Skiing Season Opener

Rob and I tried to get a group together from the UAOC to do some roadside skiing on the first weekend of december.  I hadn't been out at all and Rob had only done a day at Marmot so it would be the start to the season for us.  Unfortunately, it looks like everybody was hunkered down for exams and so it was just Rob and I who headed out for the Rockies on Friday.

Apart from a near miss with several road-dwelling horses and a broken thermostat on my car, we got there just fine and headed to Bow Summit for Saturday.  I dug a quick pit about halfway between the parking lot and treeline.  We found 115cm depth and everything to be very well bonded together.  Layers were still distinct but they were all resistant to shearing.  We skied lines below treeline where the snow was best and the risk negligible.

On Sunday, we headed out to HWY 93 South for a recon mission, in preparation for a club hostel weekend at the Castle Mountain hostel.  We spotted some good terrain and headed up into the burn on Mt. Whymper.  It was tight and boney in there with considerably less snow cover, but I still managed to get half a good run out of it.  There are definitely some good lines in there, and there is also some very easy terrain in the "cat track" created as a fire block during the burn.  I see some promising skiing going on during the upcoming hostel trip...

Snow coverage at Bow Summit

Rob climbing up a spur ridge on Mt. Whymper's burned side

Soft snow and mild weather made for happy turns

Mts. Mistaya and Wilcox

In late August, Chris and I led an ACC trip to Mt. Mistaya.  It's not in any guidebooks but boy it should be!  The area around Cauldron Lake is pretty sick, and Peyto Peak's prominent couloir is now on my to-do list next season.

Descending down to Peyto Lake in the morning

Cauldron Lake is hidden away from the Peyto Glacier/Lake area by a large headwall (with a sweet waterfall coming down off of it).  Because the bridge across the creek draining the glacier is now out, our approach was lengthened by a search for a feasible crossing of the creek.  I eventually got impatient and just ran through a relatively shallow bit, about knee deep.  We then hiked up the moraine on the righthand side of the creek and followed a rough and slightly ass-clenching trail over to the lake.  This trail traverses over some big exposure and so I wouldn't want to be there in slippery or snowy conditions.  The lake itself is more of a big tarn, and there isn't any vegetation around except for some grassy moss.  Eric Coulthard (and according to the summit register Alan Kane) suggest ascending a boney moraine to gain a small patch of glacier-recessed ridge which is followed over an intermediate summit to reach Mistaya.  In all ways I would recommend against this route, it looks longer, perhaps more exposed to rockfall and just plain painful (why so much scree?).  We instead chose to ascend a prominent couloir slightly hidden from view.  Going around the right hand edge of the lake to its far end, we bashed through a smattering of residual moraines up and to the right.  Contouring around brought us to the base of the couloir, which is visible on the topos as a depression facing East.

At the top of the moraine, Peyto Lake and Observation Peak behind

We threw on the crampons and quickly covered the lower-angle portion.  The only real "couloir"ish part of this big wide gully was at the very end where it reared up.  The top of this step is on the remnants of a glacier (no crevasses though) so you should be prepared for some frenching in dry conditions.  We managed to go up a thin tongue of snow on the climber's left.  Overall it's a pretty tame way to get up to the summit ridge, and it's on snow which is always nicer than scree.  It could be bumslid or skied in early season before it becomes dotted with rockfall.  One should, however, be aware of a looming slope which hangs over the lower, flat portion or the gully.  The top of this hanging slope was corniced and in early season this could threaten the route with avalanche hazard due to it's southeastern aspect.  It is possible to mostly avoid the exposure to this slope by staying well to the left on the lower portions of the gully.

Topping out of the snow-gully

Once we hit the ridge we headed on toward the top.  The ridge seemed badly foreshortened, but luckily there is a beauty of a view to enjoy while you trudge to the top.  To your left is the BC Rockies and the Mistaya Lodge (ski terrain looks awesome) while behind you the north edge of the Wapta Icefield comes into view.  In front of you Mt. Chephren, Howse Peak and many other main-range giants can be seen.  The view from the top was stupendous.

