According to my (current) grand plan, one year from today, 22 March 2023, will be my last working day at my current job. Almost exactly 31 years after I began my training as an air traffic controller, I will be making my final transmission to an aircraft.
Unfortunately, I’ve let myself get a little bit out of shape over the past year, despite a couple of good trips last summer and fall. This gives me a year to get into “post-career” shape. And why am I keen to get into better shape for my retirement? Because I plan to hike!
The purpose behind retiring at that time of year is quite simply so that I can leave my job, and begin a five-month long hike.
I intend to fly down to the US/Mexican border, and walk all the way, via the Pacific Crest Trail, home to Canada, where I will begin my life without work.
A lot of people say that hiking the 2650 miles (4265 km) of the PCT is a life-changing experience. I figure, why not do so when my life is about to undergo one of the most dramatic changes in my day-to-day life that I will ever experience?
Plans for this summer
I already have a few adventures planned for the next few months.
Two weeks in Scotland in May
A week in the Rockies in July
A trip around the Bowron Lakes Canoe Circuit in September
Hopefully, a trip up to Lake Lovelywater this summer
I hope to be a little more regular in updating this blog, documenting both my ongoing adventures, and my preparations for one of the biggest undertakings I expect I’ll ever set out on.
Don’t know whether anyone will read this, but I really want to chronicle it somewhere, even if it is only for myself.
Castle Towers is a mountain that Jeff and I had been wanting to climb for a while. It involves a long trek into the Garibaldi Park backcountry, an overnight stay, and a lot of up and down over many kilometers!
We met at Jeff’s place in North Vancouver at just after 5:30 AM, and were soon on our way. After a quick stop at the Zephyr Cafe in Squamish, we arrived at the parking lot for Cheakamus Lake a little before 8:00, and did a final gear sort. We were on the trail by 8:15.
After stashing a brace of beers in the creek for the return, we crossed the Cheakamus River and started steeply up toward Helm Creek Campground.
As we climbed steadily up into the heart of the park, despite some blue patches in the sky, the weather slowly became worse. We reached the campground after about 3 hours of hiking, and stopped for a bite to eat.
Reaching the open area of meadows near Helm Creek Campground. The Black Tusk is playing peek-a-boo directly ahead.Two happy hikers approaching Helm Creek Campground.
We continued up toward the Helm Glacier, and planned to traverse up on the left side of the glacier, all the way up to the head of the valley. As we turned up the valley, we watched a couple of marmots who were having a bit of a tussle. Another was nearby. I have some video somewhere, and will upload soon…
As we looked up the valley, we were disappointed to see more snow than we expected trailing up the slopes beside the glacier. The going didn’t look nearly as good from this vantage point as we had hoped.
Looking up the Helm Glacier. The snow on the left side was going to be our route. Didn’t look great from here. Instead we cut left, up a steep slope (not visible) to joint the left skyline.
We made a quick change of plan, and headed steeply up to the left, to reach the ridge line east of the glacier, and south of Helm Peak. It was a steep, gruelling ascent, and once we reached the top of the ridge, the weather really closed in around us.
Heading up the side of the valley, and into the murk.
As we followed the ridge, the rain began to spatter down, and we were totally engulfed in cloud. Because we couldn’t see very far, we couldn’t tell whether it was possible to bypass the various bumps and peaks along the ridge. Rather than risk attempting to bypass these features, and end up cliffed out as the terrain got steeper and steeper, we ended up going up and over every single feature along the ridge, adding a lot of unnecessary up and down to the approach. I didn’t take any photos once the fog got really thick, but you can get the idea of deteriorating conditions below…
The fog begins to close in.
Finally, 7 hours after beginning the approach, and thoroughly tired and wet, we reached the head of Helm Glacier, and started the steep descent down slippery grass meadows into Gentian Pass, our destination for the night.
Our route drops down into this saddle, and off the left side into the abyss of Gentian Pass.
When we arrived at our planned camping area, at about 4 PM, the wind was driving, and the rain was like needles on our skin. We decided it was best to set up our tents as quickly as possible, rather than stand shivering in the elements. Conditions were not suitable for taking photos!
Setting up the tents was quite a challenge under those conditions, and when we finally did get them pitched, we each crawled into our respective abodes for a bit of shelter in our bedraggled states. We each also cracked open a beer to reward ourselves for a job well done. I managed to doze off for a little while, as well.
Settling in for a nap. Note the (now empty) beer can next to the door of the tent.
Things eventually quieted down outside, and we emerged from our tents around 7 PM to think about dinner. The rain had cleared off, the wind had dropped to almost nothing, and there were once again breaks in the clouds! We hung some of our wet things out to dry on some nearby snags, and set about preparing some hot food.
Our campsite for the night.The drying pole.
Bellies filled, we retired to our sleeping bags to rest up for a big day to follow..
The next morning we were up bright and early, and the day was looking fantastic. There were a few scattered low clouds around and some high wispy cirrus clouds, but nothing appeared threatening. We had some breakfast, and tidied up camp, packing everything into our tents before we left.
A bright, sunny morning!
Again, 8:15 was out departure time, and we made quick time heading out of camp up toward Polemonium Ridge. That quick pace didn’t last very long, however, as the route was a long, steady climb up, up, up. Still, we managed to reach the top of the ridge in just over an hour. As we moved up, the views continually improved.
Starting up toward the summit of Gentian Ridge. Castle Towers is the tallest summit just left of centre.The views opening up over Garibaldi Lake. Labels via the Peakfinder App.
We stopped for a quick snack, and strapped on our helmets before starting a steep, rocky descent down the other end of the ridge. Soon we were out of danger from loose rock, and started up the other side of the pass toward Castle Towers.
