Monday, June 25, 2007
Mt. Bourgeau - Update
Daisy sent the pictures she took yesterday on Mt. Bourgeau.
This is me crossing Wolverine Creek:
At the top - Daisy:
Mt. Assiniboine is somewhere in the cloud behind her. And by the way, we got to experience those clouds as we descended, as they brought that nasty little snow squall.
One of me at the top:
And Daisy on the way down.
Behind her is the edge of the ridge overlooking Bourgeau Lake, around 300 m below. You can see some of the smaller cornices behind her, and the path we were following is just over her left shoulder. She's probably about ten metres from the edge of the ridge.
Another shot in the same direction, which shows the magnificent line of peaks that seems to stretch from Assiniboine toward Lake Louise.
You get an idea of how much snow is still up in the higher elevations.
A little more research reveals that the third of the lakes at the top, the frozen over one we encountered on the way down is Harvey Lake. The other two lower ones are apparently unnamed.
This is me crossing Wolverine Creek:
At the top - Daisy:
Mt. Assiniboine is somewhere in the cloud behind her. And by the way, we got to experience those clouds as we descended, as they brought that nasty little snow squall.One of me at the top:
And Daisy on the way down.
Behind her is the edge of the ridge overlooking Bourgeau Lake, around 300 m below. You can see some of the smaller cornices behind her, and the path we were following is just over her left shoulder. She's probably about ten metres from the edge of the ridge.
Another shot in the same direction, which shows the magnificent line of peaks that seems to stretch from Assiniboine toward Lake Louise.
You get an idea of how much snow is still up in the higher elevations.A little more research reveals that the third of the lakes at the top, the frozen over one we encountered on the way down is Harvey Lake. The other two lower ones are apparently unnamed.
Sunday, June 24, 2007
Mt. Bourgeau
Man, this one wasn't even on my radar. My list of planned hikes are all in the front range, in Kananaskis and farther south, and I thought that would do me for this year. Going into the parks was something that hadn't even crossed my mind.
I hadn't counted on meeting Daisy.
She called first thing this morning; "we should do Mt. Bourgeau." Coincidentally, I was, at the time, wondering what I was going to do for the day. "Give me thirty minutes," I said.
Of course, it immediately occurred to me that this was my second major hike in as many days. I considered that as I packed my backpack, and drove out to her place. I felt OK. The knees seemed to be intact, and there didn't seem to be any lingering aches, pains or fatigue.
Ninety minutes or so later, we pulled into the parking area to Bourgeau Lake, along side a few cars. Good, that meant there were others on the trail. The first thing we noticed was the smell. Pine and earth and damp moss. It was glorious. After a short bit of prepping, we stepped up to and through the wildlife gate and were off.
The trail was through thick, lush forest, and quickly began to ascend. We were a long time in the forest. We finally reached a bridge that crossed a cascade tumbling down into the valley from the left. Then more forest, more not-too-steep climbing, and we reach Wolverine Creek.
Wolverine Creek is a big rushing cascade tumbling down the middle of the canyon (named Wolverine Creek Canyon, of course), and no bridge. There are the footings for one, but it's possible there never has been one. A jumble of logs and tree branches lays across the creek, though. We found a straight branch to use for balance, and Daisy picked her way across the wet logs. Once across, she tossed the stick back to me, and I followed. It looked tricky, and there certainly was the potential for getting my feet, and more, wet, but it was done quickly and without incident.
Once past the creek, the path climbs steeply. A short way on, we encountered a gentleman photographing the slopes on the opposite side of the canyon. He'd spotted a particularly scruffy looking goat browsing the meadows. After that, more steep going.
We reached a place where the water seemed to be running everywhere. The path was often muddy, and even under water. In a couple of places, snow blocked the path, though it was no trouble to walk on. At one point, Daisy led the way through the pussy willow, and we waded through these knee deep bushes past some of the goopiest parts of the path. We met a couple who had reached the lake and were returning. It looked like they had simply given up trying to avoid the mud and water, and were wading up the path.
Bourgeau Lake is lovely enough, with forest on one side, scree on the other. It's right against the base of Mt. Bourgeau, under towering rock walls and several small cornices of snow on the ridge above. (And yes, today I learned what a cornice is.) At the back, a roaring cascade of water from the pass above descended noisily to the lake.
Along the lake, the path charged through thick forest, broken in several places by clearings full of crocus and glacier lily. Daisy mentioned that these flowers were late this year, as both usually show as soon as the snow retreats. But the snow actually had more or less just retreated. Spring is very late in the mountain meadows.
We came out of the forest to discover the steep climb up talus. And there we caught sight of a large group crossing the top of a large snow bank. We climbed up beside the snow bank, crossed the top, and made our way along the well defined path to the next snow bank.
This was a group of high school kids on a field trip from Manitoba. We caught up to them at the next snow bank. Just across the snowbank, it stopped by the shore of a small lake. As we began to pass, they started up with us, so that we ended up in the middle of their line, chatting with them. There were a couple of more places with snow to cross, and more ascent until we got to the upper basin with another small lake, draining into the one below. One of these apparently is Harvey Lake. We had reached Harvey Pass.
As the group paused for another rest, Daisy and I continued, stone-stepping across two creeks draining out of the upper lake. We were shortly climbing a steep slope along side an enormous snowbank. At the top of the saddle, a trail through the snow lead across the saddle and up the other side, ending at two intrepid hikers attempting to reach the opposite ridge. It looked like they were having a tough go of it.
As we continued ascending the slope, the field trip reached the saddle behind us, and had ventured out onto the snow. And from there, most sat and slide down the slope. Lots of screaming and laughing and noise. It looked like fun.
Another hundred metres and we encountered two more hikers, who were heading back. We chatted and asked what conditions were like ahead. They said there were three impassible snow fields, dropping over the cliff on the left, forming the cornices we had seen from below. It didn't seem like there would be snow like that, with the southern exposure, and it being late June already. We decided to press on, to see for ourselves. An excellent decision, as it turned out.
What we were climbing was actually a bit of a bump at this point. To the left was a drop shear to Bourgeau Lake at the side, but ahead it descended to a saddle that rose toward the peak of the mountain. Down we went. As we began to go up again, a snow squall hit, reducing visiblity only slightly.
The trail was tenuous at times. We'd be following a definite path, and then find ourselves several metres to the side of it. For a stretch there didn't seem to be any path at all. But it was easy going, if a little steep. To the south, Mt. Assiniboine played peekaboo in the clouds, and far below was Sunshine Resort, the ski runs bare and brown-green. There were impressive plateaus behind and to the side, much of them snow covered. And far off, an incredible range of mountains marching across our horizon.
The path stayed high on the ridge, close to the cliffs over Lake Bourgeau. At times, small snow fields reached out over the cliff, likely forming some of the cornices. After a particularly steep go, it leveled out into a very rocky stretch, and then past what was likely the very edge. Only there was a deep gap of about four metres and on the other side a huge mass of snow. This was probably the largest cornice, about fifty metres long, and it was slowly pulling away from the cliff. It's going to be an impressive rumble when if finally gives way.
After that, we crossed a small snow field, and climbed steadily toward the summit. Another snow squall came, this one just a lightly falling snow that was hardly noticeable as we concentrated on the climb. A couple of more shallow snowfields were easily crossed, and at last, we were at the remote weather station at the top. Time for a snack and a look around.
This was one of those moments when it's easy to believe the world is there just for you. As we finished the snack, the clouds backed away to almost the horizon in all directions, and the sun came out. The view was a complete panorama. From Mt. Assiniboine to the south, a line of formidable peaks stretched to the west. The ridge and peak to the west was clear, and then blue skies reached to the Bow Valley to the north. We could see the peaks across the valley, and east towards Banff. I later discovered that if we could have gone a little farther, we would have seen the town of Banff itself. A clear, unobstructed 360 degree view of the world.