Chris and Lee walking near the top of Mistaya.  Mt. Baker is the glaciated peak on the Right, Rhondda at center

After heading back down we trudged back to the cars.  By far the sting in the tail for this trip is the fact that your car ends up being ~300m above you when you reach Peyto Lake.  That final climb up to the parking lot is a killer and it sure made for a tough end to the day.  We ended up BBQing steaks over the fire in David Thompson Country around midnight...

Sunday we headed up to the Icefields Center to give Mt. Wilcox a go.  Wilvox was one I had been itching to do for ages, but never got around to.  We headed up the slopes directly behind the center, and hit the pass within 45 minutes.  Following the beaten path up Wilcox's south ridge, the views kept getting better and better.  Being able to see over the Athabasca Glacier's Icefall all the way to Mt. Bryce was pretty legendary.

Heading for Wilcox

Double summit all the way!

Gaining the ridge, Nigel Peak behind

Somehow, we got dragged off the ridge and out onto the face.  It seemed like a tamer way up at first but then we started to feel a bit out of place.  Pitons started showing up, and I started to wonder if this was some sort of training route used by some guides?  I seemed to be relatively well traveled, so I would think that whoever put in those pins used the route more than once.  We found a solid gully to climb up and practically popped out on the false summit.  A quick walk over to the main summit had us on top.

There isn't a better view in the world

Back to the car we went, and then to Nordegg for some burgers at the only best restaurant in town!  This turned out to be an awesome club trip on a great weekend weather-wise.  I'll be headed back to the Wapta area sooner or later, it's too beautiful to pass up.

Welcome to Nordegg!

South Ram River / Canary Creek Loop

Having climbed every weekend since July 1st, I was looking forward to a weekend off at home.  However, that plan was dashed when Chris told me he wanted to go backpacking on the first weekend of August.  Having had this loop in mind for a while, I suggested we explore it.  Boy was I happy we decided to do it.

The South Ram River area is actually pretty unknown.  Sort of like Nordegg, it's been largely forgotten by most people except for some fly fishermen, a horseback outfitter and sheep hunters who show up to do their thing.  I've never seen someone backpacking in the area, let alone any climbers.  That's what sort of made it attractive to me.  Yes, the trail is not really intended for hiking (it crosses the river many times) but I still thought it would be cool to backpack and maybe get a glimpse of some of the upper Ram River peaks.

We drove down early on Saturday morning and parked at the Hummingbird Creek Staging area parking lot.  There is loads of roadside camping in there, my family has gone there every fall and spring for years.  Just find an empty clearing and set up your camp.  No one will ever bother you, and the local SRD Officers are super cool.  Right off the bat you cross Hummingbird Creek and so we started the hike with our boots on our backs and sandals on the feet.  After gingerly crossing the creek (it's cold) we slogged up the muddy first bit to the falls.  Even if you don't want to do a whole lot of hiking, you should really check these out.  The falls are really picturesque and I can see some rock and ice climbing potential there.

The lower half of the falls.

The upper falls.  Rock quality is surprisingly good on the left side...

After the falls the trail flattens out pretty much, and the scenery keeps getting better.  After twice crossing the Ram, we finally hit Sickman's Camp which has an astounding view, and then dropped down onto the valley flats.

Descending from Sickman's Camp to the valley flats.  Travel is super easy due to lack of tree cover.

We sort of lost the trail at this point but that wasn't really an issue, because we were walking on what looked like an airstrip!  Not a tree in sight and we could see for miles.  Making a beeline for a clear-cut survey line, we found the trail again.  We kept going down the clear-cut, past an old outfitter's camp and across several small creeks to a nice camp just shy of the trail's intersection with the Pleasant Valley trail.  We took a quick hike up the the grassy ridge above and had stellar views of the surrounding peaks.

Whelk Peak (?) from the grassy ridge.

