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.