Rainy Day Blues in the Canadian Rockies

"The Bugs is a great place to go. The scenery, the climbing, etc.,etc. is incredible. If you get good weather it could be the trip of a lifetime." Ken Wiens.

All of our plans were, however, derailed by rain ... lots of rain. This turned out to be the wettest summer in the Canadian Rockies in the past 30 years. Not only did we not make it to the "Bugs" but we didn't accomplish even one of our modest alpine goals. After a while I began to feel like Rob McKenna, the lorry driver in Douglas Adams' book So Long and Thanks for all the Fish. "It was just the rain that got him down, always the rain". Rob had identified two hundred and thirty one different types of rain. During this trip, we identified seventy nine distinct types of rain and, like Rob, we didn't care for any one of them.

We flew into Calgary on a Friday night, picked up our Budget rental car and headed to Mountain Equipment Co-op. (MEC), the Canadian equivalent of Recreation Equipment Inc. (REI), where we spent the hour before closing time picking up maps and guide books. Canadian topographic maps are of much lower resolution (1:50,000 and 100 ft contour intervals) and higher price than we were used to in the United States. We spent the night camping at the base of Mt. John Laurie, affectionately known by its Indian name, Yamnuska, meaning a sheer rock face, sharing a fire with a friendly Canadian couple, Darryl and Tania.

Next morning we hiked up to the base of Yam, and met up with another pair of Canadian climbers, Brian and Lee. Brian had a copy of the Bow Valley Rock guidebook which we had been unable to find at MEC. After perusing this guide, Patsy wanted me to commit to memory half the route description to Red Shirt Route, while she memorized the other half. No way! I doubted I could faithfully remember even the description for one pitch, let alone four pitches that wound all over creation. Patsy borrowed a pen from Brian and started transcribing the description onto all twelve sides of a Kodachrome 35mm film carton. One third of the way through this noble venture the pen ran dry. We decided to climb Dickel instead, a 4 pitch 5.7, next to Brian and Lee, who were climbing Gollum Grooves, another 5.7. These were both unfortunate choices as the limestone in this area was really bad. You just had to look at the scree slope below the face to judge that this wasn't going to be the best rock but we didn't count on it being this bad. As I was climbing, Patsy repeated, for my benefit, the yell rock from above and something flapped past me like a dead bird. It was Brian's guidebook. All four of us decided to rap off together on account of the deteriorating nature of the rock above, uncertainty of the route and, frankly, sheer terror.

Patsy and I began hiking to the summit but stopped short when the sky began to take on an ominous, prematurely dark, hue. We beat as hasty a retreat as was commensurate with safety down the scree slopes and back to the car. Sure enough it started to rain. We headed into Banff for dinner in a very crowded restaurant and were receiving poor service even before the storm took out the power line and plunged the entire block into darkness. We decided to put some distance between us and Banff, so drove through Kootenay to the western side of the Rockies. An unfortunate choice, perhaps, because the rain was here, if anything, heavier than in Banff.

Saturday it rained all day long. We ate an excellent brunch at Myrtle's restaurant in Invermere before pointing the Oldsmobile Ciera up the dirt road "not recommended for passenger vehicles" to the primitive Ram Creek hot pools. After a refreshing soak in the hot pools, in the rain, we made camp down the road. After we had eaten dinner, a truck drove up and the driver informed us that a grizzly and two cubs had been spotted on the ridge above us just that morning. Terrific! Since it was almost dark and there was only a 5 minute interval between downpours we didn't feel compelled to move. Only half an hour later, though, I spotted a bear cub on that very same ridge. It looked like a black bear cub to me but what do I know about bears? The cub was watching me watching it through binoculars before it bounded off like a big goofy dog. I drove the car up close to the tent and we spent a most uncomfortable night. Ever slept in running shoes?

Next morning, still raining, we swung by the hot pools for another dip then headed up to Top of the World provincial park and hiked in to the cabin at Fish Lake. A nice feature, these cabins, especially in the rain. Everyone we met was going the other way, though, even the Warden. They'd had enough rain already. The Warden told us to enjoy the fire that should still be going in the cabin. Sure enough there was a fire and we were the only ones there; it was rather cozy. I went outside to split some wood. There was only a sledgehammer and a mushroomed wedge. Not the best implements, as I found when I was trying to split a piece of soft pine. The wedge ripped through the wood and a piece of the wedge's mushroomed head ripped through my finger and thumb. I signed the register book in blood, suggesting the purchase of an axe might be in order. Much chagrined, we left Top of the World, making it to a filling station just before the car ran out of gas.