Mars is right behind the ridge, fear of martians is probably why nobody comes here.

The next morning we woke up to slightly unstable weather and dead batteries on my camera!  So alas there are no more photos of mine.  The hike up over the pass and down Canary creek is just as picturesque and the trail quality is much better.  You end up having just one creek crossing on your second day, right at the end which means you can just run through in your boots.  After that it's just a short walk back down the road to your car.  This is a great backpack and it deserves more attention that it sees.  If you're looking for something off the beaten path you should check this out.  More specific access info and directions below.

Trailpeak - South Ram River

Mt. Chephren

In mid August, Chris and I bushwacked our way around Chephren Lake and managed to pick our way up it's South Face / West Ridge route (the one in Selected Alpine Climbs).  This was the first mountain of the year that I actually felt perfectly happy with.  We managed to climb it in good style and got up and down before conditions made it tricky.  I still have to go back to do White Pyramid but that will have to wait for next summer.

On Saturday morning Chris showed up at my house and we booked it for the Rockies via Rocky Mountain House.  Parking at the trailhead, we tried to look inconspicuous due to the fact that we were carrying bivy gear.  Camping at the base of the route is apparently not allowed, Parks will tell you to do Chephren in a day.  While that might seem feasible on paper, the truth of the matter is that there is a rather unpleasant bushwack around the lake which would be a hellish experience in the dark.  Considering that one would have to start extremely early in order to go up and down safely in a day, neither of us were too interested in doing a single-day trip.  So there we were with our alpine packs stuffed to the gills with a hidden tent, stove, food and sleeping bags.

Sorting out gear in the parking lot.  Nothing is more stylish that flip-flops and gaiters.

The trail to Chephren Lake went quick and was actually quite nice, despite the slightly boggy sections.  We reached the lake in just under an hour and proceeded along it's South shore.  The shoreline quickly bushed in and we were forced to duck under, hurdle over fallen trees and stone-hop over the submerged beach.  The going was rather slow and I believe that it took us 2 more hours to round the lake and make it to our camp right below Howse Peak.  If ever there is an impressive setting, this bivy is it.  Waterfalls flow off the glacier behind and the towering walls of Howse, WP and Chephren surround you.  We noticed that another group had stashed their gear, which was cause for a bit of concern considering that it was about 4 o'clock and nobody was in sight.  However, once we had our own camp set up we saw 2 figures picking their way slowly down the moraine.  Soon enough Brad walked into our camp (the same one from the Eiffel/Weed trip earlier) along with a female climbing partner of his (I thought those didn't exist!).  They told us that conditions were good but that they hadn't made it to the top.  They were headed out the the cars in an attempt to get some food in Lake Louise.

Scenery at the back end of Chephren Lake

3:00 AM Sunday saw us stumbling around camp in the dark, trying to stuff some food down our own throats and gearing up for the climb.  Our plan was to try and knock off both Chephren and White Pyramid in a day, but we decided that we needed to be back at the col. and descending by no later than 11:00 (due to very warm weather affecting snow conditions).  In hindsight that should have clued us into the fact that we wouldn't manage both in a day but anyhoo, that was our plan.  We left camp around 3:45 and bashed our way up the creek to the climber's right of the moraine.  We soon hit the toe of an avalanche runout and after throwing on the crampons we were on our way.  A short patch of scree functioned to knock any rust off the spikes before we hit the face itself.  I was feeling sick by this point and nearly puking.  I kept thinking that I was bonking due to not enough food for breakfast.  It turns out that I was experiencing the opposite; my stomach didn't seem to have woken up with the rest of me and so all my breakfast was just sitting there like a brick.  I was seriously thinking of turning back but after a half hour nap and realizing that the route couldn't be in much better shape, I decided to try and carry on.  The upset stomach cured itself and soon enough I was back in top form.

