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: 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: 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

The post Afton Southeast Couloir, East Variation: High Exposure appeared first on The Uptrack.

Report from October 30th

Our adventure began in the Hermit Parking Lot, no more than a few kilometers past the Rogers Pass Discovery Center on October 29th at 4 PM in hopes of gaining the Hermit Meadows Campground (2000m) before dark. Admittedly, it was a late start, but we did have a wonderful conversation with park staff, Ben, about our plans. He mentioned we might be the first at skiing Rogers Peak this winter. Yew!

We mounted our 40lb lead ingot of a pack containing overnight winter camping, mountaineering, glacier travel, and ski gear. Call it quad training for the upcoming season, the climb up the Hermit Trail was back-breaking. The pain and icy trail wouldn’t stop us. After all, the strenuous ascent granted us spectacular views of Mt MacDonald ablaze by the setting sun.

As the sun vanished behind the Connaught Drainage, it got blisteringly cold. We completed the ascent to camp with blocks of ice instead of toes. It must have been -20C with the alpine breeze blowing softly from the north. Now, we had to set up camp… with frozen fingers. Through years of backpacking in adverse conditions, I taught myself to set up a tent with only teeth. Okay, that’s a lie, maybe with the help of a palm and one thumb.

As soon as we got a chance, we slipped into our sleeping bags. I demolished a packet of dehydrated beef chili and went right to sleep. On one hand, Jay’s -40C sleeping bag kept him nice and warm throughout the night. On the other, my killer -16C bag and 3-season sleeping pad combination, not so much. After wiggling my toes all night to avoid losing some bits, I emerged from the tent to clear skies and a rising ball of flames.

After being cold all night, we didn’t hesitate to jump on our ski while figuring out how we would accomplish our day’s objective, skiing Rogers Peak. Since the snow was crusty in places and powdery in others, good terrain selection would be crucial.

Luckily, Jay is insanely good at sniffing out good quality snow. On the way up, he scoped out a gnarly couloir in the distance and believed it would be packed with snow blown off the nearby moraine.

After too many snack breaks, we arrived at the Swiss Glacier which leads to the Rogers Peak by booting up its southern aspect. Since I had previously summited Rogers Peak twice in the winter and summer, I knew the glacier pretty well. After indicating the crevasses to avoid, we put on our harness, sorted our glacier rescue gear and tied into Jay’s bright yellow 6mm/60m Mammut rope.

We arrived at the end of the Swiss Glacier with Rogers South Face towering 300m above us. This was going to be a chore. I took my avalanche probe out and started sticking it in the snow ahead of my tracks. I was searching for the hidden moat (bergschrund) waiting to swallow me whole. After safely assessing the depth of the snow bridge covering its gaping mouth, we stepped over the moat.

As the snow got warmer and heavier, we checked our bases by excavating a snow pit for a proper snowpack analysis.

In all honesty, the snow pit observations did not instill much confidence in the slope’s stability. Our test results were mostly inconclusive. One thing was sure: the failures indicated a slightly unstable snowpack. We weighed our options and found adequate exit points in case we triggered an avalanche. On top of the existing concern, the moat we just crossed presented a serious hazard: a fall higher up on the slope would probably make us tomahawk into the crevasse. We both agreed to boot up the col and gather further intel.

I seriously hoped skiing Rogers Peak was worth its suffer-fest of a bootpack spanning more than 300 vertical meters. At about 3000m, the altitude fatigue kicked in high gear. We were constantly out of breath and our muscles ached. What a stairway to heaven! The trick was to find a sustainable climbing rhythm. We settled for 10 steps and 10 seconds rest.

After what felt like an eternity, we gained the col and sat down for a few minutes only a solid alpine gust almost blew us off the ridge. Time to move on.

We stood up shielding our faces from the gale-force wind. With a newfound resolution to finish the fight, we pushed on through the remainder of the climb (roughly 100m). At 2:30 PM, we bagged the peak.

After such a strenuous climb spanning two days, we deserved it. Skiing Rogers Peak in decent conditions would be the best of rewards. We clipped in our bindings and launched off the summit. The peak and top half of the south face were barren. Our edges could only find hardened wind-swept snow.

