The Team Sherpa Blog

It was a long haul to Jasper, especially after a tough day of work. Carmen picked me up at exactly 18.00, and I jumped into the bright red car she had rented. It didn’t suit our style at all- a mid-eighties Volvo sedan would have been perfect, but it seems the rental agency has more demand for brand new sporty looking bean-shaped automobiles and thus we were so supplied. This would be our seventh pilgrimage to Jasper National park this season, and it would also be our most ambitious. We had packed for an overnight hike (until now, we have been car camping and day hiking/climbing). Carmen has never hauled a shelter or food.

Our itinerary was tough, but not outside of our means: hike the entire Bald Hills ridge line, descend to Evelyn Creek then bushwack our way up the other side of the valley to continue walking the ridge line opposite. I figured we needed about 12 hours to complete the scramble, and we would over night at a back country campsite and then hike out to Maligne Lake- a stunning loop of alpine beauty that would challenge the both of us. I explained the route to Carmen, and we sat together and plotted it out a week before. It would be 23 km to the campsite. What I didn’t let Carmen know was that there would be over 2000m of elevation gain. What you don’t know can’t hurt you… right? 15 hours later, with the sun quickly setting Carmen and I sat staring in disbelief at the crumbled gully we had used as our descent route I was beginning to think this was the last time Carmen would ever go to the mountains with me.

The day began at 5.30, with a quick breaking of camp and some oatmeal. By 7.00 we were lacing up our boots at the trail head- Maligne lake. Jewel of the Canadian Rockies, this stunning lake is a shade of blue that usually only appears in an opium induced fantasy . I set my Altimeter, and we began the climb up an old fire road. This is a typical approach in Jasper- a slog up through a couple hundred meters of dense pine on a less-than-interesting path wide enough for families of 5 to walk hand in hand. We had both been up the path before, and this made it seem even longer. Carmen figured it would take us about 2 hours to climb the 500m to the highest lookout point. I though we’d do it in about 1.15.

90 minutes after we’d left the car, we were standing high above maligne lake. The path ended here, and our adventure began. We crossed a small alpine meadow, and took a short break on a rocky outcropping in the company of some very well fed marmots. Below us, the ground slid away some 800m to the Evelyn Creek drainage. Spread out before us was the horse shoe of mountains we were proposing to traverse. Beyond the ridges and towering above them was the massive face of Edith Cavelle and her siblings. We scoped out the route, then without further ado we left the trodden world behind us and began to climb up onto the ridge.

There is nothing quite like the anticipation of following a ridgeline - one author states, “it is like being on a summit for an entire day”. To one side, the view are fantastic. Then you turn your head 180 degrees and another valley or vista explodes before you. The terrain always varies, and the entire walk has a great feeling of accomplishment with each small peak or knoll or summit that you cross. It just feels great when you are up and walking along the very spine of a mountain- its like riding a cosmic bull.

The ridge bumped and rolled a bit as we headed south, neither gaining much in altitude nor losing it. The sun was shining, and we felt great- it was only 10.00 by the time we reached to foot of our first big obstacle: 250m climb up to the 2600m summit of an unnamed mountain. A broad, flat ramp led us up to the steeper slopes. To the South West and directly below us a few bright tarns coloured a scree laden bowl. Up and up we climbed, the flat limestone flakes crackling under foot. At about 2500m we came up to a rock band and traded our trekking poles for hand holds. The last hundred meters we scrambled up over boulders- pulling myself up over the summit ledge I was confronted by a huge cairn.

From the summit, we could clearly see the Bald Hills ridge we had just crossed to the North and East. South East of us, a long and rough spur extended like punk’s hair style. The way ahead was bordered on its north side by a rusty razors edge and on the other it fell away steeply.

We turned west now, and made our way along the edge of the mountain to a subsidiary peak. Dark cloud was moving in, and Carmen and I were anxious- we could smell the storm coming at us from the west, and this time of year we were sure to get lightening. We cut our way short of a drainage I had proposed we use to descend to Evelyn Creek and headed carefully down the steep shale slop as we were buffeted by the first blasts of the storm front. By the time we had reached tree line at 2200m it was raining and we followed the first stream we happened upon into the trees. 10 minutes later, the rain had stopped and we were surrounded by lush forest, opened up here just enough to let the water course its way through. Wildflowers were growing everywhere, brilliant yellow orange and pink. The stream bumped its way clumsily down hill, oblivious of the fact that it had created this tiny eden on a mountainside. Carmen commented that she was sure that if fairies existed, that this is where they would live. I laughed at this, but started turning over rocks and peeking under tumbled trees when she wasn’t looking.

Eventually we came to level ground, and the tall trees gave way to dwarf pines and shrub speckled with buttercups. The valley floor was amazing- the tangle of Evelyn creek created swaths of green here and there. It was hard to tell if the land was creating borders for the creek or if the creek was dissecting the land. We were gazing around us in awe when the mosquitoes attacked- squadron after squadron rained down on us. If you waved your hand in front of you, it was a guarantee that you would knock out at least 30 of them.

