The Varsity Outdoor Ckh Journal

VOLUME XV111 1975 ISSN 0524-5613

The Vmvet&lh) of Vtituh Columbia

Vancouver, Canada

PRESIDENT'S MESSAGE

During the past year I have been confronted with two frequent questions: "Just what does the V.O.C. do?" and "What do I get for my $10?" In reply to the first question, I say that the V.O.C. provides a mechanism whereby one can meet others with similar interests and pursuits in the outdoors. People in V.O.C. hike; climb mountains cliffs and buildings; go skiing, ski touring, ski mountaineering, and cross­ country skiing; walk along beaches; play floor hockey; have parties; and most important of all, have a good time. V.O.C.'ers enjoy the outdoors, the mountains, the beaches, the powder slopes and invite others to join them. The second question is a little more dis­ turbing. I can say that the V.O.C.: produces the VOCene once a week to keep people informed, publishes a climbing schedule, provides equipment and books for loan, entertains you with slide shows on Wednesday at noon, brings in guest speakers, has an annual banquet, and publishes a journal every year. But somehow, I feel that people should be asking, "What can I do to make the club a success? How can I help to make this year even better?" Maybe I am starting to creep over the hill, but it seems that attitudes are changing. Apathy is- creeping everywhere. People like to sit on their butts and have everything done for them. How­ ever, the old adage is still true - you only get out what you are willing to put in (and that includes your $10). Enough of the ramblings of a senile president. This year saw the demise of the Neve Hilton - put out of its misery after suffering broken bones under the merciless hands of the snow creep. Possession of the Whistler Cabin still remains in the pocket of the oftimes confused A.M.S., but control now officially resides with the U.B.C. Ski Club. The ban on liquor was deleted from the constitution. As yet there has been neither drunken havoc nor drunken orgies. In­ stead, a cold beer is enjoyed after a hot day and a hot rum is enjoyed after a cold day. As always, Longhike flooded the Whistler Cabin with hordes of people. Christmas trips have increased in popularity. This year trips went to Bow Hut, Kokanee, McGillivray Pass, Little Yoho, Singing Pass, and a mixed group of old and present V.O.C. went to Stoyoma Mountain. There seems to be an unfortunate trend developing where people are conscientious about their studies and neglect the finer side of life, like weekend trips. I hope this mental infirmity is tem­ porary. There has been at least one trip every week-

i end but it never hurts to have more. In the mountains one can find challenge and relaxation, beauty and con­ tentment. As John Muir once wrote, "From garden to garden, ridge to ridge, I drifted enchanted,...gazing afar over domes and peaks, lakes and woods, and the billowy glaciated fields...In the midst of such beauty, pierced with its rays, one's body is all one tingling palate. Who wouldn't be a mountaineer!" I hope that V.O.C.'ers will continue to find their way into the mountains.

ii EDITOR'S MESSAGE

Phew! After much sweat and many threats to article writers, it's finally done. Between these covers we hope that we've immortalized some of the activities and the spirit of V.O.C. Also, there is now an index in the library for all the journals from 1958-1974, so you can look up some of V.O.C.'s old stomping grounds. We hope that in the years to come people will get out to some of these forgotten areas. The journal wouldn't be possible without those of you who contributed to it and we would like to ex­ press our thanks to those who helped us to compile it. Rob Boyce and Moira Lemon who did most of the typing from rough to readable form Rob Boyce, Jay Page, John Romein, John Baldwin and Moira Lemon for submitting pictures Chris McNeill for printing the pictures Special thanks to Mrs. Olive Matthewson for the typing of the final copy (the second year in a row!).

John Leighton & Helen Lemon

iii VOC EXECUTIVE 1975-1976

President Tom Volkers Vice President Vicki Seraphim Treasurer Marg Mathews Secretary Robyn Fierheller

Climbing Chairman Julian Harrison Membership Chairman Jay McArthur P. R. O. Alex Szabo Quartermaster John Baldwin Archivist Christine Bullen P.A.R.C. Chairman Dianne Volkers Ski Rep. Curtis Kennedy Journal Editors John Leighton & Helen Lemon

VOC EXECUTIVE 1974-1975

President Bob McMechan Vice President Moira Lemon Treasurer Rob Watson Secretary Julie Ourom Climbing Chairman Steve Schwartz Membership Chairman (74) Fall Graham Lorimer (75) Spring Jay McArthur P. R. 0. Dirk Hart Quartermaster Rob Boyce Archivist Vicki Seraphim P.A.R.C. Chairman Helen Lemon Ski Rep. Stuart Lynne Journal Editors Anthea Farr & Grant McCormack

iv TABLE OF CONTENTS

Page

President's Message Tom Volkers i Editor's Message John Leighton & Helen Lemon iii VOC Executive 1975-1976 iv VOC Executive 1974-1975 iv

GENERAL CLUB ACTIVITIES VOC Social Activities 1 Grad News 3 VOC 1920 - 1940 Grad. Reunion Mrs. V. C. Brink 5

ARTICLES - Sprinq 1975 Brohm Ridge 6 Poland Lake Moira Lemon 6 Snow-Caving on Seymour 6 Singing Pass 7 Ode to Olympic Beach Traverse Helen Lemon 8 Olympic Beach, South Traverse John Romein 9 Diamond Head 11 Neve Traverse John Baldwin 11 Sphinx Camp Excerpts 12 Sphinx Vicki Seraphim 17

Summer 1975 Spearheads Moira Lemon 18 Bamfield 21 Princess Louisa Inlet Rob Boyce 21 Olympic Beach Sojourn Julie Ourom 23 Mt. Baker 24 In Search of Garibaldi 25 Summer 1975 Jay MacArthur 26 Trips 27 Summer Sailing - English Bay Julie Ourom 30 Rexford and Baker - Dominion Day Weekend Julie Ourom 30 Robie Reid 31

Kaskawalsh Glacier Jay Page 32

Fall & Winter 1975 Shulaps Moira Lemon 37 Squamish - Cheakamus Divide Rob Boyce 38 Cloudburst Mountain John Romein 41 Mt. Garibaldi (8787') 42 Mount Slesse Julie Ourom 42 The Black Tusk Rob Boyce 43 Cold and Confusion on the Neve John Frisell 44 Page

Warner Pass, Another Episode in VOC History Sandy Schmid 46 Brohm Ridge Robyn Fierheller 48 In Search of the Black Hole, VOC Caving Trip Rob Boyce 49 Table Mtn. Rob Boyce 52

Christmas Trips 1975 Kokanee Glacier Park - Christmas 1975 I Julie Ourom 53 Kokanee Christmas Trip 1975 II 54 West Coast Trail Christmas Trip Jim Breadon 56 Varsity Outdoors Club - Island Mountain Ramblers Xmas Cross­ country Ski Trip Astoria Valley, Rockies 58 McGillivray Pass Christmas Trip 60 Yoho Christmas Trip 1975 61 Christmas at Bow Hut 63 Song for Bow Hut 66 Stoyoma Mountain Christmas Trip Moira Lemon 68

Climbs & Expeditions 1975 A Life Saver for Those Interested in Climbing Serratus Curtis Kennedy 70 St. Elias Mountains Rob Boyce 70 Travelling in Nepal Julian Harrison 72 Mt. Steele (16,644') 76 The Woes of Kilamonjaro Beverly Pearse 83 VOC SOCIAL ACTIVITIES

Fall Reunion Party

This year we gathered at John Leighton's house high atop the British Properties to enjoy the swimming pool and fantastic view (for once it wasn't raining!) Because of the work on the Lion's Gate Bridge everyone had to rush off by 11:30. (Or turn into a pumpkin)

Longhike

140 people made the annual pilgrimage to the Whistler cabin. Many a tear was shed while preparing the onions for the chili, and a few more later on when toes were mashed due to the excitement and cramped con­ ditions of the Salty Dog. Daylight saw many bleary- eyed hikers heading for a day in the hills after sing­ ing and dancing until the ridiculously small hours.

Hallowe'en

The Whistler cabin was visited by many strange beings such as the Bayman, a Sunkist Lemon, a 'living' bra and an 18 hour girdle, even a Q-tip. (In case you didn't guess, the theme was Advertisements.) Andrea and Roger Laing, Eric White, and Walt and Terry Peachy were the rowdy judges, and provided almost as much entertainment as the costumes. The evening ended and the morning began with singing, dancing, and eating.

Floor Hockey

Again this year, enthusiastic VOC'ers shin-hacked, hip-checked, and high-sticked their way through Satur­ day night, under the expert guidance of Alex Sazbo (alias Bobby Hull).

Christmas Party

Rob Boyce's new house in North Van was officially broken in after 40 or 50 people gathered to staple together the new song book and generally relax after the gruelling ordeal of Christmas exams. As usual, there was a predictable lack of the white stuff.

Christmas Reunion

The heap of shoes inside Peter Jordan's door indicated the success of the reunion - about 50 people

1 strewed themselves throughout his living room in order to see slides of the Christmas trips. Everyone tried to convince the other trips that their's really was the best, but Kokanee was definitely the only place to be! Lots of goodies, a flowing punch bowl, and plenty of conversation kept everyone happy.

Spring Banquet

In an attempt to save costs, the Banquet was held in SUB Ballroom, providing ample dining and danc­ ing area. Awards were given after dinner, with Moira Lemon receiving a silver pin for outstanding service to the club. Goon Awards followed: Stuart got the Loving Cup and Vicki won the Cadwalder Range. The photo contest results were announced and our guest speaker, John Clarke, gave an impressive talk and slide show of his explorations in B.C.'s Coast Moun­ tains. Dancing followed, during which Bob McMechan gave an unplanned demonstration of first aid techniques. After midnight, the car rally got under way with the usual zany stunts, ending up at Rory McNeill's for the after party. Here, the true die-hard VOCers ate and sang until the wee hours of the morning.

2 GRAD NEWS

LATEST HITCHINGS:

Wendy (Watson and Roger Savers — Wendy is working as a dietitian at the Victoria General. Sara (Oliver) and Bob Brusse — Sara is teaching in Richmond. Dianne (Bodie) and Tom Volkers — both back at UBC (Tom's our President!) Joanne (Zyla) and Kent Watson Margo (Mann) and Bob McMechan — both were working for the Dept. of Mines in Geology, Victoria.

NEW ZEALAND seems to be the place to go this year. Bob and Marqo are there, Ken Lefever is still down there and its rumoured that Ellen Woodd is there being a porter for a German climbing team! Terry Rollerson is also down there ramblin' around and Ernie Bodie is reportedly due back here this Fall (76) from New Zealand, Australia and points west.

BACK IN TOWN:

— Marvin Curry - after working back east, for Christmas at least. — Julian Harrison and Mary Bussell - after travels in Nepal. Tjulien is back in 1st year Med. and Mary's also at UBC.) — Tak Uyede - is working as a waiter at Brother Jon's. — Wynne Gorman - has been doing field work up near the Mica Dam and now is working in town. — Barb Patterson is down from Nelson to complete her degree in Anthropology.

STILL LURKING IN TOWN are

— Rob Boyce - still looking for a job and has moved to North Vancouver. — Lil Deas is working as a T.A. in Geography at UBC. — Chris McNeill is working up at SFU as a TA in both Geology and Geography. — Eric White - is still working at MEC along with Wendy (nee Taylor. — Baumann. Tim Leadem. and many countless other VOCers past and present. — Roland Burton - is still lurking around Vancouver

3 and is sharing a house with Mike Miles. Wynne Gorman and Heidi Piltz.

Erich Hinze is working in Clinton. Betty Walsh is at Concordia University in Montreal. Virginia (nee Moore) Hoover has moved up North. Freddy Theissen has moved to the lake area of Nelson and is living with Dave Whiting. Bruce Fairley is teaching in Cranbrook. Bill Sampson and Ruth (nee Kornelson) are living near Telegraph Creek. Dave Patterson is working in Geology in Calgary. Ian Cordey is taking courses in Real Estate in town. Les and Carol Watson will be returning to Calgary early 1976 from their year in Oklahoma with their son Cameron.

Dave Lemon and Pat Javorski are engaged and are plan­ ning to live in Halifax for a while. They spent last fall in Europe.

Christine Bullen and Bruce Neilson are engaged and plan to live temporarily in Hamilton, Ontario.

Paul and Marilyn Starr have a son, Timothy. Marilyn is now taking courses at UBC.

4 V.O.C. 1920 - 1940 Grad. Reunion

This took place at Cecil Green Park, Oct. 19, 1975 during U.B.C.'s homecoming weekend. Letters had been sent out to graduates all over Canada and the United States. The response was enthusiastic. One hundred grads, some from as far away as Ontario, met at 5:30 at Cecil Green Park. Many others sent letters regretting they could not attend. One letter of particular inter­ est was from Mr. Ker, an early Hon. Pres. and an out­ standing outdoors man, now in his eighties and retired in Scotland. Cecil Green Park was attractively decorated for the occasion, with appropriate out-door greenery. Ice axes, old canvas pack sacs, old climbing boots with tricouni and edge nails, acetylene lamps and candle "bugs" added an unusual and nostalgic note. Attractive moss gardens on bark centered the tables. Albums, old pictures, and minute books were spread out in the library and were eagerly perused. Reunions with old friends and lively reminiscences quickly filled the time before dinner - a buffet served by Riviera Caterers. A large cake, appropriately in­ scribed and decorated with mountains and skiers pro­ vided dessert. An informal programme followed dinner with Mr. Charles Nash acting as master of ceremonies. Dr. Neal Carter told of early climbs in the 1920's which led to naming of many local peaks. Mr. Clare Willis touched on highlights of the 1930's and early '40's. Past presidents of V.O.C. were asked to stand. There were ten present, as well as several Honorary presidents. Further reminiscences and coffee brought a very happy occasion to a close. The records and pictures of the reunion, along with addresses of all graduates contacted have been placed in the V.O.C. archives. In closing this report, we hope other years will also hold reunions and have as much fun and good fellow­ ship 'as we had.

Mrs. V.C. Brink

5 SPRING 1975

January 18 BROHM RIDGE

Party: Betty Walsh Dick Bale Arthur McHugh Tom Masterson Per Joensen (leader)

The approaches to Brohm Ridge have, unfortunately, become popular with snowmobilers. Thus our day was punctuated by "the sound of lawnmowers in the wilder­ ness", as Betty put it. That was one negative feature of the trip, and another was the crusty snow. These aspects were far outweighed by the good points: the weather was (most unexpectedly) brilliantly clear and sunny, and we enjoyed superb views of the Sky Pilot group, Habrich, the Tantalus Range, and especially Dalton Dome and Atwell Peak. It was particularly nice to bask jacketless in the sunshine at lunchtime. This is a standard trip — a route description can be found in, for example, 103 HIKES IN SOUTHWESTERN B.C.

January POLAND LAKE Moira Lemon 25-26

Party: Jay McArthur Doug Mortimer John Baldwin Betty Walsh John Romein Helen Lemon Arthur McKey Moira Lemon (L)

One weekend in January, eight V.O.C.ers stuffed themselves into two smallish cars and headed off to Manning Park for a ski-touring trip to Poland Lake. The dangerous part of the trip - skiing up the downhill runs, was completed with a 100% survival rate. Once away from the ski area we enjoyed a leisurely journey following the toothpick signs west along the ridge to Poland Lake. With camp set up and dinner comfortably filling our bellies, the full moon revealed itself and added new energy to all. Donning down jackets and skiis we headed across the lake and into the meadows for a moon­ lit, midnight journey. Absolutely fabulous! In the morning it was up and away by noon, with the old frozen boot syndrome. The ridge beckoned and we succumbed to several runs (powered by carbohydrates on the up-slope) in light powder snow. Dinner in Hope finished off a weekend enjoyed by all.

February SNOW-CAVING ON SEYMOUR 8-9 Party: Anders Ourom (L) John Baldwin Alex Szabo

6 This trip was undertaken so some club members could learn a bit about snow-caving, an increasingly popular means of accommodation in the winter months. Noon on Saturday found as at the Mt. Seymour parking lot. An hour and a half of dodging hot shot downhillers, who were operating under the misguided assumption that we were slalom markers, and we were comfortably en­ sconced on the far side of first peak. Despite the incredible view of metropolitan Vancouver we soon began digging. Three hours of concentrated effort produced an enormous snow-palace, at least twice as large as necessary. Alex, while producing a veritable deluge of snow, managed to bend one of the shovels into a 105 degree angle in his enthisiasm. As it was nearly dark, we moved in. After dinner, we spent some time singing bawdy limericks and had a short lecture on astrophysics from Alex. Entertainment was laid on by John, who managed to spill a full pot of water, not once, but twice! In addition, Alex and I threw him willy-nilly into the entrance hole, where he spent much time struggling to recover. His 'friends', who were convulsed on the floor with laughter, did not make things any easier for him. Eventually we all dropped off (no pun intend­ ed). In the morning we awoke to a full-fledged storm, with visibility nil and snow falling at two inches per hour. After shilly-shallying about, we packed and set off. After blundering about for a while we eventually reached the car, where over a foot of snow had fallen.

February SINGING PASS 14-18

Party: Anders Ourom (L) Jay McArthur John Baldwin Doug Mortimer Alex Szabo

Now.that Garibaldi Lifts has stopped selling single ride tickets to lazy skiers, it would appear that the only way to get into the Russet Lake Hut in winter is to walk up to the midstation level and thence to art­ fully cajole the attendants into letting you have a free ride to the top. Unfortunately, this takes a sub­ stantial amount of time, especially in view of the short winter days. To circumvent this we left Vancouver on Friday evening and by midnight had walked up to the base of the Green chair and set up residence in a Mc­ Kinley. Early the next morning we hopped on the lift arid were at the top by 10 PM. From here we were faced with the interesting prob­ lem of navigating our way in a whiteout along the ridge without becoming geographically embarrassed. This was successfully accomplished, although some doubts were expressed while we were wandering around on Flute summit

7 (a flat area h. mile long bounded by cornices on one side and steep slopes on the other). Eventually, despite Alex's enthusiasm for what proved the wrong route, we arrived in Singing Pass after a fine run through the powder. Within an hour, we were a"t the hut. The next day was beautifully clear, and was sub­ stantially spent in cutting up the slope below the cabin, with all showing fine style in the knee deep powder. We managed about six 700' runs that day before the clouds began moving in in late afternoon. (This is perhaps the best skiing area around, with virtually guaranteed good conditions below treeline). Monday was also spent skiing on this slope, although a minority group did some skiing on the hill across the lake. As the weather deteriorated we returned to the cabin, spending the afternoon playing hearts and cooking a magnificent meal, with cheesecake for dessert. Tuesday we arose early and by 8:30 we had de­ parted. Very soon we were in the Pass, with whiteout conditions prevailing along the ridge. We therefore decided to retreat along the trail. This proved to be very interesting. Doug lost a pole, and so I skiied the rest of the way without one. We never really did find the trail, but instead followed our noses. As might be expected, we got thoroughly lost, and had a wonderful time finding our way through the dense slash and cross­ ing the innumerable creeks by precarious means, often delicately poised above the foaming waters. At about 2:00 we found ourselves at the very bottom of the valley, beside the river. More floundering through the knee deep powder-slush ensued, but eventually we broke through into the logged area and got onto the trail. Soon after we arrived at the cars. This was not the end of our tribulations, however, for both cars were to break down before we arrived home.

A POEM OF OLYMPIC BEACH 1974

- this should have been included last year but alas...so here it is.

ODE TO OLYMPIC BEACH TRAVERSE Helen Lemon We must go down to the beach again, To the spotted skunks and the tide, With soggy socks and a spitting fire To get my body dried.

We must go down to the beach again, To where sun is puffed and wet, And falls in flakes and soaks your boots, Which is not convenient.

8 ROB 8orc£ ~?/'°/TS We must go down to the beach again, To the Co-op and Seattle, With canned gas fumes and squished bananas. It really was a battle.

We must go down to the beach again, To glorpy mud and the slides, In McKinley, we ate pancakes and tea, While waiting for the tides.

We must go down to the beach again, To the Ellen Creek bushwack, With low tide at six, we arrived and bliss! Through salals we need not track.

We must go down to the beach again, To the Fairholm Comfort Station, ° With heat and light, Bill, Pat and Rob spent the night Safe from soggy penetration.

- apologies to John Masefield

OLYMPIC BEACH

South Traverse Midterm Break Weekend John Romein February

This trip was split into two groups; one northward bound and the others southward. This was done to leave a car at each end of the trail. Since I was a member of the group heading north, this write up will be main­ ly about that group.

On Friday afternoon, February 14, Bill, Robyn and I finally emerged from Vancouver's rush hour traffic at 3:20 and headed south for Seattle. By the time we arrived at R.E.I, it was dark and we were hungry. The neighbouring "Ernie's" received us starving VOCers with open arms. After inspecting and sampling REI's merchan­ dise we continued northward to a small town named Edmonds. There we caught the ferry which took us across Puget Sound. Later there was a small alarm as we were nearly out of gas and there were no gas stations in sight. Even though it was now about 10:00 P.M. we were fortunate enough to find an open one in Port Angeles. We continued on and later we made it to the Crescent Lake Campground where we pitched our tents on a veil of fresh snow which covered the ground. Next morning, due to sleeping in, we got a late start. Since we didn't have snow tires we were delayed even longer. Finally, after much physical exertion, we had the car onto the road and out of the campsite.

9 We arrived, in the rain at Oil City later that morning. We began our trek. Since we arrived later than planned (which is normal) we missed low tide. The headland just before Hoh Head could not be rounded so we were forced to climb over it. Now the wet stuff turned to white mushy stuff. However, the snow only lasted about half an hour before returning to r&in. It was getting dark and we were wet when we arrived at the Mosquito Creek shelter. Following one of the elegant gourmet meals (goulash) well known to VOCers, we hit the sack. Very early in the morning (3 a.m.) Bill and I were awakened by the rattling of dinner dishes. Bill and I spotted movements in Robyn's pack which was leaning against her bunk. Out of the top of her pack emerged a snaffle hound, rear end first, tugging a sausage. We shouted at Robyn to take action but she just groaned and turned away, letting the snaffle hound get his dinner. Later Bill opened his eyes to have a staring contest with a snaffle hound who sat about 3 inches away. Next day, at low tide, we crossed knee keep Mos­ quito Creek. For the next Z\ miles we strolled along the surf swept beach. The sea stacks were indescrib­ ably beautiful with some silhouetted against a patchy blue sky. At Gordon Creek we worked our way inland following the creek. Using the map we had we found the crossing at the destroyed shelter. Since the creek had to be forded and I was the tallest, I was sent first. I stripped down to my trunks and began to cross. Besides the water being icy cold and the current a bit strong, the water was a little over 5 feet deep. Bill didn't like this. On the other bank, the soft clay ground and the warm sunshine felt luxurious compared to the cold water and rocks. As we were warming up and dressing, Rob, Helen and Keith dropped by on their way south. Later I learned that Rob's group crossed Gordon Creek next morning at low tide only a hundred yards further upstream in knee deep water. Camp was set up at Toliak Point in twilight. The A-frame there contained about 20 people, many of whom were enjoying themselves around a large campfire. After dinner we sat around the campfire and proceeded to prepare our cheescake. The keepers of the fire pro­ vided entertainment for us being high on grass or booze or both. Next morning was very quiet (compared to the evening before). There were items strewn everywhere. The weather looked promising so we set out. We travelled along the beach until Taylor Point where we took the headland trail. There, perched high above the waves crashing at the cliff's base, we ate lunch. Our next stop was the swing on the beach, where we swung for a while until Bill fell off. From here on,

10 we decided to fly our tent. This proved to be a very successful way of drying the tent. We were so in­ volved in tent flying that we nearly missed the trail back to the parking lot. That evening at Rialto Beach, all six of us watched night fall on Olympic Beach and next morning we drove home.