Just past the weather station, was another snow field. I have no doubt that, no more that twenty metres in front of us, a massive snow cornice hung over the face of the mountain that we sat on. It would be interesting to go back in a couple of months and see just how close the rock cliff is to the weather station.
AFter a couple of pictures of each of us with Mt. Assiniboine in the clouds behind, we started down. We crossed the first of the snow fields quickly and soon were back at the large disintegrating cornice, then over the rock jumble just past it. The path was much easier to find on the descent, though we did lose it a couple of times.
Meanwhile a thick wall of precipitation was heading our way from the south. I initially thought we might just catch the edge of it, but as we approached the lower reaches of the ridge, the snow started, with a driving wind. It wasn't bad. My left ear and cheek started to get a little cold, as that was most exposed to the wind. We made our way to the snow above yet another lake, which was still frozen over.
Skirting the snow to the path along this iced over lake, the wind was really driving at us. We climbed a short incline at the end and found ourselves on the snowbank where the Manitoba kids had been sliding. By now the nasty snow squall had ended and the sun was threatening to come out again.
I hadn't considered trying what we did next. But Daisy marched out on to the snow, sat down, and pushed herself off. What could I do but follow. Here's where I wish I had better hiking pants than the worn out cotton khakis I was wearing. My backside got incredibly wet. But the slide was exciting. The slope was pretty steep, and long, perhaps half a kilometre. We lost altitude in a hurry. It was incredibly fun.
At the bottom, we traipsed across the rest of the snow. Boy snow and girl snow! I'd heard about the pink mould that grows on the mountain snows in the spring. It was startlingly pink, and subtle in that you had to really look at the snow to see it. But it also stood out once you noticed it. And in places where you sank into the snow a little, maybe a foot or so, the light diffused by the snow made the bottom of these deep footprints very blue.
We skipped across the two streams draining from the lake, and down the slope beside the resulting cascade. Crossed a few more snow fields hiding flowing streams. We caught up to another snowy slope were the Manitobans had slid. So we did too.
This slope was steeper, I think. I got some speed up, and near the bottom, where the snow petered out into scree, I had to do some serious braking to avoid slidding off into the rocks. Then traversing some more to another steep snow bank. This time we tried skating/skiing down it. Also a lot of fun and we stepped off right at the trail.
After a short stop to shed some layers, we continued through the forest along Lake Bourgeau to the swampy part. We didn't do too bad in finding a fairly dry way through, although by that time my feet were soaked from walking through the snow. Looking over our shoulders, the cloud was sliding over the edge of the ridge we had been on. We began the long descent to Wolverine Creek as a light rain began to fall.
The walk down was now uneventful. Nothing much going on, and Daisy and I talked extensively about almost everything. At the creek, we were hoping the Manitobans had piled a few more branches and tree trunks on the crossing. We found our pole and picked our way across without incident.
More steep descent. As were talked about the rock face on the opposite side of the canyon, Daisy suddenly spied an amazing sight. The sun had broken through the cloud cover to brighten the valley below. The most amazing rainbow seemed to grow out of the forested floor of the valley.
After that, it was a long descent to the parking lot in the rain, filled by wonderful companionship and beautiful birdsong.
This was a completely impulsive trip. I'm glad Daisy called to ask me if I was interested. I'm glad I felt up for it. If she had asked if I wanted to walk for eight hours, over 24 kilometres, and climb steep slopes in snow storms and downpours, I don't think I would have said yes.
The universe blessed us today. For the skies to clear so completely as we sat at the summit was miraculous. To be able to push on to the top. And to experience those snowsqualls and rain showers in such a magical place.
Again it was sensory overload. I have no idea if I missed any thing major in this write-up. It's late and I'm bloody tired. And very happy.
Mt. Bourgeau
Starting elevation: 1432 m (4698 feet).
Highest elevation: 2951 m (9682 feet).
Lowest elevation: 1409 m (4623feet).
Elevation gain: 1519 m (4984 feet).
Distance: 24.8 km (15.4 mi).
Time: 8:01.
I hadn't counted on meeting Daisy.
She called first thing this morning; "we should do Mt. Bourgeau." Coincidentally, I was, at the time, wondering what I was going to do for the day. "Give me thirty minutes," I said.
Of course, it immediately occurred to me that this was my second major hike in as many days. I considered that as I packed my backpack, and drove out to her place. I felt OK. The knees seemed to be intact, and there didn't seem to be any lingering aches, pains or fatigue.
Ninety minutes or so later, we pulled into the parking area to Bourgeau Lake, along side a few cars. Good, that meant there were others on the trail. The first thing we noticed was the smell. Pine and earth and damp moss. It was glorious. After a short bit of prepping, we stepped up to and through the wildlife gate and were off.
The trail was through thick, lush forest, and quickly began to ascend. We were a long time in the forest. We finally reached a bridge that crossed a cascade tumbling down into the valley from the left. Then more forest, more not-too-steep climbing, and we reach Wolverine Creek.
Wolverine Creek is a big rushing cascade tumbling down the middle of the canyon (named Wolverine Creek Canyon, of course), and no bridge. There are the footings for one, but it's possible there never has been one. A jumble of logs and tree branches lays across the creek, though. We found a straight branch to use for balance, and Daisy picked her way across the wet logs. Once across, she tossed the stick back to me, and I followed. It looked tricky, and there certainly was the potential for getting my feet, and more, wet, but it was done quickly and without incident.
Once past the creek, the path climbs steeply. A short way on, we encountered a gentleman photographing the slopes on the opposite side of the canyon. He'd spotted a particularly scruffy looking goat browsing the meadows. After that, more steep going.
We reached a place where the water seemed to be running everywhere. The path was often muddy, and even under water. In a couple of places, snow blocked the path, though it was no trouble to walk on. At one point, Daisy led the way through the pussy willow, and we waded through these knee deep bushes past some of the goopiest parts of the path. We met a couple who had reached the lake and were returning. It looked like they had simply given up trying to avoid the mud and water, and were wading up the path.
Bourgeau Lake is lovely enough, with forest on one side, scree on the other. It's right against the base of Mt. Bourgeau, under towering rock walls and several small cornices of snow on the ridge above. (And yes, today I learned what a cornice is.) At the back, a roaring cascade of water from the pass above descended noisily to the lake.
Along the lake, the path charged through thick forest, broken in several places by clearings full of crocus and glacier lily. Daisy mentioned that these flowers were late this year, as both usually show as soon as the snow retreats. But the snow actually had more or less just retreated. Spring is very late in the mountain meadows.
We came out of the forest to discover the steep climb up talus. And there we caught sight of a large group crossing the top of a large snow bank. We climbed up beside the snow bank, crossed the top, and made our way along the well defined path to the next snow bank.
This was a group of high school kids on a field trip from Manitoba. We caught up to them at the next snow bank. Just across the snowbank, it stopped by the shore of a small lake. As we began to pass, they started up with us, so that we ended up in the middle of their line, chatting with them. There were a couple of more places with snow to cross, and more ascent until we got to the upper basin with another small lake, draining into the one below. One of these apparently is Harvey Lake. We had reached Harvey Pass.
As the group paused for another rest, Daisy and I continued, stone-stepping across two creeks draining out of the upper lake. We were shortly climbing a steep slope along side an enormous snowbank. At the top of the saddle, a trail through the snow lead across the saddle and up the other side, ending at two intrepid hikers attempting to reach the opposite ridge. It looked like they were having a tough go of it.
