Another one for the books. A party glided past us: they were coming back from skiing the north face of Mt Green, a Rogers Pass classic. We followed an icy uptrack next to the CP rail, heading back to the Loop Brook parking lot where our vehicle was patiently waiting for us.

Route Info

7-8 h	1395m	9.5 km	1100-2390 m

The post Cougar Creek West, Rogers Pass: One For The Books appeared first on The Uptrack.

Related: Swiss Couloir, Rogers Pass: 50 Degrees of Gnar

Report from February 10, 2021

It was -23C in the alpine. Jeff, Freddy and I crawled into our warmest layers and headed out of the Hermit Parking Lot, at the bottom of – you guessed it – the Hermit drainage. We toured up the steep, icy switchbacks of the Hermit Meadow trail flying past an enormous pillow field that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. Within 90 minutes, we were up at 2100m, standing on the buried wooden platforms of the Hermit Meadows Campground. In retrospect, we should have gone directly up the Grizzly Path instead of following the well-trodden uptrack to the Rogers Peaks.

Our plan was to climb the west ridge of Mt Sifton, summit the peak, and ski down its south face through a classic couloir. Two things stood in our way: the technical scramble of the west ridge and the large cornice lying on the ridge’s crest. We opted out of booting up the couloir, even that would have been physically possible. With BC being exposed to prolonged cold, the arctic temperatures had faceted the top 50cm of the snow creating a weak layer that refused to bond to its surrounding. To make matters worse, strong winds had formed delicate wind slabs throughout the alpine. While generally small in size, a triggered avalanche would be disastrous in the Sifton South Couloir, an already uber-exposed line on a stable day.

With our plan in mind, we travelled over a series of winding moraines until we reached the Grizzly Path. From there, we bolted straight up the slope towards Mt Sifton. The Sifton South Couloir, shooting high above our heads, slowly revealed itself in the distance as we gained the toe of the Glacier. The line was ruthlessly humbling in nature, a testimony to its grandeur. How tempting was it! The cornice, visible from this distance, was sizable and would be tricky to deal with.

We proceed up the gentle, white blanket of the Sifton Glacier to a col at its head. An icy-cold katabatic draft rolled in. We braced against our skis, shielding our faces from the arctic blast. Time to bundle up! We picked up the pace, trying to maintain our core body temperature at a comfortable level – just the usual winter struggle. Fortunately, the ascent up the col was easy. The cornice I had observed in the past were no more. We simply walked right up the slope linking with the wind-battered west ridge.

We strapped our gear to our packs, donned the crampons, and climbed the west ridge on foot. The progress was definitely frustrating: we kept on post-holing through the rotten, facetted snow, clanking our crampons against bare rocks. My ice axe was utterly useless. After much effort, we had ascended the steepest portion of the climb. A long, up and down ridge scramble was now waiting for us.

After a brief lunch break in the sunshine, we forged a path through a mix of snow, rock and ice towards our day’s objective: the Sifton South Couloir. At first, progress was a breeze, only hampered by the occasional patches of deep snow. A third of the way across the ridge, we encountered a difficult obstacle, a large subpeak. Scoped out from below, the east flank seemed manageable but the west flank, exposed and technical. We booted around its base, trying to figure out a way through. I went on up a steep, rocky gully, doing some sketchy dry tooling through faceted snow only to realize that the slope further up was lined with ribs that would require protection. Damn! Faced with an approach that was totally out of shape, we decided on dropping an unnamed couloir on the west flank of the subpeak. I comically mentioned how we hadn’t even reached our bail-out route, plan B. We were onto plan C.

