eastern promises part 1

Sometimes, if things are closed, you just, open them up.”

– Viggo Mortensen – Nikolai Luzhin

Many of you regular readers who have stuck with me over the years might know that I have a grudge match with a certain peak in the Selkirk’s that goes way back to the 1970’s. That’s a long time to have a beef with something. But I suppose when you look at it philosophically, not to mention realistically, the only rancor I should have is with myself. It’s not the mountains fault I didn’t climb it. Only mine. 

So now here it is four decades after my first (of many) attempts and I’m back for more. Before we go any further though I will make a full disclaimer. If you are expecting a tale of vindication, salvation, and redemption then read no further, and go and spend your valuable time elsewhere. There is a story here however, and a cautionary one at that, so if you are interested then read on…

I really can’t say why I brought this up as an objective this particular year. Just unfinished business I suppose; something that has been smoldering way down deep. I sent out some feelers to the usual suspects, but at the end of the day only one partner took the bait. Maybe just as well. Two guys could be pretty flexible in planning, thought processes, and once in the mountains could be light and fast. 

As my constant readers will understand by now I usually describe at least a little bit of the training I do in preparation for a trip like this, and this story will be no different. I spent a considerable amount of time working on ‘aerobic’ fitness. This really is not that far from what I do on a regular basis in any case, so I will spare you any deep detail. Running, Rucking, Kettlebell’s, and various leg strength exercises. Things like squats, box steps, lunges, calf raises and the like. Although if you stick with this yarn through to the end, you can judge for yourself how effective this all was. The only thing I didn’t do a lot of was actual climbing. Which of course was probably what I should have been doing mostly. But that’s like riding a bike right…?; of which I was doing a lot of as well.

Winter and spring came and went and soon it was mid-summer as I stepped off of the plane and into the Calgary airport where Kev was waiting to pick me up. We hadn’t seen each other since our ill-fated escapade in the North Cascades over a year ago. Although we had obviously talked and e-mailed a lot, it was real good to get caught up in person. And we did just that on our uneventful drive into the mountains. One thing we didn’t anticipate, although I suppose we should have known better, were the odds of finding a campsite on the weekend. As might have been expected, all of the park campsites were full, so we ended up driving a bit further and paying a bit more for a private one. Luckily, the next day we could secure a park campsite for a few days, and even more importantly, a bivi permit. The climate is notoriously fickle in this area, and has been reason for several of my failed attempts. So, we were prepared to wait days in camp for a weather window and Kev did a stellar job in preparing camp meals in advance and had a well-stocked truck to make our stay comfortable, and reprised his often accepted role as kitchen mechanic for the duration of our stay.

As luck would have it, and very uncharacteristically so for this part of the world; the weather was impeccable with an equally flawless forecast. We made plans to leave the very next day. 

Our plan, as usual, was simple…

Everything should be made as simple as possible, but not simpler.

– A. Einstein

We went with the time honored and tested dictum of ‘light is right’. What does that even mean? To paraphrase if not outright quote Yvon Chouinard…

Leave the ten essentials and all other impedimenta on the ground

That’s all well and good but my pack still ended up a good deal heavier than I would have liked, weighing in at a bit over 12kg. So where did all this weight come from? We were planning on spending one night out so that necessitated a lightweight (read cold) sleeping bag, a bivi sac, and a thin (read cold and uncomfortable) foamie. Our timeline was such that we didn’t allow for any lounging or other forms of loitering in camp. We would either be moving, or in our sleeping bags, so clothing could be kept minimal; even more so considering the excellent weather forecast. The actual route is mostly class 4 with some low class 5 thrown in for good measure. So we needed some gear, just not too much. We opted for an ultra-skinny rope. A Mammut Twilight 7.5mm that we would use doubled. As far as hardware went, that was skimpy as well. A partial set of stoppers, a couple of hexes and 2 cams rounded out the rack, along with some runners and sling material. The last major weight concern was food. There is no disputing that one needs energy to climb, but food also comes at a weight cost. We took no stove, and the majority of our two days supply of grub consisted of what I usually dub as ‘science food’ 

It was an unseasonably warm day and as I mentioned earlier, we strategically planned not to lollygag at our bivi site, so we chose to start up the trail in the late afternoon; around 1600hrs. As trails go this one is pretty decent, and not too long, although steep enough in places to get an old guy puffing like a steam locomotive, and sweating like a whore in church. On the bright side we could at least use the trail, as often times Parks Canada has it closed or restricted due to Grizzly Bear activity. We plodded upwards however, and not soon enough we marched into the climber’s camp, which is situated in a pretty meadow with a good water supply. It looked as if there were only two other groups here. Technically there are only six permitted sites available, and equally technically our bivi permits were actually for the two additional sites that are in the col, which is over 300m higher. Thing was… I was tired now, so I lobbied for us to bivi here instead. Much more comfortable and there was that water supply handy. Otherwise we would be schlepping several liters of water uphill. Kev didn’t put up much of a fight over this, so we quickly set up our bivi.