As we continued ascending the slope, the field trip reached the saddle behind us, and had ventured out onto the snow. And from there, most sat and slide down the slope. Lots of screaming and laughing and noise. It looked like fun.
Another hundred metres and we encountered two more hikers, who were heading back. We chatted and asked what conditions were like ahead. They said there were three impassible snow fields, dropping over the cliff on the left, forming the cornices we had seen from below. It didn't seem like there would be snow like that, with the southern exposure, and it being late June already. We decided to press on, to see for ourselves. An excellent decision, as it turned out.
What we were climbing was actually a bit of a bump at this point. To the left was a drop shear to Bourgeau Lake at the side, but ahead it descended to a saddle that rose toward the peak of the mountain. Down we went. As we began to go up again, a snow squall hit, reducing visiblity only slightly.
The trail was tenuous at times. We'd be following a definite path, and then find ourselves several metres to the side of it. For a stretch there didn't seem to be any path at all. But it was easy going, if a little steep. To the south, Mt. Assiniboine played peekaboo in the clouds, and far below was Sunshine Resort, the ski runs bare and brown-green. There were impressive plateaus behind and to the side, much of them snow covered. And far off, an incredible range of mountains marching across our horizon.
The path stayed high on the ridge, close to the cliffs over Lake Bourgeau. At times, small snow fields reached out over the cliff, likely forming some of the cornices. After a particularly steep go, it leveled out into a very rocky stretch, and then past what was likely the very edge. Only there was a deep gap of about four metres and on the other side a huge mass of snow. This was probably the largest cornice, about fifty metres long, and it was slowly pulling away from the cliff. It's going to be an impressive rumble when if finally gives way.
After that, we crossed a small snow field, and climbed steadily toward the summit. Another snow squall came, this one just a lightly falling snow that was hardly noticeable as we concentrated on the climb. A couple of more shallow snowfields were easily crossed, and at last, we were at the remote weather station at the top. Time for a snack and a look around.
This was one of those moments when it's easy to believe the world is there just for you. As we finished the snack, the clouds backed away to almost the horizon in all directions, and the sun came out. The view was a complete panorama. From Mt. Assiniboine to the south, a line of formidable peaks stretched to the west. The ridge and peak to the west was clear, and then blue skies reached to the Bow Valley to the north. We could see the peaks across the valley, and east towards Banff. I later discovered that if we could have gone a little farther, we would have seen the town of Banff itself. A clear, unobstructed 360 degree view of the world.
Just past the weather station, was another snow field. I have no doubt that, no more that twenty metres in front of us, a massive snow cornice hung over the face of the mountain that we sat on. It would be interesting to go back in a couple of months and see just how close the rock cliff is to the weather station.
AFter a couple of pictures of each of us with Mt. Assiniboine in the clouds behind, we started down. We crossed the first of the snow fields quickly and soon were back at the large disintegrating cornice, then over the rock jumble just past it. The path was much easier to find on the descent, though we did lose it a couple of times.
Meanwhile a thick wall of precipitation was heading our way from the south. I initially thought we might just catch the edge of it, but as we approached the lower reaches of the ridge, the snow started, with a driving wind. It wasn't bad. My left ear and cheek started to get a little cold, as that was most exposed to the wind. We made our way to the snow above yet another lake, which was still frozen over.
Skirting the snow to the path along this iced over lake, the wind was really driving at us. We climbed a short incline at the end and found ourselves on the snowbank where the Manitoba kids had been sliding. By now the nasty snow squall had ended and the sun was threatening to come out again.
I hadn't considered trying what we did next. But Daisy marched out on to the snow, sat down, and pushed herself off. What could I do but follow. Here's where I wish I had better hiking pants than the worn out cotton khakis I was wearing. My backside got incredibly wet. But the slide was exciting. The slope was pretty steep, and long, perhaps half a kilometre. We lost altitude in a hurry. It was incredibly fun.
At the bottom, we traipsed across the rest of the snow. Boy snow and girl snow! I'd heard about the pink mould that grows on the mountain snows in the spring. It was startlingly pink, and subtle in that you had to really look at the snow to see it. But it also stood out once you noticed it. And in places where you sank into the snow a little, maybe a foot or so, the light diffused by the snow made the bottom of these deep footprints very blue.
We skipped across the two streams draining from the lake, and down the slope beside the resulting cascade. Crossed a few more snow fields hiding flowing streams. We caught up to another snowy slope were the Manitobans had slid. So we did too.
This slope was steeper, I think. I got some speed up, and near the bottom, where the snow petered out into scree, I had to do some serious braking to avoid slidding off into the rocks. Then traversing some more to another steep snow bank. This time we tried skating/skiing down it. Also a lot of fun and we stepped off right at the trail.
After a short stop to shed some layers, we continued through the forest along Lake Bourgeau to the swampy part. We didn't do too bad in finding a fairly dry way through, although by that time my feet were soaked from walking through the snow. Looking over our shoulders, the cloud was sliding over the edge of the ridge we had been on. We began the long descent to Wolverine Creek as a light rain began to fall.
The walk down was now uneventful. Nothing much going on, and Daisy and I talked extensively about almost everything. At the creek, we were hoping the Manitobans had piled a few more branches and tree trunks on the crossing. We found our pole and picked our way across without incident.
More steep descent. As were talked about the rock face on the opposite side of the canyon, Daisy suddenly spied an amazing sight. The sun had broken through the cloud cover to brighten the valley below. The most amazing rainbow seemed to grow out of the forested floor of the valley.
After that, it was a long descent to the parking lot in the rain, filled by wonderful companionship and beautiful birdsong.
This was a completely impulsive trip. I'm glad Daisy called to ask me if I was interested. I'm glad I felt up for it. If she had asked if I wanted to walk for eight hours, over 24 kilometres, and climb steep slopes in snow storms and downpours, I don't think I would have said yes.
The universe blessed us today. For the skies to clear so completely as we sat at the summit was miraculous. To be able to push on to the top. And to experience those snowsqualls and rain showers in such a magical place.
Again it was sensory overload. I have no idea if I missed any thing major in this write-up. It's late and I'm bloody tired. And very happy.
Mt. Bourgeau
Starting elevation: 1432 m (4698 feet).
Highest elevation: 2951 m (9682 feet).
Lowest elevation: 1409 m (4623feet).
Elevation gain: 1519 m (4984 feet).
Distance: 24.8 km (15.4 mi).
Time: 8:01.
Saturday, June 23, 2007
Yamnuska
This was a sweet one. It was lovely day for hiking. Daisy is an experienced hiker, and has done this one more than once. So not only did I have a hiking companion, she knew where we were going.
We set off through the trees, and rapidly came on the steep path through the forest on the east shoulder. Zig zagging up the slope, we met several groups. It's a busy place. There are several places to enjoy the view, too, as the trees aren't enclosing.
On the top of the shoulder, we got our first view of the CMC valley. And a seeming dead end. I think there's a way around the north side, but it didn't look too inviting. However, a couple just ahead of us were working their way up a crevasse, so we followed. And found ourselves on top of the ridge.
The problem with this hike was sensory overload. I found myself so high, with so much incredible scenery, and even the physical experience of the climb, that it's all a blur now, sitting here trying to write about it.
I know we climbed to the edge, and carefully looked over the edge. A thousand feet straight down to the top of the scree slope below.
Well, not straight down. As flat as the face of this beast looks from the highway, it has a fair amount of topology. But I couldn't bring myself to slide close enough to see that, if it was even possible.
From here we picked our way through scree, and along paths that seemed to be everywhere. Near the edge were anchor bolts for those that would climb that face. Later in the climb, someone would mention there are over a hundred routes up the face.