Next morning, still raining strong, we headed up to Glacier National Park and bought a four day pass each to the National Parks. Review of the precipitation probability forecast for this and the next three days, 70%, 40%, 80%, 70%, suggested that the following day might be the most opportune for an attempt on the NW ridge of Sir Donald. With this in mind, we went from the Park Visitor Centre to the Park Warden (Ranger) Offices to pay for a one night backpacking permit. The Visitor Centres and the Warden Offices are always located in different places. "Because it's always been this way" is the reason I was told that these entities were always kept separate.

We backpacked up to the foot of the Vaux glacier and pitched our tent in the plushest stone shelter. The ground was clay and the floor of the tent was unable to withstand the continuous onslaught of the underlying pool of water. To our absolute amazement, two other climbers, Bob and Don from Seattle, who were of a like mind, appeared. They camped close by and we all four slept fitfully, hardly lulled to sleep by the persistent beating of rain on the tent fly.

The alarm went off at 5 am but when I poked my head out of the tent it was still raining. I woke again at 6 am to discover the rain had finally stopped. We ate a hurried breakfast and set off. As it turned out we needn't have hurried. The approach to the Uto-Sir Donald col is a worthy hike in itself but the ridge was not to be tackled that day. The western side sported a thin coating of verglass and the eastern side a thick mantle of snow. Bob and Don, noting my British accent were hoping that I was a Chris Bonnington or perhaps a Joe Simpson type but, "Hey, I've lived in San Diego for the past fifteen years. You guys belong to The Mountaineers and climb in the Cascades. You're the ones who should be used to these conditions." None of us was used to these conditions, so we spent a good hour sunbathing instead. "How are we going to explain these suntans when we get back home and complain the weather's been too bad to climb? This is the first climbing trip on which we've gained weight." True to Steck and Roper's description, the blueberries (and raspberries) were abundant along the trail and both hands and tongues were stained purple before we returned to the car.

We spent the next days playing tourists. We drove to Jasper, buying another park pass on the way, but this one was for the vehicle and the rate structure was completely different from that offered in Glacier. For a National Park System, the regulations seem oddly provincial. In Jasper we soaked in the Miette hot pool, which you would never know was natural. "This smells of sulphur", noted Patsy, but the smell was that of chlorine. Noticing that 'shrooms were especially abundant, we picked up two books on mushrooms and became mycophagists. Soon all the vacant horizontal surfaces of the car were occupied by mushrooms in mid-course of identification. We ate four species in all; Lactarius deliciosus, Sarcodon imbricatus, Lycoperdon perlatum and a Bolletus or Suillus. Amazingly, we spotted only one other woman who was picking mushrooms. She was Polish and didn't speak much English but she was collecting the Lactarius and advised us that they were delicious.

We headed back to Banff, stopping along the way to climb Mt. Wilcox, 9,461 ft, behind the Columbia Icefield visitor centre. This summit afforded a sterling view over the Athabasca Glacier, Athabasca and Andromeda Peaks, although the serenity was largely mitigated by the continuous groan of Brewster's Snocoaches ferrying tourists a few hundred yards onto the glacier. Did you know these Snocoaches sport 2m diameter terra tires? and weigh 19,500 kg? Brewster boasts the vital statistics of its Snocoaches. How else to justify $20.50 per person for a brief jaunt onto the glacier, albeit in climate-controlled comfort? The public address system incessantly bleated out departure times in English, French, Japanese and German. Nevertheless, an average of only two people per day appeared to make the climb to Wilcox and, on the summit, we were alone at last.

