Another Prairie Pitch Adventure Race Completed

Despite numerous last-minute problems, many caused by unusual amounts of rain, in addition to the usual issues, this year's Prairie Pitch Adventure Race was completed.

There are several stories on-line about the Race:

The Shaunavon Standard has a nice writeup about the event.

Pictures are available on the Section's Picasa page.

Andrew has an interesting blog report on all the fun leading up to the race.

Section Pictures on the Web

The Saskatchewan Section now has the start of photo albums on the Web set up on Picasa. The first album is pictures from the Beginner's Rock weekend way last May. Check out the scenes at:

http://picasaweb.google.ca/accsask

More Reflections from the SK Section's Mountaineering Camp

by JJ Hodgson

When I agreed to go on this mountaineering camp, I didn't know exactly what I was getting into. All I knew for sure was that I would get to do a scramble...a feat which I had never accomplished. Then the trip started to get closer and I started hearing about ice axes and crampons, which for all I knew were medieval torture devices, and I started to wonder what I had signed up for. After hiking in to the Stanley Mitchell hut and meeting all the friendly people who were so excited for the next morning's adventures, I have to say I was even more nervous than before. Not only did I not know what half of my gear was supposed to do or how to put it on, I was surrounded by people who seemed to actually be looking forward to what I assumed would be a grueling day of being tired, cold, and possibly impaled by one of the foreign objects I had packed in!

We awoke the next morning bright and early. I felt sick. I was positive I wouldn't like the day, I felt like I was getting a cold (that prediction came true, and I don't recommend trying it yourself unless you've got lots of toilet paper!), and all I wanted to do was stay up in the warm bunk of the hut. Going through the motions of getting geared up for the hike, I could only look forward to the passing of the several hours that would bring me back to the cabin. After some steep uphill and lot of internal swearing and whining, I found myself staring up at what would be my first scramble. It stood there beside us, looking impossibly scary, while we practiced crevasse rescue. Note to everyone: do not rely on me to save you. My focus was spent ignoring the looming rock that I didn't want to climb.

As you can probably guess, once the lesson on rescue was complete, I climbed the rocks. I was short roped, and I stuck as close to Dave as he would let me, but I climbed them. I then found out that the top of those rocks was not even the top of Mt Kerr. That was a cruel joke. However, the top of Mt Kerr was eventually under my feet, and I have never felt more exhilarated than after making it to the top. The way down was even more fun. We practiced self arrests, and I did not kill myself with my ice axe. We bum slid down a few giant snow slopes, putting all of my past tobogganing trips to shame. We laughed, took pictures, talked about blisters, and scoped out the glacier that would take us up to the President the next day. Everyone was on a high.

I did not greet any other mornings with anxiety. The first day of the trip showed me what mountaineering was. I learned that I could climb a mountain without keeling over from the exertion. I learned that I forgot the pain of climbing the mountain once I got to the top. I learned that no matter how freaked out something made me, there were awesome leaders to make sure everyone got through it all right. The remainder of the camp flew by, with incredible hikes and new lessons each day. I still can't believe that my trip turned from being something I was worried about to something I enjoyed so much. I loved the trip, I'm still annoying my friends with Ivan's jokes and other stories from it, and I look forward to doing another one.

Reflections on the SK Section Mountaineering Camp

by Bill & Terrye Bullers, Albuquerque, NM, USA

Little Yoho Valley, July 18-23, 2008:

Thanks go to trip leaders Dave, Bob, Ivan, and Jesse and to the other victims (er, participants) who so warmly welcomed Bill and Terrye, a couple of old folks from New Mexico. Terrye & I agreed that you “Saskatchewanians” are definitely in shape, the lack of many significant topological features in your province notwithstanding. We estimate we did about 14K feet of elevation in 5 days (now that’s 14,000 feet multiplied by .3048 meters per foot equals a bunch of meters gained as well). We both enjoyed being pushed beyond our normal hiking comfort level, but never with any trepidation about our safety (just a little trepidation about our stamina).

