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.
# posted by Kelly @ 11:41 p.m. 
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