Backpacking on a budget

August 27, 2012 Leave a comment

I recently went on a short overnight trip with some friends of mine, two of which had not been backpacking in a while and one of which had never been backpacking at all. As is the case with many trips outdoors, we had a conversation about how expensive it can be to get geared up for an outdoor excursion. Having started building up my own arsenal of outdoor gear while in university, I know how expensive it can be, so I felt compelled to write a post about how to amass quality gear without breaking the bank. For the sake of brevity, I have organized this into a list of tips.

  1. Mountain Equipment Co-op is your friend. MEC, or its American analogue (and inspiration) REI, is a cooperative, so it is not hell-bent on milking every last dollar out of you. They sell good gear at reasonable prices, and they even have a house brand of clothing and gear that can get you quality approaching that of premium brands like Mountain Hardwear or Arc’teryx, but at half the price. (There is a difference, and the premium exists for a reason, but if you can afford North Face, you probably should not be reading this post.) Common trade-offs are weight, packability, specialization of design. Quality and durability can be issues too, but rarely. Still, if you are going to Everest, chances are you can either afford the fancy brand names or you are sponsored. Surprisingly, even things you can get at a department store are cheaper at MEC (like fuel).
  2. End-of-season sales are your friend. My two-person backpacking tent cost me less than $150 because I bought it in September. It is not a department store special, but a Mountain Hardwear Drifter 2. Had I bought it in summer, I would have paid over $200. I do shop at Atmosphere, but I refuse to pay full price because whatever I want to buy will usually go on sale at some point.
  3. “Cheapest now” is not always “cheapest in the long run.” Case-in-point: I have a friend who bought cheap hiking boots that literally fell apart on the first trip he took them out on. Tents are another example–I know people who have bought cheap tents that either leaked or did not breathe, leading to a miserable night and an inevitable upgrade, or worse yet, giving up on camping.
  4. Sometimes, cheap is good. I have a pair of $20 hiking poles from Army and Navy that are still kicking around. They are not the lightest things pair and the twist lock is not as convenient as a flip lock, but they cost a quarter of the price of brand-name poles.
  5. The used market is a great source for deals. I bought my Scarpa mountaineering boots through Kijiji for $100, or a third of what the list price would have been. The MEC Online Gear Swap is another great place to look. There are also community gear swap sales. MEC holds one of these annually, and I picked up my crampons for $70, or about half off. While you do have to be careful with some used gear, you can find good stuff for cheap if you look and bring someone along to screen your selected items before you fork over cash.
  6. Shop online. I recently discovered Department of Goods, which is an online clearance outlet for outdoor gear that sells for 30-70% off retail price on brand-name gear. (I normally like to support my local stores, but even I could not turn down a deal like 50% off a gore-tex shell, much less a student on a budget.
  7. Prioritize purchases. You do not need to own everything right away. Chances are someone you know has gear that they can share with you (like a tent or stove) during a trip. If you have a group of friends you regularly go with, purchasing group gear can be spread out. Finally, you can also rent expensive items, which allows you to try-before-you-buy or to have a stop-gap measure to deal with a specialized situation (like a one-time winter camping trip; really, when is the next time you would need a -20C sleeping bag?).
  8. Find other creative ways to save money. I switched to white gas from propane for car camping and some backpacking trips. I am outdoors enough that the long-term savings from using white gas offsets the increased cost of a white gas stove. Making your own dehydrated meals is cheaper than buying expensive freeze-dried ones. (And no, I do not mean buying a dehydrator. Think more along the lines of ramen, minute rice, and egg powder. I have even heard of uber-minimalists who just eat boiled quinoa, but that is too much even for me.) A couple of granola bars is cheaper than a Clif Bar, and, honestly, probably tastes better too.

Being outdoors should not have to break the bank–in fact, the consumerism that has infected outdoor pursuits is rather antithetical to the whole point of experiencing the simplicity of nature. That, however, is another post.

I hope you have found this list helpful. Please feel free to share your comments or your own tips about backpacking (or camping, hiking, etc.) on a budget!

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Canada Day 2012 at Cataract Pass

July 3, 2012 1 Comment

Despite being an avid hiker, scrambler, and car camper, and despite having wanted to go backpacking for some time, this 2012 Canada Day Long Weekend was my first backpacking trip.

And what a trip it was.

The destination: Cataract Pass, 2484m, on the border between Jasper National Park and the White Goat Wilderness Area. We started on the Nigel Creek Trail (which is part of the larger Continental Divide Trail system) in Banff National Park. At Nigel Pass (which is on the border between Banff and Jasper National Parks) we followed the Brazeau River to its headwaters just below Cataract Pass.

The group: Mostly alumni from VIRG Edmonton’s Thursday Night January to March 2012 ASPIRE climbing class.

Our group on Cataract Pass on Day 3

On paper, the trip seemed straightforward. A distance of 13 kilometres and an elevation gain of 650 metres are not Herculean targets, but I underestimated the effect of pack weight, and our group collectively underestimated both how much snowfall the Continental Divide receives and the terrain we would encounter. I made a liberal estimate that the hike in would take six hours. It ended up taking nine.