The top of Castle Towers (well, not actually the “top” as the route only goes to the lower of two summits – the true summit was beyond our comfort level!) is only about 1 km travel from the pass, but an ascent of over 400 meters. You could call it steep!
There were a couple of steep snow fields along the way, and we pulled out our helmets, crampons and ice axes to be safe. Again, the views opened up magnificently, particularly over Garibaldi Lake.
Snow time. Ice axe, helmet, and crampons coming out.Great spot for a selfie!Jeff scrambling up some of the rocks close to the summit.
We reached the summit (well, our summit) a few minutes after noon, and took a couple of photos. We then dropped to just below the summit block, and snacked for a little bit.
Looking northeast, with a peek-a-boo view of Cheakamus Lake.Looking northwest, with The Black Tusk dominating the left skyline.Great views as we enjoy a snack.
Looking around, we could see that there were some troubling clouds beginning to gather around the area. The Black Tusk began to play peek-a-boo, and there was a lot of development down towards Squamish, beyond Mount Garibaldi. Soon, we began our descent.
Starting down one of the snow slopes. The Black Tusk is now partly shrouded in cloud.Stopping to pack away our ice axes
Once again, we stopped atop Polemonium Ridge for a bite to eat, and to get a few last photos of the day’s destination. Then, the long, steady trip back down to camp.
Climbing out of the pass toward the summit of Polemonium Ridge, looking back up where we’d been shortly before.Rounding the top of Polemonium Ridge on the way back.
When we were approaching camp, and our tents grew from tiny specks on the gravel into recognizable objects, something didn’t appear right. Jeff’s tent looked… messed up. It appeared to be partly opened, and no longer fully standing. We became very concerned that perhaps a bear had gone for a little look-see in camp.
As we were coming down the ridge, we took this photo to try zoom in and see what was happening with the tent on the left.
When we actually reached the tents, there was a great sense of relief. The gravel that we had set up on had just softened with all the rain the previous day, and one or two of Jeff’s tent pegs had pulled out, causing one side of the tent to collapse in on itself. No bears here!
We had taken quite a while to get to the summit and back. A trip of 3 km each way, so 6 in total, had taken us six hours. Yup, we averaged 1 km/h. Probably one of the slower hikes I’ve done! But we were in no rush, there was a bit of complicated micro-terrain to work through in a couple of places, and we still had a long hike out ahead of us.
We packed up our tents, and began the hike out shortly before 4 PM. We knew that the hike out would take quite a while, and we would be pushing dark by the time we got back, but it was a well established trail, and we had headlamps!
The trip back was much easier than the hike in had been, and the views much more pleasant. Once we climbed up and out of Gentian Pass (up, up, up the slippery grassy meadows), the trip along the ridge toward Helm Peak had much more expansive views. What’s more, we could actually see where we were going, and bypass some of the bumps along the way.
Starting back up Gentian Ridge. Castle Towers is on the left, and starting to get socked in by cloud.Heading up the ridge, we passed this strange, spindly, space probe looking thing. Turns out it was a weather station recording information for a university program.Some of the peaks along Gentian Ridge that we were able to skirt around, because we could see the terrain on the way back!Helm Peak, the evil looking spire just right of centre, looks intimidating, even from here. It’s even scarier close up, as I learned in the summer of 2020.
The route back down to Helm Creek Campground was also more straightforward, following the ridge down almost all the way to the groomed trail, rather than the makeshift route we took up the side of the valley on the way in. The ridge is still brutally steep, coming up or going down, but at least there is a rudimentary trail.
At 7:15, we passed through the campground, and continued down the hill.
Once again, we passed through Helm Creek Campground, and the clouds were starting to clear away. The previous day, there was one party in the campground, and they were on their way out. This time, it was a Friday evening, and there were a lot more people up to enjoy the weekend.
We reached the bridge across Cheakamus Creek at 9:00, and grabbed our chilled beverages on the way by. We cruised back along the trail, and reached the parking lot just around full dark, at 9:35.
Overall, we hiked about 31 km in total, and climbed/descended over 2900 meters of elevation, over the course of two days. The trip was a memorable experience, getting deep into the backcountry of Garibaldi Park.
Part two of my trip along the West Highland Way, from Glasgow to Fort William. Part one can be found here.
Day 3
I had a fairly good night’s sleep at Sallochy Campsite, and woke up shortly after 7:00. I was amazed at the number of midges that were swarming around the outside of the bug mesh of my tent. This would not be the last time – it was a recurring theme on this trip!
Most of the day was spent hiking north along the shoreline of Loch Lomond. Fortunately, the weather stayed nice for most of the day. Unfortunately, it kind of got ugly later in the day…
The route had now narrowed into an actual trail. Up to this point, it was mostly either a gravel or dirt road, or a pathway alongside a paved road. Now the trail (very developed, with a groomed gravel surface) wandered along the lochside, through ferny forests, and across lovely babbling brooks.
The trail following a road, the day before.
Looking northward, along the edge of Loch Lomond
I passed a fairly large hotel, the Inversnaid Hotel, around 2:30 in the afternoon. There appeared to be a wedding going on, and I saw the bride and groom posing for photos near a waterfall below the trail. I made sure I didn’t photobomb them!
A view of the Inversnaid Hotel through the trees
At 3:00, I rounded a point, and had a view up toward the north end of the loch. There were some dark, foreboding clouds up that way, and I began to hear the sounds of distant thunder.
Along this section of trail, I came upon one of the more interesting trail features I saw: a little gathering of three tables and some chairs made of wood, in the form of oak leaves and acorns. Very cute!