We soon got past the first bit of a peak, and I found myself looking past it to the east, almost in the exact place where the photo on Gem Trek's Canmore and Kananaskis Village map was taken. If you've seen that photo, you can appreciate how shear the face can be.
More traversing and climbing, again a blur of sensation. And fun! Just to clamber up the steep rock and pick our way to the top was fun. Occasionally, I noticed the burn in my calves, but mostly I was drinking in the experience.
I think we came to the edge a couple of more times, and peeked over the edge. At one place we came on a woman sitting by the trail. She said it was not far to the cable, and then the final climb to the peak.
Cable?
There's a point where there's a bit of a ledge, maybe enough to hook your toes on, and possibly there are finger holds, too. Below the ledge is a drop of about ten metres, and then an incredibly steep slope of broken rock that descends another three or four hundred metres into the CMC Valley.
It's impossible to cross the thirty metres or so to more clamber-able terrain, but someone has bolted a cable along the face to hang on to. It's intimidating, but it really wasn't bad at all. The ledge, while narrow, has lots of room for feet, and with the cable to cling too, I was past it quite quickly. The cable also helps in the descent of those ten metres to where the trail continues.
Now here is where we missed something. Daisy and I climbed down the steep slope where we could see the path go, and eventually it rounded a rock and started to climb back up. The people behind us, though, found a path that went straight across. Oh, well, we were up for the seventy or so metre down-&-up. We even ended up ahead of them when when we got back up.
We got to an ascending ridge and rested for a bit of a snack, and then climbed it to the peak. About a dozen people were snacking and sunning and generally hanging out. And on their cell phones! Heck, I even made a call.
After a rest, Daisy charged ahead of me down the slope, which was fine gravel. The path went straight down, but then split, with a gentler path to the left. We went left. We were soon out of the fine gravel and struggling over coarser stuff, with small outcrops to climb around. Meanwhile others coming down behind us went skipping down the steep straight path. Bummer.
We made our way back over to the straight path, and finally got to the west shoulder. Steep and slippery, gravelly in some places, almost fine dust on bare rock in others. Which was really treacherous. Well, not really, but it was tricky.
Keeping up to Daisy was a challenge. She must have stronger knees than I, and is probably more flexible, too. She seemed to be bounding down the slope at times. I wasn't too far behind, mostly, and she did stop occasionally to let me believe I was catching up.
Eventually we began to traverse the scree at the bottom of the cliff face. Lots of relatively fine gravel, but the path was quite easy to cross. Knowing about climbing and even having some experience with technical climbing, Daisy would pause every once in awhile to scan the rock face above us for climbers. How she would spot them I don't know, but they were obvious once she pointed them out.
About 700 metres across, we decided to follow those ahead of us straight down the scree. This started out pretty tricky. I kind of stepped sideways down, with the gravel sliding down with me, and me trying to keep from sinking into the sliding gravel. Meanwhile, Daisy was bouncing down the slope, actually laughing out loud at times, before she got so far ahead of me as to be out of earshot.
Eventually, I got into the rhythm of it, and headed straight down. You get a bit of a bounce to it, and step fast enough so you don't sink into the sliding gravel too much, digging in you heel at every step. I mean a real bounce, kind of a floating bobbing feeling. It got to be really fun. And I was finally gaining on Daisy.
Well, she'd stopped at the trees at the bottom to wait. Once I caught up, we continued along the bottom of the scree. And suddenly, around a corner was a waterfall. Water coming down from who knows where over a series of limestone shelves.
From here we were back into the forest, descending the east shoulder again. Passing more hikers heading upward. And finally coming to the parking lot.
This was a wonderful, fun and exciting hike. Hiking with Daisy only enhanced the fun and excitement, what with her experience and heck, just the joy she radiated up there.
Now if only I could get the damn camera to work.
Yamnuska
Starting elevation: 1343 m (4406 feet).
Highest elevation: 2241 m (7352 feet).
Lowest elevation: 1343 m (4406feet).
Elevation gain: 898 m (2946 feet).
Distance: 10.2 km (6.3 mi).
Time: 4:25.
We set off through the trees, and rapidly came on the steep path through the forest on the east shoulder. Zig zagging up the slope, we met several groups. It's a busy place. There are several places to enjoy the view, too, as the trees aren't enclosing.
On the top of the shoulder, we got our first view of the CMC valley. And a seeming dead end. I think there's a way around the north side, but it didn't look too inviting. However, a couple just ahead of us were working their way up a crevasse, so we followed. And found ourselves on top of the ridge.
The problem with this hike was sensory overload. I found myself so high, with so much incredible scenery, and even the physical experience of the climb, that it's all a blur now, sitting here trying to write about it.
I know we climbed to the edge, and carefully looked over the edge. A thousand feet straight down to the top of the scree slope below.
Well, not straight down. As flat as the face of this beast looks from the highway, it has a fair amount of topology. But I couldn't bring myself to slide close enough to see that, if it was even possible.
From here we picked our way through scree, and along paths that seemed to be everywhere. Near the edge were anchor bolts for those that would climb that face. Later in the climb, someone would mention there are over a hundred routes up the face.
We soon got past the first bit of a peak, and I found myself looking past it to the east, almost in the exact place where the photo on Gem Trek's Canmore and Kananaskis Village map was taken. If you've seen that photo, you can appreciate how shear the face can be.
More traversing and climbing, again a blur of sensation. And fun! Just to clamber up the steep rock and pick our way to the top was fun. Occasionally, I noticed the burn in my calves, but mostly I was drinking in the experience.
I think we came to the edge a couple of more times, and peeked over the edge. At one place we came on a woman sitting by the trail. She said it was not far to the cable, and then the final climb to the peak.
Cable?
There's a point where there's a bit of a ledge, maybe enough to hook your toes on, and possibly there are finger holds, too. Below the ledge is a drop of about ten metres, and then an incredibly steep slope of broken rock that descends another three or four hundred metres into the CMC Valley.
It's impossible to cross the thirty metres or so to more clamber-able terrain, but someone has bolted a cable along the face to hang on to. It's intimidating, but it really wasn't bad at all. The ledge, while narrow, has lots of room for feet, and with the cable to cling too, I was past it quite quickly. The cable also helps in the descent of those ten metres to where the trail continues.
Now here is where we missed something. Daisy and I climbed down the steep slope where we could see the path go, and eventually it rounded a rock and started to climb back up. The people behind us, though, found a path that went straight across. Oh, well, we were up for the seventy or so metre down-&-up. We even ended up ahead of them when when we got back up.
We got to an ascending ridge and rested for a bit of a snack, and then climbed it to the peak. About a dozen people were snacking and sunning and generally hanging out. And on their cell phones! Heck, I even made a call.
After a rest, Daisy charged ahead of me down the slope, which was fine gravel. The path went straight down, but then split, with a gentler path to the left. We went left. We were soon out of the fine gravel and struggling over coarser stuff, with small outcrops to climb around. Meanwhile others coming down behind us went skipping down the steep straight path. Bummer.
We made our way back over to the straight path, and finally got to the west shoulder. Steep and slippery, gravelly in some places, almost fine dust on bare rock in others. Which was really treacherous. Well, not really, but it was tricky.
Keeping up to Daisy was a challenge. She must have stronger knees than I, and is probably more flexible, too. She seemed to be bounding down the slope at times. I wasn't too far behind, mostly, and she did stop occasionally to let me believe I was catching up.
Eventually we began to traverse the scree at the bottom of the cliff face. Lots of relatively fine gravel, but the path was quite easy to cross. Knowing about climbing and even having some experience with technical climbing, Daisy would pause every once in awhile to scan the rock face above us for climbers. How she would spot them I don't know, but they were obvious once she pointed them out.