March DIAMOND HEAD 16

Party: Bruce Fairley, John Baldwin, Doug Mortimer

This trip was originally scheduled to go to Brohm Ridge, but was rerouted after Doug took a look at the

,;road going up the ridge and decided that his bald tires couldn't hack it. We started up the Diamond Head road, but had to start walking while still 3 or 4 miles from the parking lot. Luckily a four-wheel drive came along shortly and gave us a lift. Or maybe it wasn't so lucky. The driver proved to be somewhat inexpert at the wheel, and the ride termin­ ated when he spun out and slid back into a new Ford camper. We then had to spend about \ an hour disen­ tangling his vehicle, but were finally underway by 11:30. The snow was neither glop nor powder, but something in between. Trail was broken and we made good time. By 1:30 most of the people were heading back, as it was snowing and occasionally blowing up into violent gusts. Eventually we stopped just below the summit of Paul Ridge. Here John donned all his expedition gear for the ski down (in anticipation of wipe outs, no doubt), while I fiddled around packing up skins. The ski down was a bit ho hum, as the snow held us back; once on the packed trail, however, things livened up, and John and I crashed into each other once or twice. We got back to the spot where the vehicles had been parked to find them all gone, so we had to walk the four miles back to the car - which we figured made it about a ten mile day, and not bad for a noon start.

Easter NEVE TRAVERSE John Baldwin

Party: John Baldwin, Carson Hornor, Steve (?)

Having been to Diamond Head many times, the Neve looked enticing - so we decided to attempt it at Easter, allowing 5 days (you never can trust the weather gods). We left on Friday and by magnificent timing, arrived at the 'base camp' at noon. What to do with the car - ah, might as well leave it here, so without further haste, we headed off under a sunny sky. About 4 o'clock we arrived at the lodge, where we lay in the

11 sun for a while. That night we camped just past the lodge. True to Parkinson's Law (since we allowed 5 days) our activities filled the time. We slept till 10, and were off by 12. Again, 4 hours later, after skiing past a few recent (that morning) avalanches in Ring Creek, we passed the Neve Hilton - or where the Neve' Hilton was buried. We decided to camp here and climb Garibaldi in the morning. As we cooked dinner, it was a nice, calm night. But a few hours later, the tent was committing hari-kari and trying to flap itself to death - luckily it didn't succeed. In the morning, Steve crawled out of his tent to bring us the news - winds had reached gusts of 80 mph last night, and trees were down in Vancouver, and a wharf in West Van had been smashed apart. "Very good, Steve", we said; "How on earth do you know all that?" "Oh, I heard it on the radio this morning." "The radio...." "Sure, I always carry one." The weather was suitably inhospitable for climb­ ing Garibaldi, so we headed on down to Sphinx - and arrived at 1 to be greeted by a wild Szabo inhabiting the place. The rest of the day was spent building a snow-cave. The next day was cloudy and cold, very cold, 0 according to Alex's thermometer. (0 at Easter!). We skiied up to the Bookworms and enjoyed a fantastic run down - even though my boots froze on the way. Tuesday, our fifth day, we skiied out to the high­ way, and hitch-hiked down to the Diamond Heat turn-off. Well, to tell you the truth, not too many people drive up to Diamond Head on a Tuesday afternoon - in fact, none do. So 10 miles, and 3% hours later, we arrived at the car, very tired and even hungrier. f This was my first time across the Neve, and I found it one of the best trips I can think of around Vancouver. For those interested, we all used cross­ country skis. I would suggest, however, that anyone going up there organize transportation a little better than we did.

SPHINX CAMP EXCERPTS

Despite a smaller number of people than usual, Sphinx Camp was occupied for a very long period - 9 April to 19 May, with the hut empty only on one night (9 May;. Food lasted well, and the Chem. Profs, cooked an excellent dinner on May 14 with food flown in on April 10. All the "usual things" were done frequently and several more major ascents were completed.

April 14; Peered groggily out the door around 7;00 a.m. and decided weather was grotty enough to justify another hour and a half in bed. Shrieking wind and sound of snow on the roof tipped us off that yesterday's

12 weather was still around - two inches of semi-powder fell, last night. Finally hauled ourselves out of bed and consumed the daily ration of mush a la Harvest Crunch. By 10:30 we were on the way to Glacier Pikes in questionable weather. The sun decided to shine as we crossed Garibaldi Lake., luring us into removing all excess clothing. Once on to Sentinel Glacier, of course, he (the sun) diabolically ran off, leaving us at the mercy of a howling and ravenous wind. We put all our clothes back on. Ascended the south corridor which leads to the ridge running up to the Pikes. Very steep. Hot! We take off our clothes again (not all of them, of course). Once on top of the bump below the ridge, wind returns with a vengeance. Into pack- sacks for wool sweaters etc. Chris and Bruce wait for Moira, who has gone off to look at a rock (or some­ thing) . Once lunch is finished we dash quickly up the western Pike. Friend explores the outer fringes of the peak (a real cornice hound, that one!). We compare notes on this peak, that peak, Neve huts, Garibaldi routes, etc. It is 3:00 p.m. Moira and Chris decide to descend via Sentinel Glacier, Bruce follows the route up, back again and beats them to the cabin by 20 or 25 minutes. An absolutely fantastic ski run both ways! Dins is roast beef. Wind continues to blow. Friend appears to develop snow blindness, he keeps squinting. Not a really tough day at all, but we all feel sleepy for some reason. I pass up a chance to meet McNeill in a chess rematch (he outfoxed me last night). At 9:30 we turn in, hoping that the clouds stay high and that the barometer drops. Goodnight!

April 15: The barometer dropped. At 6:15 I look out­ side and can see Sphinx, Carr, Bookworms, etc. A good day is in the works. Back to bed. At 7:45 I rise, and before long have made sufficient clatter to ar6use Moira and Chris. Last night we talked about setting off for Deception Pinnacles, and as the weather seems okay, we get packs and skiis ready. Friend is con­ signed to the hut for the day, in the hopes that he will lose his squint. The sun is out; the sky is blue; just a touch of breeze - wow! We ski up the Sphinx-Deception Col and plunk ourselves down, in sweating condition, for lunch, just under the third and fourth main pinnacles from the most easterly one. I go and climb a pinnacle and a half while Moira and Chris finish lunch. Then Chris leads us to an impressive looking block pinnacle and he and I climb it via a steep snow gully; Moira cruises around a bit and finds a route of her own. It is about 2:00 p.m. We return to our skiis and drop down to some of the lower pinnacles - "Deception" we discover is a mighty appropriate name. They look tough from the front but all have easy class 2-3 routes around the

13 back. We then climb one of these little ones and I climb the most westerly of the spires and then we all ski down again - in gloopy, soggy mush - the heaviest snow yet. Friend is very happy to see Chris and Mo - also happy that tonight is chicken - he eats every last bone in the bird!!! An amazing feat. P.S. We saw two ptarmigan, 100 feet down the slope behind the block pinnacle.

April 20; Heidi, Jay P. and Roland wandered off to look at the Table, then went over to peer throuqh the cup handle. Table appears to be awkward to climb. Ski run back to lake on two inches fresh powder on a hard base. Some of us have sore feet. Keith wandered earlier to ridge east of Table, and then to Sentinel Glacier.

April 26: The entire camp (except 2) went up to the Guard - Deception col. Going was easy at first, but it became somewhat concrete-like about half—way up. There, six of us (Roland, Heidi, Peter, John R., Pat and Alison) climbed Deception. The sky was clear and we spent about an hour basking in the sun, watching the others climb Guard. We also watched the cloud filling the valleys below and creep up to about 4500 feet. We skied down the steep glacier bowl directly below the peak, where the snow was actually O.K. - very heavy powder in which it was possible to make good turns. Lower down it turned to slush and later to breakable crust in the shadow of Guard. We should have started about two hours earlier. By late afternoon high cloud had moved in. Certainly the best snow and the best weather in the last four or five days, but far below what would be acceptable in most years. Ehleen, Neal K., Per, John F. climbed Guard. Easy scramble on sun warmed rocks except for chest deep snow on ridge between north and south peak. Crudy crust on the way down. We fell. Some more than others though. Bill L., and John B. climbed Carr. Windy on top, but fantastic view. We could see as far as Baker. We were attacked by a small whiteout on the way down, but survived.

April 29; "Parapet Surprise". Very early this raorn- ing (8:00 a.m.) Ehleen, Neil, Jacques, John B., John R., and Bob ran over to the Sphinx icefall on crust in gorgeous weather. After arriving at the Worms in two and a half hours, all but John R. dropped into Gray Pass and climbed Parapet and returned to the Worms in five hours. Best weather in ten days, best skiing also. To drop into Gray Pass start at the Worms and contour north to Rock ridge dropping into the Pass. Cross the rock ridges and remain very close to the ridge and descend into the pass keeping the ridge to

14 your right looking down. Watch out for slots and schrunds von the way down. On the way back up to Book Worms col, more crevasses were sighted, with our tracks going over them. We decided the route would be treach­ erous in a Whiteout. Skiing back down the corridor was excellent (says Neil K., not me!! John B.), with an undecipherable amount of new powder. The climb and the weather were very aesthetic (not only that, but also pretty good.)

April 29 also: The mysterious arrivers! Yes, today three snuck into Sphinx unannounced. For four days my arrival has been expected (Helen the Lemon) but I did not arrive. Apparently I had been sighted (U.P.O.*) but it must have been a vision or sun spots or odd contents in lunches and dinners. * Unidentified plodding object. Anyway I guess I take the cake for the longest trip in this year as I was supposed to arrive on the 25 but eventually met the welcome committee on the 29th.

April 30: Ehleen, Neil K., Tom V., Tom M», Alex S., and Jacques climbed the two highest Deception Pinnacles on skis. Beautiful weather, no wind and very hot. Afterwards Tom M., Neil K., and Ehleen fooled around rock climbing on lesser Pinnacles. Good stuff. Ski down not too great. One usually skis down the Guard - Deception col, however we did a variation - went up a gully leading to Guard - Deception col then took off on a tangent and went up the ridge leading up between Sphinx - Deception col and Guard - Deception col. Recommended route.

May 1: Today the keeners (Neil K. and Ehleen) left at 9 for Castle Towers. The snow was solid, we could walk to 6,500 feet. We rested a few hundred feet above, and waited for an ice slope to soften into a snow slope. Meanwhile we noticed people headed for Sphinx - they were stopped and resting most of the time - had to line them up with a rock to see if they were moving! After an hour or so, the ice turned to snow, so off we went. Roped up and climbed gully between west and center peaks, and ascended west ridge of center peak. We were expecting three or four leads of class four rock, in­ cluding a traverse onto the north face. The "crux" of the climb came just below the peak, where we should have met a ten foot unscaleable block, and traversed out onto the north face. Actually there was so much snow, the climb went almost entirely on snow, not much rock climbing involved. At the crux, the ten foot wall was transformed into a six foot wall by the snow, and we surmounted it by a not too strenuous mantle, a good thing, because the north face was plastered with snow

15 with a large cornice on top. From the top, the view was excellent. Garibaldi, Whistler, and Sphinx hut were visible. Also a few climbers were noticed on Sphinx still. Descent went quickly, twenty-five minutes to the skiis, and then twenty-five minutes to the cabin, arriving before anyone else. A fine day. Finally, this afternoon was silly time. While a few pretended that they saw nothing, and others took blackmail pictures we held our May 1st celebrations. Betty (ringleader), Helen, John Baldwin, Curtis and Joanne ran around our improvised maypole. We made a pole put of a 210 cm. ski and our skins, of course. After the before-dinner entertainments, we retreated inside for Ehleen's cuisine.

May 7; Beautiful morning. Up before 8:00 and heading up the Sphinx Glacier by 10:00. Both of us Jacques B., and Curtis K. are wearing short pants and shirts - we are to regret taking this little luxury later on. Our immediate objective is Carr, and then possibly Castle Towers. On the summit of Carr by about 13:30. Decided to leave Castle T. alone as have no rope with us - in­ stead cross neve to Mt. Davidson. We skirt some sus­ picious depressions in the snow and head up the south ridge of Davidson. Going is a little tricky in places but are as high as we can climb by 17:30. This is about a dozen vertical feet below the summit but with­ out rope and with ledges still covered in snow we decide that it would be a real downer if one of us should take a spill. The weather today is superlative, only outclassed by the views of Garibaldi and Wedge. More distant mountains were unfortunately lost in haze and low cloud. The walk back across the neve almost finished us, but with the aid of Jacques mountain mix and frequent rest stops, we regain our skiis. We head down the alternate corn snow and crust snow towards the hut. Two tired, toasted skiers heading into the sunset. Will you hold that a moment "Click-wind. Click-wind."* •Used with kind permission of R. Burton who is in the Spearheads somewhere.

May 13: Chem Profs. Set out for Mt. Garibaldi at 5:50 a.m. in perfect weather that stayed that way all day. Spectacular scenery - especially the neve and Warren Glacier; whats good for the Kodak company is good for Sphinx campers. Skinned up to 8,200 feet, leaving skiis only 300 feet below the bergschrund. Found a small but solid

bridge in just the right place in the middle of the; bergschrund. Reached the summit 3:05 p.m. nine and a quarter hours from hut. Mt. Atwell looked Himalayan. Kodak company scores again - 360 panoramic sequences. Just fabulous. First time on top of Garibaldi for

lb three of us - and for the other, first time with any­ thing visible from the top. Left summit 4:00 p.m. started skiing at 5:00 p.m. Nasty, breakable crust. John had skiis on his feet for only the fifth time in his life. Innumerable kick- turns and traverses. We dawdled slowly back to.the hut, teaching John snow plough turns on the way. No trouble about time; its light until nearly 10:00 p.m. Arrived back at the Burton Hut at 9:35 p.m. 15 3/4 hours after leaving it. Dinner towards 11:00 p.m., late enough to see the blazing starry night outside.

SPHINX Vicki Seraphim

Sing a song of Sphinx Camp. A pocket full of Skreen, Which really is quite useless For the sun cannot be seen.

When the clouds were opened The sun peeked out its head, And to our faint amazement Our faces turned quite red.

Sing a song of Sphinx Camp, The pot is full of mush. Please be sure to help yourself, I'm really in no rush.

At night I dream of juicy steaks And of mushrooms too. But I waken to cruel reality, Porridge that looks and tastes like glue.

17 SUMMER 1975

May 4-11 SPEARHEADS Moira Lemon.

Party: Roland Burton Neil Humphrey Heidi Piltz Chris McNeill Bob McMechan Moira Lemon Margot Mann Friend McNeill

Rather than a traverse of the Spearheads, our idea was to travel into the mountains for a couple of days, set up a base camp and climb a few peaks. Promise of rain for twelve days sent a rumble of dissent through­ out the ranks and alternate suggestions such as Mexico were aired. But the following day we drove up to Whistler amid mixed weather conditions. The remainder of the day was spent waiting for the rest of our crew to arrive (Bob and Margot) and reccying our route into the Spearheads. No one sounded too keen about staying in tents that night, so we retreated to the Whistler cabin with many misgivings since it was the ski club's year end bash that night. An early morni.ig start was postponed as Chris tried to convince Friend to carry his doggy pack. Friend soon relented and we started up towards Horstman Creek leaving the cars on the logging road behind the Ski Boot Motel. The snow was in that exasperating con­ dition which requires you to change from skiis to boots ten times in one mile. The end of the first day caught us somewhere in the woods on the banks of Horstman Creek. The day had been cloudy but with no great amount of precipitation. After a not too early start (Neil, in his snow cave, finished a book while waiting for everyone to get ready), we skiied up through the remainder of the trees and broke out into open country below the Horst­ man Glacier, on the second day. Camp was set up near a rock island at the toe of the glacier since we didn't want to go any higher and risk camping in any inhospit­ able col. Neil became keen on snow abodes and with the remaining light and into the early evening he built an igloo. . The whiteout was still with us on the third day as we skiied up the Horstman Glacier and over the col where it merges with the Blackcomb Glacier. Occasion­ ally through the mist we could glimpse the shadowy form of the ridge to the west. Our route led us through the Blackcomb - Spearhead col and down a hard windcrusted surface to the Decker Glacier. A base camp was set up on a rocky moraine between the upper and lower Decker Glaciers, beneath the NW face of Decker Mountain. For the remainder of the day camp was established, Neil built another igloo and most people retired to their

18 tents to escape the somewhat stormy afternoon. Friend and I decided to Zoologise for a bit, and followed some goat tracks along the moraine. Although we never caught up with them we found numerous favorite haunts of the goats - large flat rocks where they seem to spend a great deal of time. Our bad weather ended that day and in the glow of the late evening we gazed at all the surrounding peaks. The following day was devoted to climbing Mt. Trorey, south east of Decker. We dropped down the Decker Glacier then traversed along to gain the NE ridge of Decker. From here we skiied up to the summit of the ridge, avoiding the occasional crevasse, and peering down into the crystalline depths of the bergshrund. A view of the SE side of Decker showed that we were not alone. A helicopter was perched silently on the peak. Soon we realized there were no people with it. Over lunch Chris and Neil discussed going over and stealing it. We dropped down to the base of Trorey and leaving our skiis here, started punching steps up the north ridge. Menacing predatory sounds greeted us on the mountain. A helicopter flew into sight, did several turns around Trorey, then headed towards Decker. An interesting display of helicopter rescue ensued. After several tries, the 204 picked up the 206 and headed off towards Whistler, like an eagle with prey in its talons. We continued our climb. The summit of Trorey revealed a fantastic panoramic view of the Spearheads. We returned to camp via the Trorey Glacier and a small gully which led over the north east ridge of Decker, and thence back up the Decker Glacier. Friend now was suffering quite badly from snow blindness and in an effort to reduce the strain on his eyes, Chris stayed back at camp near the dark rocks the next day, while the rest of us climbed Blackcomb and Spearhead. As we were sitting on the summit of the Spearhead looking at James Turner to the east, a sudden mania overtook everyone and we decided that the next day we wished to view the Spearhead from James Turner. We beat a retreat to camp to tell Chris (this way we could camp in the trees at Wedge Pass and lessen Friend's misery) and broke camp with much hustle and bustle. The ski run down Decker Glacier was like pass­ ing through a micro-wave oven - I felt cooked in an instant. We skiied down to a gentle open meadow at the confluence of the meltwater streams from Decker, Trorey, and Tremor Glaciers. The view back towards the Spear­ heads from here is magnificent. The soft glow of the evening light on the glaciers gave it a quality that words cannot describe. We followed the valley down to Wedge Creek, round­ ed a shoulder on the east side of the creek and de­ scended into Wedge Pass and the Billygoat Lakes. Wedge

19 Mountain's massive form towers over this valley to the north. We now had several casualties to date. Heidi had taken one spill too many on the journey down the creek valley resulting in a very sore back. Friend looked positively ill. He held his mouth open slightly, with lips pursed and wrinkled, and froth bubbled and oozed from his mouth. Inspection into his mouth revealed a cherry red, raw tongue. The poor dog had a sunburned tongue with which eating and drinking proved difficult and panting impossible for him. Roily awoke us at a very early hour and leaving Heidi and Friend in the good care of each other, the six of us headed up the Billygoat Creek headwaters. Spirits were high as the route to James Turner crosses large expanses of snowfield and glacier with fabulous alpine scenery in every direction. Below was the deep valley of Billygoat Creek separating us from the Spear­ head Range which we were in the midst of just one short day before. Soon the pyramid of James Turner and the spires of Fingerpost Ridge jutting towards the sky appeared ahead of us across the surface of the Turner Glacier. Upon reaching the South ridge of James Turner a chilling wind greeted us and forced a hasty lunch in a makeshift shelter behind the ridge. Clouds were gathering in the south west as we skiied across a jumble of avalanche debris to the base of the rocks. Chris, Neil, Roland and Bob headed up a narrow gully of rotten gloopy snow. Margot and I quite happily planted our­ selves amongst the skiis and rock to await the fellows' return, which was sooner than we thought. Small snow avalanches on their heads threatened to become larger. Chris and Neil on gaining the ridge sent back a dismal report. Rotten snow on rotten rock made for very poor and dangerous conditions, so we had to abandon the peak. Returning to camp we found every snow slope that had been rock hard, was now almost bottomless heavy mush, occasionally slurping us down to thigh depth - a very strenuous descent. Our retreat to civilization the next day lay down Wedge Creek, quite a pleasant twelve to fourteen mile valley with no great difficulties. Snow became a scarce commodity at the lower end of the valley and often we found ourselves hopping great open patches of bare ground to avoid removing our skiis. A walk along an old logging road put us out on the highway where we must have appeared as quite a spectacle for passing motorists as we sat on the side of the road, while Neil ran back eight miles to get the car. Thus ended a good trip.

20 Photo: Rob Boyce Grant and Peter in typical positions

Photo: John Romein Roger McNeill eating cheesecake Photo: John Romein Sea Stacks at Olympic Beach

Photo: John Romein

Flying a Crestline at Olympic Beach May 10-11 BAMFIELD

Party: John Baldwin (L) Berni Claus Helen Lemon John Romein Jay Macarthur

The West Coast Trail is not the kind of place you think of for a two day weekend, but having seen enough whiteouts and gloppy snow the week before at Sphinx (that is not a slur against Sphinx), a nice pleasant, sunny (?) beach trip would have been nice. In fact that is what we got, except for the sun. Anyhow, back to the trip. We left on Friday thereby faking a long weekend and enabling us to get underway around 9 or 10 on Satur­ day. We all had a very enjoyable trip from Port Alberni to Bamfield, 70 miles on reserve tank (that's empty!) The extra 10 miles is for the hour and a half we were thoroughly and utterly lost, but as you guessed, every­ thing turned out okay, we even got there! We charged off down the trail under the high overcast which threat­ ened us with rain a few times but managed to hold back till after dinner. We stopped at the Sea lion rocks and admired the waves roaring and rushing among the rocks. Next stop was the Pachena Point Lighthouse. There we snacked and chatted with the lighthouse keeper who gave a great tour of the lighthouse. Up the narrow stairs and out into the area beside the light so we could all block it from passing ships, a peek at the washing machine motor which has been driving the light for the last several years, and a look at the old chamber where they used to hang the weights that drove it; really a nice tour. From here we pushed on to Michigan Creek where we camped beside the tidal rock flat , and fed the sea anenome. We topped the day off with a moderate pig out (including cheese cake) and a campfire. Sunday involved less, mostly walking back out to the cars, where Berni found a note reminding him to pay for his parking on his way out, and on my car was a note containing the address of some Indian group in Vancouver - you see I was parked 1/2 on Indian reserve and 1/2 on provate property, neverthe less neither of us had to pay for parking. Port Alberni lacking a Tastee-freeze we hit a McDonalds. End of trip.