In the previous days, the winds had shifted from the S/SW to the N/NE and back around. The strange loading pattern made predicting wind slabs difficult. Jeff went first ski-cutting the entrance in one swift motion. Nothing budge except some sluff. Freddy and I followed suit, leap-frogging our way down between safe spots. Freddy took a bad 10-meter tumble, bruising his hip on a rock. Fortunately, he caught himself and kept on skiing, visibly shaken by the fall. While the top third of the couloir had decent snow – at least, better than expected – lower two-thirds offered some terrible snow after an avalanche had wiped it clean, exposing rock and ice beneath. I hoped down from the 60-80cm avalanche crown onto an icy bed surface, praying for my survival. Sketchy! After a few more jump-turns, we exited the Sifton South Couloir, veered right above the huge cliff band and skied down a small chute back onto the Sifton Glacier. I breathe a sigh of relief.

Stoked to have complete this gnarly line, we skied down the wind-affected snow of the Sifton Glacier and through the Grizzly Path (below and east of the Grizzly Shoulder). This route is typically tracked out by folks performing the Little Sifton Traverse, a popular tour at Rogers Pass. The snow was so cold, it wouldn’t glide at all. Our exit was a lot of work. All in all, the day didn’t go according to plan. Who cares! We claimed a rare line, got a kick out of it and skied some half-decent powder. We’ll just have to spend some more time around Mt Sifton to conquer the true South Couloir (or South Face). Not a bad alternative!

Route Info

7-8 h	1540m	9.6 km	1300-2800 m

The post Sifton South Couloir: The Risky Plan C appeared first on The Uptrack.

Related: lily-dome traverse: Glacier Skiing At Its Finest

Report from December 11, 2020

Freddy, Joe, and I rolled into the Illecillewaet parking lot at 8 AM armed with several cups of coffee and far too much stoke. With caffeine coursing through our veins, we speed through the gentle grade leading to the Meeting of the Waters. There’s some history here. Steam engines used to power through the mountains on that very grade.

We then took the Sir Donald trail (now buried in a whole lot of snow) and traversed under the Practice Slopes, a group of slidepaths that span from the base of the Overlook, adjacent to Uto Peak. Once we emerged out of tree cover into the first slidepath, we caught a glimpse of our ascent route. We strategically choose to ascend the moraines below the Illecillewaet Glacier on the east bank of the river. Commonly, backcountry skiers prefer to skin up the west bank below the Glacier Crest East Bowl, a route best traveled on a deep snowpack. We thought things were looking a little thin in the alpine so we opted for the former route, the east bank below Mt Sir Donald. In retrospect, that was a mistake, costing time, and increasing our exposure to the overhead avalanche hazard!

Our erroneous route took us through a sketchy blend of icicle-ridden waterfalls, narrow gullies, and giant pillow fields. I’m thinking of overhead hazards, terrain traps, and steep, unsupported terrain. Pretty much all the things backcountry skiers would want to avoid. If it wasn’t enough, the katabatic winds, produced by the glacier cooling overnight, had formed a widespread 5-10cm wind slab on the surface. I noticed it as I was crossing over an exposed pillow. Its slabby top layer fractured right under my downhill ski, almost dragging me into the gully below. Close call… lesson learned! To say the truth, the wind slabs didn’t scare me one bit – they were thin. However, the exposure below did, something that can be minimized through better terrain choice. All in all, stay away from this route if you’re looking to get to the top of the Forever Young Couloir. I live to tell the tale but some may not.

After more than two hours of meandering, we gained the top of the moraines. We were now right below the Illecillewaet Glacier, glaring back at us with its ice-cold hue. Such a stunning glacial landscape spotted with blue ice that may one day be entirely different. Glacial retreat is our harsh predicament. We pressed on through the alpine expanse, trying to make up the time spent navigating the terrain below.

Until then, we had broken trail for most of the way, punching through hard wind slabs. Naturally, we felt an overwhelming wave of fatigue coming though but the fight wasn’t over. The remaining climb to the glacial toe was arduous at best as well as exposed in places. The icy breeze barreling downslope didn’t help. Oh, was it frigid! Such is the price to pay for a bluebird day in December. I felt a great sense of relief after I had borrowed a pristine uptrack that ramped onto the glacier. Progress was much faster.

