Sunday, August 19, 2007
Mount Baldy
Don't wanna travel forever to get to a good hike. Don't wanna spend the whole day hiking. Not my normal feelings about hiking, but I needed to be back in town at a reasonable time, and Mount Baldy was the perfect choice.
I'd bought Scrambles of the Canadian Rockies a couple of weeks ago, and had been reading through it to decide on future hikes, and to try to keep up with Daisy's knowledge. I'd read through most of the descriptions for the Front Range, so this one had been processed somewhere along the line. It's close to the junction of highways 1 and 40, and the book suggests it's a three to five hour hike. Perfect!
I pulled off the Kananaskis highway into the clearing at the trailhead, then headed up a short steep rubble slope to what is likely the old highway. It's not obvious, and the book is no help, but I learned later that the suggested trail goes sharply left at this point. I went right.
The trail plunged into forest and up a washed out gully. The sun by this time had just cleared the ridge above and was shining almost directly down the gully. The trail dipped into the forest at the side, then back into the gully, across the rock fall and up into the forest on the other side, then back again, switching back and forth through.
The gully soon narrowed, still well forested, but walled in by a sheer face of rock on each side. Very narrow, actually, though not quite as confining as Grotto Canyon was. And though not terribly dense, the forest never let up through here.
Eventually the walls fell away to let the forest back in, while the trail meandered up the gully. Eventually the trees fell away too, as the trail charged up steep scree. At this point it was pretty clear I was going the wrong way, at least according to the book. What I was climbing up on, was what the book suggested was a quick way down at the end of the hike it described. This trail charged up the scree to a col between the south and west peaks of Baldy.
The book described ascending the ridge to the north (east?) peak, and then, for the more adventurous, continuing to the other two peaks. I was working backwards.
Just over an hour from the car, I scrabbled left of a thick copse of pine to the col. The trail from here wasn't clear at all, but to the right, there were a couple of breaks through trees showing where hikers had passed before. I decided to try for the west peak.
The trail showed here and there as it wandered through clumps of pine and shortly it began to climb steeply up the ridge. I got to a small outcrop, and stopped for a snack as I surveyed the wall in front of me. North west was the gully I had ascended, and Barrier Lake below. The other side was nothing but forest up and over the next ridge. Around to the left, a faint trail hugged the rock face, and I had followed it to a dead end, a steep gully that looked impossible, but I don't doubt there are some who have tried it.
The way ahead was a steeply sloping slab, maybe twenty metres high and topped by a scrubby pine. Right in front of me a shallow crack lead to the tree, with lots of hand and foot holds. To the right, the slab curved more over the top with less height, but that would take me out over the scree slope. Still it looked like the easier ascent, and I was up it pretty quick.
From there it was more of the same. There was a bit of climbing, and a bit of a traverse right under another naked slab, to another gully that I was able to climb to the top of the slab, and some more relatively easy climbing. At the end, there was a blocky boulder, and I quickly was up and over it, to find myself at the end of a narrow ridge.
Brief exposure, indeed. The ridge was short, no more than perhaps fifteen metres, but table-top narrow, and sheer on either side. I sat and studied the other side for a few minutes. As dramatic and breathtaking as it was, the ridge wasn't any problem at all. In a brisk breeze, it might be adviseable to cross on all fours, but otherwise nothing to it. The problem was there didn't seem to be any where to go after crossing.
The other side was climbable, no doubt, but I felt I was getting out of my depth, and being solo, it didn't seem like a good idea to continue. I retreated.
Daisy says rock climbers are drama queens, and I get that. On the way down, you look below you for places for toes and fingers, and you keep feeling around for something solid. The rock on this beast is crumbly, too, so some really good looking hand holds come away with a little wiggling. But at the bottom, you look up at what you just been on, and realize that it was really no big deal. Perhaps part of the drama is a fear of getting stuck, or slipping (poetically called glissading, a term taken from dance, of all things.) But while you're up there, it's pretty exciting.
