Sunwapta
This was a simple trip of up and down, that ended up with some fantastic sidetracks. Carmen picked up my brother Rowan and I on Saturday after work, and together with my sister’s fiancé Guillaume the four of us headed West out of town towards the mountains and adventure. Our plans were not solid, but the weather was forecast as stable. With a setting sun, we bounced across the plains until connected with the David Thompson highway. Some 350 km further, we spilt out onto the Icefields Parkway- a ribbon of asphalt that runs directly through some of the most spectacular scenery in the world. Heading North, we passed three overloaded campsites until we stumbled onto a tiny sign featuring a single arrow and a tent icon- Columbia Icefields campground. The campground feels like a secret place; tenting only, some 35 sites nestled in just below the awesome expanse of Wilcox Pass. Throwing up the tents, we jumped in bed and set our alarms for 5.00.
A cold wind blew up through the trees, coming down off of the moonlit glaciers across the valley. As I prepared a breakfast of oatmeal and coffee, Carmen sorted out our gear. We were heading for Sunwapta, 3315m. The route was simple, and straight forward- straight up the south face for some 1700m. On arrival at our trailhead, the mountain rose up into the early morning sky like a soft dorsal fin- telling little of the secrets on its scarred and glaciated North face. The route looked easy from below, yet once on the mountain proved to be a long climb up chunky scree.
There is little story to tell of a climb like this- it is literally up and down. We followed a few cairns into a drainage, and eventually gained tree line as the sun began to kiss our shoulders. From tree line, we had a 2.5 hour slog west to gain the ridgeline that we would follow up first to a false summit, and eventually the actual summit. This is a non technical route, not much more than a hike, but the upper slopes are often snow covered. The mountain is situated North of the Columbia Icefields, and we were promised impressive views from the top.
Guillaume has never been to the mountains and he is in disbelief for most of the climb, his first time above 3000m. The mountain has swallowed us whole, I live that wonder again as I watch him pick his way slowly over the rough terrain. Everything is larger here, we are tiny ants on this rock, and yet below our feet are the trillions of stones that make up this mountain. The sun, the ice and the challenge push us forward and up. Rowan is ahead for most of the climb, until we all meet up again at a notch in the ridge.
The view 
is stupendous. The earth falls away some 600m from beneath my feet, across the flat valley rises the wall of Tangle Ridge. After some brief photos, we push on. We still have some 600m or so to climb to the summit. We reach the false summit, and dig in for the final 300m climb. It’s steeper now, and the air is noticeably thinner. I’m thankful that the mountain is free of snow. One by one we reach the huge summit cairn, and drop our packs.
For half an hour we take in the world below us. It is rare to be able to attain these sort of elevations in the Rockies without use of a rope, crampons and a prayer. Guillaume is thrilled, 
Carmen reclines between a couple of boulders and Rowan takes off his shirt and runs around. I sign the summit 
registry, and we all take one last look around. The massive sheets of ice across from us hold riddles and stories from the centuries past, and the raw earth they leave behind them will eventually yield flowers and trees again. The glaciers on the North side are not visible from here, large cornices separate us from a good view down the cliffs as well but we know they are there from the crisp breeze blowing up the slopes.
It’s a long haul back down. We choose a much more direct route, finding channels of finer scree here and there that help. Half way back down we come to a patch of old snow, and loose no time in preparing a short glissade. Just before we enter the tree line again, a thunderstorm strikes. Good timing, or fortune?
That night, around the fire we all exchange our impressions of the day. We’re enjoying huge helpings of a stew my mother cooked and then dehydrated for us, as well as some hot dogs that Rowan paid $32 for. Rowan is elated to have finally walked a mountain again- he hasn’t had the chance over the last few years. Carmen is tired, but has a hard-as-nails look about her as she 
hangs her socks on a line to air out. Sips puts down his beer, looks at me and says, “What are we doing tomorrow?”. I just point up at the surrounding peaks and say, “going up, I guess”.