Acorn and leaf trail-side accouterments!
Shortly after 4:00, a little bit of rain began. It was just a little light shower activity, but I donned my rain shell, just in case. A little while later, I strolled across a field with an abandoned old house, and a smaller stone building at the far end. This was my first bothy!
What is a bothy, you ask? “A bothy is a basic shelter, usually left unlocked and available for anyone to use free of charge… Most bothies are ruined buildings which have been restored to a basic standard, providing a windproof and watertight shelter. They vary in size from little more than a large box up to two-storey cottages.“ – Wikipedia
The bothy had a trio of people inside already, and I joined them. It began raining much harder outside, as an actual thunderstorm came rolling through. The bothy was a solid stone building, with a couple of raised sleeping platforms. There were just a few small, deep-set windows in the walls, which made the place quite dark inside.
I sat down on one of the sleeping platforms, just below a window, and pulled out my book for a while. A few other people came in and dried out, then carried on. There was a bit of conversation among the occupants, but each group mostly seemed to keep to themselves. As a solo traveller, I didn’t chat much with the others…
Home for the night was going to be a campground at Beinglas Farm, which was a little over three km along the trail. The rain seemed to be pretty much done by about 6:00, so I packed my things back up, and got on my way.
Fifteen minutes before I got to the campground, the skies opened up. Seriously, the rain came down hard! Truly a deluge, for the remaining 20 minutes on the trail. I splashed into the campground, and was thrilled to see that there was a warm, dry pub on offer! I shed my rain layers, paid for a campsite, and sat down to a dinner of cullen skink, bread, and Guinness(es).
After a little while, the rain began to ease, and I went out to set up my tent. With the rain dying off, the midges began to reappear. I set up the tent and got right in. Later in the evening, someone was playing live music in the pub, and it sounded pretty good! Unfortunately, I knew that exiting the tent, and getting back in later, would permit far too many midges inside. I declined to do so…
6 June, 2018. It was about 4 in the afternoon when I arrived back at my campground for the night. I had just spent 8 hours hiking up and over Càrn Mòr Dearg and Ben Nevis, and I was bone tired. More than that, I was incredibly discouraged. The hike had been only about 18.5km, with a cumulative elevation gain and loss of less than 1500m. On top of that, the whole thing began and ended very close to sea level. There was no reason that it should have tired me out the way it did! I was in good shape, and very accustomed to trips of that length and difficulty.
I thought about the general plans I had over the next few days. Nothing really well defined, but the goal was to do a lot of vertical, up and down a bunch of Munros for the next week or so. Feeling the way I did after Day 1, I realized I wasn’t ready for it.
I think the major problem was the jet lag, and lack of sleep from my sleepless 9 hour red-eye flight. An additional issue was that I was a bit anemic – a situation spotted during a platelet donation just a couple of days prior to my trip. I am basically a vegetarian (I do eat some seafood) and had not been keeping up on my supplemental iron recently. It was showing. I wasn’t desperately low on iron, but low enough that I had to be deferred for a couple of months. The low iron count was certainly a factor in the fatigue I felt.
Anyway, long story only veryslightly less long, I didn’t feel up to tons of ascents and descents right away.
I hopped on the internet, and looked into some options. One that jumped out at me right away was the West Highland Way. When I was driving from Glasgow to Fort William, I had seen glimpses of people hiking a trail alongside the road, along this route.
The West Highland Way starts on the outskirts of Glasgow, and winds 154 km to Fort William. The elevation gain was fairly substantial overall (I ended up averaging about 600m of gain/loss per day over six days) but it started slowly over the first couple of days, increasing as the trail went on.
Anyway, with very little preparation, I lay in my tent that evening, and arranged my transportation online. I packed up my backpack, and tried to get some sleep.
Day 1
I woke early on the 7th of June, and packed up. Everything went either into my backpack, or into the trunk of my rental VW Golf. I drove into Fort William, and tried to figure out where to park for a week, where I wouldn’t be towed. The “long term” lots around town were no good for anything over 24 hours. Finally I went and asked in the train station. I was told that I could park around the back of the station, at my own risk. No cost, no time limit, perfect!
I parked the car, and then kept looking back, hoping I had everything I needed. Mostly, I did…
I hopped on the CityLink bus to Glasgow, and we pulled out at 9:00 AM. While we traveled, I tried to figure out (on my phone) where I would stay that first night. I knew that I would be in a national park that had limited opportunities for camping permits. There were none available for that night, however. I did find a hotel in Drymen, though, which would give me a 19 km first day. No problem.
Time to take the bus to Glasgow!
After almost three hours, I arrived at the Anniesland station in Glasgow, and changed onto a train for the 12 minute, £2.80 trip to Milngavie.
It was just after 12:30 in the afternoon, and I had about 4-5 hours of walking ahead of me. I decided not to linger. I realized that I had left my toothpaste and toothbrush in the car, and made a quick stop in a grocery store to grab those things. At 12:45, I found the start of the walk, and began my trek!
Starting the West Highland Way in Milngavie.
I realized later that I probably should have picked up some sort of guide or map or something near the start of the route. Turns out I never would pick one up, and just got by using Google Maps and my GPS app…
The first day took me through a lot of farmlands on the outskirts of Glasgow. It was more rural than suburban, but definitely was a very settled area. There were a lot of gates that needed opening and closing, to keep livestock from escaping. One thing that I found very cool was all of the cuckoos that I kept hearing! That’s something we don’t have in BC, and it was strange to hear such a familiar sound (of a cuckoo clock) out in nature.
The 19 km trip, with about 250 meters of total elevation gain and loss was utterly exhausting for me. It took almost five hours, and I was really dragging my feet by the time I arrived at my hotel!