Continuing south into Banff, we spent a couple of days climbing on the beautiful quartzite at the Back of the Lake. Seeking a more lofty adventure, per Bill and Don's recommendation, we decided to try Temple Mountain, 11,624 ft. Since the snow level was 10,000 ft or so, we carried ice axe and crampons. We set off at 7 am and reached the summit by the easiest route at 1 pm. We overtook, then were closely followed by, two Germans, Gert and Gert. The Gerts didn't have ice axes and were following in our very foot steps, pausing every now and again for a rest face down in the snow. Very peculiar! During lunch on the summit, or rather as close as we dared approach the top of the cornice, the wind began to pick up and soon it was shooting spindrift 50 or more feet into the air following the general thrust of the slope. This didn't look good at all and we decided to get out of there. The Gerts took off first and were soon lost to us. Soon, in fact, everything was lost to us but we did pass a couple of Canadians, Steve and Phil, on their way to the summit. At least they had ice axes! Progress ground almost to a halt as Patsy kept stopping to hunch over her ice axe with her back to both me and the wind. She was making strange sobbing noises, clearly audible even over the background of howl of the storm. I urged continued downward progress, even though I wasn't entirely sure of the direction. All six of us met at the 10,500 ft level, the Gerts were lost and Steve and Phil had struggled to catch up with us. By a miraculous feat of skill and memory, I managed to navigate down through the rock bands under conditions that steadily improved from full-on white-out to visibility. This storm dumped up to 6 inches of snow in the space of two hours. We ended up eating dinner with Steve and Phil at the Canadian Alpine Club's guest house at Lake Louise, another worthy venue.

Searching for lower altitude adventures, we decided that a climb up the Grassi Ridge on Wiwaxy Peak, 8,868 ft, Grade III, 5.7 on quartzite would be a worthy and enjoyable goal. This peak is located in Yoho National Park and, more precisely, in the Lake O 'Hara basin, an area to which access is tightly controlled. We drove over to the Field ranger station in Yoho, arriving at 7.30 am, only to discover that the office didn't open until 9 am and there was already another party that had been waiting since 7 am for 5 of the 6 bus spaces that were made available each day for the following day. Forget it! But next time we will have the foresight to call ahead to book both bus and campsite reservations at Lake O'Hara. Even more annoying was that the following day dawned relatively clear. Furthermore, as we drove east, the sky became even more clear. As we drew level with Castle Mountain, 9,074 ft, we could clearly see Brewer Buttress, Grade II, 5.6, one of the classic climbs of the Rockies. All of a sudden, excited again, we drove over to the parking area and in a frenzy packed our backpacks, planning to hike up to Goat Plateau and climb the buttress the next day. Just when we had finished packing, Patsy remembered that we needed a backpacking permit. We had completely forgotten about the permit in our excitement that here was something that actually looked climbable. Thirty minutes later we were in Banff, driving around searching for the Visitor Centre so that we could extend our Park Permit by another day. The weather, in the meantime, turned really nasty again and the snow level dropped to 6,500 ft. The Warden said we couldn't just backpack up there and stay anywhere we liked. Well, of course not, we should have known better than that! We must instead call the Canadian Alpine Club and make a reservation to stay at their Castle Mountain Hut. Oh, forget it. Enough already! We drove out east to Kananaskis County and spent the next two days, the driest period of the whole trip, climbing at Heart Creek, at First Rock then at Heart Slab. Amazingly, this was good limestone. Heart Slab sported some interesting routes, routes that make Suicide Rock in Idyllwild seem well-protected. Rough Mix had a 60+ ft run-out to the first bolt with the 5.9 crux just below the bolt. In contrast, close by were routes ranging between fourth class to 5.7 in difficulty that had bolts every 9 ft. "Shit climbs", Patsy kept repeating.

The morning we had to fly back, we woke at 5 am and set off for Calgary airport just after 6 am. Our deal with Budget was to take the car back with an empty tank. As it turned out, we cut it really a bit too close. We had already determined that the tank was quite a bit short of empty when the gauge read empty and were going instead by distance traveled. Spotting a gas station on the opposite side of the freeway, we thought it best to top up the tank but the station was only accessible via a bridge crossing the freeway. As I reached the stop sign after the exit, the car died. I started the engine again and drove over the bridge. As I turned onto the on ramp west-bound, the engine died again. I managed to coast all the way up to the pump in neutral. "Fill her up?" "No thanks, but I'll take 5 litres!"

Back again in hot and humid San Diego, all that rain seems like it belongs in a dream. Knowing now what we know about the Canadian Rockies, there are all sorts of things we would do differently. We have a whole stack of guide books at our disposal and a much clearer idea of what we would like to do, but most importantly of all, we will never again go during a wet summer!

A special thanks to the following for their helpful tips and advice; Scott Berry, Clint Cummins, Armin Hasenkox, John Harpin, Warren Hennig, Jim Richardson, Iris Schwarz, Steve Shostek, Sue Torry, Ken Wiens, Ian Wood, Alistair Veitch and Silas Wild.