Wedge Mountain: North East Arête
On the first weekend in June, 2013 myself, Spring and our friend Ben decided to try a classic Alpine Mountaineering route in Garibaldi Provincial Park called the North East Arête of Wedge Mountain. Myself and Spring had been to this peak before. Two years previously we had reached the summit of Wedge Mountain as a day trip that took us over 15 hours and required thousands of meters of elevation change. Back then we were still pretty green in our Mountaineering abilities so we didn’t even consider the NE Arête as an option to reach the summit so we took the West Ridge, which is considerably less classic as an ascent route due to it being a long, tedious slope of loose scree, talus and general Type 3 fun. Still, on that trip I took the following picture, possibly my favorite picture of all time so Wedge Mountain has a special place in my heart. We planned a revisit with Ben to attempt a more aesthetic route, but this time we’d do it in a more Mountaineering style by splitting the trip over 2 days, and getting an early alpine start from a base camp near the foot of the peak. We set up our tent at Wedgemount Lake and introduced ourselves to some other parties staying in the modest shelter nearby who had intentions to climb the North East Arête also the following morning. We had dinner lazily and turned in early for the coming alpine start which would have us up and ready well before sunrise. The next morning we awoke, and after getting some calories and caffeine into us we were off. We moved briskly but immediately I noticed something different to this start than other alpine starts I had done before. It was no later than 4am but it was warm out and the snow underfoot did not have the satisfying crunch that I expected. Usually, snow in the alpine in the Spring softens up through the day and then hardens up again overnight as the temperatures drop. This snow had clearly not gone through this cycle as there had been no winds overnight and the freezing level had stayed high. It was a bad sign about conditions we might face higher on the mountain but we pressed on. There was still the chance that conditions higher up on the mountain might improve as it was less sheltered from the wind and more likely to be within the freezing level. Shortly thereafter we met up with the other parties that had started earlier than us as we roped up for glacier travel. We would need...
Joffre, Matier and personal milestones
On Easter long weekend, a year ago in 2012, we wanted to do something that would test our ability but would also be enjoyable and mostly fun. A few ideas had been thrown around. The Garibaldi Neve traverse? The Spearhead traverse? All of which seemed like a lot of hard work. We decided to do something a little bit more laid back, have a campsite we wouldn’t have to move for 2 nights and bag some reasonably close mountains with only moderate amounts of elevation gain. We decided on doing Joffre Peak via the Aussie Couloir and Mount Matier via its northeast spur . Fast, light parties can easily bag both of these peaks as a day trip car-to-car, but we decided to spread it out over 3 days and 2 nights. We’d consider doing other mountains in the vicinity also depending on where we’d get to build our camp. Information we received on the way in would ultimately dictate our camps location, more on that later. We arrived at the Cerise Creek Trail Head after 11:30am on the Friday. It was going to be a relatively lazy day so we didn’t push to get there super early. As I swung my ~40lb pack onto my back and started out on the trail I thought how relaxing this weekend was going to be. The weather was awesome and the trail in was nice and broken so we could move at a brisk pace. As we hiked in I started to think back to around the same time of year in 2010 and how much things had changed. Two years ago almost exactly from that weekend I was packing the last of my items into my suitcase and getting ready to leave Ireland for good and move to Canada. I look back on that person and wonder who he was. He was over 70lbs heavier and his interests could be described with one word; sedentary. He’d never touched a glacier, words like couloir, bergschrund and randkluft were unknown to his vocabulary and he could barely climb a few flights of stairs without getting winded. A relaxing holiday was lying on a beach in Thailand, sipping Margaritas and munching on crocodile samosas. Anyway, I continued to think back for a while, and before I knew it we were outside Keiths Hut near Cerise Creek. I’d initially thought to just stop for a second outside it, drink some water, then continue on but I remembered that I was bringing my, then, new MSR Reactor Stove with me and I hadn’t even bothered to test it out yet to see if it was working. So...
Skins, Skis and Aching Knees
“I’m concentrating on Ice Climbing this Winter, not Skiing” I foolishly uttered those words to myself last Fall believing I would hold fast in my convictions. I truly believe that if you want to get good at something, not just passably capable, you need to pick one pursuit per season. I’ve consistently broken my own rule in this regard. I’m like that dog in the film “UP” that has all the intentions in the world of doing one thing only, until SQUIRREL! I see a SQUIRREL! Coming into Winter last year I wanted to work solely on my Ice Climbing. It was all going well for a while, we took a 5 day ice climbing course in Canmore, Alberta and we tried to go Ice Climbing near Lillooet, BC for a few weekends but the shiny new skis of my friends kept glinting in the corner of my eyes. You see, when I’d chosen to focus on Ice Climbing, my circle of friends had not received the memo. They’d all chosen to focus on learning to backcountry ski. I staved off looking at that Squirrel for a few trips, whilst I wallowed through the powder in my démodé snowshoes. But eventually I couldn’t take it any more. I caved. MEC, our outdoor gear mecca, was clearing out of all their Ski gear for their Spring stock and had slashed their prices. Myself and my other half went in and bought everything we needed; skis, skins, boots and bindings. We already had ski poles and avalanche gear but still, it was a big chunk of change to get going. After the dust settled and we had our newly acquired Alpine Touring Ski setup laid out in our spare bedroom cum walk-in-gear-closet we wondered “now what?” Our friends, who had been touring on their skis all winter, invited us on an overnight trip to attempt a couloir on the East face of Atwell Peak. We wouldn’t be skiing this gully, only skinning up to it and then boot packing our way up to the summit. Nevertheless, just getting to the campsite below the base of Atwell, ~32 kms return with ~2000m’s of elevation gain, would be a big undertaking, seeing as this would be our first time in the backcountry on touring skis. We were apprehensive but I knew that the first half of the route is a common trail for beginner backcountry skiers, leading to the Elfin Lakes Hut. If we felt like we were way out of our depth by the hut we could always temper our plans, stay at the Hut for the night and spend the next day practicing our backcountry...
