Related: 1. Spring Ski Touring Basics: Weather, Corn Skiing and Avalanches 2. Spring Ski Touring Gear: The Essential Goes A Long Way

Live For The Alpine Starts

The dreaded alpine start involves waking up around 3-5 AM to get an early start on your day. It’s brutal but necessary, making it essential to planning a spring ski tour. Snow conditions start to deteriorate drastically with solar input around 10-11 AM, depending on the weather conditions. For instance, start your tour early in the morning if your route involves crossing underneath a large, solar slope. Potentially, you may want to bag a peak and ski down an eastern aspect just as the freeze-thaw crust gives way to corn skiing. In that case, grab your headlamp and head out before sunrise. If you arrive too late in the day, the avalanche conditions or sloppy ski quality may turn you away from your objective. It takes plenty of experience and humility to determine when to turn around. Remember: the mountains will always be there.

The alpine start is necessary when expecting a long approach to reach your day’s objective. A detailed route plan using conservative travel estimates goes a long way in calculating approach times.

Play The Aspect and Elevation

Strategically playing the aspect and elevation is one of the many ingredients to planning a spring ski tour. A little tidbit on astronomy, the sun rises in the East and sets in the West. As the Earth circles the Sun, East-facing slopes see the morning sun, followed by south-facing slopes and west-facing slopes in the afternoon. Come late spring, even the mellower northerly slopes are affected by solar radiation. Steep, high-elevation northerly features (NE to NW) will likely harbour the best powder if the winds didn’t get to it before you did. Glaciers hold good snow even longer due to the underlying ice’s cooling effect at the surface.

When I think of spring ski touring, I think of high-elevation descents. Warm temperatures and strong solar input deteriorate conditions at or below treeline. It’s often best to travel through forested sections first thing in the morning before the supportive crust breaks down. Ski crampons help tremendously in holding an edge through icy conditions. You can also choose your objective based on the starting elevation. For instance, Bow Pass in the Canadian Rockies stands tall at 2088m, generally offers cooler temperatures and climbable peaks over 3000m, perfect for late spring trips. On the opposite end of the spectrum, Rogers Pass in the Selkirk Mountains stands at 1330m, and has generally warmer weather with peaks ranging in the 2500-3000m. This is a huge difference when considering which objective to go after based on the time of the year.

Have a Plan A, B and C

Having backup objectives is crucial since spring conditions change quickly throughout the day. Determining when to push for your main objective and when to pivot only comes with experience (and common sense). Moreover, keep monitoring ski conditions. On a given day, you might be gliding on a supportive crust using ski crampons on the ascent, skiing high-elevation powder on a supercooled glacier and trenching through isothermal snow in the afternoon as you slog back to your vehicle. These changing conditions and the time/energy required to get through difficult sections are integral to planning a spring ski tour.

Embrace Whiteout Navigation

When the skies cloud over and you’re travelling in the alpine or on a glacier, whiteout navigation can be daunting. With no reference in sight except a smooth, white canvas, it’s near-impossible to tell what’s up from down, what’s right from left. We call it: “travelling in a ping-pong ball. With spring convection swirling around the mountains, you’ll unexpectedly get “whited out”. Ample training is a must! A good trick is to fasten a 5m length of accessory cord to the end of your pole and whip it across the terrain. As the cord falls in the snow, you’ll get a rough understanding of the features ahead. The whip, in tandem with probing, is especially handy when navigating gaping crevasse fields in poor visibility.

While a GPS track can be useful when navigating glaciers, take note of the track’s recorded date – a 10-year-old track might not be the most accurate nowadays and might even go over open crevasses. Glaciers recede, crevasses move, and the snowpack varies from season to season. When it all goes white, using a known feature (such as a peak, headwall or rocky moraine) as a handrail works wonders. Keep to your left or right and follow it to the next leg in your route plan. It provides a reference when there’s nothing out there but more white.

Hydrate Or Die-Drate

A common saying is: “Hydrate or die-drate”. As the sun beats down on the back of our necks, hydrating often is an important consideration when planning a spring ski tour. I make it a point to drink small amounts of water at every break. I typically carry a 500mL Nalgene bottle filled to the brim with tap water and a 1L thermos filled with my “special” potion (water, Gatorade powder, ginger, lemon and green tea). And, let’s be honest: that’s not much water. I recommend at least 2L for most folks. At home or in the lodge, I always chug water before and after the outing to minimize the weight carried in the field. Find what works best for you!