One thing I neglected to mention earlier whilst I was listing the gear, was our water filter. Purifying water by some method has become pretty much de rigueur to avoid girardia and various water-born illnesses spread by marmots and other rodents of which there were aplenty. So we dug out the gravity fed filter and got to work. Unfortunately the only thing that was working was us. The filter, not so much… In fact not at all. Barely a few intermittent drops were making their way through the system. It would have taken a week to fill a single water bottle at this rate. This posed a minor problem, but one that was soon solved. There were a couple of young climbers from New Mexico camped nearby, so we ambled over and made our introductions then inquired as to what if anything they had used to filter water, and if they would be so kind to allow us to borrow it for a bit. They were most accommodating and lent us theirs (which just so happened to be the same model as ours). In relatively short order we were back in business with about 6 liters that would get us through the night and the full day following. If these folks hadn’t have been there, only two options would have been available. Head down, or risk drinking unfiltered water. We both would have fully accepted the risk and filled up on marmot water, and hoped for the best.

We treated ourselves to a meager dinner of energy bars and other dainties. 

It was as nice a night as one could wish for in a bivi; flat grassy ground, few bugs, relatively warm, and a brilliant display of the Milky Way. Still a fitful night nonetheless, with the usual apprehension for the next days climb. But before we could even consider drifting off to the land of nod there was some minor drama occurring on the mountain. There was a party that was up there and still slowly descending the route into the deepening gloaming. It was indeed well after midnight that they finally stumbled into camp by headlight. We found out in the morning that even for all of their troubles they didn’t summit. 

Morning came early as it always seems to. We broke our fast on some more delicious energy bars. My coffee jones having to be satiated by the caffeine that was in a packet of Gu. Even though we had fully packed the night before and did awake at the appointed hour, we were undeniably sluggards in getting out of camp, but not disastrously so by any means. 

The way up to the col was straightforward and within an hour or so of departing camp we were there. It was just as I had remembered it; a cold, windswept and bleak place. The memories of having spent several uncomfortable nights there in the past certainly reconfirmed my decision to not want to have camped there last night. We chose wisely, because it surely was windy and cold, but no dangerous looking clouds to be seen in any direction. The mountain gods were smiling on us, or perhaps just taunting us… 

From here our plan was also straightforward. We would rope up at this point using a short rope technique and simul-climb the ridge. Climb non-stop, relying on running belays if required, and only resorting to actual belays if absolutely necessary. As such rope-work shenanigans only gobble up enormous amounts of time. The climbing itself early on was very pleasant and decidedly textbook class 4. The exposure mind you, would be classed as exhilarating. At first this worked very well and we were making reasonable time as we picked our way up the ridge. Kev was doing a great job leading and only very infrequently did he place a runner. 

We were unquestionably happy with our progress, and one thing for sure that we were marveling at, was that we had the climb to ourselves, another rarity on this route. That reverie ended up being short lived as we just noticed a party of two way below us just starting their ascent. They were far enough behind us that it wouldn’t be an issue. Not long after this however, we started to run into more difficult climbing than we were anticipating to, but we carried on nonetheless. Only in retrospect did it really become evident, that against all and numerous warnings in the various guidebooks and route descriptions that we were in fact off-route and had wandered too far to the eastern side of the ridge, which held the promise of lower angled and somewhat less exposed climbing. The rock had by now taken on a different character and the holds were all sloping in the wrong direction. It’s not that it was so hard that it exceeded our capabilities, but it was getting a bit run out and we did feel the need to place more protection than should have been warranted. Eventually this took its toll on us from a time perspective, as well as being psychologically draining. We had in due course slowed to a standstill as we tried to suss out our next moves. It was quite evident that we were not the first chuckleheads to blunder out here. There were bail slings everywhere. 

This was that juncture that some readers will no doubt be familiar with. The one where your inner voices suddenly are not inner anymore and you actually verbalize the actual word (or equivalent of the word)‘down’. Once it’s been said aloud, the gig is usually up, all over in Dodge so to speak, very hard to recover from. Oh sure, we hummed and hawed for a bit, but all that did was really delay the inevitable. Kev was probably borderline, but by this point I had already flipped the mental switch. With somewhat heavy hearts we started to wordlessly rig a rappel; planning to rap when necessary and down-climb when possible. It was exactly at this moment we found out that there was a third party on the arête that day…

Well, you never know how far from home you’re feeling

Until you’ve watched the shadows cross the ceiling

Well, I don’t know but I can see it snowing

In your car the windows are wide open

Just come on home

Come on home

No, you don’t have to be alone

Just come on home

– John Prine

To be continued…