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....
Welch Peak: Photo Essay
On the last Saturday in July, 2013 myself and Spring and two other likely companions, Ben and Cody, reached the summit of Welch Peak in the Cheam Range of British Columbia. The scrambling is airy and exposed but fun. There is just enough solid rock to scramble on to make you forget the crumbling piles of choss or as I decided to call them “death skittles” which is all the loose sand and pebbles atop otherwise good rock (definitely inspired by the fact I was munching on actual Skittles all day). On the Friday night we decided to camp on an old Forestry Road near the trailhead. This proved to be the mental crux of the trip. An overactive imagination and past negative experiences leaving a vehicle overnight in the vicinity coupled with having to camp at a pullout littered with shotgun shells, broken glass and shrapnel embedded trees made for a somewhat restless nights sleep. The next day we reached the summit of Welch Peak. It was a long day, with moments of sheer bliss, pupil dilating terror, brow furrowing frustration and pure comradery in the face of tribulation. At times it felt like we were struggling and wrestling against the mountain but ultimately, as we departed from the summit, and toasted stream chilled Ale back at the trailhead, we felt that the mountain had given us far more on that day than it ever could have taken from...
Ossa Mountain
For detailed information about this scramble see: Scrambles in SW BC by Matt Gunn On the 26th of October 2010, myself and a hiking buddy, Matt B. attempted Ossa Mountain in a day. We failed. I was ~30lbs heavier back then with well over 100,000 less feet of elevation gained on my legs. I think Matt could have done it, but there were no views. Anyone who has hiked with Matt will know, he loses motivation quick when there are no views. Just getting to the base of Ossa and then back to the car took us over 14hrs. Ossa Mountain is usually attempted over two days due to the long approach and large amount of elevation gain. It has been done in a day before, but generally by people a lot fitter than I was. Well fortuitously, on the 27th of August, 2011, myself and Matt would both finally summit Ossa. Albeit separately and unaware of each others plans. He would head out to bivy overnight on the summit. I headed out earlier with my hiking partner, Spring, to prove to myself that I was now fit enough to tackle a big day like this in the mountains. At around 5:20am myself and Spring headed out for the Trail Head after grabbing breakfast to go at Tim Hortons. After parking and gearing up we were on the trail shortly after 6am. We moved briskly without stopping, although, I think whenever you hike with others your speed naturally slows. At times I felt like jogging, but I ended up getting too far ahead of Spring, at times Spring would move faster than me but end up having to stop so that I could catch up. We made it to the Sigurd Creek crossing in under 3hrs, then the moraine camp in under 4hrs where we had our first snack and got a look up at Ossa towering above us. The Bugs. Were. MENTAL. Mostly black flies, which don’t seem to bite until they’ve been on you for a few seconds, but they have a propensity to fly right into your ears, eyes, mouth and nose. Every time we’d hear each other coughing on a mouthful of black flies the other would say “remember its just protein” From there we angled up towards the trio of lakes. I didn’t angle up fast enough and we ended up close to a waterfall below the lower lake. I just cut straight up which required some scrambling to get up to the lake. At the highest lake we stopped and filtered some water and made a mental note to go for a swim...
Sky Pilot: Why I Climb
Back in August 2011 I reached the summit of a little peak that sits only a handful of kilometers away from where I live. In a lot of ways this peak, outside of the scrambling and mountaineering community in and around the Southern Coast Mountains of BC, is largely unknown by most individuals. It was unknown to me also until one day I was flicking through the pages of my recently bought copy of Matt Gunns “Scrambles in Southwest British Columbia” in mid 2010. The name “Sky Pilot” instantly stood out. It’s a great name for a Mountain in my opinion and instantly gave the peak a mystique that drew me to want to climb it some day. In many ways climbing Mountains for me is an endeavour to get further away from the comfort and ennui of postmodernity at sea level. The closer I get to the sky above me, the less the trappings of modern life apply, the greater the viscerality of experience. To stand atop this Sky Pilot became a singular focus for me. At the time of discovering this Mountain I could barely hike for 3 sustained hours at sea level. I’d never carried an overnight pack on my back and the word “scrambling” was a manner in which I’d prepare eggs on a Saturday morning, not the homonym for a method to progress over rocky terrain. I knew I had a long way to go before I could hope to safely and enjoyably climb this mountain. An entire year went by. I hiked often and began scrambling to the tops of many peaks in the Ranges close to where I live. But, when I’d stand atop those summits, I’d always scan for the familiar shape of Sky Pilot on the horizon and imagine I was there instead. It is an odd compulsion to be consumed with thoughts about a jutting protrusion of rock and ice. I have spent many an hour trying to understand why some mountains can capture my attention so entirely while others, of no lesser height, difficulty or prowess go unnoticed. Certain mountains get imbued with a personality. I think most people that climb mountains regularly anthropomorphise them a little. They sit like foreboding giants with their shoulders curled away from us. We spend time to get to know their moods, when it seems these Ogres might allow us to reach their summit, and then, as we ascend, gain an intimate understanding about the mountain. Some are not ready to let their guard down and we must retreat, while others welcome us to their top freely. I wanted to get to...
