A Hike in the Mountains

The drive from Banff to the Columbia Icefields is a tourists dream trip. In summer the highway is lined with R.V.'s, Japanese, and camera's. In winter... it is pretty quiet, strangely no-one is here. The mountains in January are beautiful, scattered snow and rock fill the sky. The sky was quiet, the snow was actually pretty good at Parker's ridge, and we all glowed in the aura. I have never understood this, but I have always liked it, why are there never any people in the mountains when winter arrives? We relaxed in the Hilda Creek Youth Hostel at the base of our ski slope. We stoked the fire in the sauna and prepared our simple meal. Fueled as always by carbohydrates, we digested in the sauna. Too tired to try to put a day into words. Just relax and know.

I had planned to take the Sunday and go climbing. I was getting slightly pissed off with people, why couldn't they get out of bed, and go for a walk in the beautiful moonlight at 2 am. I was tired of expending energy convincing people. I stopped, and gathered myself, and my energy was within me.

The next morning I awoke and quietly gathered my equipment. I was excited and positive. Today was going to be incredible. I quickly slipped out the door of the hut, and started walking. The sky was impossibly clear, and cold. The only sound was the scrunch, scrunch of my boots on the firm snow as I walked along the road to the Columbia Icefields.

I was getting sleepy now, and just so relaxed. My body was speaking, and I laid down on the glacier in my cocoon of clothing. The balance was there, the temperature was perfect. I was neither sweating nor cold. I could lie down to sleep on the glacier, and then get up and hike still perfectly comfortable. This sounds like an advertisement for Gore-tex. I awoke after a half hour, and felt incredibly refreshed, the sunlight was just beginning to affect the night's sky. I had remembered a crevasse free approach from the summer before and kept a straight line up the Andromeda glacier. The snow was surprisingly deep, considering the lack of snow we had in the Rockies that winter. As I neared the top of the bowl, I was wading waist deep in the fluffy stuff that had avalanched from the rocks high in the bowl. I looked around, and tried to feel what the world around me was doing. There was no maliciousness in the air, the world merely was, and I was there. I continued over the bergschrund and onto the face just as a reasonably large spindrift avalanche quietly appeared two meters to my left.

I started to move up quickly, always trying to keep a tool or crampon on solid ice. There was a few inches of snow on the face, and it obviously was not sticking very well. It did however make for very easy front-pointing. I had been on this face three months earlier, and I remember racing ahead so that I could be with myself. I went at my own pace today, pleasantly hiking in the hills. Early in the morning I reached the summit, and continued down to the Andromeda - Athabasca col. Traversing the gendarmes on the col I then continued up the other side toward the summit of Athabasca. The route is very simple and I had lots of time to enjoy the views. The wind uncharacteristically still had not picked up, and I was wishing that I had my paraglider with me, and that the National Parks would lighten up with their regulations prohibiting flights. It was one of those days. Our adventure up here in September was slightly more epic and I marvelled how serene it could be here. How harsh the winter is, I was certainly catching the season at a rare moment.

I looked up the summit register, and finding our names while I remembered one of my first alpine ice climbs, up the north face. I sat and looked. The world stretched away, the summits of Columbia, Bryce, The Twins, and Castlegaurd teasing me with more summits, less time. I wandered down, returning to the col, and bum sliding down the glacier and peacefully doing the trudge. This is a far more pleasant hike upon fresh snow than it is upon the rocks of summer.

There is something magical about the winter.

I trudged down the road, and returned quietly to Hilda Creek Hostel. No words. My friends had a beautiful day skiing around Parker's ridge. I had promised to look after the Hostel this evening whilst the usual managers had a holiday. I lit the stove, and settled in a comfy chair with a book.

In the morning I gathered my stuff, made myself a cup of tea, enjoying the serenity of the situation. This might be OK to live in this cabin. Hmmmm, no not forever, just right now. When I was mentally prepared I stepped out the door, walked down to the road, and waited. The traffic is pretty quiet out here at this time of year, but unlike the summer the first car that drove along stopped and picked me up. It would have been another good day for a hike in the mountains.