When I got checked in, I found it impossible to leave the room. I had thought I might head to a pub for food and a pint, but there was no way. I boiled water in the supplied kettle, and ate one of my dehydrated meals. Then I slept. I slept fitfully, unfortunately, but at least I slept…
That first night, I realized that I’d forgotten a couple of other things in the car. I had no contact lens case with me. That night, I ended up emptying a couple of small cream containers from the complimentary in-room coffee service, giving them a good wash, and filling them with contact lens solutions – which I fortunately had!
I also realized I’d forgotten my travel electrical adapter, so I had no way to plug in my USB charger. I was able to borrow one at some of the places I stayed at night (hotels and campgrounds) but I did have to be careful with my phone usage!
One more important lesson this day: I learned that there are also privatecampgrounds in the area, in addition to the park campgrounds. Turns out I could have stayed in an £8 campsite instead of the £60 hotel…
Day 2
I was up fairly early on the 8th. I found the closest chemist and asked about a contact lens case. Well, the only way I could get one was included in a pack of two travel-sized bottles of solution. So that added to my pack weight…
Once I had that sorted, it was off for a bit of breakfast at Skoosh. This place is a wee tearoom on the Drymen high street, and they make an excellent breakfast! I had a full Scottish breakfast, with all the vegetarian options, and it was an excellent way to start the day!
Back to the hotel, to load up the pack and check out, and I was on the road at the crack of 10:30!
About an hour into the day, I started getting some glimpses of Loch Lomond in the distance. It disappeared again for a while, as the trail climbed up the east side of Conic Hill. Cresting the top of Conic Hill, two and a half hours into the day, there was a lovely view encompassing the southern third of the Loch. Lots of people were on top of the hill, about 350 meters above the lake. Pretty impressive, considering it was early on a Friday afternoon.
Looking over Loch Lomond from Conic Hill
After taking a few photos, I started down the west side of Conic Hill, headed for the wee village of Balmaha. Once there, I popped in to the Oak Tree Inn for a pub lunch – Cullen Skink – and pint of Guinness. Some fine sustenance for the rest of the day.
I continued up the side of Loch Lomond, northbound, and at about 4:00 I reached Sallochy Campground, my home for the night. I had booked it online the night before, and was pleased to get a site in this location. It made for another 20 km day, which was just fine, as I was still very tired and having trouble covering a lot of distance. This second day also included a lot more elevation than the first had – more than twice as much, at around 550 meters total. The weather had been fairly warm through the day, and I drank a lot of water when I arrived!
The campsite was just fantastic! I was in one of the lochside spots (Site 6), and it was quite secluded from the other sites. An idyllic spot with great views over the loch. The campground was quite busy in the large, central common camping field, it being a Friday evening. It was certainly quiet in my site, though.
Monday, the 30 July, 2018, I hiked up to Wedgemount Lake, in Garibaldi Provincial Park, intending to stay for three nights. The hike was rather grueling, and was done in very hot, sunny weather. Distance was about 7 km (just under 5 miles), according to all the websites I read (I didn’t bother tracking it on my GPS) with an elevation gain of almost 1200 m (4000 feet).
Nearing the top of the trail to Wedgemount Lake, just over the ridgeline ahead.
Cresting the hill, arriving at Wedgemount Lake
It took me 2 hours 45 minutes to the hut, and another 1 km along the lake (in 15 minutes) to get to my camping spot. The lake is just gorgeous, set within a circle of imposing mountains – to the southeast, Wedge Mountain, the highest mountain in Garibaldi Provincial Park, with Parkhurst mountain to the west of it, and the imposing Mount Rethel directly south of the Wedgemount Hut itself. To the northeast is Mount Weart, the second highest peak in the park, after Wedge. From much of the lake, the peak itself is not visible, due to a subsidiary peak (very daunting, itself) in between. And west of Weart is Mount Cook, directly north of the hut, which appears as a large ridge dominating the northern skyline.
A view of Mount Rethel from my campsite alongside Wedgemount Lake, July 2018
Mount Weart, behind a sibsidiary peak, viewed from east of Wedgemount Hut.
On Tuesday morning, I hiked up to Mount Weart, which tops out at 2835 m (9301 feet). The round trip was a little over 7 km, with a gain (and subsequent loss!) of almost 980 meters. The trip took 7 1/2 hours, of which an hour and a half was spent on the summit (enjoying lunch, taking photos, re-applying sunscreen, and generally soaking up the ambiance).
The bottom of Wedgemount Glacier, east of Wedgemount Lake.
A view from higher up the route, with the glacier on the left, and Wedgemount Lake farther beyond on the right.
Some snow, higher on the route to Mount Weart.
Climbing toward the ridgeline on Mount Weart. Still smiling!
Finally on top of the southeast ridge of Mount Weart. About half an hour or so to the summit…
Looking back down the ridge, when nearing the summit of Mount Weart.
On the summit, I took some photos, and sat to enjoy lunch. I also discovered that I had cell service, so I contacted my wife, and then posted a photo to Instagram. (Did it really happen, otherwise?)
The cairn atop Mount Weart, with Wedge Mountain beyond.
Summit of Mount Weart, with Wedgemount Lake below.
I also met up with a couple that arrived a little while after me, at the summit of Mount Weart. We had discussed, down at the lake, whether they had time to do the hike or not, since they had commitments later that evening, in Whistler. They decided to give it a go, and were glad they did! I think they ended up being late for their barbecue, but it was, most assuredly, worth it!
On the summit of Mount Weart, with new friends!