After Nigel Pass, the rest of the route was above treeline in the Brazeau River Valley and heavily snowed in.

I wasn’t kidding about the snow. This is the Brazeau River at Nigel Pass.

Pretty much the entire Brazeau River Valley was snowed in.

The terrain was also quite rough, and we had to cross a boulder field filled with fridge- and shed-sized talus. This section was my favourite, since it was pretty much a scramble, minus the elevation gain.

The boulder field

After the boulder field, we trudged through a snow field and then up a mix of snow and scree up to the pass. Even doing the ‘rest step’, I still had to pause for breath here and there, and a recurring thought in my mind was, “Next time, I won’t be this tired!”

Looking back from just before Cataract Pass. This doesn’t look like summer to me.

Chris was the first to summit (the group has since concluded he is a machine) and the rest of us arrived in intervals of a few minutes. More than eight hours after leaving the Nigel Creek trailhead, we had reached our objective. My contribution to the group was to build a fort out of our packs, so we could huddle together and take some shelter for the wind. After a short break for a snack and to catch our breath, we descended more snow and scree slopes towards the Cataract Creek Valley in order to find a place to set up camp.

Descending into Cataract Creek Valley

We reached the creek in a little less than an hour, only to find that Mother Nature—having covered most of the valley with snow—had already chosen our site for us.

Our campsite

The neat thing about camping in a wilderness area is that you are not limited to designated camping sites. On the flip side, there are no outhouses, and you have to carry in a bear canister to store your food. After setting up camp and having a quick meal, Rachel taught us how to play Kaiser. We managed to play a few rounds before the sun set and we decided to call it a night.

No one had much energy the next day. Well, at least none of us mortals—Chris “The Machine” went for a stroll up to the ridge above our camp. Garvin had brought some art supplies and did some painting (there was no shortage of inspirational vistas). Tony brought the second book to the “Game of Thrones” series. We played some more cards, shared some stories, watch avalanches on the neighbouring mountain, and take naps.

An avalanche on the mountain above us. Avalanches would occur about every half hour.

We also drew up an exit strategy. Knowing that the hardest part of our return trip was at the beginning, we decided to leave for Nigel Pass the next day and decide then whether we would stay an extra night or push all the way back to the cars.

The conditions on day three were less-than-ideal. It was cold, windy, and raining, I led the assault on the snow slope above camp, kicking steps along the deceptively steep slope.

The ascent back to Cataract Pass

Front-loading the difficult portion meant we were back on the pass in a little over an hour. The best part about the descent back into the Brazeau River Valley was that the snow-covered slopes made for fun glissading.

We made quick progress across the snow and boulder fields back to Nigel Pass. Tired, and lured by the prospect of hot food at the Saskatchewan Crossing café, we decided to finish our trip that day. Seven hours after packing up our camp, we were packing our gear into our cars.

Reflecting back on the trip, I am happy things played out as they did. Had the weather been hot and the route free of snow, we would have been fighting dehydration, heat stroke, and hordes of insects. It is also rare to have a trip with as much varied terrain as what we encountered. We started off on a muddy trail, crossed a river, scrambled on talus, and trudged through snow. Depending on which pictures you look at, the trip could have been in either summer or winter.

However, a trip is about much more than just the terrain you conquer (or, rather, Mother Nature allows you to endure) or the destination at which you arrive. Unless you are Ueli Steck, you are probably travelling with companions, and hearing a buddy make a funny joke is a welcome morale booster when your toes are sore from kicking steps up a steep snow slope. Even more than that, when you are in a remote area in unforgiving terrain, who you have with you could determine what the outcome would be if things were to take a turn for the worse. Other than some slight delays and some gear problems here and there, our trip went smoothly. Having belayed and been belayed by my companions, I think there was a certain level of trust that existed between us that not all friendships are not able to cultivate.

Perhaps I speak only for myself. Perhaps I am romanticizing the mountains, which I must admit is one of the places I love the most. The entire drive home, I thought about the trip and hatched ideas about the next adventure.

The last thought I had as I crawled into my warm bed after a hot shower was, “This is nice, but huddling in a tent playing Kaiser and passing around a bottle of Fireball whiskey would be even nicer.”

Thanks to Chris, Tony, Rachel, and Garvin for an epic trip.

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Ha Ling – December 10, 2011

December 15, 2011 Leave a comment

Ha Ling, as seen from Three Sisters Parkway. (This picture was taken after the climb).

Flicker set: here

Having been away from the mountains for too long (my last scramble was Carlo and I’s attempt up the north peak of Mt. Kidd back in August), I decided to do something I’ve always wanted to do: scramble in the winter. Given that scrambling can be a dangerous enough activity on its own, adding winter into the mix is not something to take lightly. Enough can go wrong on a mountain without having to worry about snow, cold, avalanches, cornices, etc. As with any outdoor pursuit, research and judgement are needed, and I caution anyone against peak-bagging in the wintertime with a caviler attitude.