About 700 metres across, we decided to follow those ahead of us straight down the scree. This started out pretty tricky. I kind of stepped sideways down, with the gravel sliding down with me, and me trying to keep from sinking into the sliding gravel. Meanwhile, Daisy was bouncing down the slope, actually laughing out loud at times, before she got so far ahead of me as to be out of earshot.
Eventually, I got into the rhythm of it, and headed straight down. You get a bit of a bounce to it, and step fast enough so you don't sink into the sliding gravel too much, digging in you heel at every step. I mean a real bounce, kind of a floating bobbing feeling. It got to be really fun. And I was finally gaining on Daisy.
Well, she'd stopped at the trees at the bottom to wait. Once I caught up, we continued along the bottom of the scree. And suddenly, around a corner was a waterfall. Water coming down from who knows where over a series of limestone shelves.
From here we were back into the forest, descending the east shoulder again. Passing more hikers heading upward. And finally coming to the parking lot.
This was a wonderful, fun and exciting hike. Hiking with Daisy only enhanced the fun and excitement, what with her experience and heck, just the joy she radiated up there.
Now if only I could get the damn camera to work.
Yamnuska
Starting elevation: 1343 m (4406 feet).
Highest elevation: 2241 m (7352 feet).
Lowest elevation: 1343 m (4406feet).
Elevation gain: 898 m (2946 feet).
Distance: 10.2 km (6.3 mi).
Time: 4:25.
Saturday, June 16, 2007
Rawson Lake, and Almost Opal Falls
The original goal today was Yamnuska. But all day there was a heavy rainfall warning and a severe thunderstorm watch is in effect for all of southern Alberta. That's not the kind of weather I would like to encounter when standing on a bare rock near a shear thousand foot drop, nuh-uh.
So I examined my maps, looking for an alternate hike for the day. One that I'd heard was pretty neat was Rawson Lake, just south of the Upper Kananaskis Lake, below Mount Sarrail. It's not too long a trek, so I decided to add in Opal Falls, as well, for fun.
I think I should start out earlier on these jaunts. There's something about being out in the early morning that is just too cool. And you get ahead of the weekend traffic, too. But it wasn't a bad drive out. Just rainy and wet.
By the time I got to the Kananaskis Lakes region, there were breaks in the cloud, and the rain had stopped. I set out along the path to the south of the lake. Even though there's so much snow pack yet, and there are flood watches everywhere, the lake level was very low, probably twenty metres lower than when I climbed Mount Indefatigable a couple of years ago.
Rawson Lake hides behind the treed ridge in the upper centre of the picture. You can see how the cloud was obscuring the mountain tops.
After rounding the path for aways, I found a clear view of Indefatigable.
It's a lot snowier than my last visit. You can see the snow in the cirque in this picture, just under the cloud, though not very well.
Shortly after that, I crossed the bridge in front of the Sarrail Creek Falls.
Very nice, and noisy.
One thing about this hike: the forest is quite dense, and lush. Lots of moss and goundcover that absorbs just about any sound. This is another one of those places, so common out there, where the silence is truly deafening. The sound of the falls didn't reach a hundred metres either side on the path. It was quite amazing how quickly you are upon the falls, and how fast they're behind you after you pass.
The path soon quite obviously splits, with the right branch continuing along the lake, and the left climbing rather steeply into the forest. A sign tells you that Rawson Lake is 2.7 km further on.
The path is wet, squishy and even under water in places. But still very walkable. The steepness keeps the lungs working, but the forest is amazing in its stillness. It absorbs sound so well, it's like being in an anechoic chamber, or a very small curtain-walled room. The silence has a closeness to it.
Eventually the trail levels off a little, and then I'm into snow. Again! The path must be chronically wet, as a raised walk made of logs sawn in half leads through the forest.
Same again for the snow: if I stay on the packed middle part, it supports me, and I avoid getting buried to the hip.
Soon I can see the rock wall across the lake through the trees, and suddenly the lake is in front of me. The rock wall is unbelievable and beautiful, and I start taking pictures.
And the batteries in the camera die. Damn!
The lake still has ice on it, and is rimmed by snow. The water is right up to the trees, and has some kind of scum on it, where it's open between chunks of ice. The fish don't seem to mind; they constantly jump at whatever is catching their attention. I pick my way a few metres along the shore to a massive tree that's fallen in the water. It makes a nice place to sit and munch my snack and survey the rock wall opposite me with binoculars.
The very top of the ridge is obscured by cloud, but there's a lot of snow still clinging to the face. With the binoculars, I can see several waterfalls coming down from what must be massive snowbanks here and there in depressions in the rock face. Some of them look to be several hundred metres high, with almost nothing but a mist at the bottom. There's a huge fall of snow at the bottom sloping to the lake, and the sound of rushing water reaches across.
After awhile, I decide to leave, somewhat annoyed by the lack of battery power. Two couples have come up behind me, one couple arguing how to cross the creek outlet to get to ice free fishing. Just as I get out of the worst of the snow, I begin to meet other hikers. Two goups with children pass at the edge of the snow. Another large group was just getting to where the trail flattened out a little. I assured one woman that she'd climbed the worst of it.
It was like that all the way down. Lots of people out with kids and dogs. By the time I got down to the lower path, there was a fisherman every thirty metres along the shore, and several boats as well.
I got back to the car, and headed back toward the highway. Turning south, I traveled a short way to the Elpoca Day Use area, beside which is Opal Falls. The gate was closed and locked, a sign on it warning of bear activity. So much for Opal Falls. After a bit of scanning of the far side of the valley with the binoculars, I called it a day and headed home.
Rawson Lake
Starting elevation: 1724 m (5656 feet).
Highest elevation: 2009 m (6591 feet).
Lowest elevation: 1698 m (5571feet).
Elevation gain: 285 m (935 feet).
Distance: 7.4 km (4.6 mi).
Time: 2:20.
So I examined my maps, looking for an alternate hike for the day. One that I'd heard was pretty neat was Rawson Lake, just south of the Upper Kananaskis Lake, below Mount Sarrail. It's not too long a trek, so I decided to add in Opal Falls, as well, for fun.
I think I should start out earlier on these jaunts. There's something about being out in the early morning that is just too cool. And you get ahead of the weekend traffic, too. But it wasn't a bad drive out. Just rainy and wet.
By the time I got to the Kananaskis Lakes region, there were breaks in the cloud, and the rain had stopped. I set out along the path to the south of the lake. Even though there's so much snow pack yet, and there are flood watches everywhere, the lake level was very low, probably twenty metres lower than when I climbed Mount Indefatigable a couple of years ago.
Rawson Lake hides behind the treed ridge in the upper centre of the picture. You can see how the cloud was obscuring the mountain tops.After rounding the path for aways, I found a clear view of Indefatigable.
It's a lot snowier than my last visit. You can see the snow in the cirque in this picture, just under the cloud, though not very well.Shortly after that, I crossed the bridge in front of the Sarrail Creek Falls.
Very nice, and noisy.One thing about this hike: the forest is quite dense, and lush. Lots of moss and goundcover that absorbs just about any sound. This is another one of those places, so common out there, where the silence is truly deafening. The sound of the falls didn't reach a hundred metres either side on the path. It was quite amazing how quickly you are upon the falls, and how fast they're behind you after you pass.
The path soon quite obviously splits, with the right branch continuing along the lake, and the left climbing rather steeply into the forest. A sign tells you that Rawson Lake is 2.7 km further on.