The trip back down the mountain was fairly arduous, and took almost as long as the ascent. I started down just after these new friends, and caught up to them on the ridge. We walked for a while together, but they stopped for a while when we reached the snow slopes below the headwall.
Descending below the headwall of Mount Weart.
I continued on my own, checking behind me once in a while, seeing how they were progressing as well. There was a lot of very loose rock, particularly just below those snow slopes. At one point, I felt a large boulder that I stepped on begin to shift, and I leapt forward to firmer ground. The boulder let loose, and carried another, both of them about 75-100 cm in diameter, downhill. They hit some larger rocks 10 meters down the slope, an shattered into pieces. I hit my foot hard when landing on solid ground, and still feel the bruising in my heel while writing this 10 days later… Could have been much worse!
When just reaching the edge of the glacier, and prior to the route turning further west (where I could no longer see them), I watched until the other guys got below what I considered to be the trickiest part of the route – a series of cliffy steps beside a steep waterfall. When they appeared to be past the worst of that, I continued along much easier terrain back to camp. I saw them head past my tent a while later, looking tired, but very pleased with the day!
Tuesday evening, after climbing Mount Weart, camping alongside Wedgemount Lake.
For the first time, I carried my lightweight camp chair (only $26 USD on Amazon.com!) on a backpacking trip. Light, small, and comfortable. Unfortunately, the horseflies were ferocious while at camp, and the wind just wasn’t strong enough to keep them off – and Deet was useless. I ended up spending most of my time inside the tent, despite the heat. (I had to lift the edges of the tent fly significantly for better ventilation from the occasional wafts of breeze.)
Wednesday morning, I was planning to head up Mount Rethel. It is located on the other side of the lake, and requires you to cross the outlet of the lake, then cross a long scree slope along the lake, before heading up some steep snow slopes. I packed up my ice axe and micro-spike trail crampons, and set you. After about a half an hour of hunting around, I finally found my way to the lake’s outlet.
Unfortunately, the traverse of the outlet was a little more than I had bargained for. I was hoping for a few boulders that I could carefully negotiate. What I found was either: 1) lower down, a raging torrent with huge gaps between boulders, or 2) higher up, a wide (15-20 m) expanse of shallow (maybe 15-20 cm), slower moving water with jagged, rocky footing. There really wasn’t a spot that I could “boulder hop” across. If I had had some sandals/crocs and maybe hiking poles, I would have crossed it, but there was no way I could do it in bare feet. The footing was too sharp, and if I lost my balance and fell, there was a chance I could be quite hurt, or worse, carried into the torrent below.
The outlet of Wedgemount Lake, higher up, where it was wide and shallow, but very rocky.
A view showing where the outlet of Wedgemount Lake becomes narrower, faster, and deeper.
I decided to change my goal for the day, and head up Mount Cook. It was the mountain that I had planned to hike up on Thursday morning, prior to hiking packing up and hiking back to the car. I turned around, and started up Cook instead. Unfortunately, I carried the extra weight of the trail crampons and ice axe, which would not be needed on that hike. Oh well…
My first really good view of Mount Cook, after leaving the outlet of Wedgemount Creek. West Summit on the left side of the ridge, true summit on the right.
The other problem with the change in destination is that I didn’t bring the beta along with me. Now, the beta was pretty simple – along the lines of, “go up a junipery and bouldery gully to a scree slope, go uphill, turn right, and keep going.” But there was a photo of the approach, with an arrow, giving the gist of the route. I didn’t have that with me – and I got it wrong…
To begin with, the route I took was fine. I headed back past the hut, and followed a trail toward the slopes heading north. On the way, a trio of marmots curiously peeked at me…
Three marmots looking at me from alongside the trail. Can’t see them all? Click the photo to see a full size version with arrows pointing them out!
Turns out I went too far left, too soon. The route I took got me there, but it was not pretty. Lots of bashing through a nasty bunch of scrubby tree, with terrible footing around them, then up a super steep meadow with boulder chutes, to reach the proper ridgeline.
Looking down at Wedgemount Lake from the scree slopes of Mount Cook.
And speaking of the ridge – it is truly ugly. I have slogged my way up some nasty slopes before, but this was one of the nastiest, slipperiest, most prolonged slog-fests I have ever experienced. In some sections, it felt like every step was about to bring the entire mountain down around me.
An idea of the scree slopes heading up Mount Cook. Very loose and sharp.
The steep ridge brought me to the “west summit”, after which the gently ascending line to the main summit was much nicer. There was even a nice notch to drop down into, and scramble up the other side – that bit was actually quite fun.
West summit of Mount Cook.
Scrambling section prior to the summit of Mount Cook. The route was big and blocky and only slightly exposed.
The summit of Mount Cook has great views, but there was a lot of cloud coming into the area from the southeast. Weart played peekaboo through the inconsistent cloud – now you see me, now you don’t. I was glad I’d been up there the day before, rather than this day.
Looking past the summit cairn on Mount Cook toward the summit of Mount Weart.
After a few selfies and an Instagram post (yeah, I’m that guy, I guess) I started back down, with hopes of finding the correct route, this time. Just as I approached the West Summit again (about to drop down the steep stuff…) the clouds, which had been holding well above me up until now, suddenly threatened to sock in the hill. A big, thick mass came at me, and for a moment everything became very dim. Fortunately, that single low-lying cloud moved on, and I was in the clear again.
Threatening clouds while descending the Mount Cook rubble pile.
Long story only slightly less long, I did manage to find the correct route down, and the return to the lake was much more pleasant that the approach had been.