From the bottom of the pitch below the glacier, it took 45 minutes to gain the icefield. We paused for a few minutes as the sunlight struck our weathered skin. After spending close to three hours in the cold, this felt better than jumping in a hot shower. From here on, navigation on the Illecillewaet Icefield was pretty straight-forward. Just point your skis in the right direction, and walk. One step after another. Side note: we also choose not to rope up on the glacier. It was covered with about 2.5m of snow and not too heavily crevassed. This is typical of the Illecillewaet in December.

We covered the remaining distance at an impressive pace. The nearly flat landscape made it a breeze. Looking to my right, I saw skiers approaching the top of the Ravens, an awesome run set up on a planar slope terminating at the Asulkan Brook. We continued past Lookout Mountain on our way to the Forever Young Couloir, located a short distance prior to the summit of Youngs Peak.

We followed the wind-battered ridge defined the Asulkan Valley’s eastern border, making sure we weren’t too close to its edge. A fall here would be fatal. looking out SE, our advantageous perch granted us a panoramic view of the valleys bordering the Glacier Circle Cabin, far into the remote confines of Glacier National Park. I had only heard of those mystical valleys. I was utterly STOKED. My mind was instantly flooded with trip plans, both on skis and on foot. So many possibilities, I can’t deal with it!

After a skin-skiing down a rather steep slope, we arrived at the entrance of the Forever Young Couloir. While our original plan was to summit Youngs Peak, we settled for the couloir. Apart from a couple of tracks, conditions seemed prime. We dug a test pit representative of the slope we were about to ski. With favorable results, we dropped the line. Steep, narrow, and daunting, a whole more daunting than expected given the difficult conditions.

What seemed like a fluffy blank canvas was closer to a thin, white icing. 10cm of low-density snow laid on top of an ice-hard crust, formed by strong winds and a lasting temperature inversion. Skiing was very possible but super technical given the icy bed surface, exposed rocks, and fast sluff. I cautiously jump-turned my way down, Chamonix style. A word of advice: wait for the right conditions. Plenty of snow and good stability is needed. The alpine winds typically form slabs at the top that may be triggered as skiers drop into the couloir.

After a minute to rest my tired legs, we proceeded down the Asulkan Valley cutting high into the Tree Triangle, a forested cone spanning from the Asulkan Cabin. We skied some trees, pillows, and gullies. I have no shame admitting I fell in a creek and spent 10 minutes scrapping ice off my bases. We slogged out of the valley and slouched into my CRV. Such a blast of a day!

Here’s a lesson. Terrain doesn’t necessarily dictate the difficulty of a line. The snowpack pulls its weight too in deciding whether a route is easy or hard. This couloir in good snow is a dream to ski. Today was the complete opposite. Either way, we’d done it.

I added the couloir to my logbook, only waiting to get back up there when it’ll be in better shape. Up next is the Youngs Traverse. I can’t wait to get this one checked off!

Route Info

7-9 h	1600m	18 km	1200-2660 m

The post Forever Young Couloir: Skiing The Earth’s Crack appeared first on The Uptrack.

Related: 1. Afton Southeast Couloir, Rogers Pass: High Exposure, 2. Swiss Couloir, Rogers Pass: 50-Degrees of Gnar

Report from November 26, 2020

Our day started at the Loop Brook parking lot on a moody day. Thin bands of clouds were swirling around the mountain tops, which made us doubt our decisions to go for the Ross Peak Southeast Couloir. Good visibility was imperative to assess the avalanche hazard from the ridge looming above the couloir. We would be spending hours trenching up the narrow chute, right in the slide’s crosshairs. There was no room for error.

We walked along the Loop Brook, carving a path through deadfall, old avalanche debris, and towering snow pillows, crossing several slidepaths on the Abbott Ridge to the east. As we proceeded up the valley, we scrutinized the east face of Ross Peak, looker’s right of the creek (where the Ross Pillows are located). We were searching for two things:

• An easy way to cross the gentle river without getting our feet wet.
• A workable path through the dense alders on the steep bank.