The path is wet, squishy and even under water in places. But still very walkable. The steepness keeps the lungs working, but the forest is amazing in its stillness. It absorbs sound so well, it's like being in an anechoic chamber, or a very small curtain-walled room. The silence has a closeness to it.
Eventually the trail levels off a little, and then I'm into snow. Again! The path must be chronically wet, as a raised walk made of logs sawn in half leads through the forest.
Same again for the snow: if I stay on the packed middle part, it supports me, and I avoid getting buried to the hip.Soon I can see the rock wall across the lake through the trees, and suddenly the lake is in front of me. The rock wall is unbelievable and beautiful, and I start taking pictures.
And the batteries in the camera die. Damn!The lake still has ice on it, and is rimmed by snow. The water is right up to the trees, and has some kind of scum on it, where it's open between chunks of ice. The fish don't seem to mind; they constantly jump at whatever is catching their attention. I pick my way a few metres along the shore to a massive tree that's fallen in the water. It makes a nice place to sit and munch my snack and survey the rock wall opposite me with binoculars.
The very top of the ridge is obscured by cloud, but there's a lot of snow still clinging to the face. With the binoculars, I can see several waterfalls coming down from what must be massive snowbanks here and there in depressions in the rock face. Some of them look to be several hundred metres high, with almost nothing but a mist at the bottom. There's a huge fall of snow at the bottom sloping to the lake, and the sound of rushing water reaches across.
After awhile, I decide to leave, somewhat annoyed by the lack of battery power. Two couples have come up behind me, one couple arguing how to cross the creek outlet to get to ice free fishing. Just as I get out of the worst of the snow, I begin to meet other hikers. Two goups with children pass at the edge of the snow. Another large group was just getting to where the trail flattened out a little. I assured one woman that she'd climbed the worst of it.
It was like that all the way down. Lots of people out with kids and dogs. By the time I got down to the lower path, there was a fisherman every thirty metres along the shore, and several boats as well.
I got back to the car, and headed back toward the highway. Turning south, I traveled a short way to the Elpoca Day Use area, beside which is Opal Falls. The gate was closed and locked, a sign on it warning of bear activity. So much for Opal Falls. After a bit of scanning of the far side of the valley with the binoculars, I called it a day and headed home.
Rawson Lake
Starting elevation: 1724 m (5656 feet).
Highest elevation: 2009 m (6591 feet).
Lowest elevation: 1698 m (5571feet).
Elevation gain: 285 m (935 feet).
Distance: 7.4 km (4.6 mi).
Time: 2:20.
Saturday, June 09, 2007
Moose Mountain Reprise - The North Peak
Today was planned to be a group hike, but the group couldn't make it, so it ended up being a solo. On the plus side, I was able to connect with a friend for coffee this morning, since I didn't have to rendezvous with people, but I didn't get to the trail head until just after noon.
This is an interesting one to get to. The road up branches off Highway 66 just before Elbow Falls, and continues several kilometres up to the top of the ridge. And, you leave the highway at around 1500 metres altitude, and arrive at the parking area at just under 2000 metres. It's quite a climb.
The trail along the ridge to branches in a couple of places, to trails that run down the east side and back to Bragg Creek. This makes it a popular loop for mountain bikers, and they were out in spades today. I passed several on the drive up, and there were several more on the trail and even on the mountain. The trail on the lower front peak is actually a road, probably built before they got a helicopter pad on the top. It's also likely it was built for access to the many gas wells in the area.
The parking lot was full when I arrived, and there were several cars lining the road outside as well. I found a spot, changed my shoes and headed out. It was a pretty grey day up there, though for some reason, this didn't impinge on my consciousness until I was above the tree line and wondering if I would get to use my rain gear.
I met several groups coming down, and passed a few going up. The trudge through the forest was uneventful, though. Much like any other trudge through the forest.
At the front peak, which is more rounded flat, there were several climbing the straight up path, several more taking the switchback, and four cyclists leaning into it, near the top. I did the straight up path, though I took the road along the north side instead of straight over the top. There were even people running down the path. It made my knees ache just to watch.
I finally put my Air Miles to good use and got a camera. This is the first view of the main and north peaks.
You can see that formidible northeast face, and to the right, the north peak, which is what I was aiming for. Here's another view, across the chasm east of the ridge that joins the peaks.
Check out that inviting sky!
I climbed to the helicopter pad, signed the guest book, and sat and snacked, and contemplated my objective.
The trail is well marked, but the first four hundred metres, is accompanied by a vertical drop of about 130 metres. There's a bit of scrambling, and in a few places, I had to back down so I could hold on to things with my hands. One particularly tricky scramble didn't have much for feet or hands to grab on to, in addition to being slicked up by seeping water. But I did find some.
Once past the trickiest part, I found myself at the south end of the ridge where it met with the cliff face that you can see in the first picture. Here's a shot looking the other way.
Yup, the top is about a hundred metres up. And I believe that's downtown Calgary on the horizon, roughly centred on the picture.
And this is the ridge from there to the north peak.
At this point, I have a little over a kilometre to go.
The ridge was a little challenging. It's almost all loose rock, flakes of limestone and larger boulders. In some places the rubble isn't too stable, and it moves when you step on it. Not too bad for the hand-size flakes, but some of those boulders are likely a couple of hundred kilograms or more. Mostly they just rock underfoot, but that puts demands on your balance. Every edge is sharp, so falling on this stuff would hurt.
There was a large boulder, actually a part of the ridge that hadn't collapsed yet, and it stood up blocky and in the way. I ended up climbing along the west side, as it wasn't quite as intimidating as the other side. Here and there, I had to scramble up some steeper parts.
In one stretch was a crevasse, not deep, but with a large snowbank in the middle. I sidled along one side of it, until the crevasse narrowed enough for me to step over it.
The farther I got, the easier it became. I found that if I stayed on the very top of the ridge, it was flat, and even grassy. It was just that shear drop a metre to the right that was a little unnerving. But eventually it spread out a little, and after some scrambling on the scree, I was at the top.
Not much to it really. It's a sort of grassy space, about the size of my back yard (not large), with a small pile of rocks in the middle. This is the view back to the fire lookout, with the rock pile.
Even though it wasn't that big, it felt incredible to be there. I'd just scrambled some eight and a half kilometres over some amazing terrain, and I had a view of half of Alberta. Cloudy and grey and hardly a breath of wind. This unbelieveable silence, occasionally punctuated by voices from the helicopter pad a kilometre and a half away.
Those clouds. The mountains to the west were in and out of mists and fogs. I started to wonder if any of the rain would get to me before I got out of there. Time to head back.
The walk back was much easier, since the trail was startlingly visible from that direction. I stuck to the top of the ridge, by this time almost immune to the effect of the vertiginous drop to my immediate left.
At the end of the ridge, against the cliff face, I spotted something moving on the apparently not so shear face.
Aside from a couple of wolf spiders and a raven, this marmot was the only wildlife I saw up there. He found a tiny ledge from which to sit and watch me.
The final scramble beside the shear face was done quickly, and I decided to head down immediately. It was getting late, I was tired and sore, and those rain clouds weren't looking any friendlier. It was a long walk down, made slow by adhering to Joe the firewatch guy's admonition to keep my steps small. The walk down to the tree line seemed to take ages, and then the walk through the forest seemed to take an equal number of ages.
One of the most remarkable characteristics of the day was the silence. Very rarely did the wind make itself known. And aside from the dozens of hikers out, there were little else making any noise. A beautiful hike.
Moose Mountain and north peak
Starting elevation: 1976 m (6483 feet).
Highest elevation: 2447 m (8028 feet).
North Peak: 2383 m (7818 ft).
Lowest elevation: 1903 m (6243 feet).
Elevation gain: 471 m (1545 feet).
