Season Starter

Yesterday we had our first day outside climbing on real rock for the 2012 season. This winter I climbed regularly on my home climbing wall - doing intervals and HIT strips 2 to 3 times a week, plus lots of pull-ups, finger curls, and heavy strength training. After reading a bunch of training books, I tried, as much as one can on a small home climbing wall, to focus on my weaknesses not my strengths. Out of all this, I had hopes of noticing some difference when finally outdoor climbing season came.

A few years ago, I joined a women's climbing club at the local climbing gym (now closed) and spent three hours twice a week being (supposedly) coached and climbing at the gym. My goal was to push my lead level up. Come spring, I noticed zero improvement in my overall ability and my lead level had not budged.

While disappointed, I wasn't surprised. As each week of the coaching/training passed, I came increasingly to realize that the coaching was haphazard, lackadaisical, and completely unrelated to our individual strengths and weaknesses. There was poor motivation among the group - all of whom, including the instructor, appeared to be there for the social and coolness aspects and not the climbing. As the sessions wore on, the entire group required more and more pushing by me to actually start the training sessions and stop gossiping - something which made me increasingly an outsider. By the end of the season, I was pretty sure the entire effort had been a waste of time and money. Tellingly, a few years later, I am the only one still climbing except for one woman who gets out perhaps two or three times per year.

To say the entire season was wasted is perhaps too strong. I learnt to train alone, so I could focus on my own goals and strategies for reaching those goals without being distracted by someone else or finding myself in the invidious position of trying to motivate another person. Training alone, I have been able to focus all my energy on working my weaknesses, which is surely one of the best ways of improving performance. After all, it's not our strengths that hold us back, it's our weaknesses.

But, the truth as the old saw runs, is in the telling, and, the only way to gauge the success of my winter season training programme is to measure it against how I was climbing at the end of last season. That measurement is likely completely subjective, but I felt I was climbing stronger and leading more confidently my first day out compared to my last day out the previous season. Instead of neurotically focusing on getting to the anchor and having the climb over, I was focused on the moves and working out the sequences. It felt, to a completely biased observer (myself) like my best first day of the season ever.

Doug on Muglugs Goes Climbing

Kuskanax Mountain On Skis

After a wet, cool March and early April, Easter has featured surprisingly good weather.  Almost, perfect for a short ski traverse, if there weren't lots of convective activity in the mountains, a snowpack that is getting its first dose of heat after a long winter season, and, 50 cm of fresh snow in the past few days.  With all these things in mind, we settled on a couple of days peak bagging around Nakusp instead of heading out on one of our planned spring traverses. 

On Friday, we drove up Hot Springs Road from Nakusp and found a fallen down trail-sign indicating we were at the now (presumably) defunct Arrow Lakes Cross Country Trails.  Our plan was to ski up Kuskanax Mountain via an old mining road (Dinner Creek FSR) that climbs a south facing spur ridge to the east.  We had with us a BC Basemap showing some of the roads in the area, and, the first of the three accesses to Dinner Creek FSR seemed to offer the shortest alternative. 

We crossed Dinner Creek on a small wooden bridge, and soon found a shortcut spur road that climbed steeply meeting the main Dinner Creek FSR at 1050 metres.  We plodded up the road, the trail-breaking getting heavier and heavier as the new snow got deeper and deeper, until we reached 1400 metres, where the road winds through a lovely hemlock forest.  The road continues relatively steeply up right along the ridge crest through open timber until it disappears somewhere near the ridge crest. 

Following the ridge crest, we cut across the head of Dinner Creek to gain a col on the northeast ridge of Kuskanax Mountain.  On the south side, in the sun, the snow was heavy and wet.  Once on the ridge, travel improved and we quickly skied up and down the wind-rolls to the summit.  Our views were somewhat marred by all the convective activity in the surrounding mountains, but the squalls all missed us. 