Back to the col I had originally climbed to, and I surveyed the trail faintly winding up the slope to the south peak. Not much of a climb, really, compared to others I've done, and I was at the top in no time. It was the perfect spot for lunch, and to survey the trail to the north peak. I looked back toward the west peak. A large cairn on top was directly in front of the scars of the ski slopes at Nakiska. The other way was a view of the Kananaskis highway curving around Barrier Lake before striking straight north to the TransCanada. Lining up that view with the one directly opposite, the west peak was actually straight south. Hmmm...
This was another narrow ridge, maybe a kilometre long. Both sides were steep and chunky, with the west side broken by plates of rock that formed narrow chimneys that looked easy to descend, except that there was a huge rock band below them that would block any further progress. At times the ridge was terrifically narrow, though not nearly as narrow as the one I stopped at on the west peak.
At length I reached a chopped up, blocky edge of rock, and the trail veered right on the scree along a wall. The scree became a ledge that ended at a gully up the rock face, under another stunted pine. There were hand and toe holds up beside the tree, to another ledge that sloped steeply to the left for a short distance. This got me back on the edge of the ridge, and from there it was a scrambly climb to the summit.
I paused, snacked, and signed the book sealed in the short piece of plastic sewer pipe, of the kind tethered to almost every accessible peak in this part of the world. Hazy skys lightly obscured the peaks across the valley, and toward the south. Far to the north, grumpy looking weather was building in the foothills north of the TransCanada, and the peaks behind Yamnuska. Here's a nice shot of the south and west peaks from the north peak.
The descent from the north peak was a scrabbly zig-zag across slabby scree. Several paths attested to the amount of traffic that this hike saw, though it was nowhere nearly as scarred up as, say, Ha Ling. I could see people making their way up, and eventually met a foursome out for a late day climb.
The ridge leveled off in front of a gendarme, a great carbuncle of rock on the ridge. A well used trail dropped to the left on the scree to bypass this hulk, but another, less used trail tackled it straight on. I kept to the high path, and came to a steep climb up the face. Not terribly tricky, it still required firm finger holds, and after maybe fifty meters, I topped out in a fissure in the rock that lead to a vertical drop of about the same distance.
Backing down, I found not five metres from the start of the climb, a trail that followed a ledge around the face I climbed. It never seems to fail that the trail ahead is nearly invisible, but it's completely obvious when you look back.
This trail led to an easy, but a little intimidating, downclimb of maybe ten metres, onto the trail, that continued easily along the top of the gendarme and back to the ridge.
Artistic types climb mountains. One or more had been here, building a full sized sofa out of flat rocks, that faced what was either a fireplace or a T.V. Kinda cozy, and surprisingly comfortable.
I was back in the trees, but only for a short time. A second gendarme, the crux of this hike blocked the way. Here's where my trail finding skills deserted me. It looked like the trail continued over the top, an easy enough scramble. The book suggests a trail that goes down the scree on the north side, but I totally missed it.
I eventually came to a narrow crumbly-looking face, and a faint trail that dropped northward across a steep slab punctuated by the occasional twisted pine tree. At this point, it probably would have been smarter to backtrack and find the other trail.
Anyway, I started backing down the slab. More drama. I got to the first tree, and rested while standing on the soil that had accumulated at its roots. Then I started to the next tree. From there I was able to traverse toward the wall of the crux, which offered better handholds while I climbed down to the now-obvious trial in the scree below.
Once on the path, it was pretty straight forward back to the ridge, and then into the forest. Rooty and steep, but nothing particularly challenging. I was my usual noisy self, discussing what ever popped into my head with the trees, or singing snatches of tunes I half remembered. Which made the sudden "Hi, there!" quite startling.
That got a hearty laugh from the two women on their way up on a late afternoon jaunt. We chatted a little, and I shared what I'd learned about the trail ahead of them. Twenty minutes later, I was at the car, easing my feet out of my hikers, and snacking on the last of my trail mix.
This was an exciting one. The view was spectacular as always, but the added adventure of some challenging climbing and route-finding really added to it. I was back in the city only a little late for my evening activities, (cuz I really needed a shower!)
Mount Baldy
Starting elevation: 1402 m (4599 feet).
Highest elevation: 2202 m (7224 feet).
Lowest elevation: 1402 m (4599 feet).