We’d like to thank Dave for his compassionate “guide pace” with his short-rope team up Mt. Kerr. We know it wasn’t necessary for Jeff and JJ’s sake, but Bill and Terrye appreciated it so we weren’t worn out the 1st day – that didn't happen until the 2nd or 3rd day. We’ll remember bum sliding down Mt. Kerr (and all this time we thought we were glissading – we now know the difference).

We’ll also remember Bob’s UTM graphic aids and the benefits of metric northing and easting coordinates for distance estimates. Now if only us yanks can get used to thinking in metric units rather than continuing as the last major holdout of English units of measurement. But whether the hike out from the Stanley Mitchell Hut is measured in miles or kilometers, we couldn’t match Bob’s time of 1:32.

We won’t forget Ivan’s comments at the Lake Louise Alpine Center after the camp was over. He’d encountered a staff member of the hostel who asked him in passing “how’s it going”. Ivan responded “4 summits in 4 days”. And when the staff member replied “holy s**t”, Ivan commented to us later “now that’s the kind of comment I like to hear!” We agree.

We hope that Jesse has been able to catch up on food intake since the camp ended. It seems he devoted most of his backpack space and weight to packing in climbing ropes instead of food. He needs to bulk up if he’s going to anchor a rope team with folks like Brenda, Dana, and Bill on future glacier crossings. After slowly inching our way across the traverse above the bergschrund on the President, Jesse became concerned about our slow progress beneath the huge overhanging cornice. So he instructed our rope team: “can we pick up the pace a bit, this cornice is popping and making funny noises”. So as Brenda, Dana, and Bill proceeded to quickstep down the glacier at that point, nearly pulling Jesse off his feet, Jesse added “not quite so fast”.

We definitely got to try some things out during the mountaineering camp, just like Ivan’s monkey in the bar. Now if only somebody can fill us in with the pirate joke, we won’t have to keep repeating “Aaaarrrrgh” about our time at the Saskatchewan Section Mountaineering Camp.

Camping Food

Quite naturally after a hard day climbing and scrambling, camp participants' thoughts turned to food. There was a fair bit of discussion about what everyone else was eating, where they got their recipies and so on.

One book was mentioned several times - Lip Smackin Backpackin

Two recommendations from that book were "Tahoe Chicken Curry" and "Mountain Quesadillas".

Just because you're in the wilderness doesn't mean your menu has to suffer.

Guide Books

Several participants at the recent Mountaineering Camp were interested to know where they could learn more.

There are two guide books that have been found very useful by many others.

First is Alan Kane's Scrambles in the Canadian Rockies.

Next would be Sean Dougherty's Selected Alpine Climbs.

Find a climbing partner or two, start off easy, and have fun.

Neat Knots

People into climbing and mountaineering need to know a few knots. Animated Knots is a website that shows you step-by-step how to tie all those puzzling things. There are several categories and some knots are featured in more than one place. Highly recommended.

SK Section Mountaineering Camp - Overview

A group of us just finished 4 days in the Little Yoho Valley participating in the Section's Mountaineering Camp. More stories, reports and pictures are forthcoming, but the short story is:

Day 1 - met and hiked in to Stanley Mitchell. Got organized, practiced knots, roped travel principles, discussed camp activities and objectives.

Day 2 - scrambled Mt Kerr, practiced crevasse rescue techniques, self arrest on steep snow slopes, roped travel and enjoyed some bum sliding on our descent.

Day 3 - up even earlier for an excellent climb to Mt President, passing over the narrow and ever-thinning access across the bergschrund and climbing to the summit. Great views from the top.

Day 4 - an "easy day" with only about 2/3 of the elevation gain of the previous day - hiked up to the Whaleback Ridge and traversed to its end, descending by a series of downsloping ledges to the Whaleback trail.

Day 5 - hiked up to Kiwetinok Pass, planned our route up to Mt Pollinger, practiced walking on snow slopes, kicking steps, etc. Checked out the route to McArthur but left it for another day.

Day 6 - up early for the hike back out and travels home.

Additional stories and links to pictures will be posted as they become available.

Kaslo Backpacker's Hostel

by Catherine McCormick

Kaslo is a fine place to use as a jumping off point for some good hikes in the West Kootenays. You might even recognize the owners of the Kaslo Backpacker’s Hostel - Sarah and Darren. They both have worked at the hostels at Rampart Creek and Hilda Creek during the past decade.

