Hut Building 1970 - Photo: Peter Jordan

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The tfarsity øddoor ClubJournal

VOLUME XIII 1970

‘7,4e ireaizy of Btitcóh Colum6iaVancouver, Canada

V.0.C. EXECUTIVE 1969—1970

Honorary President and Vice—PresidentMr. and Mrs. JD. Watson

President Charlie BrownVice-President Cathy MilliganSecretary Joy PettyTreasurer Bill McClintockCabin Marshall Herb Dragert —

Tak UyedeClimbing Chairman Rick PriceArchivist Carol FennyJournal Editor Sara OliverMembership Chairman Gordon PiperPublic Relations

Officer Ken Lefever -

Jim ByersSki Chairman Lenny WinterP.A.R.C. Chairman Mike MilesQuartermaster Kim Carswell

V..OC. EXECUTIVE 1970—1971

President Mike MilesVice—President Sara OliverSecretary Vivian WebbTreasurer Ken CraigCabin Marshall Ross Beaty -

Brian ThickeClimbing Chairman Paul StarrArchivist Cindy MateriJournal Editor Judy SparksMembership Chairman Bob Brusse —

Ann LittlePublic Relations

Officer Cam PearceSki Chairman Gail TrethewayP.A.R.C. Chairman Doug DavisonQuartermaster Bill Prescott

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PRESIDENT’ S MESSAGE

During my four years with V.O.C. asteady change has been taking place withinthe club. When I first joined, it seemedthat the majority of members were downhill skiers, the Whistler cabin was thefocus of club activity, Christmas ski-trips went over BIG, and most of theclimbing, mountaineering, and ski-touringwas done by a vocal, but small number ofmembers. This is no longer true. Morehiking and climbing trips are now beingled by a larger number of people than everbefore. For example——this Christmas therewere four ski-touring trips on which one-quarter of the club participated. Thischange in emphasis has had numerous results

The most obvious effect is at theWhistler Cabin, which was designed to holdtwo hundred people. Even though the cabinis being used every weekend, it is question.able whether the number of people using itjustifies the time, effort, and moneyrequired to maintain it. The obvious andbest remedy is to drastically increase thenumber of downhill skiers in the club.while maintaining the present keen climbingand hiking programme.

This year, more trips of a highercalibre have been scheduled, and for thisreason more accidents have been’happening.Eryl Pardoe was killed during a club tripto the Border Peaks last summer, NigelEggers was seriously injured in theTantalus Range, and Bob Woodsworth wascaught in an avalanche on Mt. Schaffer.No one is to blame for these accidents asthey are inherent to the sport, but unlessmountain safety is continually stressed, thefrequency of accidents can be expected toincrease.

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Last summer V,O.C. (with a grant fromthe B.C. Sports and Physical Fitness Fund)built its second high elevation hut. “TheNeve Hilbon’, on Mount Garibaldi. Thissummer we will hopefully be building amemorial hut for Eryl Pardoe. These hutsdo a great deal towards promoting hikingand climbing, and the “Eryl Pardoe MemorialHut’ will be an epitaph that Eryl wouldhave approved of.

T would like to thank all my executive,who without exception have done a tremendousjob. I am especially indebted to RolandBurton, Sara Oliver and Paul Starr. Without their unceasing effort, many of theV.0_C. activities this past year wouldnot have been organized.

Finally, as I look back over the pastfour years, I am aware of the changes thathave occurred to me, and to my friends, asa result of the Varsity Outdoor Club.V.O.C. has opened a new world to me, and tosay the least, it has chanqed my outlookon life. I hope that V.0_C. continues togrow and modify. but that the experiencesand friendship that characterize it neverchange.

Mike Miles

President 1970—1971

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EDITOR’S MESSAGE

I would like to take this opportunityto thank all those who contributed articlesand photographs, spent time typing andproof-reading, and gave advice in order toproduce this journal. Obtaining articlesfrom people is always a difficult job butin the end, I was lucky to receive all thearticles promised me.

I hope you all enjoy reading thejournal this year and thank you once againfor your support.