The snow slope seemed to go on forever, at least to me.  The headwall is deceivingly low down on the route, and thus the section after that seemed to drag on forever.  Of note is the fact that we simul-soloed the entire route.  The snow conditions weren't bad and the conditions never seemed to warrant the use of a rope.  If you plan on only doing Chephren I would not haul a rope along.  For WP, a rope might be nice on the exposed ridge.  A million switchbacks later we ran out of snow and stashed our crampons, the rope (unused) and other unnecessary gear before slogging up to the summit.  I have to say that the scree on the upper sections of Chephren is by far the worst I have ever experienced.  I think it took Chris and I nearly another hour to make it from our gear cache above the col. to the summit.  We struggled the whole way and it was only when Chris went in front and set the pace that I finally stopped winding myself.  I would only do this route in heavy snow conditions, never dry.  Any more of that scree and I would have probably turned around.

Howse Peak from the top of Chephren

White Pyramid with a bunch of BC icefields behind.  You can see how knife-edged and exposed that would be, I'd definitely take a rope.

The view from the top was a highlight.  The uninterrupted scenery up and down the Icefields Parkway was amazing.  We were the first ascent of 2011, which we both found surprising considering that the route looked to have been in shape for quite a while.  After a short break on the top we headed back down the horrendous scree (in all of about 10 minutes while scree-skiing) to our gear and then began descending.  Even though we were headed down from the col. at about 10:00, the snow was already deteriorating and we spent a considerable amount of time downclimbing face-in.  We were definitely happy to have abandoned White Pyramid.

Chris downclimbs Chephren's South Face

Back at camp we packed up and then headed out to the cars.  After witnessing a runaway teenager and trying to reassure his parents, we pounded the kms back along the established trail to the cars.  Along the way we composed our own motivational march which can be used after a full day of climbing, it's actually pretty effective:

The Climber's March
[Sung to the tune of the US Marines Drill Song (the one in Full Metal Jacket)]

We're a bunch of mountain guys
We climbed up into the skies
Over scree, snow and ice
The view from the top, oh it was nice!
We climbed back down and had a beer
Everybody gave out a great big cheer
But now we curse the long hike out
Through singing, yelling, screams and shouts!

The best thing about Chephren: you can see it for miles and miles.  This photo from Saskatchewan River Crossing.

Mt. Cline

So while I busy myself with midterms (1 left!) and an Estimation and Project Management course for work (oh yeah riveting stuff), I'll reflect on Mt. Cline, my first 11 000er in 8 years.
So I talked a little bit before about my first peak, and coincidentally first 11 000er Mt. Temple, back when I was twelve.  Well, since then I haven't gotten up a single big peak.  So finally this season I made plans at Mt. Cline in a 2 day trip.  I drove out with Viktor and Chris to my super-favorite camping spot in David Thompson Country, about 10 minutes drive from Saskatchewan River Crossing and 100% free.  You can build a campfire, camp in peace and privacy and not be bothered once.  It beats paying $30 a night at the Parks Canada run campgrounds that's for sure!

Free camping at its best.  Lots of firewood around too!

Anyhoo, we got up at a relaxed time and packed up our gear.  For some reason I had the motivation to pack BOTH half ropes and a million pounds some extra trad gear in anticipation of some rock climbing around camp in the evening.  I neglected to consider the fact that the added weight would negate any extra energy that I would have available for rock climbing.  Lesson well learned.  We parked at Thompson Creek, and following a trail up the righthand side soon arrived at a makeshift bridge to cross to the West side.  If you were headed for the North Ridge route on Cline (on the list for next year), you would stay on the East side.  We worked our way up the creek, found our way to the tricky route around the waterfall and eventually arrived at camp.  And boy is that ever a camp!  2 beautiful tarns in an awesome surrounding, with a view worth a million bucks to the South.

Above the waterfalls, with Mt. Peskett behind.

5 Star Accommodations. Note the amount of snow still present in mid-July in the front ranges.

Viktor about to test out the "Hot Tub".  Cowboy Chris is behind.

Cowboy Chris performs the signature pose.  "You talking to me, BOY?"