A total of six rooms allows 17 guests to stay at the hostel. Most rooms will easily accommodate 5 people and there is one small private room. A private room will cost $50 for two people. Other accommodation rates are $25/person/night and children 10 and under are free.

Each room is named for a particular bird and one of my favourite spots in the hostel is the loft designated to be called "the heron’s nest" which sleeps two and has an additional nook for a couple of kids – perfect for a family of four. You’ll find a bathroom and separate shower room on the second floor, as well as a comfortable lounge area with a TV and VCR/DVD players. It will sit 7 people very well and you’ll find that you can use your own computer here as there is wireless internet at the hostel, but no extra computer.

Sarah describes her kitchen as the best kitchen hostel ever! It is fully equipped, including a coffee maker. The dining area will sit 10 at the large table and there is additional seating outside on the deck overlooking the garden.

There is no guest laundry at this hostel but those facilities are available in the village of Kaslo. A great feature for many tired hikers and skiers is the wood-fired sauna just off the deck. Other amenities include canoe rentals at $55/day, kayaks at $50/day and bikes at $15- $20/day.

The backpacker’s hostel is home to my favourite Kaslo garden. Sarah’s theme for her 2008 garden is "edible, incredible" and having observed the progress of the garden this year I anticipate it will be a fine place to try out some home grown fruits and veggies.

Check out the Kootenays as a vacation spot. It’s relatively uncrowded, offers fantastic hiking and skiing opportunities, and is home to a very fine hostel in Kaslo – the Kaslo Backpacker’s Hostel.

Mount Hector ONE, Steve ZERO

by Steve McCartney

[Steve didn't send any pictures, and after reading the story you'll understand that his attentions were probably elsewhere. These pictures are from 2004, and show the summit in July and the great view from there.]

We were nearing 10000 feet and 100% focused on avalanche hazards. I mean 110% focused on avoiding avalanche hazards. My partner and I were below the last ski-able section of Mount Hector. The avalanche bulletin was considerable. On the way up I noticed the new snow was shearing 15-20 thick off an icy crust. I was 110% focused on not putting myself or my partner into a place we might regret. I was thinking about avalanches and nothing else.

There was another party on Mount Hector that day. We talked briefly when we stopped for a short break after skinning up a sustained section of a crusty icy windswept layer of white and discussed our options of getting to the top. I thought we could avoid the final steep face by boot-packing up the climber’s left hand side. The likelihood of skier triggered avalanches was considerable I remembered. Our route would follow a rocky ridgeline, hence no avalanches. The other group didn’t have any objections to my idea but decided to follow the standard route. We parted ways and continued on for only 15 minutes until we stashed our skis and put on crampons. Roped up I started traversing to my objective, a rock out crop maybe 20 meters away. I was 100% focused on reaching my destination now. I would be on the summit in about an hour I told myself.

When I began to walk, I noticed the crusty icy layer was gone and the snow was becoming soft and suspect. My location had all the characteristics of a snow bridge- but for some reason I shrugged it off and continued on telling myself that I’m probably wrong. My axe penetrated deep, with the same amount of force required to break through three or maybe four pieces of toilet paper. But for some reason I was only going forward; perhaps because I was only seconds from my objective. I took one more step and my foot kept going. I lay down immediately, trying to distribute my weight as much as possible. I called to my partner below me, "Dude, back up NOW!" "What??" he replied.

"Dude, go downhill – get the rope tight, I’m standing on air!"

"Are you serious?" he replied.

With every motion I made, my sense of security diminished like the snow disintegrating below me. I was able to get my axe stuck in a small piece of an ice lens maybe an inch thick. "Dude, where is my picket?" "On your right side" he said. I reached awkwardly trying to find it but it wasn’t there. "Where is my picket!?" I said. "Sorry, your left side" he said back. I remember thinking "why doesn’t he know left from right?" I pulled it off my pack quite easily. I learned many years ago to avoid attaching pickets to a pack with a ‘biner for this very reason. Had it been clipped on, I would have been screwed. An arm’s reach away I found some hard-packed snow and punched the picket in about half way, when I heard an eerie hollow sound. "Am I still on the bridge? What the heck is going on?" I wondered. From previous experience, I knew the sound was bad. It was distinctly insecure, analogous to an ice-climber swinging into sketchy ice and immediately a rush of adrenaline saturated my nervous system. I tied myself off to my "faith-stick" and then inched forward. I was mad at myself for being in this situation. I felt stupid.