PRINCESS LOUISA INLET May 20-23 Rob Boyce

Party: Drummond Cavers & Rob Boyce

To those of you who haven't seen the Coast Mtns. from the ocean, (except from B.C. Ferries), this might be a new experience for you. Princess Louisa Inlet is a small branch of Jervis Inlet, about 100 km. NNW of

21 Vancouver. It is 9 km. long and up to 1 km. wide, and as a typical fiord, has steep walls and is very deep. It is only 5 km. from the Squamish R. drainage (Sims Ck.), but it is a full day's nautical approach from Vancouver. The purpose of this trip was to give me a ride in the Cavers' family boat before Drum left for Calgary (being one of the chosen few geo-types to get a per­ manent job). I had recently done a report on B.C. fiords, hence the location. The boat was a 6 m. fiber­ glass 'convertible' speedboat, with an inboard engine having more horsepower than our car. Tuesday morning, Drummond's sister drove us to Horseshoe Bay, and we set about loading our mountain of gear into the boat. We took off into bright sunlight and wind, which made for a rough but pleasant ride. I was introduced to the differences between navigational charts and topo maps. First gas stop was at Secret Cove, a snug little harbour on the Sechelt Peninsula. From here, we cruised in more sheltered waters and made good time to Pender Harbour, an intricate complex of bays, channels, and rocks; further up the peninsula. For $2 we tied up at a marina and cooked over my Svea right on the float. A few palatial, topheavy cabin cruisers came in (one even complete with guard dog), and the occupants went ashore and stayed in a motel. We were scorned for sleeping aboard, but the boat was actually quite comfortable, having the floor space of about 1% Crestlines. Next morning was pretty gray, and it was raining before we got out of Pender Harbour. The scenery in Agamemnon Channel was sort of dull and shrouded until we stopped for gas at Egmont, where the skies opened right up (i.e. a cloudburst). We had planned on in­ cluding Sechelt Inlet in our itinerary, but the tides were at the wrong time for running Skookumchuck Rapids. As we proceeded up Jervis Inlet, the water was choppy, but the weather became merely patchy. Then we could occasionally glimpse impressive forested and bare slopes and TJ shaped valleys. But as the inlet is 2 km. wide, its grandeur is somewhat diminished with distance. We sighted Malibu and its associated totem poles beacons in the late afternoon. Malibu, for the unin­ itiated, was constructed in the 30*s as a resort for movie stars, and is now operated as a youth camp by the Young Life group. It appeared to be closed till summer. Not waiting for slack tide, we ran the S-curve of Malibu Rapids (easy) into Princess Louisa Inlet. The water was as smooth as glass. We motored slowly through the arches of granitic pillars and low gray cloud. Waterfalls appeared every 100 m. or so, some plunging directly into the sea. At the inlet's head, we tied up at the mouldering old float of the marine park. Lush grass and moss grew

22 on the logs of the float, and a leaky water hose sprayed a welcome. We went ashore to hike a bit, but were dis­ couraged by the dripping rain-forest vegetation. We got drenched watching Loquilts Ck. tumble over Chatter­ box Falls. A search of the trails revealed several Johns, campsites, an incinerator, and a huge cedar tepee, with a fire circle in the centre. Dinner was again cooked on the float, and while eating, another boat pulled in. It was a beautiful miniature replica of Vancouver's "Discovery". The owners, from Tacoma, said they visited there every year. After growlies, Drum and I individually explored the shoreline by paddling around in my 2% m. Rubber Ducky. I got the second turn, and had to navigate back by head­ lamp. The effect of the water's reflection is weird, and the currents below the falls were tricky. And naturally it rained. Next morning, the weather looked promising, so we waited, while the other boat departed, hoping to be able to see more than 100 m. above water level. (It is worth noting that the water here is warm enough for swimming.) We cruised about (click, wind) but it • started to rain, so we departed. The route and weather on the return were just about the same, as the trip in. We added a detour to the head of Jervis Inlet, where we found a floating logging camp (i.e. houses on barges). The major weather change was a gale force wind in Howe Sound, which slapped us about, getting us a bit damp before reaching Horseshoe Bay. In summer, a boat on Princess Louisa Inlet or adjacent Jervis Inlet (moorage problems) would serve as a good base for climbs in the area. The peaks are high and close to the water, and are not often visited. This may be due to remoteness, and bad weather. Access to the high country is mostly by abandoned logging roads, as well as a trail up Loquilts Ck. to the divide. Note, however, that roads get overgrown and washed out quick­ ly; and bushwhacking is unpleasant at best.

OLYMPIC BEACH SOJOURN May Long Weekend Julie Ourom

Since the weather the week before didn't look too promising, Betty and I decided to spend the May long weekend at Olympic Beach, in hopes that the weather gods there might, for some reason, be more favourably disposed towards us than elsewhere. To this end, we persuaded Kathy (my sister), Alex, Jacques, John B., Berni, John R., Bill and a newcomer to the V.O.C, Joy- Ann Cohen, to come with us. We set off very early Saturday morning with seven persons in Jacques's father's van (an excellent beast for trips like this one) and three in John's bug, en route for R.E.I. After several hours in Seattle and a meeting with the Leaven-

23 worth trippers, we continued on towards the coast. By this time, it was mid-afternoon, and I, as leader, attempted to keep everybody moving in the right direction and at a constant speed so that we would be able to get somewhere before dark (nobody else seemed too concerned, so I was not too successful!). We arrived at the park­ ing lot at Lake Ozette to discover that not only was it beginning to get dark, but that it was also beginning to rain. Oh well. We packed up in a hurry and set off down the boardwalk towards Cape Alava. It was not only wet and dark, but also rather cold and miserable, so we were glad to get to the beach. Once there, we lost no time in finding a camp site and getting set up. The weather hadn't managed to dampen our spirits so we spent the evening taking advantage of our fine form in typical V.O.C. fashion. The next day we arose late and after brekkies set off down the beach for a tour. The weather gods had given us a temporary respite and it was actually sunny for a while. We spent the morning doing typcial Oly B things: climbing sea stacks, exploring the petroglyphs, •wading, playing frisbee, and looking for glass floats (unsuccessfully). Musical accompaniment was provided by John, who turned a piece of kelp into a horn. Later on in the day, we went up to have a look at the archeo- logical dig. While we were waiting for our tour, we went and climbed Cannonball Island, and it commenced to, to rain. The tour was really interesting. They are excavating an old Indian village, and our guide gave us a fascinating tour and commentary on what they are doing. In the evening, we built a fire on the beach and sat around it, telling stores and acting rowdy. Monday morning, we all got up late again except for Kathy who got up early and went out looking for glass floats. She found two, the only ones we found all weekend. Around noon, we packed up and headed back to the cars. We drove back leisurely via Port Angeles and Whidby Island. The return trip was marked by a continuous water fight in and between the two cars (we won). We stopped at Shakey's in 3ellingham for pizza, where we met up with the Leavenworth group - Grant, Erich, John, Ann, Ehleen and Philip. They had also had an enjoyable weekend, but their weather wasn't any better than ours, and they hadn't climbed much.

May 28-29 MT. BAKER

Party: Roland Burton Jacques Bilinski Heidi Piltz His friend Alistair Bruce Fairley Arthur McHugh Jacques had a friend down who wanted to do some climbing; Roland, Heidi and I were keen to get in shape for the summer; Arthur had never climbed Baker, but

24 wanted to, and we were all free during the week. So the six of us got together and headed south on a nice Wednesday morning at about 6:30 A.M. We dutifully signed in at the Glacier Ranger Station and learned that the road was drivable to about 2500 feet. We soon arrived at this elevation, where we had a clear view of Baker. Roland pointed out to us the approximate loca­ tion of the Kulshun Cabin and the track made by the herd of Mazamas who had no doubt visited the mountain on the previous weekend. The walk up to the cabin was pleasant and easy; we arrived around lunch time and quickly cased the establishment, coming up with two rain ponchos and a cupboard full of candles. Roland, who had ecstatic visions of coming up with some quality hardware, was disappointed. From the Kulshun cabin on the snow was softer and deeper. We rested on a rocky spine, but decided to continue on past the traditional VOC campsite. Around 3:30 we stopped at about 6500 feet, beneath the Black Buttes. Supper was consumed. Before the sun set we walked up to the ridge behind the camp and exchanged wise comments on Lincoln. "North ridge looks really exposed. Best way to climb it would be straight up the fact, etc. etc." Some idiot suggested rising at 4:00 A.M. We almost did. By 4:30 everyone was working on breakfast, and by 5:30 the fast rope, Jacques, Alistair and Arthur were on their way, in beautiful, clear weather. We followed soon after. Reaching the col at the top of the Coleman Glacier, we decided to don cram­ pons for the Roman Wall. The ascent from the col was steeper, but not difficult. On the top ridge we met the first rope starting down. They informed us that the summit, at the far end of the ridge of course, was windy. It was. Also cold. We sat on the lee side and chomped lunch, observed the crater activity, took a note of Ranier, and recited the usual distant peak litany. On the way down the Roman Wall we belayed each other for practice. Meeting the others at the lip of a rather large crevasse where they were resting, the party discussed the options open to us. After briefly considering some crevasse rescue practice, or other possible climbs in the area, we settled finally on going home. All in all, a most pleasant mid-week weekend.

IN SEARCH OF GARIBALDI June 15-17

Party: Heidi Piltz, Jacques Bilinski, Bruce Fairley

Heidi and I were looking around for one more trip to get ready for Steele, and Jacques seemed to be

25 willing to climb anything and everything, so we settled on Garibaldi via Diamond Head as being close to home and reasonably long. We were to leave Vancouver Saturday afternoon, but did not arrive at the Diamond Head park­ ing lot until 7:00 P.M. We hiked for two hours then camped beside the trail, just as both rain and darkness began to fall. However, sunny skies had been forecast for the morrow (as usual). At six the next morning we peered out of the tent to find ourselves completely socked in by clouds. This caused us to sleep in until 10:00, and it was not until 11:00 that we actually started on our way. Visibility was low, 25 - 100 feet. Things went fine until we dropped down in a gentle col and over the other side. Going downhill didn't seem right; we checked the com­ pass and found we had to make about a complete about face. We had lunch, then dropping our packs we navigat­ ed our way to the chalet with map and compass, accom­ panied by a strange character who emerged out of the fog and was following our footsteps. Dressed in jeans and a jean jacket, he carried nothing, no food, compass, knife, nothing. "Just wanted to touch first base and go back again," he explained (?). We assume he made it; he disappeared shortly after we reached the chalet. The cabin which was available at the chalet site we found to be large and comfy, and we settled in, Heidi cooking dins and Jacques dryed his pants over his Svea. The night passed uneventfully, except for a brief inter­ lude when I amused the other two by going after a rat with my ice axe. Monday brought no change in the damp, foggy, awful weather, so we gave up on Garibaldi, slept in, and left for home after breakfast. Needless to say, the sun finally did the usual thing as we drove back into a bright and balmy Vancouver.

SUMMER 1975 Jay MacArthur

Since I organized the majority of VOC trips this summer, I am writing an account of what happened. I have not written up long, drawn-out articles for the trips since I didn't visit any new or exciting areas. All the places I went to can be read about in Culbert's Alpine Guide to Southwestern BC , Beckey's Guide, or previous journals. We had a meeting at Grant McCormack's place in May and at Heidi Piltz's house in June to get things organized. We organized rock climbing at Pt. Atkinson on Tuesdays, sailing on Wednesdays, and sports on Thursdays. Mondays and Fridays were left for packing and unpacking. Rock climbing was a great success on Tuesday nights. John Naysmith did a great job of -organization. Everyone had fun, whether they were learning how to

26 belay, climbing, swimming, or enjoying the sunset. On Wednesday nights we went sailing. Betty Walsh must be congratulated for organizing this and donating her boat. Rolf Kullak and Erich Hinze must also be thanked for donating their boats. Alex Szabo must be thanked for organizing sports on Thursday nights. A group of about 20 VOCers ended off the sailing and rock-climbing nights by going for dinner at the Wharf and then to a slide show at Julie Ourom's.

TRIPS

Bamfield - May 10-11

John Baldwin, Helen Lemon, John Romein, Berni Claus and I went for a hike along the West Coast Trail past Pachena Pt. We met Steve Schwartz and his girl friend at Pachena Pt.

Whistler Mtn. - May 17-18

John Naysmith and I went skiing in the rain. We were dreaming when we expected to watch the hot dog competition in the sunshine.

Ply Beach - May 17-19

Julie Ourom led a small group of people to this standard VOC stomping grounds.

Mt. Wedge - I led a mob ov 18 up to Wedgemount Lake on Saturday. Self-arrests and boot-axe belays were prac­ tised on Saturday afternoon. On Sunday I led a group of 12 up the West Ridge while Grant MacCormack and Phil Kubik climbed the north ar@te in brilliant sun­ shine.

Sky Pilot - June 8

Party: Mark Laisam Carole Scheuplein Bob Warden Betty Purdy Dave Paterson Steve Trend Gordon Butt Gordon Haiber Curtis Kennedy Bruce Fairley Tim Leadem Vicki Seraphim Jay MacArthur (L)

I have written this article with some detail since this new access route deserves more attention. A keen trip, meeting at the Klahanie Inn at 7:00 AM. Everyone was early too, unreal for a VOC trip. We drove up the MB logging road just past the Chief for three miles to a sign that ways "Watershed: No Admission". We then drove up that road to the fork with the Shannon

27 Creek road, where we took the left fork following the Stawamus River. The road is very rough for one short, steep section, which is passable only to 4X4"s, VW's, or other cars with crazy drivers. We continued along this road for another two miles past Habrich, and then took the first right fork. We then descended and crossed the Stawamus R. on a log bridge. We then drove as far as possible along this road. We only got to 2000', but the road is driveable in summer to 3000', past Sky Pilot Creek. We left the cars at 8:00 and continued on foot along the logging road to 2900', just before Sky Pilot Creek. Here, where Sky Pilot and Ledge are directly to your right (west), we ascended a prominent snow gulley. From its head we made an ascending traverse to the left (southwest) into the "scree" (snow) basin. (After the snow melts, you must continue along the logging road to its end then head straight up to skirt some small bluffs on the right. Once above them at 4000', you traverse right (north-west) to the scree basin. This would take at least one hour more after the snow melts, even though you can drive further.) From the scree basin we took the obvious south ridge (class C-3). See Alpine Guide for other route descriptions. Time from the cars was 4 hours. The sun was rising when we left Vancouver, it was snowing on the summit, and was sunny by the time we got down to the cars. An enjoyable trip, although it would have been nice if we could have seen something other than Habrich's impressive face.'

Mt. Rexford - June 28-29

Jacques Bilinski, Grant McCormack, Julie Ourom, Berni Claus, Ehleen Bohn, Kirsty Leighton and myself attempted Rexford but didn't succeed because of snow- covered rock and laziness. The trail is being destroy­ ed by the logging taking place, but it can be found if you are careful. Hopefully the logging company will re-mark the trail when it is finished logging. The logging company has a gate on the road. You can phone Catermole Timber at 526-1533 to get a key for Nesak- watch Creek.

Mt. Baker - July 1

Betty Walsh, Ehleen Bohn, Kirsty Leighton, Jacques Bilinski, Berni Claus, Mark Laitham, Bob Warden, and I left Vancouver Monday night and met in Glacier. We slept at the end of the road below the Kulshan Cabin. We started off at 34 30 AM and were on the summit by 11:30 AM. We met Julie Ourom on our way down. They had left Vancouver at 3:30 AM. It was beautiful and clear. We were the only people on the mountain besides Klaus Haring. I recommend climbing Mt. Baker on a

28 weekday since you miss the crowds.

Castle Towers Mtn. - July 5-6

Betty Walsh, Gary McDonald, John Remein, Julie Ourom, and I attempted this peak, but we were turned back by threatening weather. The Helm Creek trail makes a good approach.

Forbidden Peak - July 12-13

Grant McCormack and I accompanied George Waite and a cast of twenty on a joint ACC - VOC trip. The peak is at Cascade Pass, near Marblemount, Washington. It has excellent rock, however the standard route that we did wasn't too hard, but it was very exposed. Saturday it was sunny and extremely hot. Sunday we had an electrical storm in the morning which made things very interesting.

Overlord Mtn. - July 26-27

Ed Williams, Marg Mathews, a girl from England and I went to Russet Lake for this sunny July weekend. Ed, Marg and I managed to climb Overlord Sunday morning

Mt. Shuksan - August 16-17

It rained this weekend, but Rob Boyce and I were crazy enough to drive down to see if it would clear. It didn't and we really didn't get out of the car. (eds. note: Jay got his car stuck in the snow. In August!)

Leavenworth - Labour Day Weekend

I was originally planning to go to the Tantalus Range, but it rained in Vancouver and snowed in the mountains, so I decided to go to sunny Leavenworth. Mike Dunbar, Jay Page and I left on Friday morning. We all learned a lot of climbing routes between 5.5 and 5.8.

Mt. Shuksan September 6-7

This time Jay Page, John Baldwin, Keith Niall, John Bataller and I attempted Shuksan in better weather but we were turned back by a large bergschrun in Hell's Highway.

Mt. Slesse - September 14

Keith Niall, Bob Pritchard, Ehleen Bohn, Julie Ourom, Margaret Symon and I climbed Slesse on this

29 very hot, sunny day. I recommend leaving Vancouver by 5:30 AM to make this standard climb in one day.

SUMMER SAILING - ENGLISH BAY Julie Ourom This summer saw VOCers interested in other activ­ ities besides climbing and hiking. Sailing became the big thing (almost bigger than mountains). Every Wed­ nesday night, Betty led her flotilla around English Bay. The three boats were crammed right to the gun­ wales every week with as many people as we could fit in (almost). After several hours of fine cruising, we usually adjourned to one of the nearby pubs to "socialize". The only out-of-the-ordinary incident all summer happened one evening when a storm (thunder and light­ ning) was building up. For some reason which the rest of us couldn't quite fathom, Betty was quite worried about the storm hitting us. We couldn't figure it out - true, the sky was a little darker than usual, but the storm wasn't that close to us - until it was discovered that Betty had been wearing sunglasses all evening. Seen through them, the sky looked as if it was going to come tumbling down on us any minuteI To top off the summer, Betty and I got together about fifteen people, and we all went down to the Wharf for dinner, and then came back to my place and looked at my slides (because hardly anybody brought any). We all sat around and talked about our various summer ex­ periences - a good way to end the summer off.

REXFORD AND BAKER - DOMINION DAY WEEKEND Julie Ourom

For many people, Dominion Day Weekend was not a long weekend this year, so rather than wasting the holiday, a number of us - Berni, Jacques, Jay, Ehleen, Kirsty, Grant and I - decided to go to Rexford for the two day weekend, and then down to Baker for a one day blitz on Tuesday. Early Saturday morning saw a bunch of not-so- keen keeners sitting in a cafe in Chilliwack watching the socked-in sky and almost hoping that it would degenerate into rain. We eventually got keen about the same time as the sky did and took off down the road. We ended up walking further than we would have liked to due to a new (and as we later found out, un­ authorized) gate across the road. As well, we had a bit of trouble finding the bottom of the trail because the area was in the process of being logged. (Keep walking along the road and you will eventually find the trail when the road runs out.) After a while, we found and slogged our way up the trail. By this time,

30 it was extremely hot, but we took our time going up so it wasn't too bad (we lived through it anyway). We made a fine camp and then spent the evening taking pictures of Berni stuck in a hole and partying in the tent. When we got up the next morning, the weather had turned again. We started off anyway since we were keen on climbing the mountain. When we got to the base, we discovered that the rock was covered with a thin covering of ice. This made most of us lose our keenness and decide to spend the day basking in the sunshine (provided that it held out that long). Undaunted by our slackness, Grant, Ehleen and Berni kept on going. All of a sudden, Ehleen and Berni came tumbling down a gully (Berni had slipped after they had turned around to descend). Luckily, they had a long snow slope to run out. Mean­ while, Grant had disappeared. Continuing on alone, he managed to get most of the way up, but was stopped by the last short pitch before the summit. Since we couldn't see him, we were a little worried because the conditions weren't the best. Besides, it was cold sitting there. However, he eventually made it back to us. We quickly returned to camp, packed up and walked out. Despite the fact that none of us had managed to climb Rexford, we all felt that it had been a good week­ end. It is well worth while checking for gates across logging roads before a trip, especially with areas that aren't visited too often. Twice this summer, we en­ countered locked gates which had been newly erected (at Rexford and at Brandywine). In both cases, if we had checked beforehand, we could easily have obtained keys. One phone call could save a lot of extra walking!

ROBIE REID

Party: Curtis Kennedy, Dave Patterson

I always hate getting up at 5 AM to embark on a trip that I am not sure I want to go on in the first place, which is always the case at 5 AM, if you know what I mean. I arrived at Dave's at 7:30. There was no mis­ taking the house as Dave was sitting on the porch clad in knickers and bright orange socks. We departed in Dave's car which much to my surprise (it was a Vaux- hall) made it to Stave Lake. We continued up a road which ran inland on the North side of the lake for about five miles. The road found the lake again at a prison farm and the official we encountered was reluc­ tant for us to launch a canoe there and definitely didn't want us leaving the car anywhere nearby. So we returned to Stave Falls and put the canoe in. The paddle up the lake was a little long to be called pure joy. We used the access described in Culbert's guide.

31 The old logging road and- camp mentioned is invisible more than 100 yards offshore and appears as a beach backed by heavy woods. There is a trail that comes out here from Alouette Lake. Follow this up to 700 feet where there is a small lake. At this point take out your machetes and a six inch cannon if you have one and blast into the most miserable bushwack of your life. We worked our way around to the north side of the ridge. Tiings improved about 1,000 feet later but it took us over an hour and a half to gain that. Three and a half hours later we reached a pretty good camp­ site at about 3,500 feet if I recall. We were lucky there were still now patches around as there is no water from the logging camp stream to this point. The weather during the day had been cool and overcast. We hoped for better weather on the morrow. Dave woke me at 10 AM as we had to get an early start. We opened up the tent flap and looked into the guts of a cloud. After many rounds of "expletives deleted", we decided to return to the lake amid inter­ mittent spurts of an aqueous solution from above. It took a measly three hours down. If the devil had pop­ ped his head up out of the ground at this point and offered me immediate passage home in exchange for my soul, he would have got it. We arrived back at the beach and deposited ourselves on a couple of large boulders. After pouring out our boots and wringing our socks, and stowing our stomachs, we launched. Everything was going mediumly all right until it started to blow, from straight ahead of course. Soon the waves became quite large, occasionally slopping over the bow and gun'ale and adding to the water in the bottom of our leaking canoe. However, Dave's canoeing ability was easily the best that there was out on the lake (we hadn't seen any others) and he had no trouble steering us to safety. Shortly we were sputtering along in Dave's wheels gorging ourselves on mountain mix and wondering about our next approach on Robie Reid...from Alouette Lake?