That said, why would I proceed, given the danger? Because the danger on Ha Ling is rather minimal.

Ha Ling is located near Canmore, AB, and is part of the Eahagay Nakoda Range (along with Miner’s Peak and Mt. Lawrence Grassi). Because of geography and the mountain’s structure, the section of the mountain above treeline is blasted free of snow by strong winds. This minimizes avalanche danger, allowing the mountain to be climbed in the winter. Snow remains on the approach trail through the forest, so, unless someone has already broken trail, you’ll need snowshoes for the approach. Furthermore, Ha Ling is rated as “easy” (it’s largely a hike), which means it’s free of significant exposure (or the potential for deadly falls).

I wasn’t about to take any chances on a solo winter trip, so I brought my axe and crampons just in case. I ended up not needing either. I also brought my helmet, which I wore on the first part of the descent. (Slipping on an ice patch above treeline and knocking myself unconscious against a rock and then freezing seems like a crappy way to die, but that’s just MHO).

The trip was uneventful, which was a nice change from the last trip where Carlo and I got lost and almost ran into bad weather. Despite not having exercised for three months, I managed to summit within a couple of hours, and I descended in a little over an hour–slow, but not embarrassing times.

Almost no snow above treeline!

The section above treeline was very interesting to travel. Those who have been up Ha Ling (or any other mountain, for that matter) know that you’ll find scree above treeline. Scree is loose rock that can be the size of pebbles up basketballs. The first time you walk on scree can be a little unnerving because it always shifts under your feet, but, after getting used to it, you’ll find that it makes for an easy descent off the mountain. The opposite is also true: it makes ascending difficult because for every step uphill you take, the scree causes you to fall half a step downward. This changes in winter. I found that the scree was mostly frozen together, except for some sections where the top layer of pebbles sat on top of the frozen rocks like ball bearings on a floor. I tried to avoid these sections as much as possible, and–just in case I did fall–I strapped on my helmet.

Another observation I had is that I can see the approach trail becoming icy as winter progresses. As this was only December, the snow was just becoming compacted. In the late winter and early spring, when the temperatures occasionally go above freezing, there is potential for ice to form, which would necessitate the use of crampons to navigate.

Finally, no post about winter scrambling is complete without mentioning the conspicuous absence of the hordes of people. I’m not saying that I don’t want people to enjoy nature’s splendor–quite the contrary, actually–but it’s hard to get the feeling that you’re “getting away from it all” when you’re in the mountains in the summer because there’s always a ton of people out there. Come back to even the most popular trails–like Ha Ling–in the winter, and you’ll likely have the trail to yourself. While being alone on a mountain in the winter dos pose some risks, with appropriate precautions, you’ll be treated to spectacular views and a feeling of peace and tranquility that is seldom experienced in the summer.

Still, as long as you’re comfortable in the mountains and out in the winter, this is a trip that I would recommend to most people.

Obligatory summit photo!

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I’m back

October 5, 2011 Leave a comment

It’s been a long time since I’ve posted. Work has been quite busy (with the selection of a new premier, and all), so it’s been difficult to find the time to post. I actually have a few draft posts waiting to be finished, and I hope to get around to finishing one of those sometime soon.

The only news of late is that, after a two and a half week hiatus, I’ve finally returned back to running. While my cardiovascular fitness level hasn’t suffered much, my leg muscles haven’t been subjected to much exercise since my foot injury. I managed to run 5km on Monday and again today (Wednesday), but I’ve been feeling stiff after runs. I’m hoping that I can gradually work my way back to the half-marathon level, but I’m going to give that some more time, lest I injure myself again.

On a final note, I never intended for this blog to be a running blog, but a lot of posts have been about running. I’m sure I’ll get to one of those other topics eventually.

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Pushing the limits

September 19, 2011 Leave a comment

Yay for injuries!

Life has a funny way of being nice to you one day and then kicking you in the shins the next. After running a half marathon last week, I felt invincible. I was on top of the world. I thought I could do anything. Delusions of grandeur (i.e. running a full marathon within the next two years) entered my head.

Oh, how life teaches us lessons.

The following day I could barely walk. As I hobbled around in an ankle brace with a trekking-pole-turned-cane for the remained of the work week,  my coworkers expressed both sympathy for my obvious state of pain and bewilderment at why I would think of running a half-marathon after just seven weeks of running. My ambitious nature is well-known, but, rest assured, I have my reasons for pushing even further beyond the limits that I already do push, and am already criticized for pushing.

The pain continued until Sunday, whereupon I went to a doctor who promptly told me to 1) get an x-ray ASAP; and 2) lay off the running for three weeks.

Now, I fully understand that I’m dealing with a minor injury (either a stress fracture or plantar fascilitis) that will heal in a relatively short period of time. As far as athletic injuries go, I have the equivalent of a common cold. Still, I felt bad because the injury was unnecessarily self-afflicted and because I didn’t like the thought of not being able to run after running had quickly become an important part of my life.