With my foot no longer dangling in space, I found security standing on some really firm snow not far from the rocky outcrop that was my earlier objective. Pretending like what had just happened was not a big deal I said to my partner, "Just traverse lower, you should be fine". He began to move. My words almost became an epitaph. I just lead my partner to the gates of hell and knocked loudly at the door. "Steve, I’ve got nothing here man. What’s my move??" he said. "Uhmm, you gotta go two more feet- you can do it" I said as I laid flat on my axe. I muttered "don’t you dare fall in" quietly to myself. He inched his way to his perceived safety. He stood up and said "What the heck are we doing?" Just then to gain security from his crampons, he stamped his foot hard on the dense snow. I was still lying down and heard the thud and felt the vibration. We were at the devils front door - knocked once, and just knocked again.

"Dude, we are in a world of hurt if we don’t get out of here now. What’s our move?" I said. I remember thinking "if we can just get to those rocks, we’ll be fine". For some stupid reason I was still hell bent on going forward.

"Holy cow man, look at where we are! We’re on the stupid bergschrund. What the hell is going on?" I yelled, scolding myself. My brain had finally caught up to the gravity of our situation.

"I’m going to build a T-slot and we are going to rap over this mess, and get the hell out of here" I said. I started to probe around only to confirm that we were both standing on a time-bomb.

By some miracle I found a really dense section of snow and was able to build a good T-slot anchor. It gave us legitimate security. Slowly I began to lower myself but stopped at the edge of a "McCartney-sized" black hole. At that point I remember taking stock of our situation. Some thirty minutes ago my partner and I were about a 2 hour return trip from the summit of Hector; our year end objective. At present we were essentially in the middle of a mine field. I probed around my current location and found some relief in the marginal resistance of the probe going through the snowpack. With the anchor set and on rappel, I inched closer towards the hole. What I saw was unsettling. I managed to cross and my partner shortly thereafter.

Back at our skis we discussed how our decision making tree took us out to the weakest branch on the highest limb. I remember using a lot of curse words. We packed up our skis on our backpacks and proceeded to walk down our steep icy up-track. My partner was in front probing his way down when we found some more problems. His leg punched through the crust in three different locations in less than a minute and not because he was fat. We had unknowingly skied over these crevasses on the way up because our weight was distributed over a larger surface area. Not two minutes later he punched through again, but this time with both legs and up to his butt. His legs were dangling in space. By some freak stroke of luck the basket of his ski pole (that was strapped to his pack) got caught in the wire loop at the end of his probe. His weight arched the probe like the poles of a dome tent. He was literally sitting on the edge of a crevasse, like bait on the hook about to be swallowed by the crevasse. It was both frightening and humorous at the same time. The probe was stuck slightly behind him, arching over his shoulder with the wire looped around the plastic ski pole basket. I jumped uphill landing on my axe not knowing what was keeping him and potentially me from going over to the darkside; his butt on the edge of the crevasse, his probe tangled on his ski pole, or my axe. He managed to get back up on his feet and we both escaped yet another near-miss.

We put our skis back on and made a rapid and awkward exit. Skiing downhill roped together is not something I’ve done very often because it sucks and my partner was new to backcountry skiing and was much better going uphill than down. We "skied" towards what we knew was a safe spot but on the way we actually had to launch ourselves over two more small slots, all the while hoping neither of us would fall down while we were still tied into each other. I was still trying to figure out how I walked myself into the biggest gong-show of my climbing career. The whole ordeal took maybe an hour or two. From the time we ditched our skis on the way up to the time we felt safe again. The party of three had already been to the summit and were distant figures way down in the valley.

