A brief escape before the madness.

Well, it has again been a fortnight at least, since I shook the dust off the keyboard and presented you with some magical musings of adventure and fun. I’d like to claim that it’s not entirely my fault, what with the holidays and all, and much of my time has been spent in the back country. Though there is really no excuse for the lax attitude I have taken towards my writing as of late, and as such I will do what I can to rectify the situation.

My holiday break began at the end of the work day on Thursday, December 23rd,  a rather busy day that saw me finish work in Langley, drive to Kerrisdale in the early afternoon to purchase a new Go Pro 2 for the website, then to Metrotown to pick up my skis (minor base repair), and home again to pack for the first trip of the break. I was enjoying the feeling of being done work for the better part of the next 2 weeks and was finding it incredibly hard to motivate myself to head out for Elfin Lakes. And so I sat, “faffing”, as the expression goes, watching the time fly past my packed bags at the door, it wasn’t until 9:45pm that I managed to un-glue my rear from the seat and hit the highway.

The road was next to empty as I barreled North towards the first fresh snow in what seemed like ages. The few cars on the road kept well out of my way, apparently aware of the fire currently raging beneath me. The Diamond head FSR seemed in good condition, and I opted to try for the upper parking lot with bare tires,  a decision which I immediately regretted. Down-shifting as I lost speed on one of the steeper sections of road I quickly realized I had been driving on 2 inches of thick ice for some time now. Forced by a lack of traction to stop and put chains on, I grinned and worried as the car started, and continued to slide backwards down the hill under its own weight, eventually coming to rest on what may well have been a tiny pebble on the road. I spent the next few minutes crawling around the front of the car in the pitch black, determined not to nudge or rest on the car at all, in the fear that I may set it free of its precarious position, to slide backwards down the road as I look on in horror.

I breathed a big sigh of relief as I sat back into the driver’s seat, the chains firmly in place on the front end. The first hundred meters are the trickiest as I try to coax the vehicle back up to speed on the steepest sections of road. One by one the obstacles fall behind me, the steep sections, the hairpin, a final steep section and I find myself in the upper parking lot geared and ready at 11:45pm.

Starting a 12km ski approach solo a mere tick or two before midnight might be a bit much for some,  but I see it as an opportunity as much as anything. Paying no mind to the views I set my will against the approach; determined to make the Elfin hut as quickly as possible. A brief stop 5 minutes past Red-Heather to add some Gore-Tex and I manage to make the summit of Paul’s Ridge in an hour flat. The snow is perfect for skinning, and the traverse of Paul’s ridge goes by in the blink of an eye, much of it spent in an effortless glide. Looking up I’m surprised myself to be standing outside the shelter so quickly, at only 1:30am, a personal best of 1:45 from parking lot to door. I wake the whole hut with my entrance, despite trying to be as quiet as possible, and manage to find my way into dreamland faster than many of those around me.

The next morning the hut empties, and Doug and I are left to enjoy the snowy paradise on our own. Garibaldi seems to have received an early Christmas Present; a new winter coat, 10 inches thick, made from 100% fine Canadian Powder, a splendid garment indeed.  We spend the day running as many laps as we can, sticking to lower angles and safer terrain due to the fresh loading and potential instabilities. We pay no mind to beating hearts and tiring legs, ignoring the cold and falling snow, only as darkness marches across the land do we seek out shelter.

The evening is spent over board games and dehydrated meals as we enjoy the only night in which I have ever witnessed Elfin Lakes shelter remain empty. Not a soul to toss and turn, fart or snore, we sleep deeply and soundly in the emptiness. The morning comes quickly, and with it comes all the unfinished business I was so glad to leave behind; shopping, wrapping, driving, cell phones, the business and busyness of the holiday season. Despite the quick return to the city and all of its “charms” I remain happy and upbeat, for I know with no work until the new year, the next escape is just around the corner, and I’m already excited for it.

Nothing could be Coul-oir!

