Rockies Classics Part 2
April 2002
E Face Mt Bryce
In memory of D'Arcy McRae
It was one of those phone calls that put a 180 degree bend in the day. Doug Sproul had called saying that he had just flown by Mt Bryce and seen it's north face in beckoningly good condition. I wasn't thinking about anything at the time besides comfortably milking the excellent late March coastal steep conditions. Bryce!?!? It's mention wonderfully unnerved me. So fantastical, so bad ass, so far away. The possibility seemed beyond reach, yet profoundly tantalizing. I had already been there 3 times, including a climb of the East Ridge in the summer. Any ski mission would be highly experimental as skiing on this Rockies beast had yet to be invented. Doug said that Pierre Bernier and D'Arcy McRae, my old buddies from Golden were also stoked on such a mission. Everybody was truly passionate about this mountain. Maybe they had new ideas on this great ski-mountaineering problem. Knowing that it was in condition made it hard to resist another shot at transcending Bryce's great aura of intimidation.
The next morning I was out of my cozy woodfired Mt Currie cabin and on the corner of the Duffy Lake Road with my thumb out. As I looked at my giant duffle, backpack and skiis on the side of the road, I chortled about my spontaneous insanity to "just go". The white peaks of the Pemberton valley made me sigh. It was total uncertainity to get anything "done" on Bryce but I was feeling strong after a winter in France and the invitation to this shared vision was inspiring enough to justify the great uncertainity. As B.C. rolled by in the cool afternoon light, I thought of how we really should have been at basecamp by now. The full moon was in 3 days and we wouldn't even be able to begin the approach before the next afternoon. It had been cold, clear and stable for week. Would the window hold? My one perfect ride delivered me to the door of Johnny Red's place in the Blaeberry where the crew was to assemble. Despite the fortunate start to the mission, it was April in the Rockies and anything could happen.
Doug was already there when I arrived and we immediately began to strategize. It was still too snowy to attempt climbing the 1000m of rock below the north face. The E Ridge, however long and engaging, was theoretically the easiest way to get to the upper mountain with skiis. If we could climb the E ridge and establish a high camp at the col below the summit, there would be options. On a previous trip to the area, I had ski-toured smoothly underneath the south side of Bryce while gaining Thompson Pass on the way to the destination of the Icefields Parkway via Castleguard Meadows and the Saskatchewan Glacier. To reverse this would be one big day from the highway and put us at a treeline basecamp below the E ridge. This approach would also keep the style pure.
The next morning, Pierre and D'Arcy showed up bright and early. I knew them from Golden back in '99, shredding the Whitetooth glory days. D’Arcy was my first friend in Golden. They never left and spent the next several years as partners in non-mechanized pursuit of giant rockies steeps. We shared a mutual enjoyment of a "good slog" and the plan to approach from the east worked for all of us. I was stoked to be going on a mission with them. Then it came out that D'arcy was just getting up off the couch with a sore knee. At first it was a concern that he was even coming along, this was no cakewalk. He insisted his knee would improve as we went and guaranteed that it would not impede the adventure. The morning rolled on through deliberations over coffee at Laggans and he just wasn't going to sit this one out. At the Saskatchewan Glacier trailhead, the slow morning had caught up with us and we realized we could no longer make basecamp the same day. Nevertheless, the afternoon light was fabulous for gaining Castleguard meadows and we were content to camp at treeline in sight of mighty Bryce.
The morning broke cold and clear. Fresh hoar crystals danced with sunlight across the powdered meadows and Bryce was a just a few hours away. We kept to the north side of Thompson Pass, maintaining elevation on a traverse and easily reached the treeline across from the E Bryce Glacier. Finally, well beyond the Banff National Park boundary with the eastern glacier of Bryce fully visible, we dropped our loads at treeline and dug out a basecamp cave pit; a kind of semi-open bivy with covered sleeping caves circling a central fire pit, built with great optimism and comfort in mind. D'Arcy rested his knee as the rest of us toured up the glacier to reconnaissance the rather daunting terrain. Amidst it all was a large face that seemed to meet the ridge near the East Summit. I had never seen this face of the mountain with snow on it . Climbing it would eliminate the technical bits of the East Ridge climb and potentially offer a 1000m ski instead of a much slower climb down the full length of the ridge to get off the mountain.
This new revelation seemed like the call. We were prepared to go alpine style. Climb, rest and then descend to the N Face from the col between the Main Summit and the E Summit, climb the N Face and then ski it and climb out, rest and then head down. All pretty simple, right? The afternoon weather was obviously looking to change, it had warmed alarmingly, probably for the first time that season and the terrain we were dealing with was exposed to giant looming cornices and south/east facing exposures. The full moon had passed and cold confidence was now obscured by high clouds and rising temperatures. We were prepared to wait for a few days by the fire in this remote and mega-beautiful zone, as long as the weather wasn't too severe.
The next two days we skiied around camp, even contemplating going across the valley to get to some other good looking stuff that was staying less socked in. Bryce definately gets the Columbia Icecap weather and remained obscured, nevertheless we were into preserving ourselves for the one shot at the “Big Bad One”. The days we spent together at camp went quickly. It was great to reconnect with Pierre and D'Arcy and get to know Doug whom I had never met. We also got the opportunity to truly contemplate our objective. It was full on. D'Arcy remained quiet and psyched. It came out that he had postponed his tree planting work to be here, not an unfamiliar scenario for a dedicated skier. It's only then when you realize how much you love something, when it's out of reach or when you find yourself doing it in pain.