KASKAWALSH GLACIER Jay Page

In mid August last summer I hiked into the Kaskawalsh Glacier in Kluane National Park in the Yukon. I had originally conceived of a small mountain­ eering expedition to climb some of the numerous un- climbed peaks in the area, but failing to arouse any­ one's interest, I decided to hike in and have a look at the area. After registering at the Park Headquarters in Haines Junction I got a ride to the Slims River bridge at Mile 1060 of the Alaska Highway. Here a rough road takes you 4 miles down the west side of the Slims

32 River to Bullion Creek. I followed this creek upstream about 6 miles until confronted with a canyon and then turned back to the Slims River. I spent a couple of days packing down the Slims River Valley and exploring tributary valleys. The hik­ ing is quite easy but not terribly aesthetic in the valley mud flats. I found that one could save con­ siderable time and effort by walking on the levees beside the main channel, instead of bushwacking on the hillside around small bays and swampy areas. A walking stick proved to be invaluable for probing soft muddy areas. The route follows the thickest reeds and occasional alder bushes. There are several fresh water streams flowing into the valley so you do not need to carry water with you. About 20 miles down the valley you must climb up on some high grassy banks to get around a meander in the river. I camped on the first bank overlooking the Canada Creek outwash gravel. This is one of the best spots to camp in the area because it has clean water and a great view of Mt. Maxwell (10,000 ft.), and of the Kaskawalsh Glacier five miles away. Other people also had thought that it was a good location; specifi­ cally the people who left their garbage scattered around, consisting mainly of British Army Assault Rations. I also found numerous unopened cans of pro­ cessed cheese and some choice British Pornography. I didn't try the cheese but opened the latter and found it well preserved. I spent several days in the area exploring and one day climbed part way up Observation Mountain, to enjoy a spectacular view of the St. Elias Mountains. Observation Mountain is covered with slide alder and it is quite a thrash to climb up. The easiest route is up the south-east side. The Kaskawalsh Glacier is very large - about four miles wide and forty to fifty miles long. It is badly crevassed near the snout, which disappears under a massive pile of ice cored moraine. The easiest way onto the glacier appears to be via a small promontory south of Observa­ tion Mountain. The glacier is fairly flat and appears to be a good access route into the St. Elias Mountains. I also tried to hike up Canada Creek but this was not feasible since the creek meandered from wall to wall in a canyon. The rock in the area appeared to be generally quite rotten so I didn't attempt any climb­ ing. The weather was warm and sunny every day so con­ sequently the glacier fed streams rose dramatically. Canada Creek rose over half a foot in an afternoon and I was almost swept away trying to cross back to my camp. If one plans to camp in this area near the glacier, then you must carry water with you since Canada Creek is very muddy. I walked back and to the Alaska Highway in a day

33 and hitched a ride within an hour to Whitehorse.

A WEEK ON THE GREAT DIVIDE TRAIL August 21-28 Betty Walsh The rain drummed down our our packs, dribbling down inside our ponchos. We trod around the last few puddles toward the noisy highway. We had spent six days away from civilisation. Then we met a few people starting their way up the trail for their adventure. "How was it?" they asked. Dumbfounded, we could not describle our experience, especially in a few words. Here is an account of our trip. Our trip had been hatched earlier in the summer. Bill Lee had wanted to take a week off at the end of the summer. Gradually, others joined in on the plan­ ning: myself, Margaret Mathews, Diane Miller and John, both chemistry grad students, and John's brother Andrew, who was visiting from England. Our destina­ tion: the "Larch" section of the Great Divide Trail in the Canadian Rockies. Our trek would follow southward from Field through Yoho and Kootenay Parks to the Banff-Radium Highway. The trip would require somewhat less than a week. Our first stop on the trip would be Lake O'Hara; our last at Floe Lake in Kootenay Park. According to the Rockies guidebook, this was one of the most beauti­ ful and best kept sections of the trail. Both lakes proved to be highlights of our trip. On Thursday, August 21, five of us left Vancouver in Diane's car. Marg, who had stopped by in the Okana- gan, would meet us in Field. After traffic delays, we burst into the Field Hotel, miserably late. There we settled our final plans. The trail into Lake O'Hara is really an 8 mile road, on which a bus travels daily. Because we were not completely sure of how much time our group would take, we decided to take the evening bus after a leisurely day at Lake Louise and leaving the car at Wapta Lodge. Lake O'Hara, situated just west of Lake Louise, is nestled between some of the more beautiful peaks of the Canadian Rockies. There is a fine network of trails in the area, suitable as day trips for those who use O'Hara as a base. We stayed at a wilderness-type government campground. The rich can stay at Lake O'Hara Lodge, a tasteful haven near the lake. The campground usually requires reservations, taken at the Field Park Warden's office. This is something to remember for future trips. As it was, snow had con­ veniently chased away the crowds the day before. The snowcover had then melted away, greeting us with a near-empty, if damp, campsite.

34 At the campsite, we met three Americans who would travel along with us on the trail and become our friends: Dan and Tom, from Washington D.C., and George, a San Franciscan who had been hiking the whole length of the trail from Mt. Robson. We kept them amused with our habits. As we hiked away from Lake O'Hara, we showed them our true mettle. We slept in and left camp at the time that would become de rigeur for our trip - 11:30 or 12:00 in the morning. Perhaps for camara­ derie's sake our American friends did not leave us behind, and instead let us amuse them. From the beginning, it became clear that our packs were too heavy. Using Fred Thiessen's food planning article (VOC Journal 1973) as the basis for our food planning, we had added on extra food to the list be­ cause we were hearty eaters. What a mistake! In the end we were forced to eat extremely heartily and save our pride. Our American friends were astounded by our casseroles, pancakes and almost daily cheesecakes. They claimed that we were the only hikers who gained weight on a trip! The worst offenders on our list were ex­ cesses of sugar, cheese, honey and gas. Marg's per­ sonal cross to bear was the gas. We still had an ex­ cess even with our two stoves boiling water for our English friend's daily tea. Along the trail we camped at Lake O'Hara, Otter- tail River, Helmet Creek, Tumbling Glacier, Numa Creek and Floe Lake. The scenery along the way was spectacu­ lar. The trail led past towering peaks well known to climbers - Mt. Victoria, Mt. Colonel Foster and the Goodsir Peaks, towers of rock that are the highest peaks in Yoho Park. Our trail led along the Rockwall, a 25 mile long cliff of rock 2000 feet high with the requisite number of waterfalls coursing off it. Due to the cloud and rain showers we encountered on the trip, we could not see all of the scenery. The passes, how­ ever, still kept a late carpet of alpine flowers. In spite of the indifferent weather, the trip was beauti­ ful. Our campsites were conveniently placed. We found warden's cabins at day intervals along the route. Al­ though the cabins were closed, there was room to camp, water and even space-age fibreglass outhouses. The campsite at Helmet Creek, for example, even had two canvas tents left by the trail crew. They provided excellent cooking shelters. Although other people camped in the passes, (and were snowed on for their pains), we found a cabin wherever we felt like camping. The trails were all in good condition, and easy to find except for two minor exceptions. On our trek up Goodsir Creek, the river had braided so often that the trail became difficult to find at times. We found the trail at last after crossing a last portion of the creek - where I promptly fell in, destroying my camera. 35 While we were crossing another meltwater stream, we saw a rare sight for Kootenay Park - a large bull moose. Later, in Wolverine Pass, we lost the trail in the alpine meadows. We finally decided to use our map and bushwhack down to the trail and a warden's cabin below us. Little did we realize that a new trail had been built that year close to the Rockwall. However, Margar­ et and John were so good at routefinding that we found the old overgrown trail as it had been marked on our outdated maps. After expecting coastal-style cliffs and vicious creeks to ford, we popped out of the high Rockies wood - in the clearing with the Warden's cabin in it! At Tumbling Glacier, Tom and Dan and Bill Lee left for the highway. Bill's knee had been strained by the walking, thus forcing him to discontinue the trip. It was unfortunate that our leader could not finish the trip. The rest of us continued through the rain. Numa Pass, just before Floe Lake, was the high point of our trip. Miraculously the weather cleared and we could see the peaks that we had missed before. Most of us scaled Numa Peak to better admire the scenery. It was an 8900 ft. heap of crumbling rock reminiscent of stoned wheat thins that crumbled like crockery under our boots. (We always thought this way after our food con­ sumption.) Our objective, Floe Lake, was spectacular. A 3000 ft. wall of rock hung above the brilliant blue lake. Occasionally, chunks of ice would break off the glacier clinging to the wall's base, crashing into the lake and creating the floes that gave the lake its name. As we sat in the pass, we also saw a glint of light, then recognized it - cars on the Banff-Radium Highway thousands of feet below us. Civilisation was waiting for our return. After a night at Floe Lake, we headed for home. A heavy thunderstorm pursued us all the way down to the highway. While John hitch-hiked back to retrieve the car, kindly wardens allowed us to stay in the shelter of a maintenance building. We stopped over at the Mathew's cottage at Kalamalka Lake on the way home to the coast. Then we drove home to Vancouver and another school year.

36 FALL & WINTER 1975

Sept. 3-6 SHULAPS Moira Lemon

Always on the lookout for new and exciting places to explore, we quickly jumped at John's suggestion of the Shulaps Range, on the north side of Carpenter Lake. The three of us started driving early one afternoon to Lillooet and continued along the Bridge River road towards Gold Bridge and Bralorne. One turns off the main road on to Marshall Lake road at a small settle­ ment called Rexmount, about 46 miles on the mileage signs from Lillooet. We drove about ten miles up a very narrow, winding canyon road to Marshall Lake, where there are cottages every 100 feet or so. The Marshall Lake road is located on the north east shore and a mining road following Jim Creek takes off about halfway along the lake. This road is marked by a sign high up on tree stating "Cap. Mines", The road quickly becomes impassable by car as we discovered, unless you are a daredevil driver. The steepness is unbelievable. After the leads to 'the battery fell off John's VW, we backed down a hill to a nice flat campsite beside Jim Creek, (even an outhouse nearby). In the morning the road didn't look half so bad, but we were just as glad to be on foot. The mining road climbs steeply through a dry spruce forest with no forks for quite a distance. To reach the meadows rather than the mine we followed the SE fork of Jim Creek. At the first fork in the road we turned right across a creek and continued to the next fork near a large old grass covered Cat. Again we took the right fork. From here on there are no more major branches. The road soon enters a subalpine meadow where we stopped for lunch amongst the Indian Paintbrush. A mad scramble occurred as we noticed a cloud galloping towards us. We raced to cover under a huge spreading fir tree just as a blizzard of snow descended on the meadow. Our tree kept us dry and within 20 minutes the onslaught had passed and we emerged into a covering of wet snow which soon melted. The road here becomes obscured but a little thrashing around will reveal a cut bank towards the right which is indeed the road. From here the forest quickly opens up into the alpine meadow and the road ends in a creek crossing. We hiked up the creek valley and emerged at the foot of a long gently undulating meadow bordered by by gigantic moraine ridges. One felt quite humbled gazing at such an impressive sight. The only sound that met us was the somewhat muffled sound of water cascading over some fascinating complexes of outcrop- pings and moraines. Then began the search for the "perfect" campsite. 37 Poor John! He followed Helen and I with great mental control as we meandered haphazardly over the meadow in­ specting each suggested spot and giving it an aesthetics rating. What do you do when its all fantastic? We eventually settled on a spot above a clear creek with a magnificent view up the meadow to Shulaps peak. We pitched the McKinley on the extremely comfortable veg­ gies, and hiked up to the top of the 200 to 300 foot moraine in the remaining daylight. The moraine has a definite green tinge to it at a distance and close up. On examination it turned out that there is vast quanti­ ties of Serpentine throughout it. Dark cloud swirled all round but Carpenter Lake shone out with incredible intensity from the valley below. As we returned to the tent another freak snowstorm unleashed a couple of inches of snow over everything. The following day we set off in very dismal weath­ er to make an attempt on Shulaps peak. We hiked up to the head of the meadow and crossed over the moraine. Scrambling over the loose rock we contoured around to the SW ridge of the subpeak of Shulaps. The weather was degrading from poor to miserable and visability decreased to several yards. The summit was declared when we reached a prominent notch on the ridge (visible later from the tent) and a series of heroic summit shots were taken. To reach Shulaps peak from here one would traverse the summit of this subpeak then descend to a col before the main peak and contour around to the east ridge of Shulaps. Alternatively, one could continue from the head of the meadow up to this col, although it looked quite steep. After exiting from the ridge, we spent much of the afternoon sitting on rocks in the cloud ensheathed meadow. With the approach of evening the clouds parted and revealed the peaks for our viewing before our de­ parture the next day. Besides a fantastic hiking area, the Shulaps Range also appears to be an excellent ski touring area. The approach is quite short if the Marshall Lake road is plowed in winter, and several good slopes and bowls exist for skiing.

SQUAMISH - CHEAKAMUS DIVIDE Sept. 8-10 Rob Boyce

Party: Moira Lemon & Rob Boyce

This trip was planned as a 3-day attempt to tra­ verse the Squamish-Cheakamus Divide from Brandywine Creek to Tricouni Meadows. This alpine ridge is gener­ ally straight and narrow, mostly rock, with some snow- field in the northern part. The traverse would be a feasible 3-day trip, but 4 days would be more enjoyable.

38 On the drive up, the sight of clear sky and the trident of Mt. Fee made us optimistic. The first ob­ stacle was a locked gate on the Brandywine road, 100 m. from the highway. We left David's ailing car here at 14:15h. Then followed 3 or 4 km. of dusty road. This did not go too fast as I was still recovering from the previous day's climbing. Further, there is about 8 km. of trail, the latter part of which is muddy and/or steep. We didn't actually make it to the meadows that night; stopping a kilometer short, at the only dry, level spot, a gravel bar; at dark. During supper, 2 weeks of good weather began to get washed away. Next morning was foggy and cold, but not too rainy. Upon reaching the end of the trail, we found a long, flat, green meadow with a creek meandering through it, and large glacial erotics scattered about. It took a bit of time and balance to cross the creek. We scram­ bled up to the rubbly ridge on the west. From the ridge-top, we decided that we'd have to move it and get to south of Fee to camp tonight, in order to make it out by Tricouni. But, as we couldn't see anything, this would be difficult. And if the weather remained bad, we'd have problems, as we'd never seen the route. So, we dumped our packs, and ambled up the ridge northward until it went up no more. A cairn here was assumed to indicate the peak of Brandywine. All that we could see was a vertical dropoff to some large cre­ vasses. Somewhat miffed at the lack of view and summit register, we returned to our packs. The weather was slowly improving, so we could see into the valley on either side, as well as catch an occasional glimpse of Mts. Fee and Brew. Despite the encouraging signs, we hesitated to drop into the valley on the west (1000' vertical) to camp. So we walked south on the ridge. We'd only gone a minute when a noise caused us to look back, to witness a half-dozen goats leaping up the ridge by our packs. At the end of the ridge, we decided to camp nearby, and go home by the route in. So, re­ turning to our packs, we dropped about 200' westward to a bench with a minute pond. Dusk drew out a few spark­ ling stars. The next morning was awfully cold, with raindrops frozen on the fly, and thick frost on the heather. But the view was fabulous. Right across the valley were the improbably steep red and gray minarets of Mt. Fee; etched starkly against an azure sky. The black needles of Vulcan's Thumb and Pyroclastic Pks. poked up over a ridge, and the deep, shadowy valley below us was aimed directly at the Black Tusk. The only sound was the distant tinkle and roar of cascading streams. Obviously we couldn't go home now, so we began contouring around the head of the creek valley. This was slower than it looked, as it involved crossing steep

39 talus and little torrents. About 1/3 of the way around, we headed up a prominent snowfield (east of a big spur) to the top of Brandywine*s west ridge. We climbed the nearest bump and looked around. From our feet, snow- fields swooped down onto a crevassed glacier, which was actively calving into a pea-green lake, not shown on the map. The whole valley, tributary to Callaghan Ck., had a desolate, moonscape appearance. A smooth icefield draped the ridges to the north, and the ragged green spike of Mt. Cayley crowned the ridge of Pyroclastic. The Elaho - Ashlu Divide glistened on the western sky­ line. A bump, nearby, to the west was inspected with Moira's binoculars and found to have a cairn. So we had no choice but to climb it. As it was the last bump on the ridge, the view was even better. The ridge dropped off before joining the Squamish - Cheakamus Divide pro­ per, and in addition to the upper Squamish valley, the full height of the Cayley massif could be appreciated. Goats were spotted on a grassy knoll. Having exhausted most of our time and film, we more quickly retraced our steps. Shadows were already long as we reached the long meadow and slid down the trail. An orange glow could be seen to slide off the Black Tusk, just as we reached the road. A moving shadow in the brush was identified by Moira as a black bear. He reared up menacingly, but it seemed that this was merely in order to rub his back against a tree. He then unfortunately chose to lope off down the road ahead of us. Cbnsequently, the last leg of the trip was completed to lusty singing and banging of rocks with our ice-axes.

Route Suggestions: 1. The approach by Brandywine is quite scenic, but longer than would be an approach for Mt. Cayley (from Squamish R.) . 2. The ridgetop west of Brandywine Mtn. is an easy snow- walk, except close to the peak. To reach the easy part may require some side-hilling as we did. Alternatively, dropping into the valley gives reasonable travel, al­ though requires regaining several 100 ft. elevation. 3. Pass by Mt. Fee on the west, as the east is rather steep. 4. Exit from the ridge can be made via Mt. Brew - it looks like nice hiking. This also puts you fairly near to a car parked on Brandywine Ck. 5. The exit trail via Tricouni ends near a railroad station as well as the highway.

40 CLOUDBURST MOUNTAIN Longhike 1975 John Romein

Party: John Romein (L) John Sullivan Margaret George Jenny Hamilton Linda Wong Edmund Ho Carol Caldwell Malcolm Gray Larry Tanaka Robyn Fierheller Sanford Osier Eileen Buchanan Lib Stephen Ralph Impett Hazel Hoolicoff Vivian Haist Alexesis Loa Schultz Richard Wahlgren Jadzia Frenosil Eleanor Sirola Erik Lynberg Chris Graham Debbie Cairns Doug Querns Irma Generin Nadine Marzocco Dina Will

Like any Longhike trip we started late. Out of 28 people in 9 cars only 8 carloads arrived. After hold­ ing the columns for a while, to wait for the missing car, we continued. At the end of the paved section of the Squamish River Road, we came across a manned gate belonging to Weldwood Ltd. The man there told us the roat to the micro-wave station.was back farther. As we found out, after we'dsearched a few sideroads, the road to the micro-wave station was beyond the gate. The road is located mile before the power station on the Squamish River. The road is classed as a Volks­ wagen road and is only travellable by car up to roughly 2500 feet eley. From here we hiked up the.road to the col beside the micro-wave station at 3000 ft.. Then up the mountain through the bush we aimed for the trees on our left. Then we ate our way through the huckle­ berries . up as high as we could go through the bushes. Now.we contoured to our left through a stand of trees between us. and an did rock slide. From the base of the slide, the top left corner became our objective. At the top of the slide we continued up an older rock slide until we reached a pinnacle on our right. Perched: upon this we caught a spectacular view of the Squamish River Valley.. . Two of us continued to climb higher. We followed a slight trail which -contoured to • the right,. Beginning, between the pinnacle and the rock :-. face. ..This, trail took us over a small rock .ridge into a forested gully which when followed led us into alpine meadows. Since it was getting late by this.time due to our late start, we never did reach the top. But the route we took would have led us up there. Maybe next time. '''' i; (Eds. note: It would appear that this party was not

on the;proper,route^ For a clear-route, description see Culbert's Alpine Guide, p. 126.) ••:•->!•:••:'. .; . •:•>• •

41 MT. GARIBALDI (8787') Sept. 13-14

Party: Jay Page (Leader) Steve Ludwig Sherry Trotheway Jean-Gerard Napoleoni Greg Paget Andy Stepniewski John Romein Barbra

We met in the parking lot at the base camp after a crowded ride from Vancouver in a Fiat and a Datsun pick-up truck. It was a beautiful Saturday morning, without a cloud in the sky, and even from the parking lot we were offered good views of the Tantalus and Sky Pilot areas. We started up the trail about 10:30 and after a leisurely 2 hr. hike over Paul Ridge we arrived at Diamond Head Chalet. There we spent an hour eating lunch and basking in the sun. From the chalet it was another 4 hours ,up Ring Creek and across the Garibaldi Neve to the Neve Hilton. After inspecting the hut, half of us decided to pay our last respects by sleeping in it; while the other half decided to sleep in their tents, since they had carried them up there. We paired up for supper; the only thing common to all meals being the size of the leftovers, which we tried to dispose of by politely offering them to someone else: "Try it, you'll like it!" The next morning we were up in time to watch a spectacular sunrise herald in another beautiful day. We were underway shortly after 8:00 and followed the trail of three other climbers who had set out earlier. We walked up a steepish snow slope to the south of the Tent and circled around to the North East side of the Garibaldi summit. The route up posed no difficulties, the crevasses being easily avoided or crossed on large snow bridges. A rib of snow extended almost to the top so scrambling on the loose rotten rock was minimized. We were all on the summit about 11:30 where we all had a bite to eat and enjoy the view. After a half hour break we started down and had several fun glissades. Two hours later we were back at the Neve Hilton where we had a short rest before continuing on down. We arrived at the parking lot about 4 hours later, some­ what footsore, but content with having had such an enjoyable weekend. We concluded the trip at the Tastee Freeze in Squamish.

MOUNT SLESSE Sept. 14 Julie Ourom

Since the weather was so nice and since we knew that we wouldn't have many more opportunities to take advantage of it, we - Jay (our leader), Marg, Ehleen, Keith, Bob Pritchard (Chicken Little) and I - decided

42 Photo: John Leighton

Making tracks on Brohm Ridge

Photo: John Leighton

Longhike party at Rainbow Lake Photo: John Romein Photo: Jay Page Climbing the President, Ice climbing on a frozen Little Yoho waterfall to go and climb Slesse. Furthermore, we decided not to take any chances (weather or otherwise) and to climb it in one day. Therefore, we set off very early one sunny Sunday morning from Vancouver. (Actually, we didn't know whether it would be sunny until we hit Chilliwack, where it got light). We started up the trail about 7 a.m. and made good time going up through the trees (despite Bob's temporary stomach ache). The weather was beautiful - hot, sunny and clear - and it was a delight to be out doing something. We had picked it right! We ate an early lunch after we hit the alpine and then continued on across the meadows. We divided into ropes when we reached the rock slopes but didn't rope up until we got to the head of the gully just below the peak. Dividing into ropes took some time because no­ body really wanted to climb with Bob (Would you want to climb with someone who had "Chicken Little" written on his helmet?) but we eventually managed to do it, with pairs of Ehleen and Bob, Jay and Marg (imagine; their first time together!) and Keith and I. After waiting for two other people to get ahead of us - this was their first climb, and although they did well, they were a bit slow and awkward to start off with - we started climbing ourselves. The actual climb (tourist route) went quickly and seemed incredibly easy, espe­ cially after all the horror stories we had heard about it beforehand. I could hardly believe that we had reached the summit so quickly and easily. We sat in the sun for a while, relaxing and taking in the view. On the descent, we walked down the first part, and then rappelled down, the steeper part to the top of the gully. I don't think that anybody really enjoyed the rappel - it was a bit awkward. From the gully, we made good time down the talus, across the meadows and down the trail back to the cars. It was a long way and we were all very happy to get back to the road, expecially since we arrived at the cars just before dark. After stopping at the A & W in Sardis for dinner, we con­ tinued on home. We had had an extremely enjoyable day. We all felt that our decision to climb Slesse in one day was an excellent one. We hit it lucky all around, except for our tired and aching bodies. It was a great way to climb Slesse, and is highly recommended.