We hopped over a few streams, but when it came to the main creek we took off our boots and found a shallow place to cross. Once on the opposite bank, we both looked up to the opposite side of the valley and the ridge we needed to climb up to. It looked great up there, and all that separated up from the rest of the route was a 250m climb through dense forest. No problem! I set a bearing on a clearing of trees that straddled the ridge about 50m below tree line, and in we went. The sun was quickly blocked out, and 5 steps into the forest we were in the thick of things. At first, we followed a small stream up that went on roughly the correct bearing, but when it veered off to the North we had to head into the shin tangle. After about 100m the route seemed hopeless. Carmen was laughing- she couldn’t tell if she was standing on root, shrub or rock because the hillside was so choked with pine boughs that you could not see below your own waist. The grade began to get steeper, and I estimated that we had veered to far North so we started correcting. By now it was a tree-to-tree struggle; each step brought a tug from 8 different boughs on 4 separate pieces of clothing. I checked my altimeter, and from the tree line on the map I figured we only had another 30 or so meters to go. We came to a small clearing, and I saw down to the SE the larger clearing I had used to take my original bearing. We had missed the mark, but had come onto the ridge at last. Another 10 minute fight brought us out of the trees, blinking at the sudden day light.

We climbed all the way up the ridge to the 2500m summit above, and had a quick break. Surveying the ridgeline beyond was difficult- it was unclear from here exactly were it went because the line of site was blocked by the massive knoll ahead of us. We knew this section of the scramble would be a roller coaster ride, but from up here the angles seemed much more… angled.

The sun was beginning to cast longer shadows, and the day thus far had been superb. With an easy spirit we tackled our next few obstacles, each one a little rougher than its predecessor. We came to our first little crux after a magnificent 2600m peak; the ridge line was broken here by a 50m rock band that separated us from the ridge’s continuation. After searching out a viable route down, we decided to back track a bit and found our way down some lesser boulders and rejoined the ridge half way down the rock band where the terrain leveled out to a satisfactory degree.

We plunged down to a long, windy col from here, and after a quick break made a fast and steep ascent up to the last and highest point of our day. It was a moonscape of loose shale up here, and we moved closer to the jagged edge and used the solid stone of a few rock bands to help us. At the top, Carmen declared she was pretty much done for and slumped down into a well known position to most distance hikers- the backpack recline. “She’s a natural at this!” I thought. It had taken me years to perfect the stance myself. We figured that it would just be a matter of walking down and off the ridge from here and join the thin brown ribbon of the Skyline trail far below, which would lead us to our campsite. But what lay beyond was much more “interesting”.

Beyond the peak the ridge was a knife edge, and it suddenly came to an abrupt and final finish. A 200m drop seemed to be in the way of our further progression. My guidebook had explained that this bit could be avoided by dropping off the ridge to the South East a short distance before the obstacle and descending down a steep and narrow gully. We again back tracked, and found a steep scree slope that led down to what looked like a promising gully. This is a very dangerous position to be in- entering into an unknown gully could mean disaster. Our options were either to turn back and bivouac for the night at Evelyn Creek (some 4 hours back tracking) then hike back out the next day over the Bald Hills again, or go down the gully and hope it didn’t end at a sheer drop off. After scouring our surroundings for a half an hour, Carmen and I concluded that this must be the route the guide had referred to. We inched our way down into the trough, and stayed close together to avoid rockfall. The gully was a mess of rotten mountain. Staying close to the side, and always conscious of how the potential to climb back out, we made our way down to a point where we could see no further. In the back of my head, I knew that we were now on poor 4th grade terrain without a rope. The gully began to narrow. Through two towering stone walls I saw that this trough met at a right angle with another gully full of deep scree- our route off the mountain was clear. We plunge stepped down through the ankle deep scree, and eventually made it down safely to level ground.

It was 21.30 by now. Both Carmen and I were drained, but stangely elated. We joined the Skyline trail at Shovel Pass, and began a slow decent back down to Evelyn creek. It was twilight by the time we entered the trees again, and we made the last 3 km into camp by headlamp. Tired, hungry but happy we set up the tent and made our camp. A surreal day completed by a meal of my mom’s best dehydrated dinners ever.

We awoke the next morning at around 8.00, long after the sun. After striking camp, we headed back across Evelyn Creek and followed the Skyline trail back down to maligne lake and our red hot ride. We were in a world of our own, smelling flowers and singing songs. Many hikers passed us on their way up the “boulevard”, its great to chat with others heading the opposite direction on the trail.

By 10.00 we were at the car. I was still so early in the day, and so we went down to the old boat house and rented a canoe. The waters were clear, and the mountains soared at every angle above us. Eventually, the rain found us again and so we turned back towards the boathouse and paddled furiously against a strong wind. Nothing ever lasts in the mountains, but I would give any amount of rain and bad weather for just 5 minutes up above it all.