As our hope waned, we finally found an adequate creek crossing that would put us on the western bank, at the base of a manageable slope, although covered with pesky alders. Phil H., half-man, half-machine, forged a rather “technical” path through the alders as he climbed the east face of Ross Peak. We then traversed through a band of dense trees, requiring a bushwhack that would test the most patient of men. We emerged out of the trees on a planar slope connecting the east face to its SE counterpart.

The lower S-SE slope was a pain to traverse. Two deep canyons, carved over the years by meltwater, slowed our progress down to a snail’s pace. We manage a crossing on a high bench after a series of dicey alder-acrobatics, courtesy of Phil H. Finally, we could freely ascend the rest of the slope to the base of our objective, the Southeast Couloir of Ross Peak.

After breaking an exhausting trail through steep and deep powder, we stumbled across a large bowl from which we could see two of our options.

• Looker’s right: a narrow, straight, couloir with two obvious chokes, a frozen waterfall at the bottom, and a thin snowpack.
• Looker’s left: a wider, S-shaped, couloir with little to no chokes and a seemingly deeper snowpack.

We choose the looker’s right line since mother nature had already done the avalanche control work for us. It had already slid from top to bottom, most likely the day prior. While I was still worried about reactive wind slabs on the climber’s left of the couloir as well as solar warming if the sun was to poke out, most of the residual avalanche hazard had been dealt with naturally. On top of that, the firm bed surface that carpeted the chute would make breaking-trail on foot much easier. Just our luck!

As we popped into the lower fan, my jaw-dropped. This was going to be one hell of a ski. We spotted the frozen waterfall that had to be climbed to get past the first quarter of the ascent. Phil H. managed to snake his way through the ice while maintaining a solid foothold on underlying rocks. It turns out, the icefall wasn’t much of a hurdle, either on the up or down.

As we climbed higher, the bootpack was getting more and more demanding. the firm snow first encountered morphed into thigh-deep snow, just soft enough to punch through to the ground. The overhead avalanche hazard was always in the back of my mind, chipping away at my confidence. It would have been so easy to turn around, but we didn’t – we pressed on. At one point, we were trenching through tits-deep snow. That didn’t stop Phil H. from steamrolling up the 45-degree incline. This man has always downplayed his achievements, but really he’s a bootpack beast.

Finally, as we approached the upper quarter, the clouds parted revealing the couloir’s terminus. So close! At one point, the snow was simply too deep to progress. If it wasn’t hard enough already, we were punching through a stiff winds slab on our left. Phil H. was literally trying to swim uphill. Snowshoes or ascent plates would have been a must in this case.

After debating for a few minutes, we decided on dropping from here, maybe 30 meters from the top. Hell! We were close to our turn around time of 3 PM, the avalanche hazard was increasing as we went up and dense clouds had started to roll in the valley bottom. In retrospect, it was the right decision. As the bottom of the chute vanished in the clouds, we clipped into our bindings. 3-2-1-dropping!

The snow was excellent. Tossed-up powder over a nice firm base, perfect for railing down fast turns. Midway down, the fog moved on revealing the lower, more challenging section. With a boost of confidence, both Phils sent a booter into the lower half of the chute, skipping over a patch of rocks in the process. As we approached the bottom, we maneuvered over the frozen waterfall without trouble and raced past the exit fan. What a run!

I suggested not following our uber-technical uptrack. Instead, we skied down the SE face and joined up with the standard uptrack that winds through the Elephant Trunk, a deep canyon where glacial runoff from the Lily and Bonney Glaciers meet. In other words, we skied down the SE face towards the Loop Brook as if we were heading to the bottom of the Bonney Moraines’ exit. We traversed the creek and followed the mellow slope down towards the Elephant Trunk. From there, we faced the usual early season struggles – running water, alders, exposed rocks and buried pines. Eventually, we crawled back to our vehicles, exhausted from all the bushwhacking. All in all, the day was very much a slog but I was still stoked to have skied the Ross Peak Southeast Couloir, a legendary line.