Total travel time up (although this includes the time exploring the option of crossing the lake outlet toward Mount Rethel) was about 3 hours 50 minutes (!!) – for a hike that is listed as 1.5-2 hours up, in the guidebook. That covered a total of 5 km, and almost 800 m of ascent. The return trip, on the other hand (via the correct route) was just under 3.5 km, in 2 hours.
When I got back to the lake, I decided that I might as well pack up and head back down to the car, rather than staying the one additional night I had planned. I was not going to be ascending another peak in the morning, and I still had lots of time to get back down. In addition, in bashing through the mini trees while off-route in the morning, I had managed to get tree sap all over my hands and forearms, as well as on the front of my knees and thighs. I really didn’t want to get that stuff all over my quilt, and I didn’t have any faith that I’d be able to wash it off without soap.
So, that’s what I did – packed up, and headed back to the car. The three hour trip up was almost exactly 2 hours in reverse. By the end of the day, including Mount Cook, I’d ascended about 800 meters, and descended over 1900 m.
A long, tiring day, to finish a tiring, but fulfilling trip!
We had spend two days on the Hudson Bay Brigade Trail, taking us to the Sowaqua Creek Forest Service Road. The morning of the third day, we had an emergency take place in camp, and one of the groups that had shared the camp had to be evacuated. (See: The Hudson Bay Brigade Trail Part I)
By the time the affected group had been evacuated, and we were packed and ready to go, it was after one in the afternoon. Fortunately, the trip back to the previous night’s campsite was just a short one. By 4:30 PM, the tent was set up in Colvile Camp, and we settled in for a relaxed dinner and evening.
Chester relaxing outside the tent at Colvile Camp.
At this point, we (that is, my dog Chester and I) had kind of joined up with the group of three that we had met on the first day; we were kind of a loose confederation of hiking groups. We didn’t hike together along the trail, but we met up now and then when stopping for a break, and leap-frogged along the trail.
We had a pleasant evening at Colvile Camp, and played some cards and conversed late into the evening. Another group also joined us the the fire for a while, and the company was enjoyable.
A bit of socializing by the fire at Colvile Camp.
The next morning, July 4th, was the final day on the trail. We packed up, and were on our way sometime around 9:30 or so. This last section of trail, which had been the first day’s travel coming the other way, was to be about 11 km, with 600 m of elevation gain, and 1100 m of loss. In other words, not an easy day, but no marathon.
Between Colvile and Manson’s Camp (halfway back to the car) Chester and I got quite a way ahead of the other group. We stopped at Manson’s Camp and rested for a bit. We had quite a bit to drink (there is a small stream there) and lay down in the shade for a bit. Chester was particularly tuckered, and I got out his sleeping pad for a bit of a nap.
A tuckered Chester takes a well deserved rest at Manson’s Camp.
After a while, the other guys caught up to us, just as we were preparing to head out again. We said our goodbyes, and wished one another the best. Chester and I, all rested up, would easily beat them back to the parking lot, so this was the last we would see of them – or so we thought!
Another ten minutes along the trail, and Chester suddenly refused to go any farther. I coaxed and cajoled as best I could, but he just wouldn’t continue. We had another 5 km to travel, and about 500 m to descend. He seemed to be exhausted and overheated, and unwilling to go another step. After a bit, I tried to carry him for a while, but I couldn’t keep that up for long. I tried rigging up his pack as a kind of sling, and it helped for a bit, but only temporarily.
Chester gave up and laid down next to the trail. He would go no further.
Eventually, I just stopped, and waited for the others to catch up. I was exhausted and discouraged. I’m not sure what I had in mind – perhaps see if they could carry some of my load, and try to put Chester into my pack? At this point I don’t even remember exactly…
After a while, I heard their voices approaching from up the trail. Chester heard them, too, and jumped up to see them as they came into view. Well, he got very excited to see them again. Turns out, that was all it took to get him hiking again, and he was fine the rest of the way to the car!
Chester was happy to follow his new friends all the way back to the car!
A short while later, we were back to the car, and on our way home in air conditioned comfort…
July 2017. I had the first eleven days of the month off of work, and wanted to do some backpacking. I had a new home made tent, and a new home made down quilt and I wanted to try them out. I had a 3 week long backpacking trip planned, starting in eight weeks, and was keen to get working on trail-shape!
I planned two “solo” trips for my time off; the first one (this trip) included my dog, Chester, and the second was without him.
My hiking buddy, Chester
I had never heard of the Hudson Bay Brigade Trail before, but while looking online for nearby trail ideas, I began to learn about it. It seemed like a good option for a trail on which I could take Chester along.
We arrived at the trailhead on the morning of July 1st, and found one car parked there. While we unpacked the car (and took photos for Chester’s Instagram page) another car arrived, with three guys planning a very similar trip to mine. We discussed how we had no idea whether we would see zero cars at the trailhead, or twenty – the trail was that unfamiliar to all of us. We didn’t know it at the time, but we would end up sharing campsites for all three nights on the trail.
Chester posing nicely at the trailhead
Turns out the trail is well marked, and in quite good shape, considering how relatively unknown it is. The designated campsites don’t have a whole lot of infrastructure (tent pads in particular) but there were some amenities available…
The first day, we ran into a few other parties who were also on the trail. Chester and I mostly hiked alone. The day comprised a total of about 12km of hiking, and an elevation gain of about 1200m, and loss of about 600m.
One of the trail markers along the route
Chester near Manson’s Ridge
When we arrived at the first night’s camp, there was one couple there, already setting up. Another few parties trickled in as well, and a nice evening was spent at the picnic table and benches, visiting with the neighbours.
Tuckered dog in camp, after the first day’s hiking
On day two, some of the folks from camp were heading west, while we continued east, aiming for Sowaqua Camp that night – a much less ambitious day than day one had been! This time we covered about 7.5km, gained 415m, and lost 595m, over a short trip of under four hours travelling.