I awake as the sun rises, feeling well rested and ready for the day ahead, though I can’t commit to easily. I lift my head off the pillow and look across the Elfin lakes shelter, I can see James lying in the bunk across the way from me, but I can’t tell if hes’ awake. I peer a bit harder, if he is awake I must certainly be creeping him out! The shelter is still quiet and dark, light slowly begins to filter through the windows and I know the place will spring to life in no time, and it’s important we beat the rush. I look over at James again, and through the retreating darkness I see him peering back at me, I wonder how long he has been awake following the same strategy as me, but it doesn’t matter, we both spring into action.

We aren’t that far ahead of the rush, by the time we have cooked our breakfast the surroundings have drastically changed. The experience is akin to watching a time-lapse video, as dozens of people move about the hut, the only permanent fixtures in the room are James and I, giving the morning commotion a noticeable  stop-motion feeling. We finish our breakfast before too many people arise, gearing up and heading out the door faster than anyone could follow us.

We set a quick pace, driven by a sense of urgency and excitement over the task at hand. As we reach the halfway point of Columnar we stop and observe the lowest entrance into the Couloir, looking back we see the first group leaving the Elfin shelter, they head out along Paul’s ridge bound for the city, as do all others, It seems we are the only pair skiing this morning. We soak in our surroundings, paying close attention to the snow conditions, there has been some significant changes in the snow pack since the weekend began and we have little room for error where we plan to ski.

James digging a pit test at the entrance to the Couloir.

The pit test reveals little we don’t already know, with the previous days’ sunshine slightly strengthening the bonds on a pair of weak layers (currently the cause of high to extreme avalanche ratings over most of the coast mountains) buried in the snow pack. We find a generally well consolidated crust about 50cm above ground and another a similar distance below the snow pack, though despite our best efforts neither seems willing or able to slide. Extra time is spent making sure our conclusions are correct, once we are satisfied we continue up Columnar, choosing to drop in at the highest point above our Couloir entrance.

A slight crust with heavier snow underneath hindered the turns above the Couloir, making them slow, sluggish, and a little difficult. Charged with the task of warming us up and making sure we’re ready, they do everything possible to complete the task. Standing at the lip of the 50+ degree chute I feel charged with excitement, my legs pumping and burning slightly from the warm-up ski. James drops in first across the Couloir and cuts his tails deep into the snow pack, trying to trigger any avalanche that may be possible. The snow in the Couloir seems as stable as we had hoped, with no sign of whumping or cracking and only some slight powder sluffing, which is to be expected at that angle. I drop in behind James and meet him in the first safe spot, tucked into the trees high in the Couloir. From here we can see most of the road ahead, the Couloir tightens near the middle to the width of a pair of skis for a fair distance, before softening in angle and width. James skis first, the snow looks marvelous as he rocks the first third of the steep Couloir at high-speed looking comfortable and in control. He stops up at the last visible safe point in a grouping of large trees and waits for me to join.

A couloir close-up. Our entrance and exit circled in red.

As soon as I start to ski I am taken by surprise, unlike the snow above the Couloir, which had spent the entire previous day exposed to sunlight getting heavy and crusty, the snow in the Couloir itself was soft and magnificent. No trace of weight or crust could be found, the snow was second to none, as if it had never seen a ray of sun the day before. I charged down the steep funnel almost in disbelief, It seemed unlikely to get to ski the couloir this early in the season, and now that we were I couldn’t believe it felt as relaxed and enjoyable as it did. I carve long open GS turns one after another until I reach James, resisting the urge to ski right past him to the bottom of the chute.