The same goes for nutrition. Frequently eating energy-dense foods will help maintain performance throughout the day. High-calorie snacks (granola bars, nuts, pepperoni sticks) work wonders. I simply can’t stomach a loaded sandwich while ski touring, especially in spring when the temperatures skyrocket. With experience, you’ll figure out what outdoor diet works for you and which doesn’t. Everybody’s different!

Get The Appropriate Technical Training

As spring rolls around, you’ll probably be spending way more time on glaciated terrain and amongst the high peaks. That’s where the technical training comes in handy. A crevasse rescue course provided by a certified ski or mountain guide is a great way to sharpen your rope rescue skills. Some courses also offer the opportunity to learn glacier navigation, in good or poor visibility. Avoiding crevasses or carefully assessing snow bridges is paramount when travelling in glaciated terrain.

Related: Spring Ski Touring Gear: The Essential Goes A Long Way

Some guides also offer ski-mountaineering courses. It’s a golden opportunity to hone rappelling, anchor building, bootpacking, and couloir skiing. As with any other time of the season, an AST-1 and 2 course is the basic requirement for travelling in avalanche terrain.

The post Planning A Spring Ski Tour: Optimize Your Peak Pursuit appeared first on The Uptrack.

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

Report from January 25, 2022

Freddy, Ryan, and I started our day at the mouth of the Connaught Drainage, climbing along its named creek. After a couple hours of icy side-hilling, we reached the top of Balu Pass with Catamount Peak finally in view. What a beauty! The E-SE face was glistening in the early morning sun.

We did a quick transition and slid down the west aspect of Balu Pass, meandering through trees and a series of small gullies. We eventually found one that seemed to fan out into the bottom of the Cougar Valley. The descent was difficult, flying over giant golf balls and avalanche debris. We knew what was silently waiting overhead, the wide Ursus Major South Bowl.

It’s worth mentioning we avoided using the alpine sneak that traverses through the bowl into Catamount Pass. The snowpack just wasn’t right for the exposed, solar sneak. A few extra vertical meters are a small price to pay for safety.

After the rough ski down the gully, we reached Cougar Brook, winding its way down Cougar Valley. This was my first time down there. We walked along the spectacular creek. The Cougar Peaks rose high in the sky, offering epic couloirs and massive north-facing descents. I’ll have to come back here for a camping trip.

After checking our GPS maps, we veered north and started the long ascent up the Catamount South Bowl. We traded the hot seat, trail-breaking through sun-affected snow and avoiding most of the overhead exposure as best as we could. A few hundred meters late, we gained a wide bench, away from any avalanche hazard, where we took a break.

We navigated the gentle alpine grade, scoping out the exposed sneak overhead. This one’s no joke. You’ve really gotta be 100% sure of your snowpack stability when you commit to the sneak. Eventually, Catamount Pass got in view. Freddy carved an uptrack through the thin, rocky face, slamming his edges on the windboard.

From the pass, we could distinguish a few large glide cracks just below the summit cornices. In spring, those unstable cracks will eventually widen until the whole face rips. You don’t want to be in the area when that happens.

We strapped our skis to our packs, mounted our crampons and began the 300m ascent up the east ridge. We alternated breaking the bootpack trail through a mix of faceted snow and windboard. It was hard work but luckily did not last long and wasn’t too steep. We just kept our heads down and put one foot in front of the other. The climb granted us a good view of our upcoming descent.

After much effort on the StairMaster, we almost reached the summit of Catamount Peak. We were stumped by the corniced, knife-edge ahead that disappeared into a steep face on both sides. Fred and Ryan weren’t up for it so we clipped in our bindings a few meters from the summit. In any case, a descent from the true summit would involve a whole lot of exposure and cutting the south-facing cornice.

The descent was absolutely epic. The all-time snowpack stability combined with the preserved boot-top powder made for a grand experience. We all carved long arcing turns down the huge face, now covered in the peak’s own shadow. I happen to try out a brand-new setup for the first time. The skis felt like a natural extension of my legs. As I was way too concentrated on the setup’s performance, I almost clipped a small rock, barely sticking out of the snow. I ended up skipping over it mid-turn! It all worked out.

We regrouped below the face out of harm’s way. From our perch, we evaluated the terrain below and concluded that we could traverse a narrow band of snow between two cliff bands to gain the Ursus Major South Bowl. This shortcut would minimize our elevation loss and shorten our return trip. Otherwise, we’d have to drop to valley bottom and climb back up to Balu Pass.