On the morning of day three, I considered hiking up toward Deer Camp, which would take us up into alpine territory and what looked like a lovely area. We could leave most of our gear behind, hike up, then return and hike back to Colville Camp, where we had spend the first night.
However, that plan was not to be. While packing up the tent, we heard some noise from the logging road that passed close by camp. A guy had driven by on an ATV a while earlier, at great speed. When he returned the other way, one of the guys camping along the road’s edge flagged him down, and asked if could go more slowly when passing campers along the road. ATV-guy invited him to engage in a sex act with himself, and roared off. I know, shocking, right?
Well, young buck camper dude wasn’t about to take that lying down. He reached down to grab a rock, and hurl it at ATV-guy — and violently dislocated his shoulder doing so. The air became thick and blue with the sound of his own cursing…
So there we were, young dude and his significant other (and their dog), the three other guys I’d first met at the trailhead, and Chester and I. We helped get the victim comfortable, lying under the shade of a tarp (it was turning into a very hot day.)
Shoulder guy under a tarp, with girlfriend and dog nearby.
We were many hours of hiking away from a road or a phone. There was no cell coverage whatsoever. But what did I have in my pack? An InReach satellite communication device. For the first time ever, I activated the SOS function.
Long story only very slightly shorter, a couple of ATVs with Hope SAR volunteers and a paramedic showed up a while later. They stabilized the afflicted dude, and prepared to transport him out.
Injured hiker heading for the ATV to ride down to a waiting ambulance
Via my InReach, my wife let me know that the BC Ambulance people were going to send in a helicopter. ATV guys said it wasn’t necessary, and tried to call it off over the radio – but the message never got through. Just as dude was getting in the ATV, the helicopter arrived.
Helicopter arrival
Good thing, too, because they couldn’t possibly have evacuated his girlfriend, the dog, and the TEN TONS of gear they had in their packs, via the ATVs. With young dude winging away in the chopper, the logistics worked out, and a few minutes later, all was quiet again in camp.
Chester tied up away from the helicopter landing area
The party of four, and Chester and I finished packing up, and set off on the return journey toward the cars…
So, I learned that the “Big Three” are the quickest and easiest way to slim down the load that you lug around on your back while backpacking. I went to a much lighter, slimmer pack. And I made my own lightweight tent. Time to think about my sleep system.
Why down?
I decided to start with a down quilt, because that is the lightest option available. Living near and backpacking in the mountains of British Columbia, however, means that moisture is frequently part of the equation. What that means, is that this will not be my only quilt.
Down is great when it stays dry, and can keep its loft. A few days (or even hours) in a rainy environment can quickly negate any benefits of using down. You end up with a bag of what feels like damp oatmeal, with zero warmth whatsoever.
Nonetheless! A down quilt is light, warm, and awesome, if you can keep it dry. And backpacking in the summer in BC often provides long stretches of dry, sunny weather!
Why a quilt?
A quilt is a very efficient way to stay warm. When using a sleeping bag, the insulation that is under your body doesn’t actually do anything to keep you warm. Once it is flattened by body weight, there is little insulating value at all, so it is pretty much wasted weight. What is more important is the insulating value of the pad or mat that is used. (More about that later…)
As long as a sufficiently warm pad is used, you really just need enough material to cover your body, and tuck close enough to prevent drafts.
The hood on mummy bags also include a lot of wasted material. Other than in extreme conditions (winter mountaineering, say) it is more efficient to cover yourself to the neck with a quilt, and then put a warm layer on your head. A tuque is usually sufficient, but in very cold conditions, I take along a home made down hood, which I made for use with my quilt. It weighs about 30 grams, and keeps head and neck toasty warm!
Outer fabric for the Sweaty Brow down quilt. The fabric is .9 ounce per square yard, 15 denier poly taffeta in Burnt Orange.
Where did the design come from?
I did a bit of looking around on the interweb, and cobbled together ideas from a couple of different places. The most important is from the same guy I based my tent on – he goes by “dubber” on YouTube. Here is a link to his down quilt construction video. Another useful source was Joe, at Backcountry Banter, who had less of the “nitty gritty” than dubber, but good design thoughts.
I ended up making a Karo Step quilt, which has partially open baffling, permitting the down to be shifted when required, and greatly simplifying the stuffing process. All the down gets placed in at once, and spread throughout, rather than having to measure out the down, and place it into different chambers.
Transfer of down from the bag it came in, into the completed quilt shell. Transfer took place in my shower. It was a messy process…
I’m not going to go into full details about the making of the quilt, or the materials, but here are some highlights:
The fill is one pound (454g) 850 FP grey, water resistant treated down.
Total weight is 540 grams.
Length: 66″ (168 cm) Width: 49″ (124 cm) tapering to 34″ ( 86 cm) at the feet.
I made a velcro-in down footbox panel, which can be taken along if it will be cold.
The tapered leg section has snaps to wrap the legs.
The top has an elastic cinch and a snap buckle to click behind the neck and tighten.
The sides have two additional buckles to join onto adjustable straps on the sleeping pad, allowing the user to hold the sides down and cinch them in close, preventing drafts.
The completed down quilt, laying on the front deck. You can get an idea of the simplicity of the baffle layout. Version two will likely have smaller chambers and more baffle material to prevent down movement…
My thoughts:
I have been comfortable under the quilt down to temperatures just below freezing, while wearing long underwear, top and bottom, and my down hood. I’m not sure how much lower I can take it than that, because I am kind of a cold sleeper – I get cold easily, and it can really disturb my sleep if any part of me is chilly.