THE BLACK TUSK Sept. 26 Rob Boyce

Party: Jay Page & Rob Boyce

Due to various delays that needn't be mentioned, we left the Black Tusk parking lot just as a busload of school kids did, at 12:12 p.m. It took 2 hours to

43 reach the crossroads in the meadows. There I discovered I'd left my camera at Taylor Ck., while filling water bottles. Fetching it wasted most of another hour. We then proceeded up the old Black Tusk trail, which one is obviously directed away from, if One is looking. (The new trail is about 50 m. further on.) We got tangled up in the slithery talus under the south knob, and eventually traversed around east to the proper trail. It was a grungy slog up to the short east ridge. There being talus on the south side, one might be some­ what startled to find that it drops off quite abruptly on the north. Upon reaching this ridge, we observed that the Tusk does not display that annoying character­ istic (prevalent in mountains such as Metal Dome and the Bookworms) of growing as one approaches. All along the base of the Tusk, at least one of us was impressed by the ability of such rotten garbage to stand up in verti­ cal walls, flakes, and pinnacles. A while was spent mulling over which route to take to the summit, having not read the guidebook. We opted for the base of the gulley (apparently not recommended) rather than the chimney intersecting the gulley (appar­ ently recommended), as it looked firmer. Anyway, the rock wasn't as bad as it looked. The peak, reached at 5:50, wasn't all that nice, and didn't even have a register. And there was that stupid Outer Peak, just a bit higher than us. But the view was great, as the weather was, of course, perfect. We left sometime after 6:00, and amid great pound­ ing of feet, managed to get well down the trail before dark. A headlight was used for the last 3 miles. The parking lot appeared about 9:30, and we stood and gaped at all the scintillating stars and the Milky Way. Thus we proved both that the Black Tusk can be climbed in half a day, and that it certainly isn't worth it.

COLD AND CONFUSION ON THE NEVE John Frisell

Party: Peter Jordan (L) John Parslow Berni Claus Peter Brenner Heidi Piltz Tom Volkers John Romein Jay MacArthur John Frizell Bob Stathers

In 1970, a V.O.C. - A.C.C. party built a mountain­ eers hut at ,the 6800 foot level on a rock outcrop of the Garibaldi Neve. The location of the hut was unfortunate, as each winter snow built up on the uphill side and pushed it out of shape. After five years of this, the hut was useless. Its laminated beams were cracked and the end walls pulled away from the sides so the wind swept through the entire structure. In late September,

44 1975, a V.O.C. party under the leadership of Peter Jordan set off to disassemble the hut before it col­ lapsed, so that the materials might be reused in some future structure. The trip started calmly enough on Friday night with a ride through the rain and wind to the Diamond

Head Chalet courtesy of Hans Reisenleter who is the Park Ranger. We enjoyed a pleasant night in the Chalet, made more pleasant by the possibility that if the weather persisted we would be able to pack it in and go home Saturday having tried our best. Saturday morning, the weather was possible so we slogged across the Neve in foot deep snow carrying sledge hammers, wrenches, crowbars, etc. in addition to the usual ropes, tents and ice axes. We soon arrived at the hut, pitched our tents, and began work while Heidi set up an outdoor kitchen from which she kept us supplied with hot food for the rest of our stay. Under the capable guidance of Berni Claus, we numbered, removed and stacked endwalls, floors and bunks until we were left with an arched wind tunnel. We attached ropes to each side planning to use a com­ bination of pulley systems and brute strength to pull the two sections apart and gently lower them. It almost worked. One side was lowered under control,the other fell over backwards. Another hour saw all the pieces of the hut stacked under the two wall sections in as windproof a fashion as possible. We had a rotten night with people's tents col­ lapsing and with morning we could see what the Weather Gods had done to us. It was snowing heavily. At least two feet had come down during the night so, compass in hand, we set off for home through the whiteout. The trailbreaking was extreme, every step took one in knee deep, the occasional drift was good for waist deep. We rotated leaders every hundred paces and that was about all any of us could take. We moved slowly, navigating entirely by compass in a whiteout that did not lift. As we lost elevation down the glacier the snow gradually became rain. No one noticed until we were soaked and teeth were chattering and knees knocking. Further, there were crevasses in front and on both sides of us. On Peter's urging we pitched the tents and crowded into them to recover and to debate our position. We were a sorry lot. Two people in one tent were reported to be shivering uncontrollably and the word "Hypothermia" was being used frequently. The "Where are we?" debate continued, encouraged by a glimpse through the mist of rocks above and ahead of us. After an hour of relative luxury, four of us headed off to see if we could find a way off the Neve down to the tree line where we could build a fire (parks board be damned) and dry out. Off we went, making much better time without our packs and soon

45 found ourselves creeping down what seemed to be the edge of a glacier. Shortly, we found ourselves in a valley and debating began again. "Which valley?" Three of us felt it was Ring Creek valley and we were as good as home. The dissenter felt it was Skoocum Creek valley and we had wandered two miles out of our way while crossing the Neve. Anyway, it was better than the glacier and two of us returned while the other pair con­ tinued ahead to see if they could decide where we were. All debate ended suddenly when the mist lifted as we were breaking camp - we were a quarter mile from the Opal Cone and within two hundred yards of where our navigators said we should be. An hours slog brought us to the Chalet, antici­ pating a ride to the parking lot with Hans. Alas, Hans had left an hour earlier after waiting a couple of hours for us. At this point the party split into those who didn't feel like any more walking that day and those who really wanted to sleep in their own beds that night. Six of us set out for the parking lot at about 7:30 and highballed down the road shouting and joking in the best V.O.C. manner. This party included both those who had earlier been described as suffering from Hypothermia and we reached the parking lot by 10:30. The other five sacked out in the decrepid little cabin below the lodge and walked out on Monday, arriv­ ing in Vancouver late in the afternoon. For all of us it was an exhausting but education­ al weekend.

WARNER PASS ANOTHER EPISODE IN VOC HISTORY Oct. 14-16 Sandy Schmid

Party: Rob Boyce (L) Sandy Schmid John Baldwin Dave Milligan Helen Lemon Rick Raynsford Hugh Inglis

After the usual complications of loading up cars and collecting people and gear, we finally hit the road with hopes of reaching the Lillooet campground before morning. The turnoff for the campsite was inconven­ iently hidden from normal human vision, however we all managed to eventually stumble across it, and soon every­ one had their tents up and dinner eaten. I'm not cer­ tain about the evening activities - something about a shootout in Lillooet? Saturday morning came earlier than usual. Rob drove a group of people to the bottom of the McGilliv­ ray Pass trail, and met Hugh's load in Gold Bridge. Together, the Chevy and John's VW cruised along the banks of Carpenter Lk. and up the Gun Creek road. Hugh's muffler kept getting knocked down, so we un-

46 loaded the cars and started hiking. After three or four hours of leisurely strolling through this beauti­ ful area, we stopped for the night off to the side of the trail, near a large marsh. (eds. note: Eldorado Creek is a good spot to camp.) Soon the tents were up and Rob, Helen and John made a big pot of spaghetti, while the rest of us munched Jiffy-Pop by candlelight. It was freezing Sunday morning! We all packed quickly and soon were on our way to Spruce Lake, hope­ fully to find the cabin Rob kept assuring us was there. By wandering quite aimlessly through the maze of trails, we eventually found the lake, but missed the cabin. However, there was an old decrepit, roofless cabin, ready to fall down, right by the lake, which we camped by. It was a beautiful sunny day, and still quite early, so we hiked up into the hills to explore. From higher up, one could see the entire lake, surrounded by mountains. There is a hunter's lodge and wharf at one end of the lake, and another small, locked-up cabin among the trees. There was also a fantastic view of Mt. Sheba, or "Sheba's Breasts", a double summit on the Gun - Tyaughton Cr. divide. Rob, Rick & Hugh went off to conquer Sheba's Knees, Dave busied himself climb­ ing trees to get the clearest view for taking pictures, while John, Helen and I just slept in the sun. Later, while exploring around the lakeshore, we found a raft a raft and pole, so we spent some time playing Tom Saw­ yer on the lake. Everyone was back at camp by dinner­ time, quite tired, and as night was descending on us, we quickly made and ate our meals. Soon smoke, then yellow flames licked the cool fresh air, and hot tang and INSTANT CHEESECAKE were eagerly devoured around the fire. Although there were two tents set up, five out of the seven of us slept in the McKinley that night. What was wrong with the Crestline, Rick? Monday morning was another frosty one. The fly was stuck to the tent and had to be ripped off. Some­ how we managed to find everything that was given up for lost in the dark of the night before, and soon we were packed and on our way down, taking memories, leaving footprints. We wound our way down the mountain, "Ooh- ing and Ahing" at the beautiful scenery, and before we knew it, we were at the bottom. After a bit of careful maneuvering, the cars were pointing down, and we were off to Lillooet again. Here, John and Helen left us to take the Trans Canada home, while Rob and Hugh decided to take us the "quick" way - THE DUFFEY LAKE ROAD. So we got enough gas to last until Pemberton, and soon we were cruising along into the unknown, as no-one present had recently travelled this logging road. Having followed various wrong turns, dead ends, and a dumb truck driver who swore he knew the road, we roared into Pemberton around

47 10:30 to find all the gas stations closed. Riding on empty, we rolled into Squamish, again to find no open stations. We were parked behind the Tastee-Freez. mak­ ing plans for a great gas theft, when a cop pulled in beside us and said, "You weren't planning on siphoning gas were you?" "Oh no, sir, just getting ready to spend the night. We can stay here can't we?" Finally the police­ man agreed to "round up" some gas for us. We ended up siphoning gas from his squad car, under his watchful eyes. (Rob managed to scrape into West Van.) Anyway we arrived in Vancouver around 2:00 a.m. only to find cold, leftovers from Thanksgiving dinners. • If you plan to travel over the Duffey Lk. road, do so by daylight, it saves time. ACCESS NOTE: For approach details, see VOCJ 74, Spruce Lake Christmas Trip. Drive up the road as far as possible.

BROHM RIDGE Oct. 26 Robyn Fierheller Party: John B. Ralph L. Helen L. (Leader) Robyn F. (Leader) Jean A. Carol C. Bobbie W. Margaret Wayne L. Karen Joanna L. Malinda Herberto

The trip started off at 10:30 from the Whistler cabin, excluding one car load which was coming up from Vancouver. Unfortunately we did not meet up as sched­ uled; the resetting of clocks had thrown everybody off. The Brohm Ridge road leaves the Whistler highway at the south end of Brohm Lake. Where the road splits we followed the right hand fork. It is in quite good condition until the first major hill where there are a lot of huge boulders ready to tear the underneath of your car off. The two leaders made a quick decision, based on the weather, of whether to go on or stop and turn around. It was raining lightly; further up it would be snowing lightly. Being hardy VOCers we went on. One car stopped at the bottom of the hill while the other car tore on ahead, leaving thos of us behind to walk. Believing Brohm Ridge to be just a short trip we were undaunted. The view would have been quite beauti­ ful except that everything was greyed out. The snow was really coming down but still we trudged on. Sudden­ ly we heard the halloo from the occupants of the car that had braved it up the road. They had been having a snowball fight and. were not calling to us, but we

48 yelled back anyway. Soon we were all together and ad­ miring the fallen snowman that they had made. The "car party" very quickly outstripped us and we were left behind again. Falling show made for poor visibility and we soon lost sight of them. Once the third party caught up to us and everybody was accounted for - 13 people all together. We went back to trudging. Finally we caught up to the car party at the power house, where we stopped for lunch. It was now 1:30 and snowing quite hard. Unfortunately Bobbie had to catch the 5:30 ferry for home so the car party retraced their footsteps. Exit John B. (driver), Helen I., Bobbie and Jean. The rest of us decided to go on although we wanted to be back at the cars by 5:30 to avoid stumbling in the dark. We set off again in a Christmas-like atmosphere. We walked and walked for miles - not even sure that we were on the right trail for the mid station and Brohm Ridge. However there were about four ski-dooers out and they put our anxieties to rest even though they said we had a long way to go yet. We did not believe them. The trail to Brohm Ridge is very long, especially if you have to walk in snow. We never made it. We turned back at 3:15 p.m. by which time we were walking in a blizzard - visibility nil with the wind blowing straight at us. We would never have made it down to the cars before dark had not a truck picked us up. We changed into warm dry clothes and set off for the Tastee- Freeze. It was decided to change the name of the trip to either Attempt at Brohm Ridge or Attempt to the Mid Station. A few things that could have saved us time were: being prepared for snow, starting off much earlier, starting back sooner, or going on the trip earlier in the year (although everybody enjoyed the snow and the immediate surroundings were beautiful). Next year we will remember - I hope.

IN SEARCH OF THE BLACK HOLE V.O.C. CAVING TRIP Nov.7-10 Rob Boyce

Party: Tom Volkers (L) Curtis Kennedy Diane Volkers Vicki Seraphim Jay Page Dean Castle Jacques Bilinski Vivian Haist Sandy Schmid John Romein Steven Northway Rob Boyce Shiona Whyte

The plan was for a tourist trip to introduce us mountain types to the subterranean environment. It was

49 thus arranged for some members of the Victoria Caving Club to lead us to a newly-discovered limestone cave in northern Vancouver Island. Vivian's VW was the first car to leave, at 1 PM Friday, containing also John and me. Curtis left around supper, with Vicki and Dean while Jacques' van took the rest in mid-afternoon. The VW reached Nanaimo at 6 PM, and proceeded to stop at every likely place to get a bulb for Vivian's flashlight. Roaring through Parks- ville and Campbell River, we reached Gold River just before the gas stations closed, by which time it was pouring rain. Then followed 150 km. of logging roads to the Nimpkish valley; bouncy, wet, often snowy, and very dark. (Within a week, the whole area was inundated with floods.) Miraculously, we never made a wrong- turn; past Vernon, Woss, and west on the Zeballos road to Atluck Lake by 5 AM. The campsite was not to be found, so we crashed in the generator shed of the Atluck L. logging camp. The van arrived in a flurry of wet snow at 7 AM, and reported that they were out of gas. Tom and I went back to the lake in the VW and found the campsite, under­ neath the lake. Then 9 members of the Victoria Caving Club arrived, with their leader, Paul; also the presi­ dent of the UVic Caving Club, Alex. We regrouped in the shed and decided that Curtis' carload must have given up in the ferry lineup. It was then 8 km. to the end of the road. Two of the Victoria cars, being rentals, broke down en route. Intending to return to the cars to camp, we packed a lunch, then into the wet bush. After lh hours and 2h km., we came to a gorge which had to be crossed on a wet, sloping log. When we'd scrambled up the other side, Paul informed us that this was where they'd usually start to bushwhack. (Normally one can drive to a point across the North Artlish River and wade, but the water was too high.) He said that we wouldn't have time to get to the cave, explore it, and return in daylight. So we could come back in the dark or bivouac at the cave. We chose the latter. So we walked another 3 km. and hours. A roaring fire was built under a huge boulder by the river, no mean feat when you consider that every­ thing was covered in slush. There were 2 caves in the vicinity: the nearby 'River Cave', which swallowed the Artlish River for \ km. of its length, and the 'Black Hole', % km. away. Half the group stayed by the fire, while the other half was led off by Paul to the Black Hole. We crossed the river where it wasn't, and peered down a cliff to foaming cascades from the cave mouth. The entrance to the Black Hole was a mammoth horn shape over 40 m. high. A little ways in we encountered a stream across our path. We rolled rock into it for stepping stones, but it didn't help much, and we had to ford it anyway. It was mostly a stand-up cave; inter-

50 esting but not spectacular, having a decided lack of stalactites and stalagmites. A crawlway was found at the end, and 3 people disappeared into it, ultimately finding their way to the surface and to the fire. We continued to explore tight side passages and larger galleries. It was dark outside by the time the second group was led in through the back crawlway (this en­ trance became fondly known as the Ass Hole). They were gray from head to toe. Diane, Shiona and Steve com­ peted for the most mud collected. Our meagre rations were put out in a smorgasbord dinner,and we dined by candlelight. When the cave had been thoroughly explored, we tried to sleep. Some found it too cold to stay in the cave or by the fire, so at 1 AM Paul led them back to the cars (and home). Those still in the cave (VOC + Alex) tried to keep warm by sleeping in one huddle, but someone would have to walk around to warm up, and we didn't sleep much. Just before dawn, John's pack produced breakfast for all of us. We took a less slimy passage to the Ass Hole and broke out into daylight. It had stopped snow­ ing, but there was 8 cm. on the ground. Due to un­ willing bodies and geographic embarrassments, it took 6 hrs. to reach the cars. The van went first down the road in case it ran out of gas, but it soon became clear that the VW had a flat, and we had no jack. We caught up to Jacques at the logging camp, and found that we actually had 3 flats. The camp had no repair facilities or even air, so we borrowed a siphon, and with an Intermediate bottle, got some gas into the van. It then rumbled off to Nimpkish to fix the tires, and left John and me with the car. The garage in Nimpkish was eventually located, and tires repaired in short order, all for $5. Those yet awake collected around a wood stove inside to dry off. Alex steamed so much that he resembled a cigarette. Meanwhile, John and I had become cold standing by the car as it perched on a log, so on the pretext of returning the siphon, we visited the camp. We were invited inside to talk, and later for a nice steak dinner. (At the same time, Jay and Jacques were shar­ ing a cold can of beans.) The van returned, and after attempts to siphon gas back into the bug, we were given some free gas by the camp. We set off at 6 PM. Immediately we made a 30-kra. detour toward Beaver Cove, and turned around at an enormous puddle in the road. Driving was no more fun on the return trip, except that it precipitated less. We arrived at the ferry terminal at 3 AM. Alex was dropped off at the bus station and we tried to sleep. It was easier to sleep on the 6 AM ferry. It also provided an opportunity for the first real meal in a while, ris soon as we rolled off the ferry, a great sigh of relief went up, and we were back at UBC in time

51 for 9:30 classes. Afterwards, members of the trip could be observed dumping pack, clothes, boots, etc. together j.nto a wash- tub. Jay divided his articles into 2 categories: muddy and very muddy, and proceeded to scrub his camera under the tap. We all agreed that we'd had an amusing, if not enjoyable time, but would never have gone if we'd known it would be like this. This is the price of, be­ coming a troglodite.

TABLE MTN. Dec. 23 Rob Boyce

Party: John Baldwin (L) Betty Walsh Anders Ourom Rob Boyce

The time had come (the walrus said) to talk of a final check of bods and equipment before Christmas trips. Besides, with perfect weather, how could we wrap presents indoors? The air was crystalline as we wound up the Mt. Baker highway in Betty's car, each turn exposing a grand­ er view of the North Cascades. We parked just below the lodge, and we and the downhillers admired each others' apparel. A start was made in the direction of Table Mtn., as we weren't too sure of where to go. From the chairlift, we were serenaded by an overamplified rendi­ tion of "Silver Bells" and "Silent Night", complete with delayed feedback. Betty had just returned from La Belle Province, and was showing off her Iser bindings for the first time. In the brilliant sunshine it got noticeably warm, and Anders and John actually had to remove their shirts, to the amusement of passers-by. We ambled up onto the Table's east ridge, passing 2 tents and a snow-cave, as well as numerous tracks, but the place didn't seem crowded. Here, Betty elected to soak up the bennies, while the boys went to climb a steep bump, leaving their skis below. The views of Shuksan and Baker were most rewarding, and our ridge continued fairly level to the top of Table Mtn. The aesthetics were somewhat marred by snatches of "Frosty the Snowman" wafted up from the valley. The run back down through three inches of powder was quite enjoyable (Betty and Anders tried the mogully rope tow), and ended in a schuss to the car. Betty claimed sleepiness, so the crew was treated to Rob's driving down the skating rink, with Anders as co-pilot. It was important that this be a slack trip, so we'd have time to stop for stickies in Glacier, where we once again modelled our knickers.

52 CHRISTMAS TRIPS 1975 KOKANEE GLACIER PARK - CHRISTMAS 1975 * Julie Ourom

The Slocan Chief Cabin in Kokanee Glacier Park was the scene of two Christmas trips this year, with Grant McCormack and I there for both of them. The first trip, from the 20th to the 28th of December, was organized by Fred Thiessen from Nelson. Grant, Eric White, Ann Little and I drove up from Vancouver on the 20th to meet Freddy and the other "trippers" - Barb Patterson, Mike Fenger, Val Hignut, Larry Lacelle, and Knut and Jill Langbolle and their two kids, Brynjulf and Tor. Saturday night we all stayed at Fred and Dave's, and were treated to grouse stew and homebrews (beer, wine, kahlua and root beer). After several delays on Sunday morning, we finally choppered in to Kokanee around noon. The weather, once we hit the park, was superb (it had been overcast and almost rain­ ing in town, a not-so-encouraging situation), and we hurriedly unpacked and rushed out to sample the snow. It was also superb, and we all got in a couple of fine runs during the afternoon. Unfortunately, our good weather did not last: it snowed a lot during the rest of the week: but this didn't seem to matter. Snow conditions were excellent; every day there was fresh powder on our run behind the cabin. It was so good, in fact, that we barely ventured further than the foot of the glacier, and skied the same slope every day. (Some of the time it was snowing so hard that by the time that we had toured up to the top, our downhill tracks had been covered over.) When we weren't skiing, we relaxed. People talked, read, sang, worked on projects of various sorts, including an essay by one poor person (Barb), and ate. The food was the best I have ever had on a trip. Christmas dinner was the finest, with turkey (which we roasted in the oven), stuffing, gravy, real mashed potatoes, smoked oysters, horrid brussel sprouts, plum pudding and hard sauce etc. etc. as well as the appropriate beverages. After supper, Eric and the two little boys gave us a magnificent rendition of "The Night Before Christmas". The last day (for everyone except for Grant and me) witnessed a return of the sunshine, and we had a marvellous day skiing the slopes out. All too soon, it was time for the others to depart and for Rob & Co. to fly in. Sunday saw a hectic morning loading and unloading the chopper, attempting to keep the two groups separate (it didn't quite work), saying fare­ wells at the same time as welcomes. It was a great week, and a fine way to celebrate Christmas.