Descending was very quick, and took less than a quarter of the time it had taken us to get up, although the snow was wet and heavy. 

Back down at the truck, it only made sense to go up to the Nakusp Hot Springs for a soak as we were close by. The only observation I have to make about the Hot Springs is that Canadians appear to be rapidly catching Americans for status as some of the worlds fattest people.   At least two thirds of the people there would be better off taking a run at Kuskanax Mountain than lying about in a hot tub.

Doug arriving at the summit of Kuskanax Mountain

Are You Mad?

This year, I've given up paying much attention to the Canadian Avalanche Association's (CAA) avalanche bulletins, and weather forecasts. Despite numerous "improvements" (changes) to graphics, methods of delivery, and their overall web-site, their core product, the avalanche bulletin has continued to deteriorate over the last few years. The reason for this deterioration is not clear. At times, I think it is because they have so many different forecasters, many of whom appear to be getting trained "on the job" - with questionable success. At other times, I think it is because even the trained forecasters are attempting to do something they are not trained for - issuing a long term weather outlook. In my most skeptical moments, I just wonder if any of the forecasters know what the heck they are talking about.

On Monday, April 2, 2012, the forecast for the South Columbia included this little gem: "High and dry conditions for the foreseeable future should make for excellent ski traversing weather." The region had just come through - in fact, was still in the midst of - one of the wettest March through early April periods on record, with operations reporting upwards of 4 metres of new snow. Breaks in the constant series of Pacific storms lasted, at most, 24 hours, and frequently much less. Temperatures had been, and (by more reputable weather forecasters) were forecast to remain cool for this time of year. In fact, in the few days following this audacious pronouncement, the region picked up another 50 to 70 cm of snow.

By Easter weekend, the weather pattern had, in fact, settled into a "relatively" drier period and temperatures were on the rise. Snowfall amounts decreased and were mostly in the form of convective showers, while temperatures increased. Trail-breaking was onerous as all that new snow warmed for the first time, and stability deteriorated. All completely predictable phenomena, but, some how not predicted by the people who are supposed to be experts in the field.

Over Easter weekend, we went out and did a couple of ski ascents of local peaks, opting for day trips over a longer three day traverse we had planned, as, contrary to the CAA assertion, there was no high and dry weather system, nor were conditions conducive to covering long distances and ascending/descending steep slopes as is required on a ski traverse.

In fact, had you heeded this little gem of - dubious - wisdom, you might have found yourself high and dry.

Plenty of convective activity over Easter weekend

Ditch What You Don't Need

Some friends of mine are off on the Wapta Traverse over Easter. I'm amazed at the amount of excess gear they plan on bringing along. Most people aren't used to carrying anything more than a day pack, so skiing with an overnight pack, turns out to be far more fatiguing than they had imagined. What makes sense is to carry what you need, and only what you need.

There are lots of things you don't need on a standard easy traverse like the Wapta. Ice axes, crampons and snow protection (such as flukes and pickets) can all be left behind. Almost every peak that is readily ascended on the Wapta Traverse (especially the common ones) is easily climbed without any of that equipment. One rope will do, even for a party of five or six. This year there is a very healthy snowpack and, in general, crevasses are narrow - this isn't Alaskan terrain - carrying two ropes is simply foolish.

Other things that can be safely ditched are bivouac bags (a garbage bag will do in a pinch), spare clothes, big jackets, and hut booties.

So, if you are out on a big trip this Easter weekend, do yourself a favor, dump the excess weight for a more enjoyable trip. 

Day 1 of 8 Days on the Hurley River Horseshoe

The West Kootenay Project List

When I first moved to the West Kootenay about 10 years ago, I became enamored of the idea of climbing all the officially named peaks of the region.

Exactly what comprises the West Kootenay is open to debate. As a starting point, I used this list, to which I've made some additions and deletions over the years. Geographically, a rough boundary with Arrow and Christina Lakes to the south and west, and Kootenay and Trout Lakes to the north and east makes some kind of geographical sense, but a more clear-cut boundary may omit the Rossland and Christina Ranges and run along the Columbia River to the US border.

