Scrambling – Sweaty Brow Hiking

20 January, 202120 January, 2021

Castle Towers – Backpacking and Scrambling in Garibaldi Park – July 11-12, 2019

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…

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

30 August, 20189 September, 2018

Habrich Ridge – Squamish Hiking/Scrambling – 9 August 2018

It was Thursday morning, and I had been camping in Squamish at the Chief’s Climber’s Campground since Monday. The last couple of days, I had gotten up fairly early, driven up to Whistler, and headed up the lifts to scramble up some peaks in the area. I decided it was time to do something closer (later start in the morning) via the Sea to Sky Gondola.

I decided that I would begin with what Marc Bourdon calls the “Sky Pilot to Mount Habrich Loop” in his book, “Squamish Hiking” but remain on the top of Habrich Ridge, all the way out to the end, then follow marked trails (Robin’s Connector, and Al’s Habrich Ridge Trail) back to the Gondola. In Marc’s book, the ridge is shown as having an “intermittent, poorly marked” trail west of Mount Habrich. I had also read online that people were occasionally having trouble over the past couple of years with linking up the full ridge.

I figured that the trip would be fairly difficult, and a long day out, but wanted to give it a try!

I was on the gondola fairly early, and began hiking up Sky Pilot Valley shortly before 10:00 AM. Shortly after 11, I broke out into an open talus slope at the top of the valley, and turned off of the Sky Pilot Mountain route.

The route up Sky Pilot continues straight ahead. I turned left about 5 minutes further on.

Looking at Habrich Ridge — Here is the spot where I turned off of the Sky Pilot route, looking northwest toward Habrich Ridge. Mount Habrich itself is just visible on the right.

The route then took me through some forest and across some meadows, toward the col between Sky Pilot and Habrich.

A pair of broken skis mark the low point on the Sky Pilot - Habrich col. — A pair of broken skis mark the low point on the Sky Pilot – Habrich col.

Looking back toward Ledge Mountain, Sky Pilot, and the Co-Pilot (L-R).

The low point was about 1440 meters, and then quickly climbed again to about 1600 meters. This was very close to the highest point of the day – there was one minor summit just west of Habrich that was slightly higher, at about 1650 meters. The rest of the day was to be relatively short, but frequent and steep, up- and downhill ridge-walking. Atop the 1600 meter bump, I stopped for about 20 minutes to have some water, and take some photos. The views were getting good!

View of Mount Habrich and its ridge from the high point to the east.

There is a feature on the southeast side of Mount Habrich that was about to become rather important to the progress of my day… The large rounded cliff just below and to the left of the peak is known as “The Brain”.

This big rounded cliff is known as The Brain.

I read through the description of the route in the Squamish Hiking guidebook earlier in the day, and I was aware that I would need to use a fixed rope to ascend the right side of The Brain. The book said that if I had any doubts about my ability to complete the loop (returning to the valley below via a gully on the far side of Mount Habrich), then this high point would be a good point to return the way I came. I was operating under the premise that I would be comfortable completing the loop, so I continued.

Down a few steep gullies, a couple of semi-exposed steps, etc. and I was soon at another low point on the ridge. The Brain stood before me, mostly to my left, with the right edge of it directly in front of me. A clear path headed straight ahead, leading to a steep cliff with a rock corner and a knotted rope hanging down from a tree about 8 meters up. I could see another rope following a steep ramp above and to the right of it.

Naturally, I saw the ropes, and didn’t need to pull out the guidebook and check the description. It was right in front of me!

Before I knew it, I was batmanning up a super steep (almost vertical) corner, with very sparse footholds, and was about 6-7 meters off the deck. I scrambled my way onto a tiny stance beside a small tree, and gathered my wits. When my heart rate had eased off a bit, I continued up the steep ramp, again protected by a steep rope.

I continued up some steep, much less exposed, ground for a couple of minutes, then reached a bulge extending out from the wall. There was a barely discernible “ledge” traversing to the far side, protected by a couple of ropes (one of which was rather frayed at its attach point on the nearer side), and with a serious drop, probably 25 meters, into a gully below.

Unfortunately, I didn’t take a photo or video prior to traversing it. I gathered my wits, steeled my resolve, hiked up my big boy shorts, and started across…

I survived. I knew that I would, but wow… Being solo, and having forgotten to bring along my InReach satellite communicator, I had no way of telling anyone where I was, or where to look if I were never heard from again. Oops. This was pretty much the most committing move I’d ever made while entirely on my own.

A photo of the spooky traverse I made while solo, after I’d crossed it.

