Wednesday, October 08, 2008
Pocaterra Ridge
I called Renee about 8:30, and even then it took some time for her to get under way. The sky by the lakes was grey and featureless, and the tree tops were wobbling in the wind. It wasn't looking exactly inviting out.
We had talked the day before about maybe getting in behind Ptarmigan Cirque, or trying the ridge across the highway (Highwood Ridge by my map). But the grey seems more so to the south. Renee has mentioned Burstall Pass a couple of times, and we decided to give it a shot.
Once we were underway, we started climbing the Spray Lakes Trail. It seems like the higher we went, the lower the clouds came, and the rain just got heavier and heavier. This wasn't looking good. About five kilometres out, we decided to try the south.
The thought was that if it was wet and icky, at least we could get a little trapse around Ptarmigan. But the weather held back, from the junction south, and we were shortly in a rather well filled parking lot at the Highwood Pass.
Deciding on clothing was a challenge. It wasn't really cold, temperature-wise, and it would have been fine to use just a light fleece. But the wind was cutting, and would be more so above trees and in the open. I opted for the light fleece under my rain jacket.
We set off and were soon skirting the swamp in the forest. It's a well used trail, and pretty soupy, and a new trail going around the mush was well formed. This is a creek that hasn't made its bed yet, and mostly seeps through the ground. If it wasn't for all the traffic, there would be some wet and muddy surprises.
We got past that soon enough, and through narrow gaps in the trees in places. Eventually we were at the bottom of an old scree slope. To the left the rock sloped sharply upward to a wall of limestone that went nearly straight up. Ahead and to the right, spruce and white pine, with a liberal sprinkling of aspen and larch, both richly golden.
Then into forest for a ways, and out on another rock fall. This one had a stream running through it, and the trail skipped over it and up a slope along the edge of the trees.
We stopped by a massive block of granite, snacked a little and fussed over clothing. I was a little too warm but reluctant to take anything off. Another couple were sitting in the trees below the block, while another couple crested the rise in front of us, coming down past the others. And behind us, in another copse, another couple sat snacking.
All adjusted again, and we moved up the rise, and were at the bottom of the north end of the ridge. The trail climbed past some trees, along an edge that dropped to the scree covered valley floor. We stopped for a moment and tried to locate the falling rock clattering down the face of Mount Pocaterra on the other side of the little valley.
This narrow valley is barren from the bottom of the ridge to a col maybe a half kilometre away. According to my map, this valley is the Little Highwood Pass. And it continues on the other side barren and scree filled almost to the highway.
The trail lightly zig-zagged up to the first peak. I had all kinds of energy climbing this stretch. It was a little steep, though not overly. I was literally bounding up, while Renee seemed to be struggling a little. I wondered about that, even was a little concerned. I should have just enjoyed being able to get ahead of her for once.
At the top there was a short walk to another peak with a cairn, and we stopped and snacked some more. The cloud stubbornly sat just a few metres over our head, while the opposite side of the valley was finally in sunlight. I dug out my new camera a took several pictures of Renee and all with her eyes closed. This is the best, I think.
Behind her Mount Tyrwhitt is hidden in cloud and wearing a tiny bit of snow on its scree slopes. To the left is Grizzly Col.
She also took a few of me, and I liked this one. Behind me is the Elbow pass, and Elbow Lake. Behind my knees is the highway, busy with travelers trying to get the most out of the last good weekend of the year. Lots of bikers out, and noisy ones, too.
Ahead, the ridge invited us to continue
and we got going.
This was about the last of the calm on the ridge. It took as a quarter kilometre further east, then went north. We clambered down a small rock band and below it, then followed it along the east side. Below the barking Harleys chased each other up and down the highway.
Past the band and back on top of the ridge, the wind really started to blow. Renee had found her stride and I was back to scrambling to just keep up. I put my hood up since my ears were starting to ache, and after that, conversation was almost impossible with the wind yanking at the edges of it. Chin and cheeks were getting numb.
We descended about a hundred and fifty meters over almost a kilometre before we started climbing again to the next peak. This was a short climb, not even fifty metres vertical, and the wind ripped at us, while seemingly undecisive about which way to come at us. By the time dropped the next fifty metres, it had settled on roaring out of the Little Highwood Pass.
Renee decided to add a couple of layers, and finding a rock to keep the wind off, stripped to her skivvies to add longjohns. I tried my best to get out of the wind while I waited. She yelped when a particularly chilly gust caught her.
Once dressed and moving again, I warmed a little. We topped the next peak, but didn't stay. It was after 3:00, and we had some distance to go to return to the car. The trail followed the ridge down, then split. winding around some stunted trees to continue along the rest of the ridge, or knifing straight down an avalanche run toward the highway. Time to get off this thing and start for home.