Judy Sparks

Editor, 1970

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TABLE OF CONTENTS

Page

V.O.C. Executive iPresident’s Message Mike Miles li—HiEditor’s Message Judy Sparks iv

GENERAL CLUB ACTIVITIESSocial Activities 1970 Judy Sparks 1Awards Cindy Materi 4Grad News Cindy Materi 5

WINTER AND SPRING ACTIVITIES -

JANUARY TO MAY, 1970.Neve Traverse Bob Brusse 8Midterm Break Cycle

Trip Sal McEwan 11Easter Canoeing Doug Rogers 13Exerpts from the

Sphinx Log 1970 Dave Rosenbluth 14

Hour Peak Steve White 20

SUMMER ACTIVITIES -

MAY TO SEPTEMBER, 1970.Tetrahedron Peak - Peter Jordan 23Mt. Sedgewick Barry Narod 24

Olympic Beach Traverse Sara Oliver 25

Bamfield for theUnemployed Sara Oliver 27

NcGillivray Pass Rob Brusse 28

LeGrand Tour deSaltspring Doug Monk 31

Wedge Mountain Ellen Woodd 39Ruby Lake Canoe Trip Rod McLeish 40Mamquarn Number One Louise Purdey 41The West Lion Ellen Woodd 43Canadian Border Peak Ellen Woodd 44Canadian and American

Border Peaks Paul Starr 45Shall We Try For

Sedgewick? Sara Oliver 51

SUMMER ACTIVITIES (Cont’d.)Mt. Rexford

Mt. BakerCheamGal iano—Mayne

Cycling TripWhat is Rainier?

AUTUMN AND WINTER -

SEPTEMBER TO DECEMBER 1970.Bowron Lakes Canoe

TripTenquille LakeHut Building 1970The Lake Lovely Water

Trip: or How Not ToDo An Ice-Axe Arrest

Sky Pilot MountainCadet MountainGoat MeadowsLong Hike 1970:

or BlueberriesMaking Hiking Slow

Mamquam MountainThe Infamous ChilliwackHarrison Cycling TripWedgemont LakeChief DaySky Pilot-Shear Area

CHRISTMAS TRIPSChristmas at O’HaraThirteen Came Home

From O’HaraMcGillivray Pass

Christmas 1970Mt. AssiniboineRed Mountain

JenniferLi lbu rnRolf KullakHarry Bruce

Harry BruceJohn Frizeli

Pat Gibson 60Bill Prescott 55Barry Narod 66

Paul StarrNeil HumphreyLii DeasPeter Jordan

Bill Prescott 78

Sara Gollinq 79Jack McCutcheon 81Dave Whiting 82Marilynn Rode 83Paul Starr 86Eric white 87

Wendy Watson 89

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Fred Thiessen 92Ann Little 94Peter Barkham 97

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CLIMBS AND EXPEDITIONS PageNirvana Peter Macek 101Squam ish—Cheakamus

Divide Roland Burton 103(Cayley Traverse) Jim Byers

Boundary Mountains TerryRollerson 109

McBride Expedition Roland Burton 111Ellen Woodd

Bushwacking 115Saxifraga and Cassiope

Peaks Peter Jordan 116Pinecone Lake Peter Jordan 117Notes on Some Squamish

Chief Climbs Paul Starr 118The Northeast Buttress

of Mount Slesse Ian Paterson 121Last March to Beni Dick Culbert 124Judge Howie Approached Rick Price 128

SPECIAL FEATURESSnow—camping Roland Burton 130Ski Touring Roif Kullak 131Air Drop Roland Burton 133Truths and Consequences

About Air Drops Barry Narod 137Bush Classification

System Roland Burton 139Expedition Food

Planning Peter Macek 141The Broken Board Award Barry Narod 145Goon Awards Ellen Woodd 147Incident Near Little