Looking down from here paints a different picture than from our viewpoint up high. The next section of skiing will be very tight indeed, with plenty of exposed rocks and debris, a mandatory drop or two and no visible safe places to stop for some distance.  I take my lead without hesitation, confident that I can handle the terrain without any problems and I am immediately proven wrong. Mere meters from our last stop the snow changes from soft, deep powder to the hardest of ice. The surface of the snow does not give way to skis no matter how hard you try to edge, the ice is fast, slippery, and extremely hard to control. I change from long open turns to tight, slow jump turns, trying my best to stay upright and in control in the difficult conditions. The couloir narrows, and narrows more, the jump turns getting more difficult as I descend. The snow becomes variable, unpredictable, undependable as I near the tightest point of the chute. A poorly executed turn goes wrong as I bounce around in the variable snow, crossing one tip under the other and immediately ejecting. Standing deep in the chute, at its narrowest point, I am acutely aware of the danger I am in. My heart pounds and breathe races as I desperately try to get back into my skis and moving, if the chute were to avalanche I would have less than no chance of survival in my current position. The moment seems to stretch on for an eternity as I battle with my equipment.

With the problem solved I quickly get back to skiing, chicken-sliding down the last 5 meters of the small, tight spine before hitting a small mandatory drop. Below this point the chute widens and looses some angle, making the skiing considerably easier. I see safe point lower in the Couloir and immediately head for it, knowing James will be leaving the last safe point very soon. I cut high onto one side of the chute, stopping up just above a small grouping of evergreens to wait for James, who appears a few minutes later, skiing the bottom of the spine in much the same matter as I had. As James arrives at the new safe-point I learn he had the same ski eject, in the same manner, in the same place as I had, making me feel slightly better about the experience.

From here we decide it is best to ski together, and we both drop back into the couloir to finish off the line and find a way out. The snow is again soft and deep, changing from ice to pow just below our last safe zone. James and I rip down the end of the couloir, bouncing playfully off of every mound or feature we find, enjoying the ease and comfort of having soft, enjoyable snow once again. As we near the end of the couloir we start to look for a good place to eject, and find one just across a small stream. From here we skin up and head back to the shelter to pack our bags and head back to civilization.

We arrive back at the hut just as the last group of overnighters is departing. We sit mostly in silence as we enjoy our lunch, trading the occasional quip with a threesome of snowboarders who are out for the day. My mind is stirring and stewing as we eat, percolating with thoughts of the line we have just skid, and the many more I would like to do before the season passes. It seems surreal, almost impossible that a few short hours ago we were challenging our minds and bodies, dancing violently on the frayed ends of sanity, the memory drifts to the back on my mind as if a dream, a long lost hope of something never to have happened at all. It isn’t until we’re touring along Paul’s Ridge that I look back, memories from the morning flood to the surface as I admire the steep chute from a distance. Its’ going to be one hell of a season!

We finish the day with a few more stellar laps off of Paul’s ridge before heading down the winter trail and skiing out. While Elfin may not be our destination for the next few weeks, thoughts of this trip likely won’t leave me some time!

 

Perfection in Garibaldi Provincial Park – Winters ON!

A perfect start to a weekend of Touring!!

We left Vancouver around 4am heading for another overnighter at Elfin Lakes, making the upper parking lot just after 6am. Leaving the parking lot quickly, and touring in the dark, the approach  seemed to end as soon as it began. Our new friend, Garret(h) informed us we had made Paul’s ridge in an hour and fifteen minutes or thereabouts, a pace we were surprised with, having overnight packs on. We gained the ridgetop immediately and continued on until we found something we liked, which happened to be off the back side of the summit of Paul ridge. Despite evidence of avalanche activity, the avalanche report was favorable, and not one among us could find any evidence of instability.

I was second in, but what I saw was encouraging. James has a way of making it look casual and fun, bouncing playfully off the terrain carving perfect turns, although I suppose everyone ends up on their face sometime. It seems James wagered one of his skis for 6-pack of beer in an off bet with a small evergreen and managed to make it a fair hike away before he realized that he had been duped. In the end I would say the chuckle was worth the wait, although the anticipation was more than I’d like to bear. I let out a loud whoop and drop in as James reaches the safe zone,turning to watch me.

James Siggs enjoying a day out in Garibaldi Park.