We just lounged around seeing as none of us had the energy to yank out our rock climbing gear and set off for the cliffs surrounding the camp.  Besides most of the good looking rock was still wet due to snow melt.  We hit the sleeping bags early and set our alarm for 2:00 AM, ecstatic about the clear weather and looking forward to watching the sunrise from the summit.

2:00 AM rolled around, and as was typical for this summer, it was pouring and heavy winds kept battering the tent.  None of us had the gumption to go out into that, we knew it could only be worse outside the protected amphitheater we were camped in.  We went back to sleep disappointed and grumpy.

Got up at 8:00 to clearing weather and decided to go for it, even though this would unarguably spell a very late return to Edmonton.  Leaving camp by 8:45 (what an alpine start!) we headed off up the headwall behind the lakes.  Soon enough we were toiling up a low angle scree slope with a seemingly infinite length.  Eventually we crested that.  Next we made ourselves into even larger fools by ascending the false summit to the SW of Cline.  I have no clue how we thought that could be Cline itself but we were really committed on screwing this climb up so why not do it properly?  After bashing quickly down that false bump, we crossed the "glacier" (not much risk of crevasses if you stick close to the rock on your right) and headed for Cline itself.

Abraham Lake (Reservoir) from the False Summit of Cline.

After scrambling along the ridge for a while, we hit the two notches.  A quick 2-cam belay (not really necessary) and we crossed to the intermediate anchor.  We were using one half rope, I led and Chris and Viktor followed on their own strands.  Very efficient at moving through this bottleneck.  The second notch was tougher with an overhanging downclimb.  I now understand that most folks rappel this step which makes sense.  I on the other hand downclimbed on ice-covered holds with several thousand feet of air under me and then jumped the gap.  Not the most enjoyable climbing I have done but exhilarating nonetheless.  The other side has a good body brace for belaying off of.  After that some more toiling (this time on snow) brought us to the top, in clear and beautiful weather.

On top, 11 027 feet above sea level.  GoPro so I fit in with all the douchebags.

Viktor and Chris descend off the summit.  The ridge trends toward the left until it hits the false summit.  The route traverses below that summit and then curves left and drops down behind.

After a short stint on the top we retraced our steps and reclimbed through the notches.  We were now in a proper hurry realizing the time and wanting to get out of the woods before dark!  In our hurry I slipped descending off the ridge, and thank god for the keen eyes of my two buddies for catching my fall on the short rope.  There was a slick ice tongue veiled in snow, which I didn't test before moving onto.  Lesson: always use the rope if you're carrying it anyway.  It really won't slow you down and it prevented a very nasty, exposed slide.

The rest of the trip passes in a whirlwind of sore shoulders, heavy packs, jarred knees and exhaustion.  5:00 back at camp, began descending at 6:00 and reached the campground at 9:00.  I fell asleep in the back seat and got to my workplace at 2:00 AM, scared the security guard shitless while picking up my car, drove home with the "gas tank empty" light on and managed to find a gas station just in time.  I was back at work for 7:00 AM that same day.

A Snowy July

The first weekend of July, I was signed up to go on an ACC trip to Athabasca.  Unfortunately, it had snowed about 1-2 feet the week previous, so we ended up pulling the plug.  It was lucky we did, considering that a class 2 avalanche ripped out on the route we were planning on climbing.

In place of Athabasca, we decided to scramble Eiffel Peak in the Valley of the Ten Peaks.  It had a good reputation of giving out great views and a fun scramble.  Unfortunately we would enjoy neither of those attributes; it was zero visibility at the top and the snow conditions made it a wee bit more than your average scramble.

Valley of the Ten Peaks from Larch Valley.

We drove down to Lake Louise and had breakfast at Laggans before driving up to Moraine Lake.  We moved fast off the start, blasting up the Larch Valley trail's switchbacks in under an hour.  It was foggy and quite cool in the valley, and we were forced to kick steps up a small slope to just get to the base of Eiffel.  It definitely did not feel like July!