Elevation gain: 800 m (2625 feet).
Distance: 8.3 km (5.2 mi).
Time: 5:34.
I'd bought Scrambles of the Canadian Rockies a couple of weeks ago, and had been reading through it to decide on future hikes, and to try to keep up with Daisy's knowledge. I'd read through most of the descriptions for the Front Range, so this one had been processed somewhere along the line. It's close to the junction of highways 1 and 40, and the book suggests it's a three to five hour hike. Perfect!
I pulled off the Kananaskis highway into the clearing at the trailhead, then headed up a short steep rubble slope to what is likely the old highway. It's not obvious, and the book is no help, but I learned later that the suggested trail goes sharply left at this point. I went right.
The trail plunged into forest and up a washed out gully. The sun by this time had just cleared the ridge above and was shining almost directly down the gully. The trail dipped into the forest at the side, then back into the gully, across the rock fall and up into the forest on the other side, then back again, switching back and forth through.
The gully soon narrowed, still well forested, but walled in by a sheer face of rock on each side. Very narrow, actually, though not quite as confining as Grotto Canyon was. And though not terribly dense, the forest never let up through here.
Eventually the walls fell away to let the forest back in, while the trail meandered up the gully. Eventually the trees fell away too, as the trail charged up steep scree. At this point it was pretty clear I was going the wrong way, at least according to the book. What I was climbing up on, was what the book suggested was a quick way down at the end of the hike it described. This trail charged up the scree to a col between the south and west peaks of Baldy.
The book described ascending the ridge to the north (east?) peak, and then, for the more adventurous, continuing to the other two peaks. I was working backwards.
Just over an hour from the car, I scrabbled left of a thick copse of pine to the col. The trail from here wasn't clear at all, but to the right, there were a couple of breaks through trees showing where hikers had passed before. I decided to try for the west peak.
The trail showed here and there as it wandered through clumps of pine and shortly it began to climb steeply up the ridge. I got to a small outcrop, and stopped for a snack as I surveyed the wall in front of me. North west was the gully I had ascended, and Barrier Lake below. The other side was nothing but forest up and over the next ridge. Around to the left, a faint trail hugged the rock face, and I had followed it to a dead end, a steep gully that looked impossible, but I don't doubt there are some who have tried it.
The way ahead was a steeply sloping slab, maybe twenty metres high and topped by a scrubby pine. Right in front of me a shallow crack lead to the tree, with lots of hand and foot holds. To the right, the slab curved more over the top with less height, but that would take me out over the scree slope. Still it looked like the easier ascent, and I was up it pretty quick.
From there it was more of the same. There was a bit of climbing, and a bit of a traverse right under another naked slab, to another gully that I was able to climb to the top of the slab, and some more relatively easy climbing. At the end, there was a blocky boulder, and I quickly was up and over it, to find myself at the end of a narrow ridge.
Brief exposure, indeed. The ridge was short, no more than perhaps fifteen metres, but table-top narrow, and sheer on either side. I sat and studied the other side for a few minutes. As dramatic and breathtaking as it was, the ridge wasn't any problem at all. In a brisk breeze, it might be adviseable to cross on all fours, but otherwise nothing to it. The problem was there didn't seem to be any where to go after crossing.
The other side was climbable, no doubt, but I felt I was getting out of my depth, and being solo, it didn't seem like a good idea to continue. I retreated.
Daisy says rock climbers are drama queens, and I get that. On the way down, you look below you for places for toes and fingers, and you keep feeling around for something solid. The rock on this beast is crumbly, too, so some really good looking hand holds come away with a little wiggling. But at the bottom, you look up at what you just been on, and realize that it was really no big deal. Perhaps part of the drama is a fear of getting stuck, or slipping (poetically called glissading, a term taken from dance, of all things.) But while you're up there, it's pretty exciting.
Back to the col I had originally climbed to, and I surveyed the trail faintly winding up the slope to the south peak. Not much of a climb, really, compared to others I've done, and I was at the top in no time. It was the perfect spot for lunch, and to survey the trail to the north peak. I looked back toward the west peak. A large cairn on top was directly in front of the scars of the ski slopes at Nakiska. The other way was a view of the Kananaskis highway curving around Barrier Lake before striking straight north to the TransCanada. Lining up that view with the one directly opposite, the west peak was actually straight south. Hmmm...