However, as I thought about my injury more–and this will sound crazy–I not only accepted it, but I even became happy about it. Obviously, the pain and loss of three weeks of running are negatives. However, at the end of the day, I can still lay claim to the feat that I ran half-marathon within seven weeks of taking up the sport, which apparently isn’t an easy thing to do. (For more ambitious–or perhaps foolhardy–first attempts at lofty goals, read Bob Spirko’s trip report of attempting Mt. Temple as his first scramble). The injury also reinforced my belief that nothing great is ever achieved without hard work and some measure of pain or sacrifice. To accomplish an (apparently) difficult goal, I don’t mind sustaining a slight injury.

After all, what would life be if we didn’t push our limits? Would the great wonders of the world have been built? Would we have advanced our scientific knowledge? Would we have empires of business and of nations? Would we have explored the oceans, conquered the sky and scaled the heights of the earth?

Before the ill-fated 1924 British expedition on Mt. Everest, (from the more difficult Tibetan side, no less), George Mallory was asked why he wanted to climb Everest. He famously quipped back, “Because it’s there.”

Tenzing Norgay literally stands on top of the world. Photo from http://www.achievement.org

When you think about many of the goals that we–either individually or collectively as a humankind–set for ourselves, what reason is there for many of them other than to see if those goals are possible. Yes, there are numerous cases where achievement leads to real ‘progress’ that either alleviates suffering or improves quality of life, and I applaud all of those who devote themselves to such goals. However, how much logical reasoning is there behind pushing personal limits, whether they be athletic (e.g. completing the Ironman), professional (e.g. establishing a multimillion dollar business) or otherwise? In fact, one could argue being able to run 10km or start up any business would already make someone more successful than most any other person.

While I’m not sure if there’s much logic in pushing limits to their extremes, I will argue in its merits. I think there is something intrinsically good about seeing what human beings are capable of achieving and about the greatness, glory and achievement that comes with dedication, discipline and sacrifice. Great feats occur because of great thoughts and great deeds, and I think that when one person achieves greatness–provided that greatness did not come at other’s expense–all of humanity collectively shares and celebrates in that achievement.

This desire to achieve greatness is what encourages me to continue to push my limits, and, from my conversations with other similarly-ambitious individuals, it is what encourages them also. I’m sure we all know individuals who are extraordinary in their own unique way, whether its as athletes, leaders, business persons, students, teachers, mentors, parents or friends.

Similarly, this is what also encourages me to push on in the face of setbacks. I know the example of a minor athletic injury is fairly trivial, but most of us know of at least one person in our lives who has overcome incredible difficulties to become exemplary and inspirational in their own way. Perhaps you might even have your own comeback story that no one else knows but made you into the successful person you are today.

Yes, it sucks that I’m out of action for a short while, but at least I’m contented with the knowledge of what I achieved. Moreover, I know I’ll bounce back…

…until the next setback, but I’ll conquer that one too.

This post is dedicated to all of those people in my life who, through their dedication to and sacrifice for the things that they are passionate about, inspire me to pursue my goals with the same level of determination.

—-

Again, I fully understand that my ‘achievement’ and ‘pain’ is miniscule compared to what others have achieved and suffered. My case is illustrative. You can refer to the picture of Tenzing on Everest for ‘real’ inspiration.

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My first half-marathon

September 14, 2011 1 Comment

The New York Marathon. There were no such crowds from my run. (Image from the New York Times Blog)

After seven weeks of running, I’ve hit my biggest milestone yet: the half-marathon. 21km. The road to this point has been fun, challenging and rather serendipitous. Today’s run, in many ways, was a microcosm of my whole running journey thus far.

First the story of today’s run.

Having been very busy with work commitments (this weekend was the leadership vote for the Alberta Liberals), I had been unable to run as much as I would normally like. I also had two dinners (sushi and Indian food) the preceding evening and had a Waffle Big Breakfast from Ricky’s this morning, which is likely around 900 cal, many of which come from fat. Never mind that I had been averaging four hours of sleep per night for the last several days, I was hell-bent on burning up excess glycogen and unnecessarily-ingested grease.

The original plan was to run 10km, with the possibility of adding an extra 5km, depending on how I felt. I had run 15km in a day before, but with a four hour break separating the last 5km and the first 10km. Accordingly, I thought a contiguous 15km run would be a worthwhile distance achievement for myself. To this end, I packed a PowerGel and a water bottle, in case I decided to continue. I was not to be disappointed.

The first 5km was effortless. I finished the first lap of my 5km loop in 29 minutes, which is slower than my usual 5km pace, but faster than my usual 10km pace.

At 10km, I started to feel a slight discomfort in my legs, though it wasn’t more than a slight annoyance. I was also able to maintained my pace up to this point. I drank some water and pressed on. I also consumed my PowerGel as assurance against bonking.

At 13km, the slight discomfort in my legs turned into soreness, but I was still feeling ambitious. Perhaps it was runner’s high. I neared a Mac’s store, stopped my stopwatch, ran in, bought a PowerBar and Gatorade, ran back out, re-started the clock and started eating and drinking like there was no tomorrow. The PowerBar and half the Gatorade were gone within two city blocks.