We continued down a mellow tongue of snow between two alpine mounds, aiming straight for the shortcut. While I expected a little bit of wind effect on the surface, the snow was surprisingly well preserved, albeit denser.

Once more, we transitioned for our last uphill section. We traversed a series of steep gullies and zig-zagged up an elongated shoulder below Ursus Major Mtn. It was late afternoon by then and the snowpack had cooled and locked up. The evening sunlight really brought out the best of this spectacular landscape.

We ripped off our skins and contoured the eastern end of the Ursus Major South Bowl, maintaining our elevation as best as we could. Any loss in elevation would have to be recouped on the last stretch to Balu Pass. We ended up having to side-step for a hot second to gain the famous pass. From our vantage point, we raced down Connaught Creek and back to our vehicle as the sun vanished behind the mountains. Another one for the book!

Route Info

9-11 h	2135m	13.7 km	1330-2675 m

The post Catamount Peak East Face: An All-Time Descent appeared first on The Uptrack.

Related: Nicci’s Notch: Deep Pow and Cold Temps

Report from January 24, 2022

Ryan and I began our day at the Rogers Pass Discovery Center with clouds that seemed to be dissipating. Lucky us – the forecast indicated near bluebird conditions up high and it certainly delivered on its promises. We toured up the north bank of Connaught Creek (the winter trail) passing the Grizzly and Teddy Bear shoulders along the way.

We veered north up the Hospital Bowl uptrack, a well-used trail that links up Ursus Trees, the Bruins Ridge and Video Peak. The uptrack was quite icy – after all, we hadn’t received new snow in a week – but we managed with a bit of careful edging and tactical tree belays. After a few switchbacks, we gained the base of the Hospital Knob, located below the bowl of the same name.

We snaked up Hospital Bowl, taking a slight right towards a gentle moraine which minimized our exposure to the huge SE face towering above us. Finally, the sun poked out through the thin clouds, warming up our tired souls.

We traversed below big cliffs, minding the overhead hazard from rockfall and dry loose avalanches. After a few switchbacks up an obvious trough, we ditched our skis in favour of boot crampons and an ice axe. Boy, were the crampons essential! The summit ridge was wind-battered and refrozen after seeing much sun over the last few days. Our crampon’s front teeth barely held on to the surface crust.

Ryan and I reached the summit around 10:30 AM, soaking up the sun for a few minutes. We scrutinized the Video Peak North Face, looking out for signs of wind slabs. Honestly, the surface seemed absolutely thrashed by heavy winds, shifting between the north and south overnight. Let’s do it for the views then!

After a short break, we transitioned for the descent. We carefully side-slipped down a brief, rocky section to the west which led us to the top of the north face. The exposure was very real. After a ski-cut across the face where the wind slabs were likeliest to form, we skied the line, one by one, blasting through the 3-meter wide choke to avoid getting swept by our own sluff. The wind slab at the top was very supportive and unlikely to release, but still very much present in the back of our minds.

Looking back, our tracks were as clear as day on this previously virgin alpine face.

We continued down the mellow slopes of the NW bowl. The wind-affected, chalky snow found on the face gave way to preserved, boot-top powder. We gathered at a flat clearing at treeline (2000m), away from the surrounding avalanche terrain and far above Ursus Creek which is purported to shelter some of the Selkirks’ most heinous bush. That’s saying a lot!

We slapped our skins on and climbed up a broad shoulder leading into the Bruins Glacier (north bowl of 8812 Peak). The route granted us spectacular views of its nearby summits (8812 and Ursus Major Mtn), a view not many have seen. We gained the base of the bowl as a group of guided skiers were descending its gentle incline.

Since we had spare time, we decided on summiting 8812 Peak, up a series of ramps on the Bruins Glacier. The short detour took us below steep slopes, but we knew stability was all-time on this aspect. We still avoided most of the unsupported rolls as best as we could given our objective.

We gained the ridge between 8812 Peak and Ursus Major Mtn as fast as possible. The final slope was exposed and steep. While the snow was perfectly fine, I didn’t feel comfortable at all. We traverse under the ridge and gained a flat spot below the last summit pitch which we would have to bootpack.

After another short break, we put our crampons on and climbed the faceted north pitch, meters from the summit. We zig-zagged up the 50-degree face in hopes of avoiding deep boulder holes, steep rock slabs and finding supportive snow. Most of the face was absolutely rotten. After much effort, we bagged the summit.