After growing up on Canadian East Coast ice, those conditions are my bread and butter. I thought it was the perfect opportunity to practice my “Chamonix-ski-mo” turns. Rightfully so, I had a blast. Jay didn’t share that opinion.

To Jay’s content, the lower half was mostly shielded from the wind. It was covered with a good 10cm of slightly wet powder while the glacier, being naturally cooled by the underlying ice, had awesome dry powder. Needless to say, Jay was pleased.

After traversing the flats of the Swiss Glacier, we headed down the couloir we had scoped out on the ascent. Jay’s sixth sense (the powder sensing one) was yet again correct. The couloir was filled with wind-blown snow, albeit with thin coverage. After skiing some full-on winter powder up on the glacier, the couloir’s conditions kept us light on our feet. We swerved left and right avoiding rocks and streams. Then again, no complaints on our parts. It’s October 30th after all.

Indeed, the thin Halloween snowpack trashed our skis. The way past the couloir was mostly survival skiing. We arrived at camp by 4 PM with enough time to pack our gear and haul our 40lb pack down the Hermit Trail. We dragged our broken bodies back to the car at 6:30 PM looking forward to a healthy dose of delicious poutine at Nomads in Revelstoke.

To this day, I still wonder why we put ourselves through such torture. The views? The turns? The adventure? Who knows? Maybe I just like the pain ?

Route Info

13-14 h	1880 m	12.3 km	1300-3170 m

The post Skiing Rogers Peak on Halloween – Rogers Pass appeared first on The Uptrack.

Related: Ski Touring Mt Macpherson: Glacial Day In The Womb

Report from October 23, 2019

After an hour-long sunrise drive up the forest service road, we began our adventure not by skinning up some difficult terrain, but by completing a morning yoga routine. Iannick’s back had unexpectedly locked up. What a fabulous start to our day!

After dealing with the pain, we stuck our skins to our bases and proceeded up the remainder of the road on foot, most of which was buried in snow too deep for his mighty 4WD truck. The calming silence was only interrupted by the loud crunch of our skis breaking through yesterday’s rain crust. Hoping the rain had transitioned to snow in the alpine during the previous storm cycle, we pressed on shoving the thought aside for the moment. Any day in the mountains is a good day!

After a difficult bushwack up a recent cutblock, we climbed up a steep ravine to a col between two gnarly peaks where we spotted a large chute facing west. We opted to ski the chute after assessing the avalanche hazard based on our snowpack observations on the way up.

The skies parted, rewarding us with a glorious view of the surrounding peaks. With a little more snow, the face lying across the valley would be prime ski terrain judging from its numerous diving board and pillow fields.

Iannick hurried ahead carving a meandering path through the old-growth forest as the sun was warming up our southern aspect. Speed was key here: the warming snowpack wouldn’t remain stable for very long.

We eventually climbed to the top of the chute and found an icy crust eroded by strong winds. The poor snow quality did not bother us one bit. The view the ridge spanning off the top of Joss Mountain was simply stunning. The Monashee Range delivered!

After struggling to fold my ultra-sticky skins for a solid five minutes, we packed our gear and transitioned for the descent.

I won’t lie: the beginning of the chute wasn’t great… as expected. My dull edges were no match for the wind-blown snow, crust, and rocks that were encountered. However, there is no substitute for good technique. Both Iannick and I executed careful jump turns down the slope until we overcame the difficult section.

Later, we reached the same ravine we skinned up, scarred at its bottom by an open creek. The stiff rain crust made for tough work, but nothing could stop us at that point. We launched off snowy stumps and slashed quick turns inches from the creek. We had a blast!

We had already skied back to the truck by 1 PM, excited to have crossed off our extensive bucket list yet another run. A short, but sweet run on Joss Mountain.

We returned to Revelstoke just in time to enjoy handcrafted brews on the outdoor patio of the Mt. Begbie Brewery. Under the blazing afternoon sun, we discussed our next objectives and dreamt of further exploring our mountains.

Route Info

5-6 h	650 m	12.5 km	1490-2150 m

The post Joss Mountain, Monashees: Seeking The Halloween Powder appeared first on The Uptrack.