Playful it was, soft and light the snow bent perfectly to your will. Every crest seemed to lift you upward and gently catch you, offering another splendid turn in tow. I bomb the run, choosing a new route to explore some of the surrounding terrain and regretting not hitting the tree jump from last week. Overall the run is enjoyable, a good warmup, but nothing near the main course. We wait for Garret(h) to join us and break a safe trail back up to Paul’s ridge, joining the winter route just beyond the summit of Paul’s ridge. Eager to dump our overnight gear, the quick run was just what the doctor ordered, getting us all fired up and touring fast to reach Elfin.

I stop halfway along Paul’s ridge to take some photos of our potential objective, a ~50 degree couloir on the southeast side of Columnar which we had been scouting the week before. We parted ways with our new friend once we reached Elfin, he was on a solo day trip and had to get back to his family, having little time to waste on luxuries like food and water. We wished him safe travels, hoping he wouldn’t have any avy trouble while out on his own. We spent about 45 minutes in the hut having lunch and resting up before we break back out into the cold for some more turns, touring quickly towards the Gargoyles/Columnar saddle.

Columnar and the Couloir from Paul's Ridge

About halfway up the gargoyles we encountered a pair of telemarkers returning to the hut who gave us the 4-1-1 on the snow in the area, the gargoyles had been in the sun for most of the day now and the bowl was getting wet, heavy and potentially dangerous. Lucky for us these two had left the best snow, tucked away in the shadows on the backside of Columnar, untouched. “We got a line in off the ridge.” the one man said “But the best skiing is still there, you may have to boot-pack to the top but it’ll be the best turns around” he continued. We thanked them with big smiles and immediately started motoring in the appropriate direction. From here the trail crosses through avalanche terrain for almost 20 minutes of slightly uphill touring, James and I spread out, allowing a large distance between us to reduce the risk of both getting buried by the same event, if one were to occur.

The long tour across the saddle towards the Gargoyles and the backside of Columnar.

After some trail breaking, and some steep traversing on a collapsing skin track we reach our objective, and chose a place to drop in just to the skier’s right of our informants old lines. The run is looking good, steep, smooth, and as promised completely hidden from the sun. I drop in first and immediately begin shouting, grinning like an absolute idiot. The steep terrain is immensely enjoyable, the snow, hidden in the shadows of Columnar remains light and fluffy. I carve turn after perfect high-speed turn, charging down the steep face at breakneck speeds, reaching the safe spot in what seems like (and probably was) a matter of seconds. I turn and watch as James goes to work, putting on a “ski steep” clinic. He hoots and hollers the whole way down, just like myself, grinning big, he just kills it. Little discussion is needed when he reaches the safe point.

James traversing a steep slope on a questionable skintrack.

“You wanna boot pack that last bit and hit that from the top?”

“Hells Yeah! Let’s do it!!”

The second lap is even better, steeper, and longer than the first. It seems surprising to me that no one had skid here yet, though with the terrain not visible from the Elfin Chalet it’s no surprise it gets overlooked. James got the first line off the summit, and with amazing consistency he killed it again, inspiring me with a little confidence. I dropped in far skier’s right chasing the steepest line of the day, building up some serious speed before I start carving turns. Halfway down the run I drive straight into a wind berm and almost get tossed face first off the slope, managing to stand up on edge at the last second to avoid a full-on yard sale. I get right back into it, finishing the run as well as I had begun, though bummed about almost losing control. Satisfied we had taken the best from the slope, we headed over to the gargoyles for our Fourth run of the day, which had been in the shade since just before our first lap of this hidden summit wall.

Admiring our turns after bootpacking and dropping off the summit.

The tour up to the gargoyles was quick and easy, the first time all day we didn’t have to break trail for at least some distance. Standing on the summit of the gargoyles I feel the sum of four skin tracks and the 12.5km approach to Elfin begin wear on me. We discuss our options and decide it may be time to head for the hut, though we both feel we could manage more, tomorrow is another big day, and our largest objective, and hardest skiing, has yet to come. The run down from the Gargoyles is plain, short, barely a ski run at all, requiring a large amount of traversing to put us in the right area to return to the hut. James rocks some nice turns and finds a kicker, I just bomb it enjoying the feeling of the steep entry and the wind in my face.