Finally the weather cooled down and cleared up and it was time to bust the move or go home. Our supplies were dwindling and a new storm was eventually due that could drastically change the conditions. The four of us set out with 2 days of food, fuel and bivy gear In pre-dawn darkness, minimizing the hazard from the climber's left portion of the ridge that presented the most immediate cornice-fall hazard and to climb the face in frozen condition. It was 1000m up to where the face met the ridge line. We wove our way onto the glacier and opted for a steeper direct climb off to the climbers right of the ski route for speed and hazard avoidance. As the terrain steepened, the climbing was good although it would definately need some warming up for any skiability. I remember looking out to see the first colours of the dawn and then, everybody heard it, "tink, tink, tink...", down the slope. Pierre yelled up, "Hey did anybody drop anything?" I looked down with my headlight and everything seemed to be in order untill I tried to take another step and my crampon went swinging free, dangling from the ankle strap. Doh!
Upon inspection, the toe bail had snapped clean in half and the remaining piece hung precariously. I stood leaning into my helmet, pressed against the 50 degree slope and took a few breaths. One crampon against Bryce? We were kicking steps and punching through the crust now, but later, who knows? No thanks. I took it as a sign and immediately announced my retreat without considering downgrading the mission. I could easily return to camp alone so I urged everybody to continue on as planned. D'Arcy and Pierre were psyched to continue on but Doug would have none of it and was returning to camp with me. We downclimbed untill the skiing was reasonable and skied down the glacier in first light as D'Arcy and Pierre gained the meat of the face.
Back at camp having breakfast, the pastel haze in the morning sky was helping me rationalize not being up there. What a freak scenario! It was just one of those things, one of those days. There was no fighting it and it was tough to accept that I might be missing out on such an enormous descent because of equipment failure. I was feeling what motivated me to leave Mt Currie in the first place and now I knew how D'Arcy felt about it. Ultimately, I was at peace with my decision and Doug's partnership and presence was comforting. In my unfamiliar and vicarious position, it was exciting to watch D'Arcy and Pierre ascend the face. Their heavy packs seemed to retard their progress and the morning was late by the time they topped out on the ridge, out of sight around a cornice feature. From there they would be looking out onto the Columbia Icecap to the north and facing the remaining climb up the East Ridge.
It became obvious that the winds were still high up on the ridge and the weather did not look promising in general. Doug and I could see the whole the scenario in front of us and were anxious to see if Pierre and D'Arcy would continue upwards or retreat. The E face is a rather full on objective by itself and needed to de dealt with carefully. The setting is intimidating and the slope's eastern aspect and altitude generally don't favour good skiing conditions. When they finally reappeared and Pierre dropped into the face on skiis with the full pack on, we were nervous, probably more than they were. The skiing didn't look easy and wasn't easy. Pierre made cautious turns and took his time. D'Arcy went next and our hearts stopped a few times on his run as he almost slid out, barely recovering on a couple of right hand turns. A fall would have had severe consequences. It was obvious his leg wasn't full strength. Never the less, he kept it together and both soon slid into camp wide eyed and pumped from the first ever skiing on Mt Bryce.
That descent was one of the most intense things I'd ever watched and I didn't know if I wished I had of been there with them on the face or not. Everyone was safe and content and we enjoyed a big lunch together as the afternoon sky continued unsettled. The winds had been intense for the boys at ridgetop, enough to inspire the u-turn, but they had opened a new realm of possibilities by short cutting the East Ridge. The next morning the weather was no better and after a leisurely breakfast and another late start, we pointed it back the way we came. The going was good and after recovering our cache from our first bivy spot, mounted Castleguard Meadows. There it began to snow and by the time we reached the Sakatchewan Glacier, we were in a full on blizzard.
After dropping onto the glacier, we could barely make out the mountains along the sides to keep a directional reference while getting plastered by heavy snow and buffeting headwinds. The slight downhill grade seemed useless. Finally at the end of the glacier on the flats, the 30 cm of fresh snow had covered over huge areas of mud that upon crossing, formed titanic cement globs a foot thick on the bottom of our skis. Our touring muscles were being tortured. Reaching the trees and the final hill before the Icefields Parkway, the wind had diminished but the temperature had dropped to minus 20, freezing up our skins and everything else.
At about 2am when we reached the Icefields Parkway, we were ultra tired and delerious from the slog. I thought the van had been towed at first, completely disoriented in the blowing snow and darkness on the initial search. To our relief, there it was just a little further on than I had thought. Attached to the windshield was note from a park warden saying the parkway was closed and we'd have to stay put untill further notice. The adventure still wasn't over! At least now we could all get in the huge van out of the stormy night and crank up the heater. The next day the sun poked out and before lunch we followed a warden out to Sakatchewan Crossing and we were on our way to potatoes and eggs at the Lake Louise Hostel.
D'Arcy had come off the couch and skied a steep exposed unskied line in poor conditions, all the more meaning to add to the adventure and to one of the boldest ski descents ever done in the rockies. Remote, unsupported, uncommercialized, unpublicized, unfilmed, life-on-the-line attempts to bust through into the next level of ski-mountaineering are events rarely witnessed by others and I felt fortunate to have actually seen one such event from a non-participant viewpoint. It made me contemplate many things, including reassessing the style and strategy I would use on the next attempt. The mission is left to complete. Most inspiring of all was D'Arcy's focus and enthusiasm. Now that he is gone, I look at his ticklist, which is but arrows at drop in points all over his map collection. Like me, he thought, "what else would I rather be doing? Life is so precious". Bryce was worth it. Darce was kindered soul and a prolific skier that quietly followed his bliss, a rockies classic forever.
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