In any case, last time I checked my list there were 284 peaks, of which I had climbed 202. Those with respectable math skills will quickly recognize that I still have 82 peaks remaining. Some of the remaining 82 are remote and require multiple days to approach, climb and return from. Others are merely tedious tree covered bumps that are not all that distant and certainly not difficult but lack much in the way of interest.

I suspect, had I been more focused (?diligent) I could have climbed all 284 peaks by now. After all, that is only 28.4 peaks per year. But, I frequently get side-tracked, and go climbing in other areas, or climb different routes on peaks I've climbed before. With our impending, although exactly how impending remains to be seen, move from the area, I've become more interested in chewing away at the project list again.

A number of peaks look suitable for spring ski trips. If I tag those summits, I'll report it here. 

Overlooking Cooper and South Cooper Creeks:

A Failed Attempt to Climb Mount Cooper

Still More Winter

Finally, a day without precipitation. The local ski hill has recorded 136 cm in the past 7 days, almost 40 cm of that in the past two days. Overnight, the sky cleared and the temperature fell, all positive signs for a good day ski touring.

Normally, we would allow 24 hours following a big storm system before pushing into more serious terrain to allow the snow to settle and stability to improve. But, when you only have 24 hours - the next storm is forecast for tomorrow - and the weather has been very poor for a solid week, and only slightly less poor for the preceding three, you sometimes break some of your own rules.

Our destination was one of our favorites, the upper basin of Kutetl Creek, which, with long runs from alpine to tree-line, evocatively burnt timber, and great fall lines rarely delivers a substandard day. There are multiple routes into Kutetl, but none are exempt from avalanche hazard, although some are less exposed than others. We immediately ruled out the "death traverse" which takes a high line through the guts of avalanche terrain, and also the ridge route, which, while avoiding most of the avalanche exposure involves boot-packing up a steep, corniced and wind-rolled ridge, and opted for the low route climbing up from the bottom of Five Mile Creek valley. The low route is also a good option when you expect the ski down to be good, which we did.

We had a phenomenal day. Our first run down a NE aspect, ranks as one of the best of the season on deep, dry powder. While none of the others were quite as spectacular as our first run, we racked up runs on NE, E, NW and SW aspects, covered 12 km of ground, built four up-tracks, none of which we reused, and gained 1800 metres over the day.

Another great day to be out in the BC backcountry. 

Building a trail in upper Five Mile

Out And About

When I got up at 6.15 am this morning, it was the first day for what seemed weeks, but was actually just one week, that it was not raining - currently. A quick telephone call to a friend, and we were on for a ski day. By the time we picked our friend up one hour later, it was raining. Rain became snow as we drove up the Whitewater Ski Hill Road, but it still felt awfully wet parking at 1500 metres.

We broke trail - middling on the trail-breaking scale - to 2180 m at the top of White Queen where unusual wind patterns had created unusual wind features. Skiing down was good, really, really, really good. Deep and dry until we hit about 1800 m, where the snow got a bit damp, then 1700 m where it felt frankly wet, and finally, 1650 m, where we stopped. Our next run, we skied only down to 1750 m, quality over quantity winning the day.

Back up, skiing in a blizzard, we topped out on White Queen again and descended the west face back to the cross-country trails. The skiing was very good with awesome coverage, although a bit wet for the last 100 or so metres.

Skiing back across the bridge, we encountered a group of two who had dug huge holes in the ski track and had two ropes stretched across the bridge so they could practice crevasse rescue. I don't know whose asinine idea this is, but it has become increasingly popular in recent years. If you are ever tempted to do this, don't. It's stupid, inconveniences everyone who has to ski past, and, yes, we will ski over your rope with our metal edges. 

April Felt Like January Today