We kept to the verglas-covered scree for most of the scramble, and off the snow.  We had all made the decision to leave our crampons in the cars and now we were regretting it.  The snow on the face was powdery near the bottom of the slope (actually would have made great skiing) but near the top it turned icy.  When the face constricted, we were forced out onto the snow slope.  Some of the others tried their luck at an icy dihedral to the right and were pushed back.  I spent some considerable time hacking out steps in the icy snow.  It took seven kicks to make a reasonable step.  Luckily this was only for the last hundred meters or so and soon enough we were on top.  There wasn't any view to speak of.

Marc and Brad descending the snow pitch.

We headed back down, quite carefully because of the risk of slipping.  Without crampons we were in a bit of a pickle but slow moving let us get out of there safely.  Soon enough we were descending the Larch Valley trail to the fascination of all the tourists.

After speaking with the parks office in LL, we decided to not bother thinking about Athabasca for Sunday, and instead do another scramble.  Narao Peak was thrown around as an idea, but we eventually settled on Mt. Weed because it was close to our campsite in David Thompson Country (free camping is always worth the extra drive in).

Weed is a bit of a pain in the rear as far as scrambles go.  I would absolutely not go back there without snow in the gullies to climb on.  Scree bashing all the way up would be my definition of hell.  You start out ridiculously low in elevation, and after bushwacking for over an hour you realize that you are barely level with Bow Summit, the high point on the highway.  Then you boulder hop and walk across badly foreshortened scree to the base of the steep gullies.  We gladly found snow in these gullies, and armed with crampons this time, made quick progress up to the top.  Again, we found ourselves in the cloud ceiling and did not get to experience what would undoubtedly be a great view of the Wapta.

Marc moving around a cliff band in the gully.

The gullies did have their hazards, though.  We experienced some small icefall events from some small waterfalls along the sides.  Luckily the snow was all well bonded and so avy hazard wasn't high in our minds.

Brad following up the gullies on Weed.  Peyto and Bow Lakes behind.

After summiting we carefully downclimbed the gully and then bashed our way back down the the highway.  It was a good climb in the upper sections where the snow made it fun and much more enjoyable than scree, but the lower bushwack and scree march would not be worth it if the gullies were snow free.  This one would be a great one to do early in the season when you can count on some nice snow slopes to made the climbing more aesthetic.  The views from the top on a clear day would be amazing.  If not for the undeveloped approach, I think this peak would be extremely popular.

CaNoRock

I got the chance of a lifetime this fall.  The CSA, along the the universities of Alberta, Calgary and Saskatchewan (in Canada at least) fund an introductory rocketry course called CaNoRock.  It's essentially a one week exchange where they fly us to the Norwegian arctic to do a launch with a bunch of Norwegian students.  I was lucky enough to get selected to go, and on September 30 I started the 2 day trip to Andenes.

Sunrise while flying over the Atlantic

I met the U of A gang in the Edmonton airport, and soon enough I was headed to Europe!  I hadn't really had a chance to get excited but the further I got from home the more it sunk in.  Hopping over to Oslo took only a short flight and soon enough we found ourselves at the airport hotel which had been booked for us.  After waking up at ungodly early hours we flew north to Tromso (Paris of the North!) and then hopped on a Dash 8 which flew us to Andenes on the island of Andøya.  We also managed to meet up with the rest of the Canadians in the Oslo airport which was comforting; we had begun to think we were screwing something up.

Our Dash 8 fueling up in Tromso.  Just like Paris, except not

The Andøya Rocket Range is the northernmost rocket launch facility in the world and is commonly used to launch sounding rockets.  These aren't news headline grabbing human launches to the ISS, but instead they are used to do high altitude scientific experiments.  Even still, NASA was on site assembling their CHAMPS rocket which launched a few days after we left, studying meteorite debris around 120km altitude.