53 KOKANEE CHRISTMAS TRIP 1975 II

Party: Vicky Seraphim Bob McMechan Curtis Kennedy Margot McMechan Vivien Bowers Anthea Farr Erich Hinze Grant McCormack Peter Jordan Julie Ourom Bruce Fairley Rob Boyce

Off to the land of the winter sun and the knee- deep powder! Where the snowshoe bunnies yodel and the yetis dance till dawn!— What?? It began with a mot­ ley crew of ten congregating at Fred Theissen's house in Nelson, on the evening of Dec. 27. Here our every need was seen to by Uncle Dave (Whiting), as Fred and co. were away on the first Kokanee trip. Our host fed us chile, bread, coffee, tea, put us all in bed and then lulled us off to never-never land b^ describing the adventures his nightgown had been through. The following morning it was snowing lightly from a canopy of thin cloud, but luckily it turned out to be O.K. for flying. So off we hurried to the chop­ per landing pad, which was a small clearing in the woods. The chopper was an impressive Jet ranger (seat­ ing four, plus the pilot) which was able to rise up almost vertically to clear the tall fir trees that surrounded the small clearing. Most of the members of. the first Kokanee trip were flying out and, amidst the confusion of one crew scurrying into and another crew scurrying out of the chopper, Bruce's day pack, con­ taining camera and touring plates, ended up at Nelson instead of Kokanee and we, for some unknown reason, ended up with the pilot's snowshoes at Kokanee. The flight itself was exciting to those who had never been in a chopper before, as we puttered down the valley and soared over ridges with the tree tops seemingly right under our feet. We flew along the route we- were to take out, so we made a mental note of where to go and where not to go. Settling gracefully down into the snow beside the Slocan Chief cabin, we were wel­ comed by Grant and Julie who were staying for their second Kokanee trip. Then, with the exception of two sunny days, the days at Kokanee fell into a sort of relaxed pattern. After sleeping in each morning, we invariably got up. Food was no problem, other than the fact that there was too much of it, so breakfast was often a lengthy, disorganized eat-whatever-you-want affair. Then X number of hours were spent getting ready to face the elements (which were usually mild temperatures of -2 to -10 C, with a thin overcast and snow falling lightly). Ski touring consisted of tromping up to the top of Smugglers Ridge and frolicking all the way

54 down in the luxurious powder. Frolicking for some was rapid S turns with the occasional added excitement of jumping cornices - for others it was the curious pas­ time of trying to solve the mystery of where one's ski tips really were, and the inevitable discovery that one was here and the other (bad ski!) was way over there. Still, soft landings and beautiful snow helped even those in the latter category to improve their skill at descending hills in an upright fashion. Dinners were another relaxed lengthy affair with 12 distinguished people seated calmly around an elegant banquet table and dining in stately fashion by candlelight. (?)... Would you believe 12 rowdy VOC turkeys clamouring loudly for growlies and greedily gobbling up everything in sight? Actually, strange but true, we were well- behaved and there were even occasional left overs, al­ though the meals were of excellent quality (cheese cakes became routine). As we had each brought in a bottle of wine, there was also a wide variety of dinner wines to choose from. Highlights of the dinnertime entertain­ ment included a groaned-out attempt at the wild west show, Curtis attempting to extinguish a candleflame with pepper, and Grant doing one of his famous juggling acts with any handy miscellaneous items (one of which was an onion which sailed majestically across the full length of the cabin). Evening pastimes included wash­ ing the dishes, reading novels, playing crib, chess or scrabble, strumming Bob's guitar or repairing ski bind­ ings. The two sunny days were different. On New Year's Eve most of us trekked up to Kokanee glacier and skied onto the top of the bump known as Esmeralda. From there we could see the Purcells and the Valhallas, and the valley which we would ski out along. A biting wind made lingering on the summit impossible. The ski run down was beautiful, and we were joined by the Ranger and his two friends (who were staying in the Ranger cabin close to ours) in a sparkling sunshiny descent through untracked powder. The last afternoon of 1975 ended with the sky dissolving into a rosy hue and the tallest peaks glowing softly like pink embers in the deepening dusk . On the second sunny day, the group split into two — one group going back to the delectable powder slopes below the glacier and the other group setting off in an easterly direction to explore Lemon Pass. The intrepid Lemon Pass explorers found a wide open snow-covered meadow in which to eat lunch, and an im­ pressive view from a ridge top of distant peaks and frozen sculptures of stunted alpine trees. On the day we skied out, we got up at the aston­ ishing hour of 5:00 a.m. We then stumbled about the cabin looking for lost items or hovered dumfoundedly near the stove until the first glimmer of daylight

55 crept into the sky. Then we were off, with trail- breaking no problem and with ski tracks to follow made by the Ranger and friends (who had left 2 days before) and by Bruce (who had left one day before). The first part consisted of traversing along the valley side, to avoid a confrontation with cliffs at the valley floor. Then we skied down to and across Kokanee Lake, contin­ ued along the trail and eventually after a few chal­ lenging leaps, bounds and turns in an avalanched-over part of the trail, we found ourselves at the start of the 12 mile stretch of snow-covered road. Apart from a few icy parts and quite a few stretches where self- propulsion was needed, the road was quite easy to ski down. The first members of the group arrived at the highway at .about 1:00, making a total time of 6 hours for the ski out. The stragglers were only about % an hour behind.

First Kokanee trip was from Dec. 21 to Dec. 28, while the second Kokanee trip was from Dec. 28 to Jan. 3.

WEST COAST TRAIL CHRISTMAS TRIP Dec. 27-31 Jim Breadon

Party: Malcolm Gray Helmut Schmidt Eleanor Sirola Richard ? Allison Gray Steacy Alexander Anthea Tench Jim Breadon Dan Armstronq The trip began under brilliantly clear stars and a sinking quarter moon. As we approached Nanaimo on the ferry the sun came up over the water, starting the day well for everyone. However, as we drove north the cloud grew heavier. Port Alberni was cold and foggy (as it always seems to be) causing me to buy some wool long Johns and check out the souwesters. Bamfield is about one hundred miles from Vancouver by car. The fifty miles from Port Alberni to Bamfield on logging roads is moderately bumpy. No logging trucks were encountered, although there seemed to be active logging going on. Pachena Bay was reached about mid-afternoon, with rain falling and surf roaring. The surf was a constant background sound for the next three days. It was an awesome feeling not knowing how high the tide would come, how hard the wind would bloe and whether the fire would start. The only drinking water around was at the Shanty- men's Christian Association camp at the start of the trail (the campsite wells had garbage in them). Three of us got the water, and an invitation for coffee that evening. All nine of us arrived right on the dot of six-thirty, and were welcomed with cookies, coffee and

56 a heater. In the corner was a west coast Sitka Spruce Christmas tree. It was a pleasure to listen to the stories of the Shantyman guy, Roy, while drying our clothes with the sound of the rain and surf in the background. Next morning, we started on the trail. It was overcast but only raining lightly. Lunch was at the first sidetrail. We toured Pachena Lighthouse in the afternoon. This light was built in 1907, the year after the Valencia was wrecked on the point, killing one hundred and fifty-seven people. The boiler of the Michigan, another famous wreck, sits near Micigan Creek. The trail in this area was a bit mired but easily pass­ able. The cable car over the Darling River is a pain, having small pullies and a stretchy rope. Camp was made behind the logs just past the Darling. Malcolm and Anthea erected an excellent shelter of driftwood and plastic, with nails for the joints. This structure slept seven people, although a bit tightly - Steacy got pinned against a log as bodies shifted downhill. The ten pound ham was attacked (very salty) causing people to drink a lot of water. Dan built another aggressive fire. He didn't have too much trouble. The wood scat­ tered amongst the logs burned when split deeply enough. Candles and stove alcohol helped. Helmut and Richard had a hard time putting up their tent in the sand, and got pretty wet. The rest of us drifted off to an account of the wreck of the Michigan down the beach. We awoke early next morning, as we wondered how high the tide would come. It was still raining. We walked down the beach a bit and things got lighter and lighter! Pretty soon the sun was sending beams between the clouds and adding some blue and yellow to the scene. A young eagle passed over the spruce tops, looking black and huge. Another wonderful event was the finding of the cave. Inside was dry wood, dry sand and lots of sleep­ ing space. This became our beloved home for a day. With a fire at the mouth some excellent meals were cooked, especially the doughboys with marmalade. Dan managed to fall in the fire and Anthea stuck her bare foot in the tea. I lined my sleeping bag with sand and Eleanor slept with the ceiling a foot above her. But it was well worth it for the feeling of having lived in a cliff with solid rock above and all around. The tidepools and rocks were rich with life in varied colours and textures. Oystercatchers whistled by in pairs, and poked around amongst the sea palms. Purple sea urchins, orange starfish, pink algae, scar­ let sponge and all the range of seaweed colours. Snails, barnacles,mussels, kelp, and limpets. I could have spent days poking around there. It was agreed that we wanted to be back for New Year's Eve, so we started back the next morning. We 57 started back the next morning. We crossed the big log across the Darling, Allison and Anthea on their knees and me on my rear. The weather was exhilarating - bright and clear. It was windy at the Sealion Rocks lookout. There was foam blowing by the rocks like flocks of birds, and green swells engulfing rocks. One sealion was seen. We finished the eight miles back to Pachena beach just as the sun set over the curved horizon.

VARSITY OUTDOORS CLUB - ISLAND MOUNTAIN RAMBLERS XMAS CROSS-COUNTRY SKI TRIP ASTORIA VALLEY. ROCKIES Dec."75 Jan.'76

The original intentions of this trip were to ski up the Astoria Valley to the Wates-Gibson Alpine Club of Canada cabin located at the head of the valley, just south of Jasper in the Albertan Rockies. We didn't get to the cabin but we had a great time anywayI

The main reason we did not reach our destination was due to keys (or the lack of them). Mailstrikes and other unavoidable mix-ups prevented us from obtaining the key for the ACC cabin and also for the Edith Cavell youth hostel where we planned to stay the first night of the trip. A lack of keys did not stop us from skiing in but we brought along a snow shovel just in case we'd have to provide our own accommodation. The route up the Astoria follows the Edith Cavell tea-house road for 9h miles. There is a gradual gain in elevation with several switchbacks and this part of the trip is quite enjoyable. Skiing in we met several people skiing out. We discovered that one of these persons had the ACC cabin key so as each one of them whizzed by, each one of us tried to get the key. Most of them did not stop, however, and we later discovered that we should have been crying "Stop!" in foreign languages as the party was composed of Germans, Danes, and Frenchmen. When we reached the youth hostel John asked Gordon if he- had the key and Gordon asked me if I had the key and I asked Chris who asked Vivian who asked Dave who asked Suzanna. None of us had the key! (But somehow one of us had managed to get the youth hostel key.) We were told the route from the Edith Cavell youth hostel to the ACC cabin entailed a five-mile descent to the Old Horn warden's cabin, a level ski along the frozen Astoria River, and then a final uphill to the ACC cabin at Outpost Lake. The day after we arrived at the youth hostel we got up at six a.m., ate, packed, and cleaned the hostel, and just as day was

58 breaking we set off for Outpost Lake. In a short while Dave and Suzanna went back to the hostel and the rest of us found that the five-mile descent was in reality a long slog. It was snowing and our waxes weren't working and studying for Christmas exams hadn't left us in very good shape. When we finally reached the Warden's cabin and tried skiing up the Astoria we discovered the river wasn't completely frozen over. The tracks leading to Outpost Lake that had been made by the previous party were rapidly being covered by snow. One of us had frost-bitten toes. We had already missed one day of skiing because we'd stayed in Jasper for a day before our trip in a futile attempt to get keys for cabins. We'd have to break into the ACC cabin and we'd have to leave early to make it out in time. We decided further travel was useless and we all returned to the Edith Cavell youth hostel where we spent the rest of our trip. The best day of the trip was New Year's Eve day. When I woke up I looked out the hostel window and saw the peaks across the valley drenched in the golden light of dawn. A mountain sunrise is irrestible! I donned my innumerable layers of clothing and went outside for a morning ski. It was very, very cold but the cold didn't matter on a day of blue sky and shining white mountains. I expected to be skiing in sunshine soon but the sun stayed high on the summits. The valleys slept beneath the gleaming peaks. Everything was as silent as dawn. The only sounds I heard were the snow crunching beneath my feet when I was going uphill and the whispering of my skis when I went downhill. When the others awoke we skiied a mile up to the Edith Cavell tea-house at the base of Mt. Edith Cavell. We climbed from the tea-house up snowy hills and along moraine ridges to an exposed, windy spot that looked up to the Angel Glacier on Edith Cavell. To the north were high mountains whose peaks were the colour of saffron. We skiied down to the tea-house, floating in pow­ der snow and mountain air, and when we finally came to a stop at the bottom we climbed up again for another ski down. On the last ascent there were only two of us. At the top of the run we saw the golden sunrise that had lingered all day on the corniced peaks turn for a fleeting moment to a pink sunset that was lost to a night of a million stars and another year. On New Year's Day we locked up the Edith Cavell hostel and skiied back down to the cars. We drove home via the Icefields Highway, stopping for a sunny ski at Sunwapta Pass and again at Lake Louise where we watched cross-country skiers skiing on the frozen lake. When dusk came I caught my last glimpses of the Rockies as they soared above silent valleys in a peaceful grey sky. Those skiing were: Gordon Butt (V.O.CJ, Dave Coombesd.M.R.) , Vivian Haist( V.O.C. ), Chris Oram(V.O.C), Suzanna Sanford, John SymonCI.M.R.), and Margaret Symon

59 (I.M.R. & V.O.C, and trip leader and reporter).

MCGILLIVRAY PASS CHRISTMAS TRIP Dec. 26- Jan. 3, 1976

Party: Tom Volkers Greg Paget Dianne Volkers Marilynne Rhode Berni Claus Kirstine Laing Heidi Piltz Malcolm Gray Jacques Bilinsky Ann Carter Sherry Trethewey Bob Stathers (and of course Tango - the 4 legged mountaineer)

The road conditions were good through the Fraser Canyon for our drive up to our meeting place at Lillooet. Due to a thaw, the road from Lillooet to Bralorne had a lot of loose rock and at a couple of points large rocks had to be rolled to the side of the road. The roads were incredibly icy and chains were found to be a necessity (even the V.W. in the group needed chains!I). Times - To Lilloet 5 hours - To Bralorne 3 hours Accommodations were arranged in Bralorne before our trip at 2 dollars per person. They consisted of four rooms with a washroom and were cosy enough. This stop-over gave us a chance to start fresh and also organize our food. We found the snow conditions fair the next day. The ten mile trip in took approximately 8

60 YOHO CHRISTMAS TRIP 1975

Party: Corina Acheson Julian Harrison Evelyn Annand Barb Janzen Peter Benner Roy King Mary Bussell Steven Ludwig Neal Carter Dave Milligan Barbara Chapman Jean-Gerard Napoleoni Rob Clarke Nigel Peck Marvin Currey Jim Robertson Blake Drummond-Hay John Romein Carl Ellingsen Andrew Stepniewski - Nancee Forster "Fearless Leader" Alison Warner

Would anyone believe that it was 31° in Field? But that didn't stop the 1975 Yoho Christmas Expedition, clearly and quite obviously the best Christmas trip this year. After fighting for the classy rooms in the ever popular "Field Hotel" everyone went to bed, only to be most rudely interrupted by the few latecomers. "And on the morning of the 27th we set out." The hungry members of the group set off to Wapta Lodge for a satisfying breakfast, then we headed to the beginning of the trail. Most members had left the parking lot by 10:00, even Neal with his spare ski tip; his ski having a slight dispute with a car tire. We followed an old skidoo track that was covered with about one foot of relatively new snow. On the trail, a ptarmigan was sighted on the first switchbacks. Julian immediately tried to catch it for dinner but, failing that, we settled for tuna and noodles. Anyway, by 3:30 everyone had reached the shelter, suitable for about 8-10 persons. It was 26 F so water was easily accessible from melt holes in the Yoho River. 7:45 was not an early morning. The first party left Takkakaw Falls at 9:30 and broke trail through deep snow. It was 18 F and overcast with a trace of new snow. The first major rise was a panic and every­ one put on skins except "red on purple on blue on green on blue Klister" Steve. Ha Ha Ha Ha falls was reached by 11:00. The second casualty on the trip was Barb J.'s binding as she tried to ski through a tree. We had all reached Stanley Mitchell Hut by 3:00 except Roy and his "concrete overshoe" boots which gave him some trouble. There was running water and that night the stars came out, promising a sunny day 3. Perhaps the stars were just winter fireflies (Litemupin wintrous) because it was overcast and snow­ ing lightly. Although the pancakes for breakfast were suitable for burning, we decided to use wood so we had a chopping bee and cut about a cord of wood. In the

61 afternoon everyone went and skiied a moraine below President Glacier (nothing like skiing on rocks) "Cabin is warm and toasty and the atmosphere so nice with the guitar and flute at night, relax". A.g. At 8:00 A.M. on day 5 it was 22 F and there was about 3 inches of new snow on the ground. Despite all attempts of the trail breaker ("the only way up a steep hill is straight up"), one group headed to the Isolated Peak area. The wind was pretty strong and most of the group headed back down and skiied an avalanche slope with the best snow encountered yet. Another group went to Kiwetinot Pass where the temperature dropped to around 8 F. Some of the group that went to Isolated also went towards Kiwetinot Pass. Compliments to Julian on his Chinese dinner, complete with chopsticks. At last the weather had cleared, just ag the resident weather man had predicted. It was 8 F and no clouds showing. We all headed off to Emerald Pass (-4°C) and attempted the West Ridge of the President, however, we turned back due to steep rock and poor snow conditions. We had a fitness workout on the way down; the snow was really windswept but there was no avalanche danger. By 6 p.m. it was -22 F. A marten (Marvin?) stole two nights worth of meat. Nigel had a "see who can hold their breath the longest" party in his fin­ ished igloo. Carl and Evelyn, the resident "woolies" were on K.P. duty. At the stroke of midnight we romped outside having caterpillar races (par Andy) when Jim decided he wanted the cabin to himself. Poor Jim. New Year's Day saw late starts in the still beautiful -6 weather. Rob, Neal, and Steve headed off to Isolated Peak, being isolatingly soloed by Rob. Nigel, Alison, Carl, Dave, and Evelyn went and "tracked some powder" (ha ha) down near the switchbacks. Julian led most of the other people up to a basin south of Mc- Arthur. Chock one up for Andy, Barb and John. On day 8, Rob, Carl, and Andy made another attempt on the President (S.W. face). Rob presided and soloed the climb. Neal, Barb J., Peter, Dave, and Roy hit the peak of McArthur, and Julian and Mary et al headed off" the Kiwetinok Pass. "Green on blue on scraped off red on purple on blue on green on blue Klister" Steve went tree crashing (go get 'um Steve.). The snow on the north side of the valley was way bgtter than that on the Emerald Pass side. It was -12 F at suppertime. The final day saw us all up and crying because we had to leave. Crying because of the smoke since Andy started the fire. Most were up by 5:30. It was overcast and snowing lightly as the first zombies left around 7:15 in the dark (a species of outdoor enthusi­ asts called Hitumallof thetreesum). "Exeunt skiers" as we were all out in 3 3/4 to 5 hours. The cars started fine despite the Ranger's written warning "It is unadvisable to part on avalanche slopes." There 62 were some spectacular accidents on the highway includ­ ing the Army's "roll over your truck" manoevers. After an unexpected reunion at MacDonalds in Kamloops, we were off. "Back to Vancouver, land of the sun, and the second term".

CHRISTMAS AT BOW HUT Dec. 27 - Jan. 2

Party: John Baldwin Dave Patterson Helen Lemon Keith Niall Bill Lee Betty Walsh Gordon Bullen

Health being our prime consideration in looking for a destination at Christmas we naturally decided to go to Bow. First off, we decided that skiing beautiful B.C. timber was silly, hair raising, not much fun, difficult and down right dangerous. Secondly, any place that required carrying a heavy pack for more than a day must involve insanity. These and other reasons led us to Bow Hut where the trees are down in the valley and are seen only on the way in and the way out. Bow Hut is located twenty miles north of Lake Louise on the Banff-Jasper highway. The route in be­ gins at Bow Lake and involves a 2,000 foot elevation gain over five miles to reach the cabin, which is situ­ ated on the edge of the Wapta Icefield at 8,400 feet. The cabin is similar in construction to the Sphinx hut except that it is shaped more like a half cylinder and a bit larger. It is equipped with sleeping space for twenty (very crowded) complete with foamies, two fair- sized tables, a kitchen sink (sorry, no running water) and an excellent heater that runs on the diesel fuel provided. There are no utensils, but accommodation is free. Christmas night we managed to convince Keith that we really were leaving the next day. and after much phoning and packing we actually did, and so 600 miles later: The drive up to Bow Lake was not eventful, but it was interesting. The road conditions were ranging from fog over wet ice to blowing snow. When Keith's, mean machine rolled up the Banff - Jasper highway and 2 A.M. had passed, we spied a white bug and a crestline. Home at last. When morning arrived, there were shrieks of en­ thusiasm heard. "I don't want to get up". In time camp was struck and the food was divided up. While John and Bill went off to the ranger station, the rest of us headed across Bow Lake with Dave in the lead. Skins became necessary for the climb up from the lake, passing the knoll on the left. After dropping

63 down a few feet into the valley, the canyon appeared on our left. We threaded our way through until the way was blocked. Then we traversed up the left with the help of a couple of kickturns. Working up the left puts the canyon far below. Finally, we crossed over the valley below the cliffs. And then with a traverse, kickturn, traverse, kickturn, traverse and so on we worked our way up the ramp. Now for the final slog. The cabin has got to be over the next ridge, and it was. We soon settled in and made the cabin warm and livable. Dec. 28. The weather being mediocre, semi-whited out with a high wind, we decided to ski up the slope to the west of the cabin, and possibly see what lay across the icefield. Dave and Gordon traversed over to a small bump just north of the cabin while John, Keith and Bill decided to attempt St. Nicolas. We skiied to the base of St. Nicolas ridge where we left our skiis. Dave joined us here and we then walked a quarter mile to the summit, where we left famous French quotations on the summit register. The ski run down was so good, Helen and Betty joined us for a second run. The evening was spent bothering two Calgarians co-inhabiting the cabin. Dec. 29 and 30. The weather was much like the 28th, except worse. Both days were allotted to skiing the slope behind the cabin. Despite the ever present wind preventing the powder from settling gently on the ground the skiing was excellent. Well at least enjoy­ able enough for four or five runs a day. Dave decided that the only way to learn was to fall so he headed straight downhill to produce much learning, while Bill thought it was more to the point to give his new Han- wags everything they could or couldn't take. The rest of us were a bit more cautious. In the evening we were "entertained" by a friend­ ly group of climbers from Calgary. The wind continued to howl at night but we soon noticed it wasn't as bad if Keith was outside. On the 30th there was much de­ bate about shoe sizes and work was begun on our song. Dec. 31. New Year's Eve. Good weather! Dave was up first as usual, making breakfast. Just as the mush was done the rest of us arose. Our co-inhabitants (non Calgary types) had risen long before and were now rop­ ing up outside (????). It was a dangerous slope - we needed headlamps for night skiing. A unanimous decision was reached to climb Mt. Rhonda. Dave and Keith got ahead while we were busy snapping pictures of the numerous peaks. We all arrived on the icefield only to see Keith and Dave's tracks disappearing over to the west. Anyhow the rest of us went up Mt. Rhonda (see map), and after an end-

64 ROB 8orc£ 7/rc/TS less slog along the flat ridgetop we reached the lofty summit at 10,100 feet - a whole 1,700 feet above the cabin. Gord joined the Calgarians and climbed Mt.. Thompson, and Betty retreated to the cabin in the hopes of warming up her feet. Then Helen, John and Bill ate lunch on the summit followed by a fantastic run down over the packed slopes and Bow Hut Moguls. We arrived first back at the cabin to find Betty warm and toasty. Dave and Keith arrived wondering why we hadn't come up Rhonda. We later discovered they had climbed Collie (located within a few miles of Rhonda!). And after two icefalls and a small avalanche they got the same fan­ tastic view that we had from Rhonda. The evening was spent debating the values of rop­ ing up on the icefield with our fellow residents (non Calgary types again). Turkey dinner and trimmings for our New Years Eve feast, lightened the spirit of the evening. New Years was celebrated at 11 pm (12 Calgary time) with a dud flare. Burp, and so to bed. Jan. 1. New Years Day! We awoke that morning to our second day of good weather. The American party that had stayed two days left before we had finished breakfast, so our numbers were again reduced to ten. Today's objective was Mt. Gordon, and for those more keen types, Mt. Olive. Gordon, Dave, Keith and Bill set out ahead of Betty, John and Helen and as it happened we met them going down Gordon as we headed up. As usual, the cabin and ski hill were in shadow in the morning as we skinned up but once over the bump, the rest of the trip was in brilliant sunshine. Mt. Gordon is higher than Rhonda by about 500 feet but luckily doesn't take as long to get to. It can be climbed in one to two hours or so and gives a fantastic view of the entire area. Our route went up the north west side and then along the ridge to the summit. There was only one crevasse open and could easily be avoided. The snow on this side of the ridge was whipped into hard ridges that ran in long parallel lines across the slope and caused no problems on the way up and some who could ski found them equally helpful as moguls on the way down. The climb was an easy ski up the ridge to the rounded summit. We had a quick lunch on top, snapped a few pictures of a cloud bank moving across Mt. Rhonda, oohed and aahed at the faraway but visible Mt. Ungabi and Victoria, then prepared to head down. Betty, our thermometer, said it was quite cold - i.e. her feet were numb, as a wind con­ tinued to blow on top. Once down over the summit ridge it was calmer and actually quite warm. John and I skied down Gordon by ourselves since Betty went down right away due to her numb feet. The slope behind the cabin had become crustier, if possible and proved somewhat tricky to ski down. As usual, I left many punctuation marks on it.