James prepares to drop into some enjoyably steep terrain. Atwel is visible in the background.

We manage to muster one more up-track, towards a marker we call “dead-tree” on Columnar, the landmark of entry for a spectacular glade run extending all the way to the creek bed. The early season snow pack has yet to cover a lot of smaller, tight-pack trees, making the run much more of a challenge than usual. We dodge bushes, trees, and fallen logs as we try to navigate the tight forest. The skiing is labored, difficult, and technical, demanding as much or more from our legs than we are able to provide. The forest tightens near the creek bed, making things quite difficult until we suddenly shoot out into open fields near the lake and summer campground. We tour slowly back to Ring Creek Road and on to the shelter, settling into the warm hut for dinner just in time to watch the sunset.

The view looking north from the Columnar/Gargoyles Saddle.

We grab a picnic table and quickly fire up some grub as people slowly start to filter into the hut. The Chalet is surprisingly empty at the moment, a rare occasion in bad weather let alone in perfect conditions like we have had so far. Sitting at a picnic table at the front of the shelter, I watch as the sun slowly sinks behind the Tantalus range. Brilliant colors flood the sky, mixing and mingling as they stretch across the horizon. The yellows, oranges and reds serenade my soul, a truly majestic ending to a day of perfect weather, beautiful views, and amazing skiing. By nightfall the hut is bustling again as a very large group of V.O.C.ers floods in, I decide to try to get an early night in and hopefully recover for tomorrow. Laying in my bunk I regret having forgotten earplugs for the second weekend in a row, but try to make the best of it. I wish I was downstairs socializing, but I know I need to bring the A-game tomorrow morning, and for that I need lots of rest to recover from today.

The Ultimate Backcountry Party

Sitting here, virtual pen in hand, I have mixed feelings about writing about what may be one of the best back country parties in the Pacific Northwest. The reasons are obvious: while I am motivated to share my experiences in the back country with everyone in the hopes that they will learn to love the mountains, and be loved by the mountains, there is always  a fear that the inspiration will have ill effects. There are many ways this could happen, primarily of course I worry about those who shortcut switchbacks, hike off-trail in well-traveled ecologically sensitive alpine terrain, leave their garbage around, those that elicit the behavior that scars the landscape for both humans and native species alike. The biggest concern for the party at hand however, is numbers, pure and simple.

My first experience with this party was in the winter of 2009-2010. I had been told of a great way to ring in the new year, far from the bright lights, noise, people, and pollution of the city. A place filled with kindred spirits, with adventurers, with seekers of solitude. The excursion that year was a short one, having worked New Year’s Eve day,driving the long haul to the Diamond Head parking lot, arriving after dark and breaking trail through 12 inches of new snow in snowshoes with way too much gear in my pack. I had arrived at the Elfin Lakes shelter around 11:30pm and was so exhausted I picked a small patch of floor and passed out, stirring only briefly at the strike of midnight.

I was determined to have a better experience in 2010-2011, and managed to get a few extra days off work to do it properly. My entire approach had changed, and rightfully so. In place of my winter sleeping bag, tent, candle lantern and other trinkets usually considered a winter necessity was a hefty quantity of wine and food, some travel board-games, a +5 degree sleeping bag and some other nick-knacks to keep me entertained. The Elfin Lakes shelter is a surprisingly well stocked haven, nestled 13.5km from the parking lot between sparse trees and deep snow, the hut comes complete with bunk space for 32, 4 large pic-nick tables, 2-2 burner propane stoves for melting water complete with massive water-only pots, a propane heating unit to heat the cabin, and a small batch of solar panels mounted on the roof of the cabin provide lighting throughout the bottom floor of this classic alpine a-frame.

