So Sorry

So sorry by tony gazley

‘S o sorry,’ said the ranger, ‘but the area you are planning to go just happens to be right under the smoke from the Washington fires and visibility will be very limited.’

‘Oh well, we’ll go anyway,’ we replied. ‘Sorry,’ said the next ranger a few days later, ‘but the access road you have chosen has been closed due to damage after the big wild-fire that burnt through here a few days ago. And your alternative road is closed because of the flooding from the storm we had yesterday.’

‘Oh well, we’ll go somewhere else,’ we answered. ‘Sorry to tell you,’ said the lady in the kiosk where we bought tickets for the gondola we were using for a shortcut to the top of the range, ‘but although it is mid-summer we had a lot of snow on the peaks last night and the temperature today at the top station is minus five degrees.’

‘Oh well, we’ll go anyway,’ we replied. Jackie and I had met in Vancouver and headed off to the Kootenays, an area with high snowy peaks, lots of glaciers, lovely lakes—and mountain lions and grizzly bears. That night we stayed in Radium Springs where there were big horn sheep grazing on the grass outside the hostel.

The view from Sylvan Saddle with a smoky haze Next morning we started up Joffre Creek laden with the usual hiking gear—plus bear mace each, and little bells tied to our packs. We talked very loudly and when the conversation ran out sang silly songs. Pine forests may look boring from the outside but here there was a vibrant understorey with leafy trees, flowers, and lots of busy wildlife—chipmunks, squirrels, and many birds. And then there was the smell of bears. But the walking was easy and we made fast progress.

We camped on Sylvan Pass away from any obvious animal trails—although we both silently knew that bears roam everywhere in western Canada, even well above the snowline, and could easily sniff us out wherever we were.

We climbed to the summit of a nearby ‘nub’ next day and dropped through a confusing series of cliffs and ledges to a remarkable extensive sloping area of weathered limestone about a kilometre across. This was a weird feature and it made for difficult walking—and there were no marked routes here to help you on your way.

On the other side we climbed to the top of an old moraine wall and followed it to a saddle above the Limestone Lakes. The view from here was stunning—in spite of the smoke that blotted out all but the nearby views just as the ranger had said.

We dropped down to the lakes and searched for a campsite that we thought would be less likely to be visited by bears. In the afternoon we circumnavigated all the beautiful lakes and arrived back at our tent just as it started to rain heavily. Because we needed to cook away from camp to avoid food smells around the tent we decided that no tea was better than eating in the pouring cold rain. Later the rain stopped and we had a quick meal, stashed the bear barrel and extra food and, safely back in the tent, drifted off to sleep happy with our choice of campsite.

Next morning I noticed a big hole about 10 metres from the tent that I didn’t remember from the day before. Jackie said that the reason I didn’t remember it was because it wasn’t there then. We then each took a millisecond to realise that during the night we had been visited by a grizzly—for they dig up the burrows of marmots when looking for as tasty snack, hence the hole. Rocks too heavy for us to lift easily had just been brushed aside and the ground looked a bit like a mechanical excavator had run amuck before either the bear got a meal or had given up.

We decided to shift camp—but while we were thinking about where to, the rain started again. It didn’t take long to decide that now the chances of the weather being good enough to climb our objective Mt Abruzzi were almost nil and that the best option would be to walk out and wait for better weather somewhere else. We packed quickly and started back the way we had come. At the top of the nub it was snowing but lower down the weather was much drier and warmer.

The next couple of days were forecast to be wet and the weatherman got it right. So we did some touristy things before heading off to Whistler after being told that the access roads around Pemberton were closed indefinitely due to damage from a wildfire one day and a flood the next.

The gondola took us effortlessly to the top of the ridge where we headed east towards Russet Lake. Now the weather was perfect and the views without the smoke even better. We could gaze down on the turquoise coloured Cheakamus Lake, and shining in the distance were many glaciers and sharp mountain peaks. Walking through the mountain meadows here was easy and we made good time to the lake and by late afternoon we had found a perfect The limestone ledges campsite on the top of a small ridge.

The next day was to be a summit day. The climb to the top of Whirlwind Peak was straightforward and Jackie plugged steps through the final snow slopes in her running shoes. The 360 degree view from the summit was stunning—there were peaks and glaciers and valleys and forests of pine extending to the horizon, and above the sky was a picture of wispy high clouds.

But the lady in the ticket kiosk was right—the higher peaks were plastered with a loose layer of new snow that made the steep-sided rock ridge leading to our next peak, The Overlord, too treacherous in running shoes. So we called it quits—and actually it didn’t matter at all for we were quite content to just admire the view from where we were.

After some time we descended back to our camp to leave unwanted gear and continue on down to a glacier that flowed in a valley below our campsite. The idea for the next day was to come this way and then climb onto the ridge across the valley and then sidle back to Whistler over two days.

But we had already noticed that part way along the range a deep and wide runnel extended from top to bottom and we were unsure if it would be too steep to be crossed safely. From our new viewpoint on the moraine wall of the glacier it was still impossible to be sure—so we decided then that we would only try to get out this way tomorrow if the weather was near perfect and we could see where we were going.

We woke next morning to a sky and our ridge covered by thick cloud—our planned route across the valley was not going to be. And given the new snow on the nearby peaks none of them were an option for us either. So somewhat reluctantly we packed and headed down through Singing Pass and then the track back to Whistler.

On both the trips we had done only a small part of what we had planned—but neither of us were in the least disappointed. For there is nothing to be done about wildfires, floods, mid-summer snowstorms and cloud covered ridges—they must just be accepted as part of being in the mountains. And the places we had visited were certainly more beautiful than anything we had imagined, while the possibilities for further trips nearby was clearly unlimited. We decided that what we had seen was simply a teaser, and that the only thing to be done now was to organise another trip for next summer.

Limestone Lakes The Overlord from Whirlwind Peak The ridge (on skyline) we hoped to traverse to Whistler