For some reason on this particular day all I could think about was avalanches and what I would have to do in order to avoid them. I wasn’t thinking about anything else. Somehow I convinced myself that any decision I made to stay out of avalanche terrain was a good decision. This is not always the case. My partner and I critiqued our day, and we both agreed our decisions seemed like the right ones at the time but back down at the truck they seemed like textbook rookie mistakes. We deviated from the normal route because of the new snow on top of an ice layer, and evidence of slab failure on the way up. However, we neglected to analyze the "big picture" and see that our deviation took us further up a glacier and into a very large and wide bergschrund. We were guilty of looking at our boots and not the mountain.

A few months prior I took the ACC Winter Leadership course; we both recently completed the Level 2 Avalanche course, and had been out almost every other weekend. In fact we just took 3 days to complete a ski traverse that is usually done in 4 or 5 the weekend before. We were confident but not cocky and we pictured ourselves on top of Mount Hector as a great end to a great season.

While discussing our day back at the truck we both clued in on a few factors that were different on this particular day. We were both tired, more so than usual. We are so evenly matched with respect to fitness that we are never more than 10 steps apart on the approach, and we hardly stop for more than a swig of water and a rude joke or two. On this day we were sucking wind, and we both could see it in each other but we kept on going because we can be stubborn sometimes. I remember not knowing where I was twice - thinking that my compass was wrong. Once when we were trying to start our day and another time higher up when I looked at the map. I’m usually pretty good with that stuff. I also remember being dizzy a few times and we both commented on how yellow our urine was. Working long days, climbing every weekend, and juggling domestic responsibilities finally caught up to us. We were simply tapped of energy and really, really dehydrated. All this culminated in some excitment that we feel was caused by the following. First, we deviated from the standard route. There is a reason why it’s called the standard route, a really obvious good reason. Second, we were roped up for glacier travel but we were only thinking about avalanches. Just because there is a lot of snow doesn’t mean the crevasses magically disappear. Mountaineering hazards are always present, some more than others at different times but nonetheless they are always present and thirdly, being dehydrated. It is clinically proven that dehydration can lead to a loss of energy, a loss of balance, and subsequently poor decision making. Things we were both symptomatic of. What was most frustrating was we both knew better.

My buddies and I climb to get home; we are not afraid or embarrassed to turn around. In fact we joke that we should write an "approach" book because of the amount of times we do turn around. This day was different and we found ourselves "in the suck" and it was not cool.

In conclusion I don’t have anything profound to say that we don’t already know but with the summer season underway maybe reading this might prevent someone from making the same mistakes I did. Don’t ever think "that won’t happen to me" because sooner or later it will. Drink plenty of liquid (and not just beer). Get adequate rest. Listen to your body. If you can’t tell east from west, if you start to trip because you are dizzy, or if you’re whizzing stinky yellow turpentine it’s probably an indication to go back to the tent. If you don’t like the standard route, perhaps you should reconsider. Ruminate on terms like "the big picture", "situational awareness", and "perceptual narrowing" and how they apply to mountaineering. Ignorance is not bliss.

I’m embarrassed about what happened to me on Mount Hector, but I think someone said experience comes from bad judgement. I was almost not going to share this story for fear of ridicule but I thought maybe it’s for the best. I did however purposely exclude my partners name because if his wife found out what I got us into that day she might not let him climb with me anymore.

ACC National News - Spring Board Meeting

Section Chairperson Angela Spence attended the spring Board meeting in Canmore on May 3rd and 4th. For those of you who aren't familiar with how this part of the Club operates, here is a short primer: There are 19 regional sections from BC to Quebec with the National Office in Canmore, AB. Each Section sends one representative to 2 Board meetings each year. This Board of Directors discusses and approves the overall direction of the Club. Various interests of the Club are overseen by several Executive Vice Presidents (eg: VP Services, VP Facilities, etc.). All of these positions are filled by volunteers. National Office staff (the Executive Director and the various Directors of Maintenance, Facilities, etc) deal with the daily running of the Club.

Some highlights from the most recent meeting:

Financially, the Club is in good shape and is currently in a surplus position. Some of you may be aware that the Club has an equity interest in the Canadian Alpine Center (the Lake Louise Hostel) and this position contributes financially to the Club.