After this traverse, there was a little more travel up steep, rope-protected ramps, then things eased right off. It was about 1:00 PM, so just over three hours into the day. As I walked along a little farther, I spotted a gully coming up from the right, with a rope hanging down it. Of course, I had to then pull out the guidebook and have a look. Turns out, I was not supposed to head straight up the wall – the “hiking” route dropped way down to the right, at that point, and then up a long, steep, grassy gully. In fact, later that evening, I stopped by the guidebook’s webpage, and looked at the latest updates:

When following the route described in the guidebook, I’ve been told that some hikers are missing the handline descent into the gully just prior to reaching the “Brain”. Instead, they are following a well-defined trail which leads directly to the base of the Brain and a very steep rock wall with a rope fixed in place. Ascending this fixed rope leads to very dangerous and exposed fifth-class rock climbing terrain, which gains the top of the Brain. This is not the route described in the book. Look for the descent into the wide gully right (east) of the base of the Brain to stay on route.

Aha! OK, I did that wrong… The rest of this thing should be much easier!

After overcoming The Brain, it was time to traverse below the south face of Mount Habrich. There was a gully to drop down, again with a fixed rope, and a little bit of exposure, then a trail along the bottom of the face. It popped back into the forest, and almost immediately started downhill. There was a fainter, but well flagged, trail that broke off to the right, though, and headed very steeply uphill. I followed this.

Did I mention steep? Very steeply, up through the trees. The trail popped out into the bottom of a notch between Mount Habrich and the next summit along the ridge. This summit was the highest point reached for the day, at about 1650 meters. The terrain through here was fun, pleasant scrambling, in a glorious location – the views to the north and south were just gorgeous.

Looking back at Mount Habrich from the west. Hard to make out, but there is a summit between me and the peak, directly over the top of which I hiked. The sunlit snow patch on the left is extending out of the gully between the peak and that summit.

After going up and over that first summit on the ridge, I came around the north side of the next summit, along a huge, flat slab system. I then dropped through a little basin area, where I ran into a group of four people coming the other way!

Coming around the nice flat esplanade, and looking beyond to the far end of the ridge.

They were laden with a bunch of climbing equipment, and were off to ascend “Life on Earth” – a 5 pitch, 5.10c-ish rock route up the southwest arete of Mount Habrich. I stopped to have a little snack and some water with them, and chatted briefly. One of the fellows was celebrating his birthday (which was the following day) with this climb. They joked about how they’d picked the hottest day of the year to do it, and that they hoped they’d be able to finish the climb and return to the gondola in time for the last ride down at 9:00 PM. It did seem a little dubious… Hope they made it!

I continued along for a while, up and down along the ridge. There were a couple of descents that had ropes fixed in place, but they were mostly in places where there were steep, dirty hills, which would be slippery in wetter conditions. There was one spot where I had to make a bit of an exposed step around an arete that had no real protection, and I was surprised because there had been some ropes in spots where they seemed unnecessary. Nevertheless, everything was pretty easy after the ascent I made up the side of The Brain!

Finally, shortly before 4:00 I reached the far western end of the ridge, where my GPS and the guidebook showed “Robin’s Connector Trail” reaching the same promontory from the other side – from the gondola.

The far west end of Habrich Ridge, looking back toward Mount Habrich and Sky Pilot.

I stopped here for a while, taking some photos – and chatting/gloating online with a work colleague about what a great spot I was in!

West end of Habrich Ridge, looking down toward Howe Sound.

I started hunting around for the trail, and had some difficulty finding it. Eventually, I found a bit of a footbed, and began following it downhill, but kept losing and finding it again along some rocky, talus filled slopes. I ended up being unable to find the actual “Robin’s Connector Trail”, but was able to follow another trail that is marked in the guidebook. It is a steeper, and apparently less well marked, trail that leads down to Neverland Lake, where it joins “Al’s Habrich Trail”.

Looking down at the three peaks of The Chief from the trail down Habrich Ridge.

I followed this down, down, down, and eventually managed to reach the Gondola shortly after 5:40.

I feasted upon a plate of Victory Fries, and a massive Caesar Salad, washed down with a can of Guinness Stout. Truly, a meal of champions.

Enjoying a fine meal on the deck at the Sea to Summit Gondola. Looking up the valley toward Sky Pilot Mountain.

As I mentioned at the start, I was camping at the Squamish Chief Climbers Campground, a short 5-10 minute walk from the bottom of the Gondola. This meant that my tent was merely stumbling distance from my ride down the hill. Naturally, more beer was consumed, as I continued to celebrate a wonderful day in the mountains!

A GPS track of my route up and along Habrich Ridge.

Total time: 7:50 (6:10 “moving” – says Gaia GPS)
Distance: 16.9 km
Elevation: 1450 m gain/loss

7 August, 20189 September, 2018

Wedgemount Lake – Camping and Hiking/Scrambling

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…

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.

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!