The trail took us along a gentle slope that suddenly turned straight down the slope, and steepened considerably. The trees had been growing there for a few years, but had not come close to filling it in. We descended rapidly through the bush, occasionally passing not too fresh bear digs. These are large holes where they have been digging for roots.
Eventually it got too steep and the bush too close for the bears. A stream had started though it spent most of its time under the rocks. Over top, was moss covered and slippery. The trekking poles, indispensible on the ridge, were just in the way now, with the bush being so dense.
Not really dense. We could push through it easily enough. But the poles caught on branches and I ended up almost dragging them along.But the bush gave us something to hold on to on the incredibly steep terrain, and soon we heard rushing water.
The creek along the highway starts barely a couple of kilometres up toward the pass, but it has taken up a wide swath of the valley floor and populated it with thick growths of willow. We came to the first branch of the creek, and I stepped out onto a thick pile of deadfall, while grasping the branches growing on the other side. The creek was barely a metre and a half wide, and not even ankle deep, but I did not relish the idea of finishing the day with wet feet.
Meanwhile, Renee worked her way down a little and found her own crossing. I stepped onto the opposite bank, and pulled at the branches. Being willows, they did what willows do, which is to bend springily. I found myself pulling hard at the branches, both feet planted on the bank, while the willow slowly laid me down and dipped my backside in the water. Then just as slowly raised me up again until I was upright and could daintily step along the bank. Weird!
Renee somehow crossed, and we forced our way through to the next crossing, this time without any difficulty. Then pushing through more willow, one more water crossing, and we were at the bottom of the embankment beside the highway. It was a short climb to pavement and speeding cars.
Renee stuck her thumb out whenever a vehicle came up behind us, and by the fourth or fifth one, a young couple stopped and offered us a ride in the back seat of their tiny crew cab pickup. I somehow wedged in sideways, while Renee was small enough to fit in normally. The couple's poor dog was stuck in behind me somewhere, but bore it well enough.
They dropped us at the parking lot, and we drove back to Renee's, and into rain and grey again.
We didn't get out much this season, but this was a fine finish to the season.
Pocaterra Ridge
Starting elevation: 2202 m (7224 feet).
Highest elevation: 2697 m (8848 feet).
Lowest elevation: 2002 m (6568 feet).
Elevation gain: 495 m (1624 feet).
Distance: 11.3 km (7.0 mi).
Time: 5:17.
We had talked the day before about maybe getting in behind Ptarmigan Cirque, or trying the ridge across the highway (Highwood Ridge by my map). But the grey seems more so to the south. Renee has mentioned Burstall Pass a couple of times, and we decided to give it a shot.
Once we were underway, we started climbing the Spray Lakes Trail. It seems like the higher we went, the lower the clouds came, and the rain just got heavier and heavier. This wasn't looking good. About five kilometres out, we decided to try the south.
The thought was that if it was wet and icky, at least we could get a little trapse around Ptarmigan. But the weather held back, from the junction south, and we were shortly in a rather well filled parking lot at the Highwood Pass.
Deciding on clothing was a challenge. It wasn't really cold, temperature-wise, and it would have been fine to use just a light fleece. But the wind was cutting, and would be more so above trees and in the open. I opted for the light fleece under my rain jacket.
We set off and were soon skirting the swamp in the forest. It's a well used trail, and pretty soupy, and a new trail going around the mush was well formed. This is a creek that hasn't made its bed yet, and mostly seeps through the ground. If it wasn't for all the traffic, there would be some wet and muddy surprises.
We got past that soon enough, and through narrow gaps in the trees in places. Eventually we were at the bottom of an old scree slope. To the left the rock sloped sharply upward to a wall of limestone that went nearly straight up. Ahead and to the right, spruce and white pine, with a liberal sprinkling of aspen and larch, both richly golden.
Then into forest for a ways, and out on another rock fall. This one had a stream running through it, and the trail skipped over it and up a slope along the edge of the trees.
We stopped by a massive block of granite, snacked a little and fussed over clothing. I was a little too warm but reluctant to take anything off. Another couple were sitting in the trees below the block, while another couple crested the rise in front of us, coming down past the others. And behind us, in another copse, another couple sat snacking.
All adjusted again, and we moved up the rise, and were at the bottom of the north end of the ridge. The trail climbed past some trees, along an edge that dropped to the scree covered valley floor. We stopped for a moment and tried to locate the falling rock clattering down the face of Mount Pocaterra on the other side of the little valley.
This narrow valley is barren from the bottom of the ridge to a col maybe a half kilometre away. According to my map, this valley is the Little Highwood Pass. And it continues on the other side barren and scree filled almost to the highway.