On the approach between Red Heather and Elfin lakes.

Now I wouldn’t advise that everyone travel so light, nor would I advise that you travel expecting to sleep in the hut, as the truth of the matter is you’ll be lucky if you do. Elfin Lakes fills up FAST for this party, and the hut is consistently overflowing, over new years you can expect every bunk and every inch of floorspace to be occupied, including the benches and table-tops of the picnic tables downstairs. You need to be both early and lucky to sleep in the hut, earlier and luckier still to get a bunk. If this is a trip you set your will to, be prepared to sleep outside, bring a tent, or the knowledge and gear to build and adequate snow-cave, and a sleeping bag capable of keeping you comfortable during the chilly, -20 nights.

I set out early on December 30th 2010, my pack heavy with wine and food. Carrying a heavy pack sometimes bothers me, but never when it’s filled with the aforementioned, partly because I know the pack will be light on the way home, and partly because it’s worth the burden to have those things handy when you’re spending 4 days at a luxurious back country haven. The hike is straight forward, switch-backing up a wide and well-traveled path to the Red Heather day shelter at about 6 kilometers, then climbing for a short while until you reach the height of Paul’s Ridge and traversing this ridge until you reach the shelter. The winter route beyond Red Heather is very well-marked with orange reflective poles that can guide you safely even at night. I moved as quickly as possible, almost with a sense of desperation knowing that every person ahead of me is a chance I’ll be sleeping on the floor, or in a snow cave. I passed many people on the way as I trudged full-steam, dripping with sweat, determined to cash in on the fortune of comfort left behind by those retreating to the city to ring in the new year. I felt more than a tad guilty as I stepped off trail and broke a new path around a group of 4 slow movers just as the hut came into view, knowing I was likely taking a bed from one of them, but not guilty enough to stop, you don’t give up 100 meters from the finish line and you don’t get a bed moving so slowly 100 meters from the hut, remember this as you hike out to Elfin this winter folks, or I may well steal your bed in the last 100 meters as well.

I kicked the snow off my boots and cruised into the hut, heading straight upstairs to survey the situation. Just as I had thought, the people downstairs were evacuating with haste, trying to escape before the horde of party goers descended on the hut, leaving in their wake comfortable sleeping space for five. I threw my gear down on a top bunk and quickly set to work making it home, my suspicions confirmed, I had taken a space from one of those weary travelers in the last quarter kilometer. I took a top bunk to allow the foursome I had passed a courtesy, the bottom bunks can fit 2 people nice and cozy, so this would allow enough space for the group I passed to all get off the floor. I could hear them griping as they arrived a solid 5 minutes behind me, but wasn’t concerned.

Elfin lakes shelter, nestled deeply amongst firs and snowbanks.

Elfin Lakes is a paradise for the back country enthusiast, with every manner of terrain available for the skier, hiker, and mountaineer. Just west of the hut is Columnar Peak and the Gargoyles, offering good steep terrain up high flowing into an abundance of enjoyable angles rounded out nicely with amazing glade runs down low. Further north you will find Atwell peak, a steep and iconic mountain, with Mount Garibaldi not far beyond. To the north along Ring Creek you will find Opal Cone, the remnants of an old stratovolcano worn away by time and weather. Beyond Opal Cone, Ring Creek gives entry to the Garibaldi Neve, an expanse of snow, ice, and rocky peaks. The Garibaldi Neve is a popular ski touring trip that can be done in a weekend from Vancouver, it runs from the Diamond Head parking lot north past Elfin lakes to Garibaldi lake, returning to the highway via the Black Tusk parking lot.

A view of the Iconic Atwel peak in Garibaldi Provincial Park.

We get the most out of the short winter days, rising early and chasing whatever the heart desires. For some its fresh tracks on a bluebird POW day, for others it’s a hike to a local peak or an exploratory mission north along ring creek. The terrain is endless, the view spectacular, endless snow-capped peaks dominate the skyline as far as the eye can see in every direction. To the south-west one can see as far as the Tantalus range, and deep into the coast mountains to the east. A far cry, and a vast improvement from the lights and noise of the concrete jungle in which the oblivious ring in their new year.