The only issue I have had with the quilt is that the openings in the baffles seem to be a little bit too big. That is, the down moves just a little bit too easily between the chambers. I move around a fair bit in the night, and the down shifts downward, following gravity and puffing out the edges of the quilt that are laying on either side of me. It takes a while, but once or twice during the night, I find that I have to smack the quilt around a little, to spread the down evenly over the top of my body.
Unfortunately, it is very difficult to change this, once the quilt is complete. It would require removing all the down, and re-opening the seams, then sewing in short sections of baffle material into the gaps. I will think about whether I want to take such an extreme step.
In the meantime, the quilt is super lightweight, and very comfortable – with just a little care-taking during the night – at temperatures around and above freezing. It is great for summer trips, and shoulder season trips at lower elevations.
While doing research on lightweight camping equipment, everything kept coming back to “The Big Three”. Pack, shelter, and “sleep system” (used to be sleeping bag!). The first thing I replaced was my pack. Next on the list was my shelter.
In the past, I have had (and I still have!) a whole bunch of tents, ranging from a “Unishelter” bivy, to a 10-person Coleman job – the Tent Mahal.
The Integral Designs Unishelter in Paria Canyon, Utah.
For solo trips, or with my dog, I have recently used a single person, cheap tent from Alps Mountaineering – the Zephyr 1. I got it on SteepAndCheap.com a few years back, for about $80 USD. It weighs in at only 1625g, or a little over 3.5 pounds (body, fly, and poles). It’s pretty small, but both the dog and I fit inside. There is very little vestibule space.
Zephyr 1 (and Chester) in Squamish
If I feel I need a little more space, I have my MEC Tarn 3 tent. Like the Zephyr, it is a double wall mountaineering style tent, and weighs in at about 3100g – close to seven pounds. Great for spreading out, and for hiding all my gear in when I wander off for the day… And a really nice sized tent for two, despite the weight.
Tarn 3 tent on the West Coast Trail
In the past, I have also used a simple sil-nylon tarp, supported by a pair of trekking poles. It is light-weight, but I wasn’t a fan of the open ends, or of the lack of protection from bugs.
Tarp shelter in Grand Gulch, Utah, 2008
I looked at some ultralight options from the smaller manufacturers, but the prices pretty much took my breath away. So I looked for options… I have a sewing machine, and I know how to use it, so why not? I found this video on YouTube, and was incredibly impressed. It is fully enclosed with mesh, has a full bathtub floor, and doors front and back. It is not free-standing, and requires a pair of trekking poles to pitch. Which is OK, because as I get older I find I like using poles more and more…
I ordered a bunch of material and bits from good old Ripstop By The Roll, and went to work. It is not perfect, but here it is:
Front and back doors open, set up on the front lawn
Front and back doors closed, set up on the lawn
I have used this tent for about fifteen nights, or so, and am pleased with it so far. It weighs about 1050g, plus stakes and poles (carbon fiber trekking poles, 465g) and has a lot more interior space and vestibule space than the Zephyr. I used it on top of Capilano Mountain last fall, where the winds went wild overnight, and it held up just fine. There will be a Version 2.0 eventually, but for now this is working well!
My Sweaty Brow tent, atop Capilano Mountain at sunset. My home-made down quilt is also visible inside.
For a number of years, I had been using a big, old, heavy backpack from Vancouver’s Taiga Works, which I had purchased in the mid 1990s. It was about 75l, and weighed pretty close to a tonne – at least, it seemed that way… I’ve used it in Utah, backpacking the Paria Canyon, and Grand Gulch. I’ve used it on a bunch of trips around Southwest BC, and I’ve used it on the West Coast Trail. In fact, if I need to take everything including the kitchen sink, I still carry it. If I need big capacity, no matter the weight (i.e. no long, high days) it is a great workhorse.
Big ol’ Taiga pack in Buckskin Gulch
A few years ago, I bought an Arc’teryx Bora 50 (discontinued, discounted, from MEC) and it is a really nice pack when you don’t need to carry as much. It is a few pounds less than my Taiga, is very comfortable, and has some great features – but it’s still no lightweight.
My son with the Arc’teryx Bora 50 on the West Coast Trail
At about the time I was starting to get into the idea of hiking the John Muir Trail, I decided to upgrade to a nice new pack. However, I had not yet converted to the “less is more” school of thought. I wanted a modern, large, not necessarily light pack. I went to MEC and picked up a Forge 65l pack. Before I even used it, I started learning about the truly “ultralight” options out there…
I did a little research, and settled on the Zpacks Arc Haul, a backpack with a carrying capacity of about 40 pounds, holding about 60l (including all external pockets), and weighing in at only 680g (24 ounces)! Granted, it was a lot more expensive than the MEC pack, but I was sold. I returned the Forge 65 to MEC.
I have now carried the Arc Haul on a few overnight trips (up to five nights in length) as well as some day trips (at that weight, it is perfectly reasonable as a day pack, and incredibly comfortable!) and I just love the thing. The suspension and hip belt fit like a glove, and it carries everything I need for a solo, multi-day trip (if I am careful about what I’m taking).
I also purchased a hip belt pouch for the pack, from Zpacks. I then bought some material from Ripstop By The Roll and made a matching one for the other side, for less than half the price. I have also made a pouch for one of the shoulder straps, as well.
Unfortunately, I don’t have any photos of me wearing it, other than the straps visible on my shoulders! Here is a link to a good shot of the pack from the Zpacks website. And here is a photo of it atop Mount Harvey, with Howe Sound below. Hey, it’s all I’ve got!
The Zpacks Arc Haul backpack, resting quietly in its natural environment.