There was more discussion about waivers. Any of you who have taken part in Section activities will remembered being pestered to sign the waiver. This represents the Club's front-line defense from liability claims and covers the Club and members in the unlikely event there is an accident on a Club trip. The current discussion centered around the possible use of web-based trip sign-up and electronic waivers.

A small number of Sections, mostly from Winnipeg and east, have been wondering about the possibility of allowing route bolting work (retrofitting, repairing) as approved Club activities. The initial concern was how it would fit with the Club's liability insurance, especially if something were to happen on a route some time later. Our Section and probably most others in our region seem to donate funds to TABVAR, an organization in Calgary which works to maintain many of the bolted routes in our climbing area. It appears as though there will be an accommodation for those Sections interested in pursuing this activity.

Work has been started to accumulate material for volunteer training (trip leaders, Section executive members, etc) and that should be available by 2009.

There were 18 applications for TNF/ACC Summer Leadership Course. Two of our Section's members applied - Mike Wild and Mark Rosin. We should know shortly who was selected to attend.

The Spring Board Meeting is usually shorter to make way for the Club's Annual General Meeting which was also held during the weekend.

If you have questions about other parts of the meeting, please contact Angela for details.

Making the Turns at Stanley Mitchell - March/08

By Olivia Yuel

What an amazing trip!

Half of our group (Steve, Dave & Bill) travelled into the Stanley Mitchell hut on March 12, but Bette, Bob and I began our journey a day late because Bob was still recovering from a serious lung infection. The temperature was a bit cool at 7:30 in the morning, but it was very exciting to be starting out with head-lamps and, for me, no sense of what I was about to be asked to accomplish.

Bob had done this trip before so he knew what was ahead, not that he would say anything to discourage us. This day the trail was icy and therefore a bit slow and frustrating. Even with skins on, our skis slipped side to side every step.

The first 2 hours were great: breathing in the fresh air, getting far enough away from civilization that you couldn’t hear any vehicles. The sky was brilliant blue and the trees were a perfect colour of bright green. The snow was so clean and white. We slogged along at a steady pace, the usual dose of regular daily stress melting away. You can imagine with one big breath in of fresh air that all tension was replaced with peace.

I'm not sure at what point after that first 2 hours my thoughts turned to: "I will not stop, I will not cry, I will my feet to stop aching." Where was that peace I was feeling? Fortunately, not long after this point we reached Takkakaw Falls. The first 4 hours had gone by. Reprieve. I got to take my boots off, look at the beauty around us and was reminded of how much I loved doing this. My thoughts returned to: "AHH, I love this." Bette and Bob both appeared untouched by fatigue or discomfort and still seemed peppy and energetic. Thank goodness they shared that energy with me because we still had at least 4 hours to go, now seriously uphill and very icy. While I was resting, however, I felt like it would be no problem. I could do this.

Bette took her turn pulling the sled with our food. This was a good thing for me because that way I could almost keep up to her pace. Now, some weeks after the trip, I have almost completely forgotten how brutal this next portion of our journey was. All I have is a bit of a mark as a reminder about falling over on the icy trail.

Truly the path was gorgeous. There is no better feeling then being surrounded by forest. However it was quite treacherous. I am sure there is more to say about this section but all I remember thinking was, will I make it. I will make it. Left foot, right foot. Next thing I knew we were just minutes from the hut. Bette, like a forest nymph, floated ahead, dropped her pack off at the hut and came back to help me with mine (Bob had stayed back with me, probably a good thing because I might have sat down at some point and never gotten up).

It was very exciting to finally arrive. The hut is beautiful and the surrounding area is breathtaking. The infinite space to ski is unbelievable. Absolutely magnificent!
We were greeted by the other members of our group, as well as a group of 12 Japanese Alpine Club Skiers between the ages of 65-72. The hut was packed and full of laughter the entire time we stayed.