Arriving at the saddle between Columnar and the Gargoyles

As day gives way to-night, and the landscape begins to dawn its blackened cape, something truly majestic is borne. Host to not only the best New Years party, Elfin Lakes is home to the best sunset around. Brilliant oranges, reds, and yellows dance in the sky as the sun drops out of view beyond the mountains to the west. Hikers, skiers, and travelers all admire the sight from the second story balcony of the Elfin shelter. A group of young climbers and skiers lug their sleeping bags out into the snow and lay speechless as the aging day paints the night sky. In my mind, it really doesn’t get any better than this.

The day grows old, and the end of a great 2010. December 31.

The abundance of darkened winter evening is passed quickly by enjoying the crazy carpet luge track just outside the shelter. Carved by the giddy frolicking of timeless youth this spectacular luge can often run over a hundred meters down slopes  of varying degrees. Every lap down the track extends it a little further, and firms the boot-pack back to the top. When one grows too weary of racing face first downhill in the snow on a sheet of plastic, or too cold, you need only to walk a minute or two into an alpine hut buzzing with conversation and laughter as a hundred or more back country travellers share stories and drinks and count down the new year.

A false start at the Elfin Luge track.

A few friends make a point every year of bringing one item each to share amongst the group. And so, on new years eve 2010, they hosted the first (to my knowledge) Pumpkin Pie twist-off. Yeah, a game of Twister, in the middle of nowhere, any man or woman welcome to compete, and the winner of each round awarded a big slice of pumpkin pie. You have to admire the steam it takes to pack the massive 2-kg pie so far into the back country, and more-so the spirit to give it away so freely to people you don’t even know. This is the party at Elfin Lakes, it’s not just about getting messy for the sake of it, there’s a bond, a comradery that exists, though unspoken we are all friends for a few short days.

Another round of Pie-Twist-Off about to start.

A great time is had by all, no one is left out, everyone is friends. The party rages on past midnight, the bulk of the people returning to their tents, snow caves, bunks and small patches of floor around 1am. The unmuzzled conversation and occasional burst of laughter can be heard downstairs as late as 4am. As the sun rises on the new year the place empties, a mad bustle of activity downstairs as the vast majority of the occupants make a mad dash for civilization. My group of friends and I stay behind an extra night or two, enjoying the calm after the storm.

In their mass-exodus these travelers leave an overwhelming tale, the hut is littered with garbage, empty food wrappers, old party hats, wine bottles. Every manor of crap is strewn about the place. At around 9am, with most people already on their way, the Park Rangers arrive garbage bags in hand all too ready for this nonsense. Their mood is one of much disappointment, anger, frustration and sadness, a feeling I share myself. It baffles me how people can behave in this manner, and taint such a beautiful place so carelessly. My friends and I help the rangers clean up, filling 2 great big green garbage bags full of people’s discarded crap. I offer to lash them to my pack and throw them in a dumpster when I return home the next day. It leaves a sour taste to a otherwhise spectacular holiday.

I’d like to take this chance to urge everyone, big and small, in all walks of life, PLEASE, treat our outdoors, especially our provincial parks with respect. If you can manage to pack your crap uphill to the hut, you can manage to pack it out when its empty, weighing nothing, taking no pack-space, on the downhill descent. The carelessness and utter disdain shown for such a treasure in our own backyard is heartfelt and angering for me. No hut needs a “wine-bottle candle holder”, or any other manner of junk you’re too lazy or ignorant to pack out. There is no excuse.  It is our duty as explorers in the back country to leave no trace, and, upon finding one, remove it as best your ability.

Something worth protecting, keeping clean, and appreciating as often as possible.

Something worth protecting, keeping clean, and appreciating as often as possible. 2