I passed my apartment for the third time (the 15km mark)  in a couple minutes short of an hour and a half. My pace had slowed down to my old 10km pace, and my legs were also quite tired. I resolved to continue, thinking I could simply stop whenever I had to stop and just walk the rest of the way home.

By the 17km mark, I was having serious doubts about my ability to finish. For the previous two kilometers, the only thing I could think about was how tired my legs were, and now, I started to feel pain in parts of my legs that I didn’t even know were capable of experiencing pain. Both my knees had also started to hurt, and my ankles were starting to act up.

I passed my apartment for the fourth time before my watch hit the two hour mark. Miraculously, I was able to maintain a decent pace. With only a kilometre left, I was feeling buoyant.

What actually followed was the most difficult and painful run I had ever done. Adding to the issues of pain, my pace was reduced to a slow jog. Still, when I saw the endpoint in sight, my pace quickened again and I ran in-between my self-established finish line with my hands in the air, yelling “yahoo” like Lando Calrisian exiting the second Death Star.

I sent out some messages and some status updates relishing in my achievement and I literally limped home.

How is this a microcosm of my running journey? It was planned, but unstructured.

I started running seven weeks ago with the goal of losing weight. Although, I wasn’t technically overweight (according to BMI measurement), I had noticed that some of my pants purchased last September had become noticeably snugger. (I’ll warn anyone taking a political aide position that weekly receptions with torpedo shrimp, quiche, and spanakopita wreck havoc on your waistline.) The catalyst, admittedly, was spending a weekend at my friend’s family’s cabin and being a little embarrassed to spend too much time in just my swimming trunks.

I did manage to shed some pounds, but running became more than just a means to an end–it became the end in and of itself.

I stared pushing myself harder. I would run at different times of the day. I would strive for more mileage or a faster pace. Gradually, I started chalking up the achievements.

I ran my first 5km two weeks after I first started running. This wasn’t actually my first ever 5km, but it was the first one since high school. I never actually set my mind on running 5km, but simply said to myself, “Let’s see how I make out after 3km.”

I ran my first 10km during week five. At the time, this was a new personal distance record for myself. I also was more than adequately prepared for it, and I still had enough energy left to run another 5km a few hours later. Like the 5km mark, this was also tinged with serendipity, as I simply asked my parents one evening, “Do you guys want to run 10km tomorrow?”

Today, at week seven, I wasn’t planning on running 21km. The plan was to run 10km with the possibility of extending it to 15km. I would have been perfectly satisfied with achieving the 15km distance mark, but I was able to continue, so I continued. Because I continued, I set two personal distance records today, and I was able to reach another major milestone distance in the running world.

When I wrote my first post about running, I could see what I was becoming, but I didn’t actually think I would get there. When I said that I wanted to run a half-marathon, I was thinking of next spring as a timeline, not the next month. What a pleasant surprise it is to arrive at this point in seven weeks.

Unfortunately for me, the next milestones–3/4 and full marathons–are considerably harder to train for than the transition from 10km to 21km. With the kind of job I have, I’m not in any position to commit to the training schedule that it would take to get to a full marathon. Obsessing about milestones can also be a dangerous road to travel, as it can lead to all sorts of unintended consequences from injuries to neglecting important personal relationships.

I likely won’t be able to train for a full marathon at this point in my life, but that’s something that doesn’t bother me. I’m proud of what I’ve been able to achieve at this point, and there are other goals to accomplish besides setting personal distance records.

I’ll spend the next few months improving my technique, getting faster and becoming more comfortable with the distances that I am able to run. Who knows, perhaps I will be able to run–and finish!–a full marathon someday. Given the serendipity of my running achievements to date, I might just end up running one anyway, just to see if I can.

Vital stats:
Distance: 21.5km (according to Google Maps)
Time: 2:05:39 (clock stopped when stopped traffic signals)
Average pace: 10.27 km/h

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Thoughts on latest incident on Mt. Fairview

September 8, 2011 Leave a comment

Lake Louise. Fairview Mtn. is the mountain on the left. Note the formidable cliffs bordering the lake.

For those who have not heard, a hiker was rescued from Mt. Fairview (note: the mountain is actually called “Fairview Mtn.” not “Mt. Fairview”) in Lake Louise this past week. The Calgary Herald story (sourced from the Rocky Mountain Outlook) can be read here. For those of you who have been to Lake Louise, Fairview Mtn. is the impressive-looking mountain towering on your immediate left when you’re looking across the lake toward Mt. Victoria.

As a scrambler who has done Fairview once in the summer and attempted it in the winter, I wanted to offer some comment on this story.

Before I continue, a tip of the hat goes to the excellent job done by all of the rescuers to get this man safely off the mountain and to a hospital. These folks risk their own lives to save the lives of others, and everyone who visits to the mountain parks should be very grateful for their dedication, abilities and courage.

The main point that I wanted to emphasize is that this accident was completely unnecessary and senseless. Let’s consider the following factors known through the news story:

  • The party of hikers were in the vicinity of the Fairview Lookout.
  • The accident happened around 3AM.