I can't say enough about the skiing. Bette felt it was the best backcountry skiing she had ever had. Bob felt it was a great location in terms of all the different types of skiing you could do. And I just felt blessed to be there. We experienced amazing skiing right out the front door. We skied open slopes on the first day and the next day stayed in the trees. Unbelievable skiing! There was enough space that we each picked a new route through the trees every time. The snow was thick and fluffy and the weather was warm. My memory says the sun shone on us most of the time but this may not have been really true since we didn’t ski on the glaciers because the visibility wasn’t very good.

We got new snow on Saturday, which made for another great day of skiing and was also welcome because we were skiing out on Sunday and it would cover all the ice on the trail out.
It’s always sad to leave when you are having such an excellent adventure, but I knew we still had the trip out to give us a complete experience. Fortunately, I was glad to be mostly unaware of what I was about to put myself through. I was determined that if a group of 65-70 year-old skiers could do it without collapsing, then so could I.

But, Oh my God!! What a trip out. I spent a lot of the 5 hours to the parking lot praying. Down a narrow twisting trail through the trees, past Laughing Falls, where we were convinced Birks had mined their jewels and then down the snow-covered road. It didn’t appear that anyone else was suffering or maybe I was just concentrating so hard not to have a tantrum that I didn’t notice.
Epic and Gruelling are the two words I will choose to describe the ski-out. I am proud to say I did not collapse or have that tantrum. I have the rest of the group to thank for that. They were always patient, supportive and happy. I especially have to thank Bette and Bob for inviting me to tag along.

This was the most exciting and strength building experience I have had in a very long time. I would highly recommend this trip to everyone wanting to push their body beyond where they ever thought it could go. Funny, it only took me until my first latte in Lake Louise to forget how overwhelmed I had felt.

Trip participants: Bob Hawboldt (trip leader & snow guru), Bette Boechler, Olivia Yuel, Dave McCormick, Steve Blackwell, Bill Wotherspoon.

Sir Edmund Hillary - A Tribute

PHOTO: Sir Edmund Hillary's casket leaves his funeral service in New Zealand. Photo courtesy of Mark Watson/New Zealand Alpine Club.

A goofy but heartfelt tribute to the late Everest pioneer has been recorded by the New Zealand singer/songwriters Jody Lloyd and Tim Kelleher. Keying off the Hillary portrait on New Zealand's five-dollar note, the chorus of "Humble Mountain Man" goes:

You may be gone but you live on in my wallet
You'll never be forgotten in the bottom of my pocket
You've taught us by example, translated back to our inner fiber
And you leave behind a wealth greater than that within a fiver.

Truly, it sounds better than it reads.

See the video at www.youtube.com/watch?v=4xgIebk-zHE.

Fairy Meadows in Winter

by Dave McCormick

I've discovered a new way to get to visit some great backcountry ski destinations.... It's the same strategy I've talked about before - volunteering for the ACC - you get to go to all sorts of great places.

I got this phone call on a Wednesday offering me a trip into Fairy Meadows for a week.... IF I could get ready in 2 days and IF I'd be prepared to do some mold cleanup and a general hut survey during my time there. And one other thing, because of a reservation mix-up, there would only be 6 people at the Hut rather than the usual 20. It only took me a couple of hours to make up my mind, a day gathering together food and equipment and a 4 hour drive to a staging area east of Rogers Pass. The helicopter picked us up around noon for a 20-minute flight north to the Hut.

The ACC's Bill Putnam Hut at Fairy Meadows is located in the Adamant Range of the Columbia Mountains, NW of Golden. The only real way there during the winter is by helicopter. Even in summer it's pretty difficult any other way than that, although I have hiked in once - the hike from hell, actually a bit wet and cold for hell, but that is another story.

The week fell quickly into a pattern. Up in the morning, mold cleaning and other work all morning, a few hours of skiing in the afternoon, a nap, supper, lots of reading and then off to sleep. The other 5 people there were experienced skiiers so they were off to challenging destinations each day. I pretty much stayed close to the hut on the practice slopes nearby. Generally, they were enough of a challenge for me.

The week passed and the helicopter came to pick us up and whisk us back to the parking lot. I think it's time to hang up the skis for the season....