65 Dave, Bill and Keith went on from Gordon to climb one of the peaks of Olive and returned fairly late in the afternoon. Dinner proved to be one of the more interesting meals of the trip as we did not have half the ingre­ dients required due to the odd oversight by some people. Betty's fondue a la Svea actually turned out fine despite frayed tempers, the lack of really functional fondue sticks and that extra package of proteinettes that somehow ended up in the pot and overpowered ail the other ingredients (all night long too!). Dinner took a record three hours to 'eat! And that was only the first course. Oh well, who wanted to eat early any­ way? The night as usual was spent entertaining our three remaining Calgarian friends and playing a lively game of hearts. "And so to bed...." Jan. 2. Reluctantly this was the day we headed out. Therefore we all rose bright and early at 8 a.m. After packing and cleaning up we lined up for the starting gun. Echo (a medium sized grommet from Calgary) gave the word and the line pushed off down the hill, jt was soon broken by Bill making a daring move on the 5 slope which resulted in the first wipeout. We took one last look at St. Nicholas and then dropped down through the gully into the upper part of the valley. As Dave pointed out, the Calgary types quickly stopped jeering our tour­ ing skiis as we ran down through the powder. After a few attempts at destroying our bases most of us dropped down the small ramp into the canyon and despite my ad­ vice, Bill decided he didn't want to ski over the cliff and joined us. The "canyon" is a narrow creek bed about fifteen feet wide (fortunately covered in snow) with 20-30 foot cliffs on both sides and runs for about a mile along the creek. From here the last two miles to the cars is almost flat. An hour later saw us at the cars; a leisurely ski out in two and a half hours. After fiddling with candles for a while we finally managed to drive to Lake Louise on an empty tank, and from there where else but home. Tabernac!

SONG FOR A BOW HUT - A MEDLEY OF TUNES FROM THE WIZARD OF OZ

Somewhere over the icefields, way up high There's a peak that I'd like to climb but I don't know why. Where ice and snow that never stops With whiteouts round the mountain tops That blind me. With wind crust up unto our knees That catch and throw us off our skiis That's where you'll find me.

66 Somewhere over the icefields, there's Bow Hut, Where we sit and sing songs that are full of smut The warmest place we'd ever been, But reeked a bit of kerosene and diesel. As outside the wind it drove, We cooked our meals on a diesel stove, Choking up the rooms with cinders.

Interlude:

In the snowfield, the lonely snowfield, The Blizzard blows tonight, ...A willow wand, a willow wand, a willow wand...

Follow the unbroken trail Follow the unbroken trail Follow, follow, follow, follow, follow the unbroken trail. We're off to ski the Blizzard, The Wonderful Blizzard of Bow Because its such a whiz of a bliz as ever a bliz there was; If ever, oh ever, a bliz there was, A whiz there was, a bliz there was, Because, because, because, because, because, Because of the Wonderful Bliz there was.... We're off to ski the Blizzard, The Wonderful Blizzard of Bow.

TO THE TUNE OF "IF I ONLY HAD A HEART" (Tin Soldier's Song)

Now my skiis would not be breaking Or falls I would not be taking If I only had T.R.'s. So there won't be any tremors if I snap both my femurs, If I only had T.R.'s. But now the truth may show, My Ramy's they must go. When I return to the hut Markers will help me through the snow.

Now my skiis would not be breaking, As more falls I won't be taking, If I only had T.R.'s. As I slog through the snow, With my broken skiis in tow, If I only had T.R.'s.

67 Photo: Jay Page Skiing towards Fissile in Singing Pass area

Photo: John Romein

Skiing through Emerald Pass, Little Yoho

STOYOMA MOUNTAIN CHRISTMAS TRIP Dec. 26 - Jan. 3 Moira Lemon

Party: Sara Golling Charlie Neil Humphrey Margaret Mathews Mike Miles Roland Burton Wynne Gorman Chris McNeill Steve White Moira Lemon Rick

Stoyoma Mountain lies to the west of Merritt and rises out of the surrounding lowlands of the Nicoamen Plateau to a height of 7,500 feet. Stoyoma and Mt. Hewitt Bostock to the north west form a clump of fairly gentle peaks, lakes, and cirques. They are positioned so that they receive all the precipitation before it ever reaches Merritt and hence have a great deal more snow than anywhere in the Nicola or Thompson Valleys. Four of us had skiied up in the fall and pronounced the area and the cabin suitable for a winter ski trip. The approach to the area is by way of a 28 mile logging road leaving the Spences Bridge - Merritt high­ way about ten miles west of Merritt, and following the Spius Creek valley. The road was plowed fifteen miles to "function junction" where we followed the left fork and drove another mile before getting bogged down. We camped here the night of the 26th. We rose before dawn and were soon on our way in rather beautiful weather. The road climbs gradually up­ hill but has several sections of steepness which makes skins worthwhile. One follows the main road taking left uphill forks (I can only remember 1 main one). After a couple of miles the road flattens and descends slight­ ly to a creek. We had lunch here, unfortunately in the company of a gross number of snowmobilers who enter­ tained us with their dare-devil attempts at crossing the creek. From here the route to Stoyoma departs from the main drag and follows a narrow road on the right lead­ ing steeply uphill about 200 yards after crossing the creek. (The snowmobilers didn't make it up this road). We followed this through the trees and bore right at a fork (flagging points the way). This soon brought us into more open country and Stoyoma mountain crept into view. A couple of miles of traverse brought us to the ridge 100 feet above the lake, and cabin. We spent an hour of fading daylight excavating the cabin and then all eleven of us tumbled in to the fifteen by twenty foot structure. The cabin is equipped with four bunks which can sleep two people each, a two-burner wood stove, (we

68 replaced the lace-like stove pipe), and a iable. There are several drips from the roof but these eventually- dried up. The hillside behind the cabin hosts many forest fired trees and during the first day we were there we cut enough wood to last the trip. A feature of the Stoyoma area is the relentless 30 mph wind which quickly blows any powder off the open slopes and turns it into extremely hard crust. We found akiing the ridges around the cabin good on the first day of a snowfall (of which there were many). After this we took to the trees and spent several enjoyable days skiing out powder slopes away from the wind. One day we woke to fabulous weather, and hastened off to climb Stoyama. The hill behind the cabin afforded a magnificent view of all the Stoyoma area. Once at the base of the ridge, a very fierce wind assaulted us and demanded the donning of every article of clothing. Stoyoma's ridge was long and windcrusted, we left our skiis at the base and walked up, reaching the peak in an hour. What a fabulous view! To the east the gentle hills of the interior spilled away beneath us — far off stood the snowy peaks of the Monashees. To the west and south, there are a surpris­ ing number of mountains. We identified the sharp out­ lines of the Anderson river peaks in the south, and attached names to several other peaks to the west near the north end of Harrison Lake. In a narrow corridor on our way down, the wind swirled snow around our legs producing a very polar atmosphere, and many "special effects" pictures were shot. Evenings were spent playing games (the most popu­ lar was Liar's Dice) and concocting hugh meals. As with all fine trips Stoyoma ended too quickly. Our run to the cars took four hours, the last few miles down a very icy road.

69 CLIMBS & EXPEDITIONS 1975

A LIFE SAVER FOR THOSE INTERESTED IN CLIMBING SERRATUS Curtis Kennedy

If approaching from the usual route, up the snow gully which begins just before the Serratus - Iona col, beware. Once at the top of the snow slope the most obvious way is to go slightly to your right and con­ tinue up a rock rib for a short distance. Ahead of you (slightly right) is a distinctive gully. If con­ tinuing up this gully you will find typically rotten rock and a short, nearly vertical chimney. If you go up this you will be standing on loose rocks, facing a rock jam consisting of boulders ranging from the size of baseballs up to Volkswagons. This jam effectively blocks the gully and looks deceptively stable. It isn't. I made it over the jam without incident. The second member of our party used the same foothold that I had, only this time it came out. He managed to jump aside of the large quantity of rock that fell, but if anyone had been following they would have been mushed. The mass of this unstable rock remained intact however and is eagerly awaiting the arrival of the unwary climber or hopefully, the passage of time. My advice would be to skirt below the entrance of the gully, cut­ ting across the scree slope to the next gully over, which proved to be a safe descent for us.

ST. ELIAS MOUNTAINS Summer Rob Boyce

I spent the past summer gainfully employed putting dirt or rocks into bags, in various parts of B.C. and the Yukon. The most enjoyable part of the summer was the six weeks I was based in Whitehorse, Y.T. The St. Elias Mtns. are a knot of ranges in Alaska, the Yukon, and B.C.; butting the Pacific Ocean on the southwest, and separated by the Shakwak Trench from the subdued northern outliers of the Coast Mtns. They contain some very high peaks, and are heavily glaciated. My introduction to the St. Elias came on the week­ end of June 14 & 15. Jay Page and I found we were both working in town, so planned to go to Sheep Mtn. in the Kluane Ranges. After solving the problem of getting 5 miles across town to Jay's place, we stood and aired our thumbs for 2 hours on the Alaska Highway. Then we rapidly got rides in a truck, an empty bus that broke down, and the half-full box of a pickup. Raindrops sting at 80 mph. We alighted at the bridge where the Slims R. wanders down a 2-mile wide outwash plain from Kaskawulsh Glacier, and dumps into Kluane Lake. The old Alaska Hwy. was followed upriver about a mile,

70 then a steep mining road up Sheep Crk., so as to sneak up on the mountain from behind. The rain and cold had stopped, but promised other­ wise, so we dumped our packs and walked up the peak. After numerous stops for close-up photos of Dall sheep, and many false summits, we suddenly came to a dizzying drop to the highway and Kluane L. The view was blah, and it began to precipitate anew, so we retreated, cook­ ed under a tree, and set up the tent. At 10:30 PM, it was still broad daylight. Weather dictated return to the highway and thumbing back before noon. After 8% hours of standing in the rain, we got a 5-mile ride in a pickup with no tailgate. Only 135 miles to go. lh hours later, a camper took us to Haines Jet. After a midnight snack, under clearing skies, we began walking 3% miles in the twilight. We got a h mile ride, then crashed for 4 hours. Around 7 AM a camper received us, but broke down after 10 miles. Jay stayed there for breakfast, while I walked 5 miles till a semi stopped and took me almost to town. A commuter dropped me downtown, and I reached our house 22% hours after starting. Jay followed 6 hours later, averaging 4.9 mph, a brisk walking pace. Prom June 28 to July 7, I was working on a pro­ perty in the St. Elias in the extreme northwest corner of B.C. Our work took us to the Squaw Range, the "front range" roughly continuous with the Kluane Ranges farther north. We were in the valley of Windy Creek, a branch of the Tatshenshini River, the major tributary of the Alsek River; about 8 miles west of the Haines Highway. The whole area seemed oversteep, precipitous near the peaks, while the creek cut a gorge through terraces. The property led to a higher basin to the south, and overlooked die-straight Fault Creek valley, having a braided stream on the flat floor, and steep walls. The peaks were no larger than 7000', hosting pocket and valley glaciers. West across the Tatshen­ shini, the ice-capped Alsek Ranges rose to 9000*, but were merely foothills to the farther Icefield Ranges, containing some of the loftiest mountains in North America. The climate is dry relative to the coast, and it was generally warm and breezy. It was still spring, however, and the gullies and north-facing slopes were still patchy with snow, while the swollen creeks thun­ dered. Our camp at 3800' seemed quite high when tree- line was at 3000'. Solitary spruces dotted the benches, while groves of aspen huddled in the valleys. These ancient trees were up to 25' high and over a foot in diameter at the base. North.slopes were vegetated in dense buckbrush, with heather and wildflowers on the south-facing. Lichens predominated ahove 5000'. Ground-quirrels were swarming everywhere, and 71 often ptarmigans gacking and gobbling kept us awake. Barn swallows tried to nest in our tent. We saw two bears: a full-grown grizzly and a brown cub. In addition, a herd of 24 sheep would make a daily clock­ wise circuit of the mountain across the valley. Rather than Sheep Mtn., I later named it Sunset Peak. We eventually built a bridge to cross the raging creek, and at 8:30 that evening, I set out to climb Sunset Pk. The mountain was made of chlorite schist, which is slippery, sharp, and overhung at the peak; which I attained at 10:20, just as the pink fingers of dusk were doing their thing. (GASP!) The view from 6500' was breathtaking, so to speak, with orange-washed ramparts ranged about me, the backlit splendour of the Alsek Ranges, and on the farthest horizon, the light- blue mass of Mts. Kennedy and Hubbard. Cloud tatters hid Mt. Fairweather, but provided a brilliant curtain overhead. The silver thread of Windy Creek traced its way down to join the broad gleam of the Tatshenshini in flood. In the alpenglow I galloped down the scree and steep heather, my physical and film reserves exhausted. Behind camp was a craggy massif crowned by a peak I named the Sphinx. It looked a good snow climb, but I never found out, as we soon left the area. Access to the area is easy from the Haines High­ way in the vicinity of Bear Camp, 30 miles south of Dezadeash, or 5 miles south of the border. Ford the Tatshenshini R. (thigh-deep in June), then walk south­ west to the head of the Parton River's west fork, and over the pass. The Parton may be crossed where it is braided, or at the snout of Parton Glacier. Another area worthy of mention is the Aishihik (AY-jhee-ack) valley, 100 miles northwest of Whitehorse. Access is by a road branching north from the Alaska Hwy. 80 miles west of Whitehorse. The road, built in World War II, is in good shape the 35 miles to the lake, then reasonable to the north end except that the bridges are in danger of collapsing. Otter Falls, on the Aishihik River, formerly appeared on the back of the 5-dollar bill. Aishihik Lake lies at 3500* in a broad valley between barren ridges, and containing many mushroom-shaped hills and small lakes. The west slopes are often carpeted in golden dwarf aspen, the east slopes grassy, and the valley bottoms filled with spruce and Labrador tea. Fireweed and lupines dot the road­ side. Aishihik L. is one of the sources of the Alsek River, and like most of the Yukon's lakes, is a beauti­ ful blue-green colour.

TRAVELLING IN NEPAL Julian Harrison

Mary Bussell and I spent from January 'til May 1975 travelling through Hawaii, Thailand, Nepal, Malay-

72 sia, and Singapore. More than half this time was passed in Nepal, including a short trek in the Anna- purna region and a longer one to Everest Base Camp. It is hoped the following comments will be helpful to any­ body contemplating a similar trip. THE LAND Nepal is shaped rather like a sausage just under 500 miles and a fifth as wide. A journey across its shorter dimension would take you through virtually every known biogeoclimatic zone, from the tropical jungle and sub-tropical plans of N. India to the almost Arctic conditions of the Himalayan summits. Only a few of these zones are condusive to agriculture. The land is anything but flat; the Himalayan valleys are so deep that the Himalayas do not form an Asian watershed in the way that the Rockies and Andes form a watershed in the Americas. Instead, the waters draining from the lower mountains of Tibet actually pass through the world's highest mountain range on their way to the Indian Ocean. Nepal has the world's greatest geographic relief: 28,900 feet of it. This also is not condusive to agriculture. THE PEOPLE Nepal is squeezed between India and China, and thus its population is a mixture of two very different cultures. The many different ethnic groups all reflect different proportions of these two backgrounds: some of those in the West, who are ultimately of Tibetan de­ scent, have found a place in the Indian caste system, while the Sherpas of the East are virtually 100% Tibetan in social structure. Along with the racial diversity comes a similar meeting of two of the world's great religions: Buddhist and Hindu. WHAT YOU SHOULD KNOW BEFORE YOU GO You should have a very good idea of what you are getting into before you arrive in Kathmandu. This means being prepared for health problems and for the personal inconvenience and bureaucratic inefficiency typical of underdeveloped countries. Visas can be obtained for a 15 day visit from any Nepalese Embassy, but you will have much more success in getting this visa (and sub­ sequent extensions) if you get it before you arrive in Asia. There is no Nepalese Embassy in Canada, but there is one in Washington, D.C. at 2401 Leroy Place. This visa can only be extended for longer once you arrive in Nepal, and you will have to show good cause for why they should want you to stay longer. If you're going trekking, this usually satisfies the Immigration Officials, but realize that they are under no obliga­ tion to like you. So when you apply for an extension, look neat, wear a tie, and don't argue. While in the

73 Central Immigration Office, Ram Shah Path, Kathmandu, you'll need to get a trekking permit. Be sure to in­ clude everywhere you'll want to go on the application form, especially all towns with Police checkposts, or you may find yourself stopped halfway to the mountains. Take lots of passport photos for the visas and trekking permits; 30 to 40 photos are required by those travel­ ling overland across Asia. Try to learn a little about the Country before you depart. The most important aspects are the Peoples and - their religions, the geography, and the natural history. "Nepal" by Toni Hagen is the best book on the People and the geography. Other books may be hard to find in North America, but many good books are available in Kathmandu, and it will all mean a lot more when you are there, any­ way. Certainly learn something about the People before you leave Kathmandu; it would be a mistake to trek to Annapurna without knowing the~ difference between Thaka- lis, Magars, Tamangs, and Gurungs, and so on. Informa­ tion on the Natural History of Nepal is scanty, even in Kathmandu, which is a great pity, as Nepal may have more "diversity per square mile" than any other country. Over 600 bird species are indigenous. In 1975, Dr. Fleming, of the hospital in Patan, led "bird walks" every Saturday morning. His authoritative volume on the Birds of Nepal was due for publication in mid-1975. Trekking is usually permitted in 3 main areas. These are:

a) To Jomson, Annapurna South Face Base Camp, Tilicho Lake. b) To Helambu, Gosainkund, and Langtang Valleys, just North of Kathmandu. c) To Everest Base Camp.

A selection of "Trekking Maps" are available for these areas in Kathmandu. All are enlarged from a 1 inch to 8 mile survey dome in the 1920's by spies from the Indian Survey Office, and are thus abundantly inaccurate. None­ theless, they are adequate if their shortcomings are realized. Several trekking guide-books are available in Nepal, by far the best of which is "A Guide to Trekking in Nepal" by Stephen Bezruchka, a Canadian doctor working in Nepal. Copies of this book may be obtained by send­ ing $5 via registered mail to Sahayogi Press Tripureshwar Kathmandu Nepal. There are other interesting treks to be made, most notably from Pokhara to Jumla (passing in front of the whole Dhaulagiri Range), and from the Khumbu Valley to Darjeeling. Permission for these is not usually granted, so it is best to apply several months in advance, and to

74 expect refusal anyway. The trekking season is from October to May. October-November and February-March-April are the best times. December and January are clear but cold, with snow at high altitudes, and by late April the heat of summer and the haze from India have already arrived. The summer is the time of the Monsoon, when torrential rains make travel rather unpleasant. Excellent articles on the "standard treks" can be found in The Canadian Alpine Journal, 1970: p. 24; 1971: p. 20, 22, 23, 25, 27, 29; 1974: p. 43, and The Varsity Outdoor Club (UBC) Journal, 1968: p. 90; 1970: p. 123; 1971: p. 137. HEALTH Nepalese health standards may appall you. Be prepared to be your own doctor. A good First Aid Kit, a book such as "Medicine for Mountaineering" (by the Mountaineers, Seattle), and a little knowledge can be awfully comforting things when you feel so sick that you can barely drag yourself to the outhouse fast enough (if there is an outhouse). Your major problems will be: a) Bacterial infections of the gut. b) Amebic infections of the gut. c) Viral infections of the gut. d) Respiratory infections (everything from colds to TB). e) Conjunctivitis. f) High Altitude. It's essential to know something about all of these, and to have the means of treating them. Prevention, of course, is most important, so realize that all unboiled water is suspect, that Halazone tablets (Chlorine) do not kill Amebae, but ten drops of 1% Iodine per quart of water does, and only boiling removes the threat of viral hepatitis. Some doctors will give you a prescrip­ tion for the necessary drugs, and will sit down with you for a couple of hours to explain when the drugs should be used, as well as dangerous side effects. Make sure you find a doctor who will help you in this way. On your return to Canada, it is important to have your stool checked for amebae, and to have a chest X- ray. Don't forget to allow two months before departure for all the vaccinations: TABT, Tetanus, Smallpox, and Cholera. WHY GO? If you go just to see majestic mountains and friendly people, you may be in for a shock. The stan­ dard of living is unbelievably low, the place is un­ believably filthy, and not everybody (notably Govern­ ment Officials and Bank Staff) is friendly. For what­ ever reason you go, your strongest impressions on

75 leaving will probably be of a country that is vainly struggling to catch the 20th century and is yet com­ pletely undefended against the problem of a modern world. We fbund that much of the Foreign Aid is, not really benefitting the country. But the mere presence of the modern technological world outside Nepal is damaging Nepal, and so we who are a part of this modern world are under some kind of obligation to repair the damage. Our trip was in some ways a disturbing exper­ ience, for it raised many questions in the mind, and provided no easy answers. But if you are ready for this, though you cannot escape it, you will be able to see through it, to a land of majestic mountains and friendly people.