At the summit, I inched towards the south to scope out the gnarly lines on the solar aspect. The top pitch seemed doable with a short, albeit exposed, downclimb. Sadly, I couldn’t quite see the lower pitch hidden by a roll. It’ll be for another time. Instead, we skied down the north aspect wrapping around the peak to 8812 Col. From there, we performed another stellar descent down the south bowl to the valley bottom.

Below the treeline where features are more sheltered, the snow was well-preserved, offering some fantastic soul turns. After catching our breath and resting our sore legs, we followed the bobsleigh track along Connaught Creek, making it back to my car well before sundown.

Route Info

8-9 h	1765m	12.3 km	1330-2550 m

The post Video Peak North Face: Exploring New Territory appeared first on The Uptrack.

Related: Sapphire Col Traverse: An Alpine High

Report from March 17, 2021

Given the long spring days, we began our day at the Illecillewaet parking lot under bluebird skies and warm temperatures. It was 8 AM, a late start by spring standards. We followed the Asulkan Trail, meandering along the Asulkan Brook. In the valley bottom, the sun was already baking areas where it shone. It was mid-March and spring had already arrived at full steam. As the valley narrowed, we stopped for a water break. Mt Jupiter laid there in the distance, towering above the Asulkan Glacier’s icefall. In less than two hours, we would be walking along its crest.

Soon enough, we entered the Mousetrap bounded by a forested hill to the right and an imposing moraine, to the left. Make no mistake: it’s a giant terrain trap through which overhead avalanches would rip. Choose your route wisely to minimize your exposure. Since we weren’t worried about natural avalanche activity at this time of the day, we toured up the center, ducking right onto the forested hill.

A few switchbacks later, we gained the top of the hill and began the eternal climb up the rolling terrain, smoothed out by the retreating glacier. We traversed right along the top of Asulkan headwall, a steep, rocky face, riddled with twisting gullies in order to reach the base of a large moraine below the Cleaver that provided a better ascent route. Within a half-hour, we reached the base of the Cleaver, a prominent shoulder bordering the Asulkan and Dome Glaciers. Man, was it hot! Luckily, our route kept us on northern aspects where the heat wasn’t as bad. Southern, solar aspects on the other hand were getting absolutely baked – dry loose avalanches were releasing left and right.

We followed the base of the Cleaver, climbing a steep roll to grant us access to the Asulkan Glacier. We then traversed the icy flats, generally aiming for Sapphire Col. After a 1km walk along a gentle grade, we arrived at the bottom of Castor Peak, our first objective. Under the intense sun, the ascent to this point felt like an absolute slog – the heat was the problem.

As the light SW winds were warding off the heat, we donned crampons, ice axe, and helmets. By now, the bergschrund separating the glacier from the steep, snowy slope was completely filled in. Without roping up, we booted up the west ridge of Castor Peak, an aesthetic, 45° crest. A short effort got us to the summit, rewarding us with stunning views of Youngs Peak and the Bonney Massif.

Our gaze was now focused on Pollux Peak, the second summit of the Jupiter Traverse. We followed the mellow ridge gently dipping and rising across its 500m length. We stopped merely 50m below the summit, stumped by a slightly technical but exposed crux. Joey and I soloed the short section, a steep, V-shaped ramp leading to a narrow bench. In retrospect, I should have at least removed my skis from my pack to avoid having them scrape against the overhead rock. I then strung some cordelette around a nearby horn and belayed both Freddy and Laurent up a neighbouring pitch, easier but exposed over Mt Jupiter’s south face. During better snow years, this crux shouldn’t be much of a climb. After all that excitement, we summited Pollux Peak, the highest of the three. I took great care in staying far away from the large cornice. A fall here would be fatal.

We pressed on, following the straightforward ridge until we arrived at a broken-up section. In theory, the snowy arête could have been downclimbed with crampons and ice axe. In practice, the lethal exposure on both sides justified throwing a rope. We rappeled 20m to the flat ridge below using a recently-built anchor, now frozen in the snow. Perfect!

After more bootpacking, we gained Leda Peak, the last summit of Mt Jupiter. What a rush! After admiring the views for one last time, we transitioned for the descent along the Thorington Route. Surprisingly, the slope was pristine – most likely, the overnight winds had covered the existing tracks. We skied down a combination of powder, crust and ice, better than expected after several days of clear weather.