The trail lightly zig-zagged up to the first peak. I had all kinds of energy climbing this stretch. It was a little steep, though not overly. I was literally bounding up, while Renee seemed to be struggling a little. I wondered about that, even was a little concerned. I should have just enjoyed being able to get ahead of her for once.
At the top there was a short walk to another peak with a cairn, and we stopped and snacked some more. The cloud stubbornly sat just a few metres over our head, while the opposite side of the valley was finally in sunlight. I dug out my new camera a took several pictures of Renee and all with her eyes closed. This is the best, I think.
Behind her Mount Tyrwhitt is hidden in cloud and wearing a tiny bit of snow on its scree slopes. To the left is Grizzly Col.
She also took a few of me, and I liked this one. Behind me is the Elbow pass, and Elbow Lake. Behind my knees is the highway, busy with travelers trying to get the most out of the last good weekend of the year. Lots of bikers out, and noisy ones, too.Ahead, the ridge invited us to continue
and we got going.This was about the last of the calm on the ridge. It took as a quarter kilometre further east, then went north. We clambered down a small rock band and below it, then followed it along the east side. Below the barking Harleys chased each other up and down the highway.
Past the band and back on top of the ridge, the wind really started to blow. Renee had found her stride and I was back to scrambling to just keep up. I put my hood up since my ears were starting to ache, and after that, conversation was almost impossible with the wind yanking at the edges of it. Chin and cheeks were getting numb.
We descended about a hundred and fifty meters over almost a kilometre before we started climbing again to the next peak. This was a short climb, not even fifty metres vertical, and the wind ripped at us, while seemingly undecisive about which way to come at us. By the time dropped the next fifty metres, it had settled on roaring out of the Little Highwood Pass.
Renee decided to add a couple of layers, and finding a rock to keep the wind off, stripped to her skivvies to add longjohns. I tried my best to get out of the wind while I waited. She yelped when a particularly chilly gust caught her.
Once dressed and moving again, I warmed a little. We topped the next peak, but didn't stay. It was after 3:00, and we had some distance to go to return to the car. The trail followed the ridge down, then split. winding around some stunted trees to continue along the rest of the ridge, or knifing straight down an avalanche run toward the highway. Time to get off this thing and start for home.
The trail took us along a gentle slope that suddenly turned straight down the slope, and steepened considerably. The trees had been growing there for a few years, but had not come close to filling it in. We descended rapidly through the bush, occasionally passing not too fresh bear digs. These are large holes where they have been digging for roots.
Eventually it got too steep and the bush too close for the bears. A stream had started though it spent most of its time under the rocks. Over top, was moss covered and slippery. The trekking poles, indispensible on the ridge, were just in the way now, with the bush being so dense.
Not really dense. We could push through it easily enough. But the poles caught on branches and I ended up almost dragging them along.But the bush gave us something to hold on to on the incredibly steep terrain, and soon we heard rushing water.
The creek along the highway starts barely a couple of kilometres up toward the pass, but it has taken up a wide swath of the valley floor and populated it with thick growths of willow. We came to the first branch of the creek, and I stepped out onto a thick pile of deadfall, while grasping the branches growing on the other side. The creek was barely a metre and a half wide, and not even ankle deep, but I did not relish the idea of finishing the day with wet feet.
Meanwhile, Renee worked her way down a little and found her own crossing. I stepped onto the opposite bank, and pulled at the branches. Being willows, they did what willows do, which is to bend springily. I found myself pulling hard at the branches, both feet planted on the bank, while the willow slowly laid me down and dipped my backside in the water. Then just as slowly raised me up again until I was upright and could daintily step along the bank. Weird!
Renee somehow crossed, and we forced our way through to the next crossing, this time without any difficulty. Then pushing through more willow, one more water crossing, and we were at the bottom of the embankment beside the highway. It was a short climb to pavement and speeding cars.
Renee stuck her thumb out whenever a vehicle came up behind us, and by the fourth or fifth one, a young couple stopped and offered us a ride in the back seat of their tiny crew cab pickup. I somehow wedged in sideways, while Renee was small enough to fit in normally. The couple's poor dog was stuck in behind me somewhere, but bore it well enough.
They dropped us at the parking lot, and we drove back to Renee's, and into rain and grey again.
We didn't get out much this season, but this was a fine finish to the season.
Pocaterra Ridge
Starting elevation: 2202 m (7224 feet).
Highest elevation: 2697 m (8848 feet).
Lowest elevation: 2002 m (6568 feet).
Elevation gain: 495 m (1624 feet).
Distance: 11.3 km (7.0 mi).
Time: 5:17.
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