Athelney Pass: The Park that never was
“Why isn’t this place a park?” I uttered those words as myself and Spring had just found a large rock that would be comfortable to sit on as we unpacked our lunches. We where sitting atop “The Elephant”, an unofficially named volcanic plug of rotten rock. A few kilometers away we could just about hear the whoops! of elation as 4 of our friends were reaching the summit of Ochre Mountain. We shouted out to them, not sure if they could hear us, and settled in to spend a few minutes soaking in the views before heading on to our next peak of the day. “Athelney Pass” I said to myself “… what a place!” The previous day myself, Spring and 5 other friends had spent 8 hours with heavy packs on our backs hauling our camping gear 15km’s up Salal Creek. For the most part you can walk on river rocks to follow the course of the creek, at other times you need to deke into the forest to avoid where the creek abuts the shore. It had been a hard approach hike. On paper it looks relatively easy by our standards with only 800m’s of elevation being gained over those 15km’s. We’d previously camped on Panorama Ridge in Garibaldi Provincial Park which was a 15km hike one way but with double that elevation gain and we had found that to be a breeze. This approach hike was a different kind of hard though. It was mentally fatiguing. On most trails we can just turn our brains to autopilot, but for walking on these polished river rocks we had to always be vigilant in our foot placements. Stepping on the wrong rock could mean a rolled ankle or worse. We could never really let our minds rest, we had to always be paying attention about our next foot placements. We eventually reached our campsite, beside a dilapidated mining cabin, and pitched our tents. The valley had lost the sun by the time we finally arrived and the mosquitoes had come out in their droves to feed. Nevertheless, we couldn’t help but feel like we’d arrived somewhere special. We looked out towards the large Ethelweard Glacier across from us, and turned in for the night. The next morning a few different objectives for the day were discussed. Myself and Springs plans didn’t really match up with anyone elses so just the two of us set out together. Everyone had decided to stay on the West side of Athelney Pass. The peaks on the East side of the Pass look considerably more intense and would likely require glacier travel gear....
When Sisyphus met Zeno: Tantalus Digressions
I have a bit of an obsession with the Tantalus Range of Mountains. Most Mountaineers who live near Mountains will let you know that their local peaks that are visible from their work or home can offer more allure than even the high ranges of the Himalayas. For myself, the Tantalus Range has been visible from every place that I’ve lived in the little town of Squamish. It’s peaks are striking, its lakes are pristine and even though it is located close to large population areas you can feel completely isolated when exploring there. What adds to this allure is that it is not easily accessed. A wide and fast river with no legal bridges cuts off most of the central and southern area of the range. If you have the wallet you can fly in via helicopter or float plane or hire a boat to get you across. If you have the stomach you can walk the cables for a locked cable car. I’ve never done the latter myself but heard it is spicy and most people recommend finding another way to cross after they’ve tried it. Alternatively, you can walk in from the North, starting at pretty much sea level. On Canada Day Weekend 2013, myself and Spring planned to walk in from the North and try and access the crown of the Tantalus Range, Mount Tantalus herself. If you’ve driven Highway 99 from Vancouver to Whistler, BC under blue skies your jaw has likely dropped at the sight of Mount Tantalus. An impressive vista opens up and you get to look right into the heart of the Tantalus Range with all it’s most impressive peaks laid out before you. On a clear crisp day the pullout for this viewpoint is usually chock full, from dawn till dusk, with tourists snapping pictures of themselves against the backdrop. After some research about ways to reach this summit I decided to take the road less traveled to try and reach it on foot, accessing the summit via the North Ridge. The consensus online appeared to be to save your energy and fly in to the base of the North Ridge, but I wanted to at least see what the approach would be like. We’d hike in from the North via the Sigurd Creek trail, hike up and over the shoulder of Pelion Mountain (we’d been here before) then follow a ridge that drops a ways down to the South of Pelion and ascend to a col. between Zenith Peak and Mount Tantalus. To reach this col. is no great distance, it’s only about a 15km hike. What puts a...
There.. Are.. Four.. Pitches: Star Chek
If you’re a die hard Trekkie you may get the reference in the title of this post. If not, then don’t worry about it. A few weeks ago I climbed a multi-pitch route named “Star Chek”, probably named as a play on the name of the popular Sci-Fi show and due to it’s location, above the Cheakamus River, being out of this world. I’d been mentioning this climb to a friend of mine, Adrian, for a while. Ever since I seen pictures of it from reports online the idea of climbing this exposed Arête of rock while a torrent of white water roared below seemed so tantalizing. I’m not at a skill level yet where I could lead it so I’d need Adrian to go on the sharp end of the rope. The stars, pun intended, aligned, and he offered to lead it with me. He’d be passing it on his way North to do some camping so it would work out perfectly. It ended up being myself, Adrian and his better half, Sophie. On the morning of the climb the weather did not seem to be on our side. It was showering and the idea of climbing wet, slick rock was losing it’s appeal. I met up with Adrian and, always the optimist, he said that we should go check it out at least. We got to the parking lot and it was still raining on the windshield of the car. I commented and said that we could do it another time when it was dry if they wanted. Adrian, still being optimistic, wanted to wait. After about a half hour, the rain didn’t seem to be abating much and Adrian said: “We should go”. I initially thought he meant that he wanted to leave and go away, but when I seen him get out of the vehicle and start getting his stuff I realized he wanted to go do the climb. At the very least he wanted to get to the base of the climb and see what the rock was like up close. I’ve written about this in the past in my post “Get your nose against it” and how you should always go as far as you can before turning around but on this day, with it raining, I was thinking about breaking my own rule and throwing in the towel at the parking lot. Adrians gusto was infectious though so we grabbed our stuff and began descending into the gorge that would lead us to the base of Star Chek. After about 10 minutes I noticed something odd. The rock further down in the gorge...