We followed the crest of a long moraine, bordering the Mousetrap. Anything solar was absolutely wrecked, covered with a thick crust that made the skiing difficult. North aspects weren’t so bad. After some half-baked ice-skating and jerky slarving through slush, we made our way back to the Illecillewaet parking lot by 5 PM. What an adventure! The Jupiter Traverse, a true Rogers Pass classic!

Route Info

9-11 h	1650m	13.2 km	1200-2775 m

The post Jupiter Traverse: An Exhilarating Ski-Mo Epic appeared first on The Uptrack.

Related: Ross Peak Southeast Couloir: Steeps and Bare Ice

Report from March 12, 2021

George, Freddy, Renaud and I arrived at the NRC (Mortar) parking lot at a reasonable 7:30 AM. With an all-time weather window and excellent snowpack stability, this was the perfect opportunity to claim yet another BIG line. After four days of non-stop action, I was properly exhausted but this was too good to pass. So, we toured up the NRC Gully, in the shadow of the Macdonald West Shoulder, an uber-popular ski touring area. The high cloud cover kept the well-trodden uptrack cold, icy, and very slippery which made our ascent tricky. Fortunately, as we arrived at the base of the NRC Bowl, the snow quality improved. After all, it never sees the sun, hence never experienced any spring freeze-thaw cycle, the bane of an established uptrack.

We passed a party of two that was racing us to the Avalanche NW Couloir. Fortunately for us (and sadly for them), one of the guys succumbed to some terrible foot pain; the party turned back. Ski boot pain is a terrible predicament. We pressed on towards the steep slope below NRC Col. Freddy activated his turbocharger, steaming ahead on an existing uptrack. The climb weaved through cliffs exposing us to the overhead slope, typically battered by the harsh alpine winds. With our window of good stability, we deemed it safe. Otherwise, I’d rather head up the Macdonald West Shoulder and perform a high traverse towards the col. Really, if stability was so-so, I wouldn’t attempt the couloir in the first place.

By 10 AM, we gained the NRC Col under cool, blowing winds. After assessing the cornice hazard, we cut across the east flank which linked us with the base of the Avalanche North Glacier, a moderately-crevassed sheet of ice and snow. We ascended the glacier to the climber’s right in order to avoid the crevasse fields and giant seracs to our left.

It was now mid-March. Our fat, alpine snowpack of more than 320cm of snow had filled in most of the crevasses. Since the wind slabs from the steep, lee slope under which ascended posed a bigger hazard, we did not rope up for glacier travel. The climb was steep and sustained, gaining vertical at a breakneck pace, especially when trying to keep up with Freddy. I was wrecked from four days of difficult missions but I pushed through. My mental fortitude was being tested.

After much effort, we gained the upper, flatter part of the glacier, out of harm’s way. The Avalanche NW Couloir could be seen in the distance, rising high in the sky. Impressive but scary line! We all knew what we were getting ourselves into. I lead the group towards a ramp that connected with the couloir’s midsection. The bergschrund, open in summer, was completely filled in. We couldn’t tell the crevasse from the surrounding slope. In the early season, this would be a different story. As an extra precaution, I probed a few times in the vicinity to verify what I couldn’t see.

After strapping our skis to our packs and grabbing our crampons and ice axe, we proceeded up the 45-55° slope to a small col (2812m) between the twin peaks of Avalanche Mt. The bootpack was rather short, roughly 100m of vertical gain. However, it was super steep to the point where my buried ice axe was keeping me from falling backwards. That’s how you know it’s steep. Fortunately, the snow was wind-packed which provided us with a firm base to kick in.

It took us less than 30 minutes to reach the small col, barely wide enough to have all four of us transition side-by-side. For the first time since we departed from the NRC parking lot, the sun poked out of the clouds and illuminated the Avalanche Glacier and the Illecillewaet Valley. My jaw dropped in awe. I’d never seen the Sir Donald range from this angle. Such a beauty! I thought about the Sir Donald to Macdonald Traverse I had completed three days prior. Our route took us through the glaciers surrounding Avalanche Mt. After a short break, we transitioned for the descent and skied down the couloir. My butt was literally scrapping against the steep upper section of the slope. Spicy! Luckily, the snow held an edge, making our jump turns a little smoother.