Based on the first point, it cannot be determined from the story which trail this party was on. The Fairview Lookout Trail is a relative easy hike (about a 1 hr walk, one way, with minimal elevation gain). The area is largely treed, with no cliffs, so it is unlikely that the group was on the trail.

The route up Fairview Mtn., as seen from near the Saddle-Fairview col

More likely, they were on the Mt. Fairview scramble route (rated ‘easy’), which goes from the Sadddle Mtn. and Fairview col all the way to the summit via the gentle back slopes. This is a well-established route that usually takes anywhere from 4-6 hours to complete. Many children and pets (albeit, very fit ones!) have been at the summit, so it’s not an out-of-reach adventure for the average hiker. The route is supposed to be an “out-and-back” type, where the return trip retraces the ascent. However, there are some false trails going the opposite direction of the decent route that people have followed, thinking there is a shortcut to get back to the lake…except that there is *NO* shortcut!

Recall the famous and obligatory photo that tourists take when they’re at Lake Louise. Fairview Mtn. looks impressive because there are sheer cliffs that face the lake. It’s beyond me how someone could spend hours slogging around and up the back side of a mountain and forget that they went through that exercise because the ‘front’ of the mountain is a giant cliff face…except that this accident happened in the middle of the night.

What likely happened is the party left in the late afternoon or even early evening, managed to summit, but much later than they were anticipating. For whatever reason, they panicked and tried to abbreviate their trip by taking what appeared to be a shortcut, got lost and then a member of the party fell off the cliff.

Herein is why I say this incident is pointless. Most trail maps of the area have a bold warning printed on them cautioning against attempting any ‘shortcut’ that deviates from the known route. Hell, even the brief Wikipedia article notes the frequency of rescues conducted to retrieve wayward hikers. Provided a party has some form of illumination (unknown in this particular accident), the brief section of off-trail scrambling is likely ‘easy enough’ and short enough to be dealt with in darkness. (I say ‘likely’ because I haven’t, nor would I want to, try it in the dark.)

I think it’s safe to say they had little information about the route, no map, and no guidebook because, had they availed themselves of any of those three things, they would have been warned to not do what they did.

Moreover, I can’t see how anyone could think it’s a wise idea to be on a mountain late in the day, especially without any sort of navigational aids or  route information.

The final comment I wanted to make about Fairview Mtn. specifically is that Lake Louise is not an area to take lightly. It’s colder and wetter than  Banff and Canmore, it is less accessible and the mountains are bigger. I climbed Fairview in July of last year, and I encountered snow and strong winds. These differences from the front range areas of the Rockies make it easier for hikers–especially the inexperienced–to become scared, which causes lapses in judgement and puts people in danger.

Halfway up Fairview in July 2010. Look at all the snow!

Thank goodness that this injured hiker survived. I hope he and his party have learned their lesson and that the publicity of this accident will not only warn hikers about the dangers of this particular mountain, but about the need to be prepared whenever they are out in the mountains.

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Mt. Kidd, north – August 29, 2011

September 2, 2011 1 Comment

Additional media:
Flickr set of all photos from the trip
YouTube video of the short section of hands-on scrambling

Mt. Kidd, as seen from the Galatea parking lot. The north peak is on the right.

My scrambling season hasn’t been very productive, so my brother, Carlo, and I set out to conquer the north peak of Mt. Kidd (2958m). It’s nowhere near the technicality of Mt. Smuts, but with a vertical elevation gain of 1350m, an estimated completion time of 6-9 hours and a rating of ‘moderate’, it’s not a mountain to take lightly.

Carlo and I set out early enough to allow for some extra time past the 9 hour outer limit of the estimated trip time. We had a photocopy of the guidebook entry, a trip report from a reputable climber and a topographic map.

The ascent route runs alongside waterfalls in a drainage gully and eventually climbs into Mt. Kidd's signature bowl.

I’ve quoted Moltke before, and his adage describes this trip well: our plan didn’t survive first contact with the mountain. Shortly after starting up the bowl, we veered right into a gully to avoid what looked like an exposed bit of trail. We wasted a over an hour slogging up (and down) a steep scree-filled gully in the hottest part of day. When we resumed the trail we wanted to avoid, we saw that it wasn’t that bad and continued onward, albeit tired and having consuming a good portion of our supplies to recover from the unnecessary fatigue.

Carlo tackles a section of hands-on scrambling

Feeling guilty for making the call to go up the gully, I let Carlo lead the remainder of the trip. Aside from some steep bits and some hands-on scrambling (see the video), there were no major difficulties that we encountered. Still, I had this nagging feeling, based on trip reports I had read and pictures I’ve seen, that we were off-route. We were also becoming more aware of our fatigue, so we decided that we would turn back at 3:00PM, regardless of our progress.