Mt. Rainier
The highest point I had been too before I attempted Mt.Rainier was the summit of Wedge Mountain at 2892m’s, in Garibaldi Provincial Park, B.C., and I remember feeling a keen sense of achievement at having scaled that height. Just knowing that it was the highest summit in the park made it feel like more of an achievement for me, like I had conquered some invisible force, a force that as you reach higher becomes more and more oppressive. Rainier, which stands at just over 4300m’s (14,411ft), was now going to be the tallest mountain I had climbed to date. Despite the many mountaineering trips I had taken in the last few years, the trip to Mt. Rainier felt like something outside of the scope of anything I had known. This was a big mountain and it felt like it deserved a deep respect of it’s own. “….the most luxuriant and the most extravagantly beautiful of all the alpine gardens I ever beheld in all my mountain-top wanderings.” - John Muir As I stood at the Paradise visitor centre looking up at Mt. Rainier on that hot August afternoon, I couldn’t help thinking of how close it seemed. It looked no farther than a stone’s throw away. Rainier just stood there in all it’s glory, streaks of grey rock showing through the late summer snow, deep crevasses gouging the glacier that tumbled down within my view, brightly colored wild flowers dotting the grassy meadows in the foreground. Standing alone in all it’s immensity with no concern for the tiny creatures standing below looking on in awe; standing there thinking that we could somehow conquer this mass of stone and ice. But as usual the mountain doesn’t care that we are there or that we care to struggle and gasp our way up it’s flanks. It is just there, and it was in my own mind that I felt this sense of the mountains willingness to accept us, allowing us to pass and giving me the opportunity to test myself. I remember looking at the winding path that made it’s way in the direction of Camp Muir, comparing it to previous hikes in my mind, thinking it wouldn’t take long at all. The mountain after all looked so close, like a super-imposed image on a screen, but no matter how long I walked that image remained the same distance away. My sense of scale was becoming more and more obscured. At that moment I remembered a quote I had seen in an outdoor store earlier that year regarding the Himalaya, it said “everything is so much bigger and so much farther away than you can imagine”....
Pelion Mountain: Pupils of Chiron
Pelion Mountain, like most of the peaks in the Tantalus range was named according to a Greek god theme… It was by legend one of the last holdouts of the race of centaurs in the Archaic era, and was where Herakles (Hercules) was tutored by the wise centaur Chiron, who was known for his learning. - bivouac.com On Saturday, the 12th of May, Dean along with Adrien, two climbing friends of myself and Spring pulled up outside our place in Squamish around 9am. Our goal for the weekend would be Mount Pelion in the Tantalus Range. From the pickup spot we could see bluebird skies over Alpha, Omega and Thyestes, the stoke was high. Myself and Spring quickly loaded our gear into Deans Jeep and headed out. We started out on the Sigurd Creek trail shortly after 10am. We’d be snow pitting it so we didn’t have tents. Nevertheless, I’m sure each of our packs weighed around 50lbs at least with all the heavy metal you need to carry for mountaineering. We tried to move as fast as possible on the trail. We got within 700m’s of the first checkpoint, a lookout at ~900m’s elv. before the snow started. Thankfully it was still early enough in the day that the snow was still firm and held our weight. We would not be as fortunate on our return trip. I was glad we were still under the tree canopy for another few km’s. The heat in the open was stifling. We roughly followed the summer trail and in no time at all we were at the Sigurd Creek crossing. Good news! The bridge that had been in disrepair in seasons past was still intact. Bad news… we had no way of using it due to high snow banks. We contemplated a few options, but I think everyone wanted to use a snow bridge of some kind if possible rather than expending the energy to try and make a means to cross the creek. We followed the banks of the river for a while upstream before we came to what seemed like a recently collapsed snowbridge. It looked iffy I won’t lie. It was compromised underneath by the running water and softening up quickly in the sun. Dean crossed it first to test it. Then I, as I’m the heaviest in the group. This was referred to as “Leigh-proofing”. The bridge passed my test and everyone else crossed without incident. In no time from there we were below the glacier between Ossa and Pelion. We headed up to climbers left of of the glacier and onto the NW ridge. At...