A model of the first rocket launched from Andøya

The island was quite a bit warmer than I had expected (we were in the Arctic Circle, after all) and it was actually a pretty nice place to be!  The Arctic Ocean was right there complete with white sand beaches, and a small mountain range shot up right behind the range.  The weather, on the other hand, wasn't so peachy.  Apparently, 120 days of the year, Andenes experiences gale force winds OR HIGHER.  Still, it's a cool town and an even cooler place considering that I was at a rocket range.

The town of Andenes, Norway

The course got up and running pretty quick.  We got some lectures on general rocketry and then they split us up into small groups to tackle the various parts of the rocket and its launch.  I was placed in the telemetry group, which meant my group would be dealing with the transmission of data from the rocket back to the ground.  We mostly spent our time working with the ground antennas and calibrating the radio equipment for our specific rocket.

The rest of the groups went over the rocket physics, payload, the experiment, and there was even a group devoted to atmospheric sciences.  The rocket physics group modeled the rocket's flight and estimated our apogee elevation and an estimated splashdown location.  The payload and experiment groups worked closely with the sensors we were sending up on the rocket.  The payload group also made sure that the rocket was properly balanced.  The atmospheric group launched two weather balloons and also constructed the humidity sensor that went on board.

On launch day, we all were assigned responsibilities.  I was in charge of steering the manual antenna to receive the radio signal transmitted by our rocket.  It was notoriously tough according to the U of S students; apparently it almost never managed to maintain a radio sync.  The antenna has to be steered using two dials which control the azimuth and elevation angles, so I ran a couple of practice runs to get a feel for the dials and make sure I was at the right angles at the right time.  When the actual launch went down, we kept a sync the whole way.  Disappointingly, the computer software used to download and store the data decided to freeze right after the launch, so we never managed to retrieve the data we collected.

Steering the antenna during the launch.  The antenna is the funny white thing outside the window.

Our rocket blasting off.  I was busy steering the antenna, so this is one of David P's photos.

I learned pretty fast that rocket launches are a lot like hunting; it's all fun until you shoot.  We had a post-flight meeting where we reviewed the launch.  Right after that the calculators came out and we started mashing data.  We prepared our presentations and then went into Andenes for pizza and a brief (read: horribly expensive) visit to a local bar.

Me holding the rocket about an hour before launch.

The course finished off with a tour of the local atmospheric radar station ALOMAR.  They use high powered LIDAR to study the upper atmosphere, which is pretty darn cool.  Apparently their lasers have a safety distance of 350km.  That means that if the ISS were to fly over ALOMAR (it doesn't) the astronauts on it would have to board up all the windows to prevent eye damage.

CaNoRock was one of the coolest things I have done.  It definitely changed the way I look at rocket launches.  There is a lot of work that goes into even a small student rocket like the one we fired off; I can't imagine the preparation that must go into the larger launches they do from Andøya.  This had made me definitely want to get more involved with rocketry and the space industry, we'll see if I can find a summer placement or internship.

If you're a undergraduate student in Physics or Engineering at one of the partner Universities, and you're interested in the aerospace industry, you should definitely check this program out.  I didn't think I had a chance, but low and behold I got accepted.  Information on CaNoRock can be found at the following websites:

ISSET-CaNoRock
ISSET-CaNoRock V (January 2012)
CaNoRock Program Description
Andøya Rocket Range

Leadership

When I first joined the ACC, I was 12 and literally thought I could go climbing.  Neither parents were very "hardcore" in the mountains, they don't even backpack.  Alot of day-hikes were what they did, and my Dad had at one point taken a rock climbing course with the famous Hans Schwartz.  I think he went up Wiwaxy too.  But that was the entire extent of my parental encouragement.

I took the Edmonton Section's "Summer in the Mountains" which was awesome.  We were taught by an awesome group of experienced members of the ACC.  I won't name 'em because I don't want to track them down to ask permission but they instilled some great skills on me and my dragged-along Dad (required to come along with me due to legalities).  I owe a whole ton to these people who let me get started out in the mountains.  I also owe my Dad a pretty big slap on the back for devoting so much time to my new hobby.

