The Team Sherpa Blog

A slow start to a cold day. I was shaking the frost off the tent at around 7.00, which is my gentle way of letting Carmen know that it’s time to wake up. Conor and Lex tumbled out of their tent soon after, into the cold wet morning that hung around us like a damp towel. We rolled up our kit and it quickly became clear that a hot greasy breakfast was the only thing that could save us now. We pulled out a map and decided that Cirque Peak (2993m) would be the days objective, conveniently placed a few km down the road from the campsite and just after the restauraunt at Saskatschewan Crossing.

With a belly full of bacon and eggs we slung on our packs at the Helen Lake trail head. The fog and mist had lifted somewhat, and the sun was timidly trying to help us out a bit. The trail was a slippery mess of tangled routes and muck, a few cm of snow lay on the ground having fallen during the night. The trail headed up into the dense forest, and we slogged away for about 45 minutes. As we passed the 2200m mark, the trees began to thin and The impressive crowfoot glacier gleams at us from across the valley. Conor and I are ahead of the other two, we take a break neck pace up the last 200m of acent to gain the stunning Dolomite Pass. It’s a huge alpine pass that is dominated on the west side by Dolomite Peak (a loftier goal for another time…) and on the East by the extent of the long tentacle of Cirques’ southern ridges. To the North is our goal, cloaked in snow and snagging wisps of cloud. The sky is blue now.

The walk up the pass is fantastic. Snow lays like a polyester lining just barely covering the grass which pokes out in tufts here and there. Massive erratic boulders line up like soulders just above us. a sliver stream slip its way in twists from the unseen lake ahead. We slowly approach Helen lake in awe at this beautiful, unspoilt spot. So often I have been to alpine lakes in other mountains, and so often they are marred by marks of fire and camping, plastic bottles and wine corks. Not so here. There is barely a footprint here to let you know that people have dread here, I have a hair raising sensation that I am disturbing a secret place. We find a flat boulder to take a break and slip on our insulating layers- a wind is blowing down from the peak, and the cloud has come in again. Snow begins to gently fall as Carmen and I make final adjustments for the 500m scramble up the summit ridge.

From the mirrored surface of the small lake, we skirt around and begin to climb up through a rock band to gain the eastern side of the long ridge that will lead us up Cirque. In 20 minutes we come over the lip of the a cliff, and the huge and daunting expanse of Dolomite pass unfolds beneath us. It looks like something out of the southern Alberta badlands, a desert of sorts that is closed in to the north by the jagged eastern ridges of Cirque and to the south by Dolomite Peak itself. I can only imagine the possibilities for snowshoeing this area in the coming winter…

We turn Northward, and start the short steep climb up onto the ridge. The footing is tricky at best- dirt, with a consistency of oreo cookie crumbs makes going slow. As we approach the ridgeline, ice replaces dirt and we both pull out ice axes and plunge our way up the remaining few meters onto the broad sloping trunk of the ridge.

A freezing wind greets us, and the ground is firmly frozen. Snow has already solidified here, which is great news as it is thick enough in places to have held together the loose talus that would have made the remaining 250m climb to the summit grueling. Instead of the ankle twisting rocks, a white boulevard flows upwards. The views are already stunning, but visibility is quickly declining. A dark, thick sky frames the peak.

We slowly plod on upwards, through an increasingly bitter wind. About three quarters of the way up, we break for a moment and snap a few photos of the massive towers of Dolomite peak behind us. As we put our pack back on, a brilliant sun chases away the clouds and the wind dies down- it looks like if we can make a quick climb from here, we should have a stunning view from the top!

The ridge line gets very steep for the last 75m or so, and we approach the rock wall below the false summit. We meet two other hikers here that look a little worse for the weather. They take a look longingly at our gaiters, mittens and ice axes- the terrain here is not exactly technical, but this sort of scrambling requires more than a pair of day-hikers and a windbreaker. It always amazes me when I meet people who are not prepared for the elements, and I always remember the oldest rule in mountains- expect the best, but prepare for the worse.

We quickly find a cleft up through the rock wall, and slither our way up through the snow and ice covered rock to a small cairn. Spread out to the south is the broad alpine pass we’ve ascended from, framed by Crowfoot. To the north, just over the lip of the abyss is the steeply sloping snow slopes of the north side of Cirque, and to the East and just below eye level is the stunning blue of a massive tarn hiding like a secret gem in the range just beyond. It is the end of September, and the seasons have begun to fight out for supremecy- snow and ice lie all around us at this altitude, but the valley floor on the dolomite side breaths a warm desert wind and the west everything is still green. We make a few photos from the small pinnacle, and decide to head back down. The true summit requires us to dip steeply down a slightly exposed ridge and then climb an even more exposed (and slick snow covered talus) spire. Plus, even as we bask in a beautiful afternoon soon we are watching another weather front push in from the North. Before we leave our perch, I pull out a small radio and call down to Conor and Alexis to let them know that we are safe and enjoying the view, but we will be down an hour later than expected.

Using our ice axes all the way back down, we make great time with the wind at our back this time. Once over the ridge and back onto the Dolomite side of the pass, a gentle snow starts to fall. The sun is blazing, but the temperature is hovering around -2C and the tiny snowflakes are shining like diamond shavings as they gently fall around us.

We make the steep decent back down to Helen lake, but everything looks different now. The afternoon sun that we enjoyed up top has burned off the soft blanket of snow and now the whole pass is glistening and green, lush and awake. A stunning change to the surrounding we came through hours earlier. I’m not a huge fan of “out and back” hiking, but this trip hardly counts as; the way back is a complete change from the way out! The gurgleing brook that we encountered in the morning is now a surging creek, and I stop to clean up my boots. Carmen and I both take few mouthfuls of the crystal waters and head back down the pass, along the frosty flanks of Dolomite.

Once in the car, we head back up the parkway to the David Thomson highway. We stop in Nordegg for an early dinner, and I have a sad feeling in the pit of my stomach. This trip will mark the end of the mountain season for me. As we discuss the past months and trips, talk about the mountains visited and mountains glimpsed quickly moves to the planning stage for next year. My spirits start to rise as I we go through plans and potentials, hopes and goals and I know I’m in good company to sit out the long winter…