This was another narrow ridge, maybe a kilometre long. Both sides were steep and chunky, with the west side broken by plates of rock that formed narrow chimneys that looked easy to descend, except that there was a huge rock band below them that would block any further progress. At times the ridge was terrifically narrow, though not nearly as narrow as the one I stopped at on the west peak.
At length I reached a chopped up, blocky edge of rock, and the trail veered right on the scree along a wall. The scree became a ledge that ended at a gully up the rock face, under another stunted pine. There were hand and toe holds up beside the tree, to another ledge that sloped steeply to the left for a short distance. This got me back on the edge of the ridge, and from there it was a scrambly climb to the summit.
I paused, snacked, and signed the book sealed in the short piece of plastic sewer pipe, of the kind tethered to almost every accessible peak in this part of the world. Hazy skys lightly obscured the peaks across the valley, and toward the south. Far to the north, grumpy looking weather was building in the foothills north of the TransCanada, and the peaks behind Yamnuska. Here's a nice shot of the south and west peaks from the north peak.
The descent from the north peak was a scrabbly zig-zag across slabby scree. Several paths attested to the amount of traffic that this hike saw, though it was nowhere nearly as scarred up as, say, Ha Ling. I could see people making their way up, and eventually met a foursome out for a late day climb.
The ridge leveled off in front of a gendarme, a great carbuncle of rock on the ridge. A well used trail dropped to the left on the scree to bypass this hulk, but another, less used trail tackled it straight on. I kept to the high path, and came to a steep climb up the face. Not terribly tricky, it still required firm finger holds, and after maybe fifty meters, I topped out in a fissure in the rock that lead to a vertical drop of about the same distance.
Backing down, I found not five metres from the start of the climb, a trail that followed a ledge around the face I climbed. It never seems to fail that the trail ahead is nearly invisible, but it's completely obvious when you look back.
This trail led to an easy, but a little intimidating, downclimb of maybe ten metres, onto the trail, that continued easily along the top of the gendarme and back to the ridge.
Artistic types climb mountains. One or more had been here, building a full sized sofa out of flat rocks, that faced what was either a fireplace or a T.V. Kinda cozy, and surprisingly comfortable.
I was back in the trees, but only for a short time. A second gendarme, the crux of this hike blocked the way. Here's where my trail finding skills deserted me. It looked like the trail continued over the top, an easy enough scramble. The book suggests a trail that goes down the scree on the north side, but I totally missed it.
I eventually came to a narrow crumbly-looking face, and a faint trail that dropped northward across a steep slab punctuated by the occasional twisted pine tree. At this point, it probably would have been smarter to backtrack and find the other trail.
Anyway, I started backing down the slab. More drama. I got to the first tree, and rested while standing on the soil that had accumulated at its roots. Then I started to the next tree. From there I was able to traverse toward the wall of the crux, which offered better handholds while I climbed down to the now-obvious trial in the scree below.
Once on the path, it was pretty straight forward back to the ridge, and then into the forest. Rooty and steep, but nothing particularly challenging. I was my usual noisy self, discussing what ever popped into my head with the trees, or singing snatches of tunes I half remembered. Which made the sudden "Hi, there!" quite startling.
That got a hearty laugh from the two women on their way up on a late afternoon jaunt. We chatted a little, and I shared what I'd learned about the trail ahead of them. Twenty minutes later, I was at the car, easing my feet out of my hikers, and snacking on the last of my trail mix.
This was an exciting one. The view was spectacular as always, but the added adventure of some challenging climbing and route-finding really added to it. I was back in the city only a little late for my evening activities, (cuz I really needed a shower!)
Mount Baldy
Starting elevation: 1402 m (4599 feet).
Highest elevation: 2202 m (7224 feet).
Lowest elevation: 1402 m (4599 feet).
Elevation gain: 800 m (2625 feet).
Distance: 8.3 km (5.2 mi).
Time: 5:34.
# posted by Kelly @ 9:09 a.m. 
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