Mother Nature sent us into retreat before Father Time could. At 2:30PM, clouds moved in. I knew there would be rain either on Tuesday or Wednesday, so I didn’t know whether to call nature’s bluff. What I did know is that we were on a new mountain, there were no other people on the trail, we were tired, our supplies were running low and we weren’t even sure that we were on the right route. I also knew that scrambling, especially on the slabby terrain we were on, was very dangerous in wet conditions. We decided not to chance it, and we started back. By my estimate, we were around 300 vertical metres short of the summit.

As luck would have it, we weren’t in cell phone range at that point either, though we discovered that after we had decided to retreat. (Besides, proceeding only on the basis that a helicopter can easily be called in is nothing short of irresponsible.)

We made a speedy descent and only stopped to send a message of our retreat and to finish the last of our food and water when we reached the approach trail. It never did rain until the next day, but the clouds lingered around and forest fire smoke continued to blow into the area, making it difficult to breathe. When we finally got back to the car, we had taken the entire 9 hours that Kane gives as an outer limit of an estimated trip duration.

It rained the next day, so we cut our trip short and headed back to Calgary. Upon our return, I immediately looked up trip reports and route photos. Sure enough, we went off-route and angled toward the summit prematurely. Like the first time we went off route, we should have continued to move towards the ‘back’ (west) of the mountain because the guide clearly showed that we would eventually need to backtrack towards the front of the mountain (to the east) once we hit the summit ridge. Instead–as you can see from the picture below–we were directly south of the summit. Even if we had trudged on, we likely would not have been able to summit anyway, given that, the terrain we were on was definitely more technical than a slog up a scree field. While I think more seasoned scramblers and climbers would have been able to surmount the cliff bands that lay ahead (and walk off the usual route), Carlo and I aren’t at that point yet.

Clouds hovering over the summit.

Notwithstanding my disappointment with not summiting and getting lost twice, I was satisfied with the trip. We encountered some unique terrain with some good bits of hands-on scrambling. Both Carlo and I were surprised by the ease that we handled the more technical sections, which were not really ‘technical’ in the technical sense of the term, but were still more technical than what we were accustomed too.

Most importantly, I’m proud that we didn’t take any unnecessary or irresponsible risks. Untempered ‘summit fever’ impairs judgement and can lead otherwise sensible and capable individuals into trouble. Not only did we turn back when the weather appeared to worsen, we also set a ‘drop-dead time’ for our retreat. Our failure today ensures that we would have another time to succeed. Until then, Mt. Kidd, north, goes on the do-over list.

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Reflections on climbing mountains

August 30, 2011 1 Comment

On Mt. Athabasca's summit ridge from my mountaineering course with Yamnuska Mountain Adventures in August 2010.

I love mountains. So do many others. What’s not to love? There’s beautiful scenery, escape from the chaos of work and city life, time for solitude, time to spend with friends and family, opportunities for fitness–the list is endless.

However, I think there is a psychological draw to mountains that underlies the superficial desire to do activity A or B. Mountains are wild, untamed and mysterious. Dazzling above us in their splendour, they taunt adventurous spirits to dare to conquer them. Really, most justifications for undertaking an endeavour as challenging and potentially dangerous–and, as some people contend, evolutionarily nonsensical–as climbing a mountain can be reduced to Mallory’s famous quip when asked why he wanted to climb Everest: “Because it’s there.”

However, for every person who wants to climb a mountain, there are a dozen others who think the first person is a lunatic. Who can fault those people, especially when most of our understanding of mountain climbing comes from the Discovery Channel, Hollywood and Wikipedia and most of the content these three sources highlight is of the tragic and/or sensational variety? (Okay, the first source isn’t all bad)

Though understandable, these popular misconceptions about climbing lead to two unfortunate consequences: one, those who climb mountains are dismissed as thrill-seeking yahoos, and; two, thrill-seeking yahoos decide to climb a mountain, get themselves killed, end up in a Wikipedia article and continue the cycle.

Before people jump on me for speaking ill of the dead, not everyone who encounters a spot of bother on a mountain is a yahoo. However, needless tragedies–like the 1955 incident that killed seven ill-experienced and ill-equipped teenagers on an early season attempt of Mt. Temple–give non-climbers the wrong idea. While everyone who steps foot on a mountain is looking for adventure, yahoos and climbers are separated by preparedness and sound judgement. To my knowledge, an accident of that magnitude hasn’t happened in the Canadian Rockies since then, but I wonder if that’s due more to luck than a collective improvement in either preparedness or sound judgement. Or, perhaps it’s because of improved search-and-rescue service and cell phones.

I see too many people on mountains who look like they’re in over their heads. Forget breaking the thou-shalt-not-wear-jeans-in-the-backcountry commandment, I’m talking about people with don’t even have water with them. Sure, there was the marathoner who was running up Mt. Rundle–which is even bigger than Mt. Kidd–in cotton shorts and a t-shirt with a single bottle of Gatorade, but he was as prepared as *he* needed to be. Contrast that to the group of teenagers I saw on the same trip who were scared out of their wits, shuffling on their butts across a short exposed section that they probably shouldn’t have crossed to begin with.