We all gathered on a sheltered bench, just above the bergschrund. After catching our breath, we skied down the second half of the couloir, the true “Vent Shaft”. While the snow had been tossed up by previous skiers, the 4m-wide choke was in pretty good shape, even after all the sluff had torn through. Spires of rimed snow plastered the side of the couloir resulting in a rather striking sight.

We burst out of the couloir, racing down the open expanse of the Kors/Thomas Bowl. The SW slope had only begun to warm up and still contained some blower powder. We worked the micro-features to maximize our time spent on preserved snow and traversed under the Avalanche SW Ridge towards the Avalanche Crest run.

Avalanche Crest is one of my favourite Rogers Pass runs. By noon, it had been baked by the spring sun for an hour, transforming its usual blower snow into slushy corn. We all revelled in the heat after the cold, blustery walk up the north aspects. We traversed across the slope and skied down the skier’s left slide path, jumping over glide cracks. Within minutes, we had reached the rumbling motors of the Trans-Canada Highway. After a post-holing walk along the plowed snow bank, we arrived at the Illecillewaet parking lot, where cold beers were waiting for us. We were stoked to have checked off another line on our bucket list.

Route Info

6-7 h	1500m	8.6 km	1200-2810 m

The post Avalanche NW Couloir: The Definition of Steep 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: Sapphire Col Traverse: An Alpine High

Report from March 9, 2021

Freddy and I started our day at the Illecillewaet parking lot. It was 9 AM, quite the late start for such a long traverse. The weather, stability and snowpack were absolutely perfect – nice and warm in the sun, cold and preserved snow in the shadow. With days getting longer by the minute, we believed we could fit the Sir Donald to Macdonald Traverse, although we might finish with the headlamps lighting our way down. We followed the Sir Donald trail (a refrozen mess at this time of the year) which led us up the imposing Vauxv Valley common to Uto Peak and Mt Sir Donald. We climbed the Vaux Moraine, a relic of past glaciations.

With our difficult time constraint, Freddy “the Machine” sped up the biggest moraine. I’ll be honest, I was totally out of breath. We gained a vast bench where the Sir Donald Campground lies, buried under meters of Selkirk snow. The Sir Donald-Uto Col (2550m) rose above our heads, revealing the exposed traverse we would soon perform. I reminisced about my previous scramble up the Uto SW Ridge. I truly had a blast completing this classic mountaineering route with Freddy, a few summers ago.

We ascended the SW slope of Mt Sir Donald, battered by strong winds and glazed by the spring sun, losing our edge a few too many times. Frustrated with the lack of traction, we opted to boot across the slope, through a shallow snowpack completely faceted by the cold alpine temps. Boy! Our post-holing was absolutely glorious – sarcasm intended. We swam through the sugar snow, our crampons painfully scraping against the smooth quartzite. From there, we traversed a thin band of snow, rock and ice above a sizable cliff band – no falling here. By noon, we were standing on the Sir Donald-Uto Col with half of our elevation gain completed. That was a push!

Earlier on we had watched a party of two back-track from the col. The cause was now very much apparent: they had triggered an isolated wind slab on the north aspect, starting right below a large cornice stuck to the NW ridge of Mt Sir Donald. Freaked out, they must have turned back. Their loss, our win! Since the resulting size 1 avalanche had already washed out the slope, neutralizing the hazard, we deemed it safe to ski the bed surface of mostly right-side-up snow as indicated by our probing. Still, we kept in mind the fact that we would likely find more of those isolated pockets of wind slabs, scattered on north-facing slopes. We skied the rolling slope, north of the col, and traversed the Uto Glacier, a relatively flat blanket of ice.

Shrouded in the shadow of Mt Sir Donald, the glaciated valley was bitterly cold. We toured up the south slope spanning from the east ridge of Uto Peak to gain an obvious col (2365m). This is a faster, but riskier alternative to circumnavigating the ridge. At the col, we peered down the north couloir below. We were warned that it was a serious line with serious consequences. The upper funnel must have been 45-50° which I suspected sheltered wind slabs. It spun into a 2m choke, peppered with rock and ice, then opened up into a large avalanche fan – an hourglass-shaped couloir. To safely control the slope, I built an anchor around a nearby horn and belayed Freddy while he ski-cut the upper funnel. He released a small slab, nothing of consequence. Due to the narrow choke, sluff was our mortal enemy here. We carefully jump-turned down the line, side-stepping down the choke and letting our sluff fly through the choke. I felt the jolt reverberating through my knees as I hit a couple of hidden rocks beneath. Spicy is the word of the game!