Route Info

7-8 h	1250m	9.5 km	1330-2290 m

The post Ross Peak Southeast Couloir: Steeps and Bare Ice appeared first on The Uptrack.

Related: Afton SE Couloir, West Variation: Easing Into The Winter

Report from February 3, 2020

The bitter cold snapped me right out of my usual morning drowsiness, exacerbated by less than five hours of sleep. Today’s arctic blast was preceded by a week-long period of heavy rain which formed a thick rain crust up to 1800m. We knew Cedrik, George and I were in for a difficult ascent up the Mt Afton northwest ridge, known for its bushwhacks and steep incline. At every step, we stomped on our skis, beating a fragile step in the slope. When the ice became too hard, we resorted to walking up the forest, a first for me. Usually, bootpacks are only necessary in alpine terrain. This must have been the hardest uptrack I had ever set. Something that previously took one and a half hour now took three. Progress was frustratingly slow.

After much frustration and a snapped pole, we gained the Afton northwest ridge, scoured by yesterday’s record-breaking storm that generated 180 kph winds. Ironically, we swapped a rain crust for a rock-hard wind slab. Lucky us! The surrounding peaks were shrouded in low-lying clouds. Even then, the views were spectacular. I was just happy to share this moment with good friends and introduce them to one of my favourite areas of Rogers Pass.

We proceeded along the ridge, shielding our faces from the occasional gust. Only then did it get painfully cold. The sweat, produced when dealing with the rain crust below, was literally freezing between our layers. We interrupted our pace every few minutes to thaw our numbing fingers. With all the challenges ahead, we knew something good was waiting. We knew it was worth persevering for. We resumed our long walk, directed towards the Abott-Afton Col.

We kept our heads on a swivel at all times as we were sniffing out potential hazards. The region’s avalanche forecasters called for stiff wind slabs and dangerous cornices, which is exactly what we observed along the way. We studied the north-facing headwall of Mt Afton, capped by oversized cornices. Our path would take us right beneath them. With cold temperatures and no solar input, we judged the risk was within our tolerance as long as the wind slabs were manageable. The hair-raising traverse bothered our “spidey sense”, otherwise known as self-preservation instinct.

Fully knowing we couldn’t stop under the headwall, we sped through the wind-blown snow with dangerously cold hands and feet. We meant to minimize our time spent in the cornice’s crosshairs. Fortunately, we felt no cracking at all during the traverse.

With the traverse completed, one last obstacle separated us from the glorious powder beyond, a steep 100-meter long slope crowned by the Abbott-Afton High Col. We quickly gained the col and looked upon the Afton Southeast Couloir, stretching 300 meters below our feet.

The top of the couloir sported a slight convex roll bounded by two rock bands where the snowpack would potentially be shallower and hence weaker. This combination of terrain features combined with the forecasted wind slab hazard worried me. I asked Georges to ski-cut the entrance while on belay. If an avalanche were to release, the rope would prevent him from going for one last rocky ride. Thankfully, after two successive cuts, the snowpack held firm. And so, we skied the blissful powder… more than 30 cm of cold smoke.

We rode down the couloir filled with the lightest, driest powder imaginable. I’m currently reliving the run three days later and I am STOKED. We were greeted by a wonderful view of the Rampart, a wide ridge towering above the Asulkan Valley.

The run down to valley bottom was exceptional… until we were met by that devilish rain crust again, the source of all my troubles that day. We championed through the tough section and found our way back to the Asulkan summer trail, which I affectionately call the Asulkan Slog.

After an hour of pushing along the nearly flat trail with a broken pole (remember?), we arrived at the Illecillewaet parking lot. We then skinned along the TransCanada Highway back to the Loop Brook car park, reminding me of the long walk back from Camp West. Ski touring at its finest: big mountains, shit snow and the ruckus of rumbling diesel engines.

Route Info

8-9 h	1395 m	15.5 km	1100-2440 m

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