Distance: 17.2 km (10.7 mi).
Time: 5:26.
This is an interesting one to get to. The road up branches off Highway 66 just before Elbow Falls, and continues several kilometres up to the top of the ridge. And, you leave the highway at around 1500 metres altitude, and arrive at the parking area at just under 2000 metres. It's quite a climb.
The trail along the ridge to branches in a couple of places, to trails that run down the east side and back to Bragg Creek. This makes it a popular loop for mountain bikers, and they were out in spades today. I passed several on the drive up, and there were several more on the trail and even on the mountain. The trail on the lower front peak is actually a road, probably built before they got a helicopter pad on the top. It's also likely it was built for access to the many gas wells in the area.
The parking lot was full when I arrived, and there were several cars lining the road outside as well. I found a spot, changed my shoes and headed out. It was a pretty grey day up there, though for some reason, this didn't impinge on my consciousness until I was above the tree line and wondering if I would get to use my rain gear.
I met several groups coming down, and passed a few going up. The trudge through the forest was uneventful, though. Much like any other trudge through the forest.
At the front peak, which is more rounded flat, there were several climbing the straight up path, several more taking the switchback, and four cyclists leaning into it, near the top. I did the straight up path, though I took the road along the north side instead of straight over the top. There were even people running down the path. It made my knees ache just to watch.
I finally put my Air Miles to good use and got a camera. This is the first view of the main and north peaks.
You can see that formidible northeast face, and to the right, the north peak, which is what I was aiming for. Here's another view, across the chasm east of the ridge that joins the peaks.
Check out that inviting sky!
I climbed to the helicopter pad, signed the guest book, and sat and snacked, and contemplated my objective.
The trail is well marked, but the first four hundred metres, is accompanied by a vertical drop of about 130 metres. There's a bit of scrambling, and in a few places, I had to back down so I could hold on to things with my hands. One particularly tricky scramble didn't have much for feet or hands to grab on to, in addition to being slicked up by seeping water. But I did find some.
Once past the trickiest part, I found myself at the south end of the ridge where it met with the cliff face that you can see in the first picture. Here's a shot looking the other way.
Yup, the top is about a hundred metres up. And I believe that's downtown Calgary on the horizon, roughly centred on the picture.
And this is the ridge from there to the north peak.
At this point, I have a little over a kilometre to go.
The ridge was a little challenging. It's almost all loose rock, flakes of limestone and larger boulders. In some places the rubble isn't too stable, and it moves when you step on it. Not too bad for the hand-size flakes, but some of those boulders are likely a couple of hundred kilograms or more. Mostly they just rock underfoot, but that puts demands on your balance. Every edge is sharp, so falling on this stuff would hurt.
There was a large boulder, actually a part of the ridge that hadn't collapsed yet, and it stood up blocky and in the way. I ended up climbing along the west side, as it wasn't quite as intimidating as the other side. Here and there, I had to scramble up some steeper parts.
In one stretch was a crevasse, not deep, but with a large snowbank in the middle. I sidled along one side of it, until the crevasse narrowed enough for me to step over it.
The farther I got, the easier it became. I found that if I stayed on the very top of the ridge, it was flat, and even grassy. It was just that shear drop a metre to the right that was a little unnerving. But eventually it spread out a little, and after some scrambling on the scree, I was at the top.
Not much to it really. It's a sort of grassy space, about the size of my back yard (not large), with a small pile of rocks in the middle. This is the view back to the fire lookout, with the rock pile.
Even though it wasn't that big, it felt incredible to be there. I'd just scrambled some eight and a half kilometres over some amazing terrain, and I had a view of half of Alberta. Cloudy and grey and hardly a breath of wind. This unbelieveable silence, occasionally punctuated by voices from the helicopter pad a kilometre and a half away.
Those clouds. The mountains to the west were in and out of mists and fogs. I started to wonder if any of the rain would get to me before I got out of there. Time to head back.
The walk back was much easier, since the trail was startlingly visible from that direction. I stuck to the top of the ridge, by this time almost immune to the effect of the vertiginous drop to my immediate left.
At the end of the ridge, against the cliff face, I spotted something moving on the apparently not so shear face.
Aside from a couple of wolf spiders and a raven, this marmot was the only wildlife I saw up there. He found a tiny ledge from which to sit and watch me.
The final scramble beside the shear face was done quickly, and I decided to head down immediately. It was getting late, I was tired and sore, and those rain clouds weren't looking any friendlier. It was a long walk down, made slow by adhering to Joe the firewatch guy's admonition to keep my steps small. The walk down to the tree line seemed to take ages, and then the walk through the forest seemed to take an equal number of ages.
One of the most remarkable characteristics of the day was the silence. Very rarely did the wind make itself known. And aside from the dozens of hikers out, there were little else making any noise. A beautiful hike.
Moose Mountain and north peak
Starting elevation: 1976 m (6483 feet).
Highest elevation: 2447 m (8028 feet).
North Peak: 2383 m (7818 ft).
Lowest elevation: 1903 m (6243 feet).
Elevation gain: 471 m (1545 feet).
Distance: 17.2 km (10.7 mi).
Time: 5:26.
Saturday, June 02, 2007
Heart Mountain
Oh. My. God. I can't wait to do this one again. As the gentleman I walked with at the top said, there are very few people who will ever see the world the way we saw it today. This was a challenging hike.
I started from the parking lot and ended up behind a large group that got on the path ahead of me. After about half a kilometre, they stopped to wait for some stragglers, and I got by. At 800 metres, was the split in the path, just like the map said. A sign warned that the path was a scramble, with exposed parts. Two couples started past as I read this, so I decided to follow them.
This was a steep climb, but an easy one. Most of it was a blur. What I remember most was how fast the altitude number on the GPS increased. Keeping up with the foursome ahead of me was a challenge, as they were charging up the slope.
About half way, I climbed a bit of a break in the rock, and suddenly found myself among several people. There were six resting on a relatively flat place, while one of them bandaged herself. An Austrian girl had slipped and managed to cut her knee and her hand. It turned out that the injuries were minor.
From here the foursome gained on me. I would lose sight of them, then catch up when they stopped to rest. Some of the climbing was pretty dicey looking to have to come back down on, but wasn't too bad to climb. Lots of places, I was looking for firm handholds before moving my feet.
Every once in awhile, I would stop and look around. What an unbelieveable view. The canyon to the right, where Heart Creek flows, felt like it was right by my elbow. The rock face dropped off nearly vertically. Across to the other side was another formidible rock face rising up to the ridge that leads to Mount McGillivray.
Directly below when I turned to face the valley, was Lac Des Arcs and the town of Exshaw. Just to the right of that, and behind, was Loder Peak and Door Jamb Mountain. Farther right was the impressive wall of Yamnuska. To the east, the TransCanada and 1A highways, and the Ghost Reservoir in the distance. Just over the shoulder of the ridge to the west was Canmore.
At about 1930 metres, my cell phone range. Even up there, coverage is remarkably good. After a short chat with Roxanne, I was off again.
Looking up at the mountain, especially along the west side of the heart shaped formation that gives the mountain its name, it looks completely impassible. But as you make your way up, the path stays very obvious. At one point there is a climb of about three metres, up a crack in rock face that runs nearly the whole side of the formation. That's about the hairiest part of the whole climb, and not really that bad at that. However, I think going down through that would be tricky.
Lots more scrambling, and eventually, the top. The same as I described above, but more so. And looking down where we came from, it seems almost impossible that we were able to climb that way. I stood and took it all in for awhile. And my phone rang again. Byron saying hi.