We pressed onwards, ascending the Eagle Glacier. By now, the crevasses were completely filled in; we measured a snowpack depth of more than 320cm, longer than what I could gauge with my probe. We decided against roping up to speed up our ascent. We sped across the Eagle Glacier which eventually turned into the Avalanche Glacier. We were both so stoked to explore the remote confines of the park: with new terrain comes infinite possibilities! In the distance, we could see two guys completing the Golden-Rogers Traverse, currently on my to-do list.

We eventually stepped out of the shadow cast by Eagle Peak, into the warm sunlight. Ultimate comfort! We climbed a wide col to the NE ridge of Avalanche Mt, keeping our distance from the delicate cornices clinging to the massive 500m headwall to the north. We pushed on up the NE ridge and gained the top of the Avalanche North Glacier, granting us stunning close-ups of the Avalanche massif’s heavily-rimed peaks. By that point, we were halfway across the Sir Donald to Macdonald Traverse.

We skied down the Avalanche North Glacier, covered in the most idyllic of blower snow. We stuck to the high ground along the Avalanche NW Ridge to avoid the crevasse fields and seracs to the east. We glided past the NRC Col (2370m) towards which our fellow ski tourers veered off. After an incredible powder run, we arrived at base Mt Macdonald. Looking back, we scrutinized the dangerously glaciated east flank of the Avalanche North Glacier. Gnarly!

As the clouds rolled in, we toured up the steep, south slope of Mt Macdonald towards the Banana Couloir. The official route recommends skiing the Herdman Couloir, a mellower option, but the way up wasn’t as straightforward. We would have to either boot up a narrow chute, exposing ourselves to the overhead hazard or scramble across the Macdonald SW ridge, none of which made sense given the conditions. So, we beelined for the Banana Couloir, a prized line in both of our books.

After an exposed, 200m ascent, we gained the entrance of the Banana Couloir. A nest of old cordelette strung around a nearby horn indicated the obvious: a 10m rappel was required to safely enter the couloir. Fair enough, we had brought the rope for a reason. We set up a quick super-munter and rappelled into the line at dusk, landing in soft powder. That was going to be an epic shred!

Just like that, we had struck gold. The couloir had been loaded by the trade winds, stacked with bottomless powder. Even better, it wasn’t slabby at all. However, we paid a heavy price: our sluff was difficult to manage. We could barely link two turns, having to stop to let the snow run its course. Still, it was an unbelievable descent in a couloir that’s rarely skied. We landed in the Crossover Bowl under a faint glimmer of light. We turned on our headlamps and skied the right side of the valley, the bottom of which we reached by 6:30 PM. As buzzed as we were exhausted, we dragged our tired legs back to the Hermit parking lot by 7 PM. The sense of achievement – and relief – was positively overwhelming. The Sir Donald to Macdonald Traverse: another one for the books!

Route Info

11-13 h	2315m	18.5 km	1200-2700 m

The post Sir Donald To Macdonald Traverse: Glaciers & Couloirs appeared first on The Uptrack.

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

Report from January 22, 2021

It was a bluebird day during an unusually long-lasting window of clear weather and ultra-stable snowpack. The Discovery Center was absolutely packed with ski-mountaineers, eager to ski their line of the year. Our crew – Jeff, Joey, Freddy and I – left the hustle and bustle of the parking lot at 7:30 AM and followed the Connaught Valley uptrack (the winter alternative that crosses the Grizzly Bowl avalanche fan) towards Ursus Minor Mountain. Given how many people have travelled up and down this route, we were surprised to find it in relatively good condition, given it hadn’t snowed in a week.

Along the valley bottom, we raced past a slideshow of excited folks heading towards Video Peak, to ski its S/SE faces, an uber-popular tour on a bad day. We diverted from the main uptrack, a little way past the Dispatcher’s Waterfall, marking the bottom of the Dispatcher’s Bowl Slidepath. It was a cold day, especially when spending an hour in the shadow of Cheops Mountain. We couldn’t wait to climb up towards the sunlit alpine slopes.

We were now heading up the uptrack leading to the base of the Hospital Bowl. After a shorter-than-expected ascent, we emerged from the thick tree cover into Hospital Bowl. I was almost blinded by the intense sunlight reflecting off the white blanket of the treeless slopes up ahead.

