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Beautiful people not wanted on the ice fields Rick Hudson
LAKE LOUISE, ALTA. -- In Europe, the Victorians were the first to travel the high Alps along la Haute Route in the summer months. Later, the growth of skiing led to the 10-day grand transect, connecting a string of high glaciers across the main ranges, from Chamonix, France, to Saas Fe in Switzerland, with overnight stays in mountain refuges along the way.
Canada is blessed with similar territory. Colder in temperature, and less crowded, the Wapta-Waputik Icefields in Alberta's Banff National Park are the home of great alpine slopes and superb winter powder. Popular for decades, the area has five strategically located mountain huts, permitting a wonderful variety of tours.
Situated just north of the Trans-Canada Highway where it cuts through the Rockies, the ice fields are far removed from the world of packed tour buses and humming camcorders at Lake Louise's famous hotel lakefront a few kilometres away. Come on! It's time to say goodbye to the cinnamon lattes, Roots fleeces and North Face jackets. Let's catch a real Rocky Mountain high.
There are several approaches into the alpine zone of snow and clouds. The easiest is via Bow Lake, where the climb to Bow Hut is short (three to six hours), and involves the lowest height gain -- just 350 metres.
My wife and I had only just emigrated to Canada the first time we ventured there. We had done la Haute Route on several occasions, but always as students, making do with old skis, battered boots and scruffy clothing. Now in the land of opportunity, the first thing we did was buy new skis, poles, even outfits. At last we were going to blend with the "beautiful people" seen everywhere in Banff and Jasper.
On the way up to Bow Hut, we passed a group of Alpine Club of Canada members descending. They wore scruffy clothing, battered boots and old skis. They regarded us with polite indifference. We never wore our smart outfits again. And we joined the club the following week.
From Bow Lake, the route rises through trees, before climbing steeply to the Box Canyon. A kilometre long, narrow-sided and with nowhere to run to, the canyon isn't a good place to be when slab avalanches drop large rubble piles. Don't look up -- it might remind you of the TSE on a down day.
Once clear of that, however, open slopes provide a view of the giant headwall ahead, rising 300 vertical metres to the ice field above. Already we feel alone, dwarfed by the scale of the mountains. The route passes close enough to the headwall to make everyone nervous.
Then, as we seem to be on top of the snow blocks that have slid farthest down slope, we angle away again to safer ground. The tension eases. Suddenly there's a deafening roar. Everyone stops and turns. Relax, although it sounds like a locomotive is about to run us down, it's just a minor slide, hardly visible on the huge face. Minutes later, Bow Hut appears and we're almost there.
The building is large and warm. There's a spacious cooking/eating area, with a sun deck overlooking the valley and a wood-burning stove. On cold winter nights, when the winds howl around the corners, setting the tie-down cables strumming a haunted rhythm, the stove generates more than physical warmth. Crowded with red-faced skiers, the smell of sweat, coffee beans and mulled wine fill the air, and there's energy and excitement, even if the weather is poor.
And the weather is often poor. But when the weather clears, there's no finer place to be. With a cobalt sky above, and sparkling, untracked snow rolling away between sharp summits, the pristine beauty of it all will take your breath away. It's a world apart, where the light sets the snow crystals sparkling as you pass, where sound carries for kilometres, where the air is so clean you can almost touch the peaks across the valley.
An hour's skiing above Bow Hut, we reach the watershed and can choose any point of the compass. To the north is the newly renovated Whyte Hut on the Peyto Glacier, probably the most analyzed sheet of ice in Canada.
To the west, there's distant access across smooth snow fields to the Yoho Glacier, descending to tree line in the Yoho Valley. Popular with summer tourists who come to admire Takakkaw and Twin Falls, at this time of year the valley road is snowed in, and only the Alpine Club of Canada's Stanley Mitchell Hut may be occupied.
We're heading south, past the spire of St. Nicholas, onto the upper Vulture Glacier. There are two ways to get there. The normal route crosses between St. Nicholas and Olive Mountain, but for the brave, there's Vulture Col, where a 200-metre descent can reduce your travel time, but add years to your age.
Vulture Glacier offers one of the very best slopes in the region. Gently contoured, with few crevasses, you descend six glorious kilometres to the Balfour Hut. Beyond, the north ridge of Mount Balfour looms, the highest summit in the region at 3,280 metres.
The cabin is snug, with a row of bunks to sleep 16 in winter. When the afternoon sun disappears, the temperature drops rapidly and the windows steam up. Water is boiled for tea and soup. While skiing, we drink frequently from water bottles, refilling with snow, to add to the remaining liquid. At night, fresh French bread, goat's cheese, smoked oysters, a thick stew and hot chocolate round out the evening.
It's barely light when we step into our ski bindings the next morning, and descend the short distance to a saddle. We're chilled by the brittle air, but skinning up the glacier ahead soon gets the blood warm again. Sunlight creeps down the east side of Mount Balfour, finally reaching us. Everywhere, fresh snow crystals glitter as we follow a rising ramp south.
Old avalanche rubble reaches down almost to the ramp. We're anxious to get past, before the sun warms the slope above. On one memorable trip, we climbed this entire section in a whiteout, following a compass bearing. Too much to the left, and we'd drop off cliffs onto the Balfour Glacier. Too much to the right, and we'd run the risk of being hit by anything loose coming off the mountain. Somewhere along the route, a deafening roar suddenly triggered our worst fears. Sightless, helpless, we waited as the sound approached and then stopped. We were still alive. We never learned if it came close or not.
Today, the visibility is great. As we ascend, the entire range appears slowly. The summits around Lake Louise are bright in a cloudless sky. After gaining 600 metres, the Waputik Icefield is almost in view to the south. But we have plans first to climb Mount Balfour. Although high, it's an easy approach via the south ridge, which we gain after shedding our skis and kicking up to a col. Thereafter, a 200-metre plod in crampons brings us onto the crest.
Why do people climb mountains? George Mallory's famous "because it's there" is simplistic. But the pleasure of being on top of the world, in the company of friends, with a panoramic view second to none, is tough to beat.
Back in the skis, we gain the final slope to the Divide, leaving Alberta behind and descending into the five-kilometre-wide Waputik bowl, which is in B.C. On one memorable trip, we turned left here, ducked around Lilliput Mountain and dropped into Bath Creek. No one had done it before. We were the first. Close to midnight, as we finally struggled out to the road, we realized why. Live and learn.
Over the rise, the Scott Duncan hut appears across the bowl. Easy to find when the visibility is good, the SD has a reputation for "moving" when clouds are down and features non-existent. The pocket GPS receiver has changed all that, of course. Now, you can put yourself within a hundred metres of a point, by dead reckoning. Provided the batteries don't freeze.
The hut sleeps 12, and the views are superb. Late in the evening someone brews Starbucks coffee. It's a reminder of where we're going. In the morning, it's downhill all the way, past Mount Niles descending a long flank of open snow into the trees, leaving the alpine behind. We emerge finally onto the Trans-Canada Highway, near the top of Kicking Horse Pass on the Alberta-B.C. border. There's plenty of daylight to collect the cars at Bow Lake, and make it into Lake Louise for a celebratory meal.
When staying within the Park, you must have a Park Use Permit, available at Park entrances and offices: $10 daily, $70 annually.
For further reading, see Summits & Icefields: Alpine Ski Tours in the Rockies and Columbia Mountains of Canada ($15.00) by Chic Scott, who also runs tours. There are numerous other guiding outfits who operate Wapta ski trips.
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