MT. STEELE (16,644')

Party: Roland Burton (L) Eric White Neil Humphries Heidi Piltz Ellen Woodd Bruce Fairley

There is much that one could say about the pre- organization and planning that our trip involved, but this would make too lengthy an article, so I shall instead concentrate on the actual climb itself. Suf­ fice to say that hours and hours were spent going over maps, food lists, equipment, etc.; a process which was complicated when we received a bundle of rules, regu­ lations, and requirements from the Parks Branch, in response to our request for information about the area. Mt. Steele, which is part of the high and heavily glaciated St. Elias Mountains, is located in Kluane National Park. We were also hoping to climb two other peaks, Mt. Lucania, third highest peak in Canada, and Mt. Walsh. Roland, Heidi and I left Vancouver on June 21st, in a car crammed with food and equipment. We had an uneventful trip to Whitehorse, finding the Alaska High­ way somewhat of a bore, and extraordinarily slippery and gooey when wet. In Whitehorse we met up with Eric and Neil, and tracked down Vivien Bowers, who was ex­ pecting us. We moved into Vivien's small but comfy shack ten miles outside of town and spent a couple of days resting up after the five day drive, buying food and sorting and mending equipment. When Ellen Woodd flew into Whitehorse on the 28th, the expedition was complete. We drove to Burwash, 200 miles north east of Whitehorse, on June 30th, from where we were to fly into the Steele glacier. On route we stopped at Haines Junction for the compulsory inspection from the Parks Branch, which proved to be rather casual and in­ formal. The weather at Burwash was not suitable for flying, and we had to wait a couple of days. We had

76 arranged with Barry Narod that we would split the heli­ copter charter with the glaciology camp he was working for, as they intended to fly some of their equipment out at this time. During the waiting period we were persuaded to borrow some snowshoes to take along, which proved to be completely unnecessary, and only added to the loads we had to carry. Thurs. July 3; At last we were off! The helicopter ride was spectacular; a tiny whirring machine buzzing its way through a vast world of tumultuous mountain walls, sprawling glaciers, ice, rock and snow. We went wild shooting pictures. Our pilot, Bob Dunbar, dropped us at 7500 feet, a quarter of a mile from the massive icefall which tumbles cut of the Steele Glacier cirque, and we spent the day setting up base. Everyone is being super cautious about crevasses and we're careful to probe tent sites and pathways. Before supper we all take a short hike, threading our way up the icefall into the bottom of the cirque floor. The peak looks so close - it's hard to believe we've over 9000 feet to climb. Friday, July 4: High winds kept some members of the party awake last night. Roland and I remain behind to sort out food for ferrying up the mountain. Weather is quite pleasant; Rol spends an hour in the afternoon sitting on a rock and scraping mold off of our sausage supply, brought from Vancouver. The other four mem­ bers of the party do a reconnaissance of the route up to about 9500 feet. The first 1500 feet is horrible loose scree, fairly steep in some places. A snowstorm begins at 4:00 P.M. Outside in his poncho Roland cooks our first dinner of mackerel. It does not prove to be popular.... Saturday, July 5: Snowed xn with bad weather which clears a bit in late afternoon. We go for a walk southeast, towards Mt. Harrison, 13,000 feet. Ellen almost gets wet feet while stream hopping, but is pulled across in time. A blah day. Sunday, July 6: Wow! What weather! Sunny and crisp and bitingly clear. We load our packs up with food and set off, making slow but very steady progress up the very broken scree slope. At 9000 feet we hit snow and sink up to two feet in it. Eric and Neil lead. After lunch in the sun, Neil and I leave packs and punch holes another quarter mile to 10,000 feet and the base of a fixed line, the first evidence we've seen of the Japanese expedition which we understand climbed Steele in April. We decide to build our first snow cave here, and end up digging into a huge sub-surface crevasse, thirty feet wide across at points. Makes a good garbage pit. We're back at Base by 5:00 P.M. enjoying tea, supper and baths, as well as the glorious sun shine. 77 Monday, July 7: Again the weather co-operates. We make 10,000 feet in an hour's less time, but feel fairly burnt out. Eric and Neil punch holes for another 1400 feet above Camp I while the rest of us dry anything and everthing out on the last rocks we are likely to see for some time. No one feels like putting up a tent, so we all squeeze into the cave. This weather can't last! Tuesday. July 8: But it does! We get our food another 2200 feet up the ridge, roped up all the way - our huge sub surface garbage pit having convinced us that this would be a wise idea. Eric leads the entire way, without pack for the last 800 feet; we are still sink­ ing in pretty far. He, Neil and I finish the snow cave for Camp II at about 5:30 P.M. and return to Camp I. Heidi and Roland have complained of minor upsets - headache, stomach upset - but everyone seems in good spirits now, as we are making steady progress. After supper the weather finally breaks and it begins to snow. Again we sleep at Camp I, crammed but warm.

Wednesday, July 9: The day is rotten with visibility down to 25 - 100 feet. Everyone is feeling slothy. We stay indoors and read, eat the first day of our storm rations. Thursday. July 10: Today we packed all our personal gear to Camp II and all of the food - save our 4 days worth of remaining storm supplies - to 13,500 feet. We left camp before 8:00 A.M. Thanks to the fastidious­ ness of Neil, who got up and cooked breakfast at least half of the time during the trip. This was the hottest day yet. Neil and Roland scouted the ridge ahead as the rest of us worked at finishing the cave. The route is more irregular above 12,000 feet, but with no sig­ nificant technical problems. A tiring, but inspiring day, with impressive views of Mt. Walsh, which we once had thoughts of climbing (14,000+), the rumpled Steele Glacier system and its tributary tentacles spread below us, and the rough and rugged Eastern edge of the St. Elias Range beyond.

Friday, July 11: Eric and I climb to 14,000, carrying only about 15 pounds each. Heavy cloud and wind for most of the .morning. We lose one section of the ava­ lanche probe while glissading down, recovering two other sections from the bottom lip of the most savage and ominous crevasse I've ever seen. The rest of the party sloth for the day at Camp II. Saturday. July 12: An exhausting day. Carrying all our personal gear and our storm food we pack to 14,000 feet, where the ridge flattens out and an icy wind carrying-drifted snow tears and shrieks at us. The cave takes four bone-wearying hours to dig at this

78 altitude; Neil and Eric keep going for most of this time. The wind sends blasts of snow careening around us; Some go back to recover food and supplies left at 13,400. We're all glad to climb into bed tonight. Sunday, July 13, Monday, July 14. Tuesday, July 15: All three days are much the same. We sit in our snow cave while the wind and snow per­ sistently try to bury us; they never let up. People have to get up at 2 and 3 in the morning to dig out the entranceway which gets clogged with windblown snow every four or five hours. With the snow blowing out­ side, and the cold temperatures, it's torturous going outside to relieve oneself. Our snowshoes finally prove to be useful; they are put to use protecting the entrance. On the third day we have an hour's calm when the eye of the storm passes by us. Life is a drag. People talk, read- Madame Bovary, Nostromo, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. Wednesday, July 16: Today we climbed Mt. Steele in weather which ranged from awful to adequate. We got away around 9:30, taking a long time to organize after our 3 day layoff. About 300 feet above our camp we hit glacier ice and donned crampons, which we wore to the summit. We lunched at the col 1000 feet below the peak; it was cloudy and windy. Altitude was beginning to tell; the next 700 feet was a real thrash, with the weather steadily deteriorating until it became almost a total whiteout. Neil, Ellen and I wait for the second rope and discuss going on; Neil feels that we may have trouble finding the summit, conditions are so bad. We decide to continue another 300 feet or so; it's slow, one step at a time, but fifteen minutes later - we're on the top. A Japanese flag attached to a carabiner lies half buried in the snow. We thump each other on the back, cheer, enjoy the moment. There is absolutely nothing to be seen in any direction; all is clouded in. A few summit shots are hastily taken, the second rope arrives, and we begin the descent. It's pretty cold, around 0 to 5 below, P. Roland is very disappointed that there was no view from the peak and would like to try again, but the rest of us doubt the weather will warrant it. Lucania is by now, of course, out of the question. We would have to go over the top of Steele, across a ten mile ridge, and then climb another 4000 feet; we haven't that much food and the weather has not been good enough. Thursday. July 17: We retreated to Camp II in bad weather. Had one hell of a time organizing - digging out packs, snowshoes, and so forth - and did not leave until 1:00 P.M. Not sorry to see the last of this cold

79 and windy hole. Winds were so strong in descending that the climbing rope billowed out flapping wildly, and one was occasionally knocked off step. Descent of the fixed rope on a steep ice pitch was precarious and required constant belaying. It was nice to be back at II and on the way to Base. Friday. July 18: Snow is very mushy as we descend to Base today; Neil, who is leading, sometimes sinks into it up to his thighs. We eat lunch at Camp I; our cave is still preserved. By 1:30 we are on the scree' slopes. The change in the landscape is amazing; four to five feet of snow has melted and vast patches of morraine which were hidden two weeks ago are now exposed. We re­ locate Base Camp and it begins to rain. Neil and Eric have a bath anyway. At least it's warm - 40 beautiful degrees. Saturday. July 19: Rains on and off all day. We set up a tarp and go through all our food, attempt to dry things. Everyone is feeling good despite the lousy weather and there is lots of indulgence in jokes and food. We discover that we have more food left than we thought we had. Sunday, July 20: Another slack day, which begins, as usual, with mush. A lot of snow has fallen and Rol and I have to rescue our tarp which has collapsed around the food supply. Talking, singing, reading. Weather remains blah. Ho hum.... Monday, July 21: Weather O.K. at last. We attempt to leave early but don't get away until 9:00. Our destin­ ation is the Mt. Harrison col, on our route up Harrison itself, if all goes well. A morning of crevasse jump­ ing, as most of the cracks are open now. One hop, skip and jump routine over a feeble looking snow bridge adds some excitement. Around 2:00 P.M. we notice our daily storm approaching from the north, and soon we are in a whiteout. A day of misunderstandings ensues. Rol and Eric plod on while the rest of us just sit, believing that they were simply making a recce for a campsite that might be a little flatter. But half an hour later they emerge from the gloom ticked off that we have not been following. Everyone has a different plan: retreat, go forward, remain. We remain. I cook supper with-the snow pelting down. After supper we discuss objectives, and it seems that one more day of bad weather might be enough to send us back.

Tuesday, July 22: It stopped snowing at about 9:30, so we set off in the direction of Harrison, except for Heidi, who stayed behind to dry things out. Three large crevasses to cross right after camp, but then the col opened into a vast moon-plain of white. The sun is hot, for the first time in ages. After lunch we attack the

80 steep west flank of Harrison head on, everybody leads today. A very steep pitch of rotten ice slows us down; we take over an hour to negotiate 50 vertical feet. We're all feeling great today, but by 2:00 P.M. the ever-faithful St. Elias storm is on its way. We give up on the summit and instead walk to the far south end of the ridge we are on, where we catch sporadic glimps­ es of Walsh, the Centennial Range, and,7 finally, Lucania, between the clouds. We dub it the south sum­ mit, but it is only just over 11,000 feet. One rappel and some fine glissades get us back to camp at 8:00 o'clock, where Heidi cooks an excellent dins. Wednesday. July 23: I had a terrible night. Woke at 2:00 A.M. and did not sleep again until after 7:00. In between made five trips outside to empty myself. Weather in the morning is blah, as usual. " We leave for Base at 3:30. Eric doesn't quite make it across one of the "stream crevasses," and ends up fifteen feet down a hole, but it's no problem to pull him out again. Thursday. July 24: We get ready to leave. Dry clothes, burn garbage in a convenient crevasse. Ellen lays out all her equipment and takes a picture of what the well- dressed and up-to-date mountaineer should carry. We've run out of Snow Seal, so some must use margarine on their boots. Friday, July 25: We find the Japanese garbage pile less than an hour's hike from our camp. Nothing much worth scrounging - they ate a lot of noodles. Glacier is flat for one mile, then very hummocky; it's up and down, up and down. We see huge sink holes which plunge 100 feet and more into the glacier, gigantic, gaping crevasses, pressure ridges, etc. Seven miles done, and we camp on a rocky and uncomfortable morraine. Saturday, July 26: Today we put in 9 miJes, which puts us still about 40 miles from the highway. Heidi was sick most of the day, but kept at it. The sight of some green meadows gave us all a great lift after more than 3 weeks of nothing but ice, snow and rock; it felt wonderful to walk on grass again. We spent some time investigating the ACC Centennial campsite, perched in some meadow country on the edge of the glacier. Sunday. July 27: A very long day of eleven hours hik­ ing involving an exciting bit of stream crossing. We struck out for the west slope of the glacier trough in the morning, crossing the steepest and loosest morraine piles on route. By lunch we were at Steele creek, which actually looked more like a good sized river. We'd come too far east and now had to spend two hours searching for a route across. We were eventually able to wade it with packs, but the river was wide, deep, cold, and turbulent enough to make it exciting. Then it was slog, slog, slog. We camped one mile below the

81 snout of the glacier. Monday, July 28: Another day of eleven hours hiking through bush as dense and horrible as any on the Coast. We were forced up a 1500 foot gully which seemed nearly vertical in order to avoid impassable cliffs at the cor­ ner where the Steele joined the Donjek River. We camp on the sands of Steele, in the rain, two miles from the Donjek. Tuesday, July 29: Neil woke us at 6:00 A.M. with his daily cry of "Breakfast in 5." Morning is cloudy. We slog through more horrible bush, and the going is very slow. At noon we cross the braided Cement creek. Dis­ cover about ten abandoned tins of freeze-dried food and pounce on them, devouring strawberries, peas and beans, steak and lamb stew. We've been travelling with a min­ imum of food, and there have been lots of comments about the skimpiness of lunches. Then it's back to the bush. We follow a stream inland and end up) camping in a swamp for the night. Wednesday. July 30: Ten hours hiking. Horrid swamp mud and three stream crossings. Wolverine Creek. Then, blessedly, a three mile stretch of meadow - just beauti­ ful. Six days of hard, steady slogging through bush and mud have taken their toll, however; people are bagged by 5:00. We camp beside a marsh, with only one day's food remaining. Boots are all saturated with water and mud. The trail along the Donjek which we had hoped to find is non-existent. Thursday. July 31: We left a soggy campsite in good weather. The day is spent mostly in thrashing through bush with some time spent testing the quicksand along the Donjek River. Eric goes up> to his waist at one point and unleashes his full vocabulary on the elements. I plunge into one stream almost up to my chest and get soaked. Ellen nearly dies laughing. It's lucky that we are getting out today. Striking inland we hit an ancient and overgrown road which is followed for a couple of miles. We eat the last of our lunch food. Finally we come to the old highway, and an hour and a half later are back to civil­ ization, in the form of the Alaska Highway. Neil and I thumb to Burwash, forty miles, to recover the cars, and encounter some hassle from the new gas station owner, who wants to charge us $40.00 for "storage." We final­ ly paid him ten bucks, and returned for the others. We spent one day in Whitehorse, gorging ourselves on steak and ice cream, then left for Vancouver again, via the Cassiar Stewart road system - nice country, but a terrible road. There is much more one could say about the trip, and one is tempted to catalogue some advice, but per­ haps the best suggestion is to say if you are going to

82 the St. Elias, try to talk with someone who has been there. We found that most things worked out well: food was good, snowcaves provide adequate accommodation, and our biggest problem was something we had no control over, namely the weather.

THE WOES OF KILAMONJARO Beverly Pearse

No one would describe me as an athletic girl A mountain climber I am not! In fact, about the most strenuous endeavor that my pampered existence includes is carrying an occasional paper bag from my conven­ ience-filled high rise apartment to the garbage chute, about four doors down a plushly carpeted hallway. What a surprise, therefore, when, one day last August, I found myself about to climb Mt. Kilamonjaro. I have some slightly mad friends and they had convinced me that a great way to recoup from a winter of work and study would be to travel in East Africa. This sounded like fun, so with visions of lazy days on the Indian Ocean in sun-filled tropical environs, I agreed. Be­ fore I knew what had happened I found my travel mates obsessed with the idea of achieving spiritual ecstasy by ascending to those mysterious snowy peaks so im­ mortalized by Hemingway. My dilemma was grim. I could opt to stay alone at the base of the mountain in the small African town of Moshi. (At this point in the trip, however, I was still convinced that Africa could boast of a flourishing white slave trade.) Or, I could smile broadly, pretend to be a "jolly good sport" and agree to go. About three days later I was to decide that the white slave trade would have been cushy by comparison. The seventy-five mile round trip involves five days (three up and two down) and takes you to the rather remarkable altitude of 19,340 feet. The night before our trip we stayed in "The Marangu Hotel", a

touch of olde Englande in Tanzania. Even the staunch- est of ."ex pats" would have been happy there! So, like a condemned criminal with his last meal, I grimly de­ cided to enjoy the luxury before the ordeal. I had the longest bath on record. I wandered in the rose gardens, ate "toad in the hole" and trifle and solemnly stared at the ominous snowy peak above me. That night in bed I read the hotel's "Warnings to Climbers" and fell asleep with premonitions or altitude sickness, frost bite, and blistering heels. We arose for breakfast at 7 A.M., and after hearty English porridge, set about renting our equip­ ment from a dear old English mum who kept fussing about the stoutness of our walking boots, the warmth of our anaraks and the thickness of our underwear. I longed sadly for straw hats, bikinis, and suntan

83 lotion. By eleven we had paid our hiking fee, hired the native guide without whom it is illegal to climb, and struggled into our packs. Oh, innocent me! I had never worn a pack before and little did I realize the utter madness of stuffing one advertised as a "$9.99 special" with 25 pounds of equipment and setting off for five days. But, I was determined not to be a grumbler so be­ gan at a brisk pace up through the tiny African mountain villages leading to the gate of the Marangu Corridor in Kilamonjaro National Park. The farming people were friendly and waved and smiled at us on the clear sunny day. I traded three peppermint candies from my pack for a huge piece of fresh sugarcane. Both the wide- eyed tiny African boy dressed in tattered clothing and I were delighted with the exchange. Although the first day's hike was relatively diffi­ cult it was exciting. We went through spectacular tropical rain forest, with giant heather towering above our heads and dense, strange undergrowth below. Much of my tiredness disappeared when I rounded a sharp bend in the trail and found myself amidst at least fifty screech­ ing monkeys, swinging through the vines. They seemed to be laughing at us—the naive tourists beginning our climb. And, the colourful parrots and cockatoos pro­ vided rhythms of mysterious sounds leaving me with a feeling of being very far from home, but elated and anticipatory. About 5 o'clock we arrived at the hut where we were to spend our first night. By this time I was ex­ hausted, dirty and a bit bad tempered. One of the things that the traveller to Africa has to adjust to is the cultural disregard for North American organization and we were to discover that Kilamonjaro was no exception. Although we had followed all the prescribed procedures for booking a space in the hut, there were at least twice as many hikers arriving as there were beds. I was travelling in a group of five; two couples and me. Naturally, my companions solved the bed shortage easily, but I was somewhat hesi­ tant. Now don't misunderstand. I hardly consider my­ self a prude, nor am I hung.up about puritanical moral ethics. But, the idea of sharing a single bed with a total stranger did leave me a bit reluctant! Granted, the selection appeared to be fascinating. Women- were a rare commodity in such primitive conditions and I fan­ tasized that I would have quite an international selec­ tion—for the cabin was filled with Japanese, Swiss, German, French, Scandinavian, British, American and Canadian climbers. As I stood, half shyly, half coyly, looking around the hut, a perky little Cockney peered down from a top bunk and called across the room "Come on mate—bung your gear up 'ere, I promise not to rape yer!"

84 Supper that evening was an adventure! The strange mixture of people, all speaking different languages and with widely varied cultural and ethnic backgrounds gathered around tiny Primus cookers and pooled the avail­ able food to prepare a delicious international smorgas­ bord. As the rapid tropical darkness descended we lit candles, opened the bottles of potent African mee (corn gin) and launched into an hilarious card game where each person devised his own rules according to his particular cultural experience. Who won or who lost became totally irrelevant amidst the camaradery. The scenery on day 2 was less picturesque and the climb stiffer. The excitement had worn off and I was cold and tired. I gratefully threw my women's lib. conscience to the winds when my Cockney friend, offered, about midday, to take over my packsack for me. About 2 o'clock we came to a tiny trickle in an icy stream with the warning sign that this was the last source of drinking water. We gorged ourselves, then loaded the canteen. Our guide, Faustino also dropped the little bombshell that if we wanted to have a fire that night, we must carry the wood from here, for only rock and ice lay beyond. It was perilously near dusk when we strag­ gled into the second hut—cold, stiff and exhausted. Conditions were grim here. Whereas the first hut had been wooden, this one was constructed of corrugated sheet metal. Needless to say it was not exactly cozy! The wind rushed in the gaps and the metal was icy cold. Even by African standards it was exceptionally dirty. The third day was undoubtedly the worst. At this point I could not, for the life of me, understand why anyone climbed mountains. Most of the day was spent scrambling over steep, barren rock. It was incredibly cold. I felt dirty and thoroughly miserable. No one talked much, we just trudged, hour after hour. "Kiko Hut", our abode for the third night was ghastly. It was made of corrugated iron and it was filthy and drafty. The outhouse behind it sported an ironic sign declaring it "The Highest John in Africa". Because we were now at an altitude of over 15,000 feet, nausea was becoming a problem and no one ate much dinner. We went to bed about 6:30 for the plan was to rise at 2 A.M. and be on the top of Kilamonjaro to see the sun rise. No one slept, everyone was cold, and all I could do was think about how many other ways I could have spent the thirty dollars this climb was costing! I will never forget the agonies of the final climb. We had to ascend 4,000 feet over ice and steep shale. Every time you took one step forward you slid three back. Even Faustino was ill. I felt like I had the world's worst hangover combined with violent morning sickness. Three of our group of five threw in the sponge and dejectedly turned back. But something strange had happened to me. Three

85 days ago I was using all my powers of persuasion to convince the group that we should head for the white sands of Malindi instead of the white snows of Kilamon­ jaro. Despite my feeling so utterly miserable, a trans­ formation had occurred. Somehow it had become terribly important to get to the top. As I scrambled up the last few feet and flaked out on the smooth ice under the flag, I felt an ex­ hilaration that suddenly made it all seem worthwhile. I then understood Hillary's pretofore unfathomable comment "Because it's there." My memories of going down are a blurr- the ex­ haustion, the stiff muscles, the knowledge that soon I could shower and shave my hairy legs. All these things blended together. But I distinctly remember the warm glow I felt when Paustino presented me with my crown of mountain flowers. It is African tradition to wear this wreath back through the mountain communities and into the town of Moshi. And now, safe in my comfortable apartment, I can smile nonchalantly when visitors comment about the large poster tacked to the ceiling in my bathroom. It reads: "I have climbed Mt. Kilamonjaro in Tanzania. Have you?"

86 Photo: Rob Boyce Garibaldi and Sphinx from the Bookworms