From there, a ridge runs south to another peak. Another man and I headed that way, and after picking our way through a couple of snowbanks, we were on a well marked path to the next peak. This ridge was unbelieveably narrow. It wasn't really scary to be on, but the part we could actually walk on seemed only a few metres wide. It dropped off incredibly steeply either way.
In just under an hour we were there, and there was another crowd lounging. On man had wandered even farther south along another ridge. It looked much the same as what we had just traversed, only more so. At the far end was a jagged peak, un-named on my map. To the east was Barrier Lake, where I had hiked a month ago.
I headed northeastward on my own, continuing along the ridge that makes the loop of this hike. More snow, and it was deep. Luckily there were several footprints through it, so it wasn't too hard to get through. But it was easily two metres deep in places.
The ridge continued narrow, with steep, near-vertical drops on either side. I could see the place I had reached on the hike from Barrier Lake, as well as the Barrier Lake fire lookout that was very close to that point. Along the way were lots of crocuses, as well as several other kinds of flowers blooming.
It was a wonderful journey across this ridge to the last peak on the trail. I stopped there to return Byron's call, since we lost the connection on the first peak. Below to the east was the TransCanada Trail, and I thought I could see the Jewel Pass Trail that I climbed from Barrier Lake
And then the long descent. It seemed to go on forever. This is where I realized how much I had climbed on the first leg of the hike. This part of the trail was not nearly as challenging as the climb, but there were still lots of places where I needed to use handholds.
Eventually, I descended into forest, and yet it was still a steep descent. This is where I lost the traffic. There seemed to be no one around. Around 1800 metres the noise from the highway became noticeable. At one point a creek began to gurgle to the left, and eventually the trail paralleled it.
Then suddenly it disappeared and for awhile, I was descending through forest, with only the traffic noise of the highway below. And suddenly I was in a cutline, under a high voltage power line. The trail crossed the cutline, and eventually flattened out (more or less)
Once I got the junction of all the paths, with the sign warning of the scramble, I decided to check out the Heart Creek path. I wasn't sure I had the energy for it. It was quite busy. The trail crosses the creek several times, and at one of them were several people climbing the rock face. At the end of the trail, the canyon narrows to a couple of yards, turns sharply to the left. The creek roars down this narrow channel, with a sound that indicates there must be a pretty impressive falls there. But there's no way to see it as it is around the corner.
By this point, I'm beat. The walk back to the car was uneventful. This was an incredible climb and hike. Once I get a camera, I definitely need to go back and do it again.
Heart Mountain
Starting elevation: 1332 m (4370 feet).
Highest elevation: 2180 m (7152 feet).
Lowest elevation: 1283 m (4209 feet).
Elevation gain: 848 m (2782 feet).
Distance: 13.8 km (8.6 mi).
Time: 5:36.
I started from the parking lot and ended up behind a large group that got on the path ahead of me. After about half a kilometre, they stopped to wait for some stragglers, and I got by. At 800 metres, was the split in the path, just like the map said. A sign warned that the path was a scramble, with exposed parts. Two couples started past as I read this, so I decided to follow them.
This was a steep climb, but an easy one. Most of it was a blur. What I remember most was how fast the altitude number on the GPS increased. Keeping up with the foursome ahead of me was a challenge, as they were charging up the slope.
About half way, I climbed a bit of a break in the rock, and suddenly found myself among several people. There were six resting on a relatively flat place, while one of them bandaged herself. An Austrian girl had slipped and managed to cut her knee and her hand. It turned out that the injuries were minor.
From here the foursome gained on me. I would lose sight of them, then catch up when they stopped to rest. Some of the climbing was pretty dicey looking to have to come back down on, but wasn't too bad to climb. Lots of places, I was looking for firm handholds before moving my feet.
Every once in awhile, I would stop and look around. What an unbelieveable view. The canyon to the right, where Heart Creek flows, felt like it was right by my elbow. The rock face dropped off nearly vertically. Across to the other side was another formidible rock face rising up to the ridge that leads to Mount McGillivray.
Directly below when I turned to face the valley, was Lac Des Arcs and the town of Exshaw. Just to the right of that, and behind, was Loder Peak and Door Jamb Mountain. Farther right was the impressive wall of Yamnuska. To the east, the TransCanada and 1A highways, and the Ghost Reservoir in the distance. Just over the shoulder of the ridge to the west was Canmore.
At about 1930 metres, my cell phone range. Even up there, coverage is remarkably good. After a short chat with Roxanne, I was off again.
Looking up at the mountain, especially along the west side of the heart shaped formation that gives the mountain its name, it looks completely impassible. But as you make your way up, the path stays very obvious. At one point there is a climb of about three metres, up a crack in rock face that runs nearly the whole side of the formation. That's about the hairiest part of the whole climb, and not really that bad at that. However, I think going down through that would be tricky.
Lots more scrambling, and eventually, the top. The same as I described above, but more so. And looking down where we came from, it seems almost impossible that we were able to climb that way. I stood and took it all in for awhile. And my phone rang again. Byron saying hi.
From there, a ridge runs south to another peak. Another man and I headed that way, and after picking our way through a couple of snowbanks, we were on a well marked path to the next peak. This ridge was unbelieveably narrow. It wasn't really scary to be on, but the part we could actually walk on seemed only a few metres wide. It dropped off incredibly steeply either way.
In just under an hour we were there, and there was another crowd lounging. On man had wandered even farther south along another ridge. It looked much the same as what we had just traversed, only more so. At the far end was a jagged peak, un-named on my map. To the east was Barrier Lake, where I had hiked a month ago.
I headed northeastward on my own, continuing along the ridge that makes the loop of this hike. More snow, and it was deep. Luckily there were several footprints through it, so it wasn't too hard to get through. But it was easily two metres deep in places.
The ridge continued narrow, with steep, near-vertical drops on either side. I could see the place I had reached on the hike from Barrier Lake, as well as the Barrier Lake fire lookout that was very close to that point. Along the way were lots of crocuses, as well as several other kinds of flowers blooming.
It was a wonderful journey across this ridge to the last peak on the trail. I stopped there to return Byron's call, since we lost the connection on the first peak. Below to the east was the TransCanada Trail, and I thought I could see the Jewel Pass Trail that I climbed from Barrier Lake
And then the long descent. It seemed to go on forever. This is where I realized how much I had climbed on the first leg of the hike. This part of the trail was not nearly as challenging as the climb, but there were still lots of places where I needed to use handholds.
Eventually, I descended into forest, and yet it was still a steep descent. This is where I lost the traffic. There seemed to be no one around. Around 1800 metres the noise from the highway became noticeable. At one point a creek began to gurgle to the left, and eventually the trail paralleled it.
Then suddenly it disappeared and for awhile, I was descending through forest, with only the traffic noise of the highway below. And suddenly I was in a cutline, under a high voltage power line. The trail crossed the cutline, and eventually flattened out (more or less)
Once I got the junction of all the paths, with the sign warning of the scramble, I decided to check out the Heart Creek path. I wasn't sure I had the energy for it. It was quite busy. The trail crosses the creek several times, and at one of them were several people climbing the rock face. At the end of the trail, the canyon narrows to a couple of yards, turns sharply to the left. The creek roars down this narrow channel, with a sound that indicates there must be a pretty impressive falls there. But there's no way to see it as it is around the corner.
By this point, I'm beat. The walk back to the car was uneventful. This was an incredible climb and hike. Once I get a camera, I definitely need to go back and do it again.
Heart Mountain
Starting elevation: 1332 m (4370 feet).
Highest elevation: 2180 m (7152 feet).
Lowest elevation: 1283 m (4209 feet).
Elevation gain: 848 m (2782 feet).
Distance: 13.8 km (8.6 mi).
Time: 5:36.
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