Febuary Ice Adventures

It was the first adventure planned out west since my arrival in Fernie B.C 3 weeks prior. Eager to keep things interesting, I decided to pack my bags and leave Fernie. Although I had no qualms with skiing everyday, it lacks the unpredictability of being on the road. Travelling solo through Asia gave me this itch that had to be scratched. The world’s best ice climbing sits a mere 400km from my house so I decided that it was time to get on it.

I left at eleven am from the cozy Fernie condo that I was living in. I chatted with a solid volunteer firefighter to Cranbrook. I hitched a ride with a second world war vet to Skookumchuck. Crossing the Kootany River on foot, I got a ride from a teacher at the College of the Rockies. 

It was now 7pm and I was in Invermere, still 200 km away from my destination. My next ride was to the junction where an old man who said fuck in every sentence and a woman who always replied ‘you betcha’. They drove me in a bald tired truck through the harrowing Radium Highway. I sat for 3 hours on the Trans Canada, 30km away from Lake Louise. Finally, a solid dude picked me up in his two door rice burner. I sat under the weight of my combined luggage counting down the km until Lake Louise.

I arrived at ten thirty and rejoiced by buying gas station coffee. It was a 5km uphill hike to the chateau and then another two km of deep snow slogging with a heavy pack to the falls. I found a good patch to dig in and I haphazardly pitched my bivy sack in a snow trench. I was cold, wet and had a long night ahead of me. 

I got out in the cold morning to make my oatmeal and coffee. After organizing my camp a bit more I went across the lake to the falls. The one-hundred-and-ten-meter behemoth was a sight to see and a few moves up, I was already pumped out. Luckily the leader, a fellow by the name of Peter had paved the way for me. By 2pm I was rappelling off the wall. 

cold morning

morning 1

Louise falls

 

cave

The whistle of the stove broke the silence in my camp as I melted snow and made coffee. I made renovations to my camp, expanding the kitchen area and getting my bivy fully enclosed into its cave. I had become more comfortable in the camp, although all my layers were damp, and my outer sleeping bag was still encrusted in ice. I decided to head down into town where I could poach a fireplace and wireless internet from the local hostel.

sleeping cave

kitchen

In town I quickly got word from Sylvain, a French Canadian school teacher driving up from Calgary. He was a solid ice leader and keen to hit up something new. Arriving in a camper van, we had a few beer and talked climbing. I was cave bound before ten pm, we had a 4am wake up planned and the next day would be a full one.  

The phone let loose a wail to signal the time to get out of my cave. The outer bag was a solid piece of ice. Turning on my headlamp, I left my cave and emerged into the brisk -25 air. Gearing up, I quickly met up with Sylvain and we were on our way.

After a long approach, we stood at the bottom of a 200 meter piece of waterfall ice. Happy to follow and learn, I started belaying Syl. With over 20 years of experience, I learned a lot by watching Sylvain climb. Most of the leading I felt capable of doing however, the crux pitch of WI5+ had me pumped and baffled as to how a person could climb, place screws and have enough confidence to lead such a pitch. I hung on, forearms throbbing, hands burning and heaving. 

climb day 2

Still, I proved to be a reliable second and we managed to cruise up the pitch in good time. Although I had an easy job, it was still a workout and a half.

At the end of the day, we grabbed a burger and a beer at the Louise Hostel. After oats and power bars for days straight, the meal was like ambrosia. Sylvain offered to drop me off at the radium exit of the trans can and so I hurriedly rushed in and took down camp. 

View of Castle from my highway spot

Stinky, wet, tired and happy, I waited for my first hitch. A rusty old cavalier with two people best described as “salt of the earth” gave me a ride to invermere. Their kindness included offering me a place to stay, orange pop and green smokables. I politely refused all offers but their kindness, despite clearly not having much, was very endearing. The lack of power steering, shoddy brakes and questionable condition of the cavalier was not so endearing. I got out at the Invermere Tim Horton’s and after grabbing a coffee, got a ride from a girl in an SUV. She was heading in to catch 3 dollar final half hour at the Fairmont hotsprings.

I soaked in the hot pool and stared at the stars at the Fairmont hotsprings. Happy for the break and eager to get out of the many damp layers it was an excellent way to soak away the cave. Fatigue started to kick in and I still had a ways to go. My next hitch was to canal flats. It was in canal flats where I stood for 4 hours on a barren stretch of road. With only my headlamp to let passers by know that I needed a hitch, time passed very slowly. Luckily at midnight, a miner bound for Sparwood picked me up. I struggled to continue the conversation despite low energy levels.

I was dropped off at the end of my street and like a zombie, I shuffled to my apartment. Opening the door, I dropped my bag, went downstairs and passed out. 

The warm house with good friends, coffee and cribbage was a nice place to be after 3 days of snow caving.