After the course I remember signing up for my first ACC trip.  It was the "good old days" of the club when a guy named Jim led 12 of us beginners up Temple.  Now that trip was mostly a hike but its still a big peak and how the club ever allowed one guy (and an ancient, wrinkled, sage named Wayne) to take 12 people onto a 11,000 foot peak I don't know.  The short story is that I took a non-Chantalle approach to the snow slopes below the summit, and decided it would be faster to descend by running down them than to walk down the ridge (oh how 12 year old minds work).  It was midsummer and I inevitably post-holed and fell flat on my front.  Skidding down the snow (I must've weighed 80lbs or less) I then lost hold of my ice axe.  After wrangling it in, I managed to arrest (thank god for that part of the SIM course), but neither my Dad nor Jim were very impressed.

Fast forward just shy of 8 years and I'm leading an ACC trip of my own.  Not much has happened over those years; discovery of my Dad's chronic altitude sickness plagued my ACC membership until I turned 18 at which point I started doing some scrambles.  I never really picked it up though.  This summer would be different.  I had plans for almost every weekend of my 4-month hiatus from university.  The first trip Chris and I would do together would be a "beginner" scrambling trip to Heart Mountain and Baldy.

"Beginner" Scrambling

We met some of our group at the campground on Friday night, and in an odd turn of events the only local on the trip managed to get lost on his way to Mt. Kidd RV Park.  Anyway, we found him on Saturday morning at the Heart Creek parking lot and set off (beginner mistake #1: not signing the waiver!)  We worked our way easily up to the summit and it felt far too early to head back down so we spotted a peak lying to the S and decided to see if the connecting ridge would go.

Our group on the top of Heart Mountain, with our extension behind.  Little did I know this would likely be one of the only weekends with consistently good weather all season!

It turned out to be overall quite easy with a small tough down-climb hidden by some trees.  We went down on the right hand side, and after traversing a ledge managed to get down a short (slightly overhanging) step to easier ground.  There was also a nice-looking corner feature which looked quite good but had a much larger fall potential.  From there a nice walk with some short but airy exposed parts took us to the summit block which we climbed on solid rock to the climber's left of an obvious gully.

Go up on the left, down via the gully.  You could head up the gully if you're bored of solid rock and are looking for some of that awful treadmill scree, which we just don't get enough of in the Rockies.

Once on top there is another, twin summit, with a real register and some sort of weather/survey pole (?).  The map says they're about the same height and I'd tend to agree.  Getting there involves descending a gully on the South side and contouring around the summit block to intercept the connecting ridge.  From there walk over to the other summit.  We experienced some hair-trigger wet-snow avy conditions and had to tread carefully but later in the season it should be pretty darn easy.

The West twin.  This nice peak isn't named on the map but at least 5 different names were in the East register.

We sat around and enjoyed our lunch before setting off back towards the cars. This was much easier than coming over and we made good time back to the main summit.  Although one participant was quite slow on the descent we still made it off in one piece.  Although Chris and I both know we made a few mistakes up there, we made it out with everybody in one piece.  I'll call that a success.

The most boring post here

So, here goes.  I'm starting a blog, and I'm not going to lie, it feel pretty lame right now.  Who will honestly read this?  Well probably nobody.  I'm mostly going to use this as a way to remember trips and adventures rather than just having a bunch of photos sitting on my computer.

My goal is for this to be the worst post I write.  Everything else should be actually interesting, not me blathering on about day-to-day stupidity.  Most blogs that I've read are by people who are honest-to-god the best at what they do.  They're mountain guides, respected mountaineers and skiers.  I can't compete with that; I'm just a boring post-secondary student who gets to go play in the Rockies once in a blue moon.  But maybe this will turn out to be a cool and more concrete way to remember stuff I've done with some great friends.  Sort of like a photo album.  At least that's the idea...

Well enough useless chit-chat I might as well start off and get some interesting stuff up here!  Hopefully you'll find the content as cool as I do.

Craig