We followed an existing uptrack, through the gentle, rolling terrain. We veered off course, about midway up the bowl to link up with the Ursus Minor SE Shoulder, traversing just above the Ursus Trees run. It was at the elevation, that we crossed into the blazing sun. I took a quick water break to grab my sunglasses from the top of my pack. Wowzer, did that feel good – time to soak up the sun!

We proceeded up the shoulder’s mellow grade, stopping way too often to glace at the stunning mountainscape beyond. Across the valley, we spotted a small group ascending up the opposite shoulder, probably to ski Grizzly Couloir, an excellent alpine line. We eventually arrived at the base of the Ursus Minor South Face, a steep planar slope heavily scoured by strong ridgetop winds from the previous storm.

With snowpack stability at its highest since the start of winter, we didn’t doubt what was lying under our feet. All we had to worry about were the occasional isolated wind slabs, spotted from a distance. We forged an uptrack, poking the snow ahead to check for slab properties. Within a half-hour, we had gained the col and were rewarded with 360-degree views. After a hearty snack, we geared up for the upcoming bootpack up the exposed SW ridge.

I set a foot trail through a labyrinth of sharp quartzite covered in facetted snow. I had to use some rock climbing tricks every now and then to work through particularly techy sections. I felt as clumsy as ever in my ski boots, edging on bare rock and punching into hidden boulder holes. Overall, the bootpack wasn’t very strenuous or technical, just exposed at times. If you’re uncomfortable with exposed scrambles, I’d recommend bringing a rope for short-roping (as long as you know how to do that safely).

After less than 100 meters, we gained the false summit, west of the true peak. It gradually sloped into a narrow couloir – the west variant of the Ursus Minor SE Couloir, our Plan A. The snow was simply too enticing. We had to try it out.

Since we couldn’t quite scope out the exit, we weren’t 100% sure the route would offer a clean descent but we gave it a whirl anyway. Freddy was our guinea pig, dropping first into the virgin powder. As good as it was in there, he stopped midway down, stumped by an icy choke. Damn!

While it could have been managed with a sketchy downclimb, we deemed it too risky without the rappel gear. At that moment, Freddy sure wished he had brought a 30-meter rope, an obvious conclusion after eying the tat strung around a nearby horn. Guess we’ll have to come back to claim that one. Out of necessity, he booted the 200-meter incline back to the false summit. In the meantime, Jeff and I were waiting on top of the line, slightly worried by the solar slope overhead, soaking up the sun. In the end, it all worked out.

Moving onto Plan B, we traversed across the summit of Ursus Minor. At least, we got to bag a peak. The final bootpack was definitely exposed and technical, requiring a few rock climbing moves. Typically, ski boots are a hassle to climb in, although, in this case, the stiff rubber sole gave me some serious grip on the maze of tiny rock ledges.

From there, we only had a faint idea of where to go. Damn! I should have studied our plan B a little better. I walked down the NE ridge, trying to get a visual on the wider couloir, east of the peak. I could see the exit way down below but the entrance was still out of sight. I went for an alpine “stroll” down the NE ridge which eventually led me to the SE face of Ursus Minor. The steep face conveniently connected with the couloir. It was wind-affected, looked super crusty (think gross sun crust) but was still very much skiable.

After a few horrid turns down the SE face, we gained the top of the east couloir where the snow transitioned from hard crust to dry powder. A perfectly straight run down to the Dispatcher’s Bowl below, this one definitely goes! Freddy carved a series of perfectly symmetrical slaloms down the wider couloir as if he was hitting race gates. Joey and Jeff followed suit, dealing with the variable conditions with ease.

The snow in the couloir’s guts varied from solar crust to wind-affected snow to preserved powder, pretty much all the possible types. My Atomic Backlands 107 made short work of the challenging conditions, providing a stable platform to rail some big turns. From below, the line looked far too tame.

It got even better once we raced down Dispatcher’s Bowl through preserved blower powder. The bowl funnelled us down a photogenic gully and through the Dispatcher’s Waterfall, which was pretty filled in at this time of the year. It was getting really warm in the sun: the denser surface snow was a testimony.

Our journey across Ursus Minor Mountain ended with an icy but bearable ski down the Connaught Valley, followed by lots of stoke, and some cold brews at our local bar. What an epic route that I would recommend to folks with decent ski-mountaineering skills!

Route Info

7-8 h	1450m	11.5 km	1330-2740 m

The post Ursus Minor SE Couloir: Bootpacks and Backtracks 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.