In the footsteps of Elves: Brunswick Mountain, NE Gully
“Will I set my alarm for 5am or 6?” I thought. “Suppose I better set it for 5, there’s no where to park on Georgia St in Vancouver if he’s early and I’m late.” My friend, Dean, was going to be picking me up at 6am across from the Vancouver Art Gallery on Sunday morning. I’m not going to say he’s usually late, more, he’s playfully liberal with punctuality. I appreciate it though as I’m seldom wholly ready on time either. I’d be heading out sans Spring, my better half, as she would be running the BMO Marathon. We agreed that she did not want me to burn a weekend waiting around at the finish line. So, Saturday, myself and Spring headed into the Big Smoke of Van city. We checked into the Four Seasons as they offer a runners rate for those in the Marathon. It’s funny how quickly cities and fancy hotels have moved out of our wheelhouses. Walking into the lobby with my mountaineering pack received skewed glances to say the least. So Sunday morning rolled around. Luckily myself and Spring needed to be up around the same time. The weather outside looked amazing so I got ready, wished Spring good luck (not that she’d need it) and headed out. As I took the elevator down, with a throng of runners, an older gentleman was staring at the metal accoutrements affixed to my pack. As everyone vacated the lift in the lobby he put a heavy hand on my shoulder and leaned in to say “Good Luck Sir, it looks like you are about to do something serious today.” It was kinda weird, but I said “ok, thanks!” and left. I was a few minutes late so I rushed down to the road. About a minute after I got there I seen Dean coming up Georgia towards me. Karmically, I felt the day was starting out good. We made good time to the trailhead. Dean wondered why I was not staying back to see Spring at the finish line. It’s understandable, but we just don’t roll like that. New experience trumps sentiment almost always. Later Spring would tell me that as she ran the Seawall in Vancouver she looked over at the North Shore mountains and pictured me climbing. As I looked out over the Howe Sound towards the glittering skyscrapers of the city I too pictured her running. Anyway, we arrived at the usual parking spot in Lions Bay and geared up. We headed out and made quick time up an old road. As we hiked Dean regaled me with stories of how he used...
The slippery slope to becoming “those kind of people”
We’re those kind of people now aren’t we? Spring said this as we sat down to watch a nature documentary and drink a liter of some kale, ginger, beet and other various fruits and vegetables concoction she had made with our extremely expensive masticating juicer. We’d just spent the weekend Skiing, Rock Climbing, Mountain Biking, Trail Running and felt a little anxious that we hadn’t crammed in more to do. Our spare bedroom has never seen a bed since we moved in, we have racks of our gear strewn about the place in various states of being dried out, aired out, packed or unpacked. We haven’t bought a piece of non-technical clothing in years. It doesn’t matter what garish color it comes in, if it wicks sweat and is quick drying, or has a high heat retention to weight ratio I’m sold. In fact, the more obnoxiously colored the better. I buy my clothes now based primarily on the assumption that I want a search and rescue helicopter to be able to see me better if I have an accident deep in the wilderness. Yup, we’ve become “Outdoorsy!” I used to hate people like me. They made me feel lazy. I’d go play soccer on a Sunday and as I was making my way home from my one bout of aerobic exercise for the week I’d see that guy. That guy who I’d see biking on a Tuesday, running on a Wednesday, carrying a tennis racket on a Thursday. I hated him. How did he have that kind of energy? Like everything, our progression has been a slow process. I’ve heard others say to us: “Wow! You guys are progressing quickly” but to us it feels like we are moving at a snails pace. I guess because we can see each link in the chain it feels slower, like the adage “a watched pot never boils”. We just try to learn something new each time we do something we love outdoors. Our “comfort zone” is something we actively try to find ways to get outside of. Without even noticing it, through doing this, we’ve completely overwritten our past way of life. When I used to see “Outdoorsy” folk and overhear them talking about chia seeds or a new Hot Yoga class they were attending and how strenuous their coming weekend was and how excited for it they were I always thought: “How do people become such a cliché? I mean don’t they see it happening?” Well, as a recent convert I can enthusiastically say, “no, we did not, until now”. It’s only in retrospect that I can see the process. Like dominoes toppling...