Mountains can be as dangerous as they are beautiful, and it would be wrong to say that climbers (and scramblers too!) are fearless. Preparedness and sound judgement flow out of a healthy respect for mountains. For me, life is too short and there are too many mountains I want to climb for me to take stupid, careless risks. Though many others feel the same way, even one reckless, adrenalin-fueled yahoo on a mountain is too many.

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Running with nowhere to go

August 22, 2011 1 Comment

This weekend marks the end of my second week running. Yesterday, I had my first setback. Well, it wasn’t a ‘real’ setback. (The pain was more to my ego than to my body.) It was the first run I didn’t finish.

DNF. Did not finish. Three words that any athlete or anyone with a competitive spirit dreads. It is a fate worse than finishing last.

There's an old running adage that says, "Dead last finish is better than did not finish, which is still better than did not start." (stock photo)

In all fairness, I wasn’t running a race, so the racing analogy isn’t entirely congruous. Moreover, it was my fault that I didn’t finish. You see, when I first started running, I would run 3km every other day. After my first week, I started doing 5km runs, but I would take two days of rest before running again. Yesterday, after a slow day of fishing–not to mention restricting my caloric intake to what would be justifiable in light of such sedentary activity–I decide to go for a run. What I ignored was restraint (more disparaging folks would probably say I ignored common sense). I had just run on Thursday, it was 30 degrees outside and I went running on an empty stomach. The result wasn’t a surprise: I bonked out and my legs cramped up. In fact, the only surprise was that I managed to get through 3km before this happened.

After a short rest in the shade, I began to stagger home in the sweltering heat, sweat beading down my face and soaking through my shirt, my head downcast in shame as I limped past pedestrians. Naturally, one thinks about a lot of things after failing and having to march home in defeat. This experience was no different. I went through how I got to this point, I felt anger for making the stupid decision to run at that time, I wondered why I couldn’t have set a more reasonable goal, I made a list of things to do to ensure this never happened again, etc. Gradually, anger yielded to resolve, which yielded to reason. After arriving at home and showering off my sweat and my shame, I called it a day.

Sunday, after gorging myself on all manner of heart-attack-inducing carnival culinary concoctions (or what my father calls ‘instant death’) at the Fringe Festival, I vowed to avenge the events of Saturday. Even at 9:30PM, it was still 24 degrees outside, and, this time, I didn’t have any days of rest between runs. However, I did have the advantage of being loaded with both trans fats and a thirst for vindication. That thirst was not denied. After completing my usual 3km route and feeling unexpectedly buoyant, I started running extra blocks. I was ready to go the full 5km, but the timer on my watch beeped, indicating that my laundry was done. Alas, the remaining five minutes and 800m would be allowed to escape, but it was enough of a victory that I was satisfied.

In the grand scheme of things, my ‘defeat’ and ‘revenge’ are insignificant. I’ve bonked out in worse situations (like my first attempt to scramble up the East End of Mt. Rundle in early spring, with a lot of snow remaining, while recovering from the flu, solo), and even that is nothing compared to tales of survival on the top of the world, or a real injury and a real struggle to finish. Yet, I felt compelled to write this post, and the angle came to me as I was getting groceries after my run.

I had five items in my basket: extra-lean capicollo, salad-in-a-bag,  fat-free Caesar dressing, tofu dessert and protein powder. As I was scanning my items at the self checkout line, I thought to myself, “Oh no–I’m becoming one of ‘those’ people.” Who are ‘those’ people? We all know ‘those’ people. They eat organic yogurt with muesli and berries for breakfast, they sponge out the fat from hamburgers, they have six-pack abs, they have to replace their running shoes every four months, their storage room looks like a scaled-down version of MEC… yeah, ‘those’ people.

I laughed to myself and realized I would never actually be one of ‘those’ people. For me, a life without fried chicken, tempura or potato chips is a life not worth living. I may not want to be a fully fledged member of ‘those’ people, but I wouldn’t mind having an associate membership to the club.

And that’s what I came to terms with on my way out of Superstore. For me, it’s not about whether or not I finish the run that I’m on, or even whether or not I finish the next one. It’s about growth through incremental gains. It’s about running a few extra hundred metres each successive week. Really, that’s the only way anyone gets up to running 42195 metres.

Too many people comment on marathon runners (or any other athletic endurance event) and say, “Gee, I wish I could do that.” I know that because get a similar response when I tell people I climb mountains. Recently, what I’ve started telling them is that they can climb mountains too, and I break it down to terms that they can understand–like how many times they’d have to climb their office tower to equal the vertical elevation gain of a mountain.

I may never get to run a full marathon–I love too many other activities to give up all of them to focus on one goal–but, I can see myself running every day and maybe doing a half marathon. Like I said before, I don’t have a solid running goal right now–only that I want to get better. Regardless of what terminus point I end up at with my running streak, I know I’ll be a healthier, more determined (and, hopefully, a little leaner) individual. Given my past of being an obsessive planner, it’s been an amazing journey to be–figuratively speaking–running without a destination. Saturday will not be the last time that I bonk or cramp up and Sunday will not be my last do-over, but both are just two more steps on the road to becoming a better runner.

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