Pictures of the area are available at:

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=22704&l=e7e0e&id=566145837

Remind Me - Why Do We Do This?

by Jesse Invik

[With the scrambling season approaching, we post this story from the last scrambling season]

Just what you need, another bit of philosophical glop about why we climb, right? Didn't Mallory already sew this question up with the famous quote "Because it's there"? Unfortunately it seems that we all are driven to contemplate this question for ourselves regularly. And given the damage an obsession with climbing can cause to our bodies, our relationships and the environment, it makes sense to give this some thought from time to time, contemplate if what we get out of it is worth what we put into it, or what we could potentially lose because of it.

My own reasons are a mystery to me. I'm not good at it. I don't excel at any one aspect of it. I'll never be a pro, as I once had fleeting ambitions to be. I'll never climb in the Himalayas or the Andes. I'm a gutless wonder when it comes to technical rock or ice, and getting more so with the years; just ask Shelley about that one. I made her back off Escargot Corner in perfect weather. That's right, a 5.6, how embarrassing! I tell my friends I'm going climbing but this usually means I'm going scrambling, or at best, low-end mountaineering. I've scared myself shitless in the past, and a dozen times or more I made deals with myself to quit, if I just survived the day. And yet the beauty, the wonder of it keeps me coming back. The sense of being strong enough and yet being humbled by my surroundings at the same time. And I have to face facts: it's the feeling of "wow, look at what I just did, aren't I cool?" that is most responsible for my return.

This summer, the last weekend in July during an incredible heat wave, I finally got the opportunity to climb Mt. Temple. I'd wanted to for years, but a combination of trail closures, bad weather or lack of a partner always prevented it. A few days before leaving I received an e-mail from Dave McCormick telling me the route was clear of snow, and that he'd gone solo, car to summit in 3.5 hours. Thanks Dave. I decided to aim for doubling his time, and was almost successful. Staggering out of bed in the dark, my group of three was the first to reach Sentinel Pass, though we were about 20th to reach the summit. That day we shared the mountain with about 150 people including: a seven month pregnant woman (who didn't miss an opportunity to impress that fact upon everyone she passed), a man and his wiener dog, several groups of foreign tourists clad in jeans, runners and polo shirts, and a father and son team (the son about 8 years old), also in jeans and runners, as well as the usual alpine club types. Only about 50% of the climbers were wearing helmets, and as rocks were kicked down by the dozen I envisioned numerous accidents, though we witnessed none. The rock bands were choked with people trying to weave past each other in opposite directions, and the whole peak seemed to emanate stress as much as it did heat.

Still, I felt proud of myself, standing winded and wheezing on the summit with a couple dozen new friends, all of us jockeying for a good position from which to take our photos. It seemed to me at the time a great achievement, standing at the highest point for many miles, breathing the thin air and taking it all in. And yet obviously what I had accomplished was commonplace that day. We had all helped to erode the mountain (a lot!), disturb and distress the local bears, and put ourselves at risk to do something that was not special.

Selfish perhaps, given the environmental repercussions, but I'm still glad I went. And I do feel a little special and I do feel accomplished. I have to be at least a little beyond average in fitness levels don't I? And now I'm sitting here wondering if I can fit one more trip in between now and the third week in August when I move to Ontario. Does it really make sense? All that effort and risk to get to the top only to turn around and come back down? I guess maybe Mallory had it right. There isn't a rational expression for why we do this. Perhaps next time I'll pick a less popular peak, so I can feel a bit more special.

Thanks to Deirdre O'Reilly and Claude Lapointe for helping me get up Mt. Temple.

A New Publication Medium?

With the speed of communication these days, it seemed well past appropriate time to try blogs as a means of publishing trip reports and other news of the Saskatchewan Section of the Alpine Club of Canada. Our members are often off having fun in the outdoors: rock and ice climbing, backcountry skiing, adventure racing, hiking, canoeing..., the list is pretty extensive, and we can use this as a rapid way to pass on information about their experiences.

In addition, a new Facebook page for the Section has been created featuring up-to-date news, pictures, events, members, videos.... Check us out.

As always, we have our Section's website which will remain one of our primary sources for Section activities and news.

So, if you've been on a trip or have other Section news to pass on, let us know.