Da]. Lake John Rance 148Remembrance of a

Friend Killed John Rance 151Climbing

SOCIAL ACTIVITIES 1970

JUDY SPARKS

It’s the Reunion Party at theWhistler Cabin, the first weekend afterChristmas. The cabin is filled withshouts of “Our trip was THE BEST:.”.And then the Battle of the Bands: Who’sto win - the Bachelor Mountain DownhillSki Trip or the Russet Lake Ski TouringTrip And the dinner that nightNobody can beat Jim Byers’ spaghetti andmeat sauce, topped off with garlic bread:

The rumours are floating about. “Isthis year the year for the University’sOpen House?” Three weeks later7VOC’ers led by Chris MacNeill, manage toput on a show for the visitors.... Whoput the footprints up the front of theHennings Building, anyway?

Open House and the Chorus Lines atthe Whistler Cabin. The budding ballerinas outdanced the girls this year andleapt gracefully to victory, overwhelmingthe judges Remember the duet by thetwo delightful Sugar Plum Fairies

Duck and dive, duck and dive.. . .butwatch out for those lifeguards .. ..“Nopushing people in, or it’s out of the poolfor all of you” VOC’ers splashed thepublic for two hours at Percy Norman Pool,then it was over to Christy’s house to shakeout the extra water doing the Salty Dog Ragand Virginia Reel.

The big event for the socialites: theannual VOC Banquet, held Friday, March 13(what a day to choose:) in the S,U,B.Ballroom. Conversations overhead:

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“Everybody looks so different Oh no:That couldn’t possibly be Gordy Piper...wearing a suit:” ... Presentations,awards, and everybody cheering as RolandBurton is awarded the gold pin. . . .Thenit’s thousands of miles away, to Nepal,through Byron and Jane Olsen’s slides oftheir climbing experiences there. Laterthat was dancing, and more dancing, andmore dancing... .Salty Dog Rags duringintermission and the band just couldn’tbelieve it . . .Evening ended with anafter—party at Kathy Bickerton’s home.

.Great Sing-song led by Art Neumann.Then it was off home, after breakfast ofcourse, in order to get some sleep andget ready for the annual Vedder River Runon Sunday.

.It’s impossible: The first day ofclasses is already over. Reunion Party isat Ross Beaty’s, complete with swimming anda trip to Vancouver Airport to wave goodbye to Christy Shaw and Marg Lockwood whoare off to Europe. But it’s great to seeeveryone again and to hear tales of summerexperiences.

It’s Clubs Day and a first prize forthe VOC booth, Judges must have beenimpressed by Wynne Gorman prussiking upS.TJ.B. and Cam and Gail cooking their lunch(macaroni and cheese) on the plaza.

.black night, pumpkins glowing,witches on broomsticks, and black cats....Hallowe’en Party at the Whistler Cabinand the cabin packed with one hundred andfifty costumed VOC’ers. The theme wasadvertising.... how many cans of RAID didI see? Highlight of the evening was theapple bobbing Mike Miles got a reallygood dunking at the hands of Paul Starr....

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Feature too: the debut of the VOC bandplaying their version of the polka.

Now it’s the annual Curling Party atthe Thunderbird Arena and VOC’ers arewinging their rocks, and themselves, downthe ice. Visiting between teams was great,.....but the sweeping’ Then off toJudy’s to a fun-filled after-party. completewith games led by our P.E. rep., JillBridgman. Evening ended with a footballgame outside in the back garden, at midnight.

•But Hark... “Deck the halls withboughs of holly, Pa la la la la, la lala la” Take forty souls, sprinkle withsnow, add carol sheets, and open mouths,and you have a picture of the VOC carollersat the Christmas Party. Later, the partycx,ntinued at Mike Miles...dancing...eating....dancing....eating.... I’ve never seenso much food

A great party to end the socialactivities of 1970

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AWARDS

PHOTOGRAPHY COMPETITION

Best Colour Slide of Art NeumannCompetition

Best Black and White Roland BurtonPhotograph

DAMN DOWNHILL

This year, due to the small number ofpeople wishing to participate, the event wasrun without classes. The race was held onWhistler Mountain-—the course: from the topof the T-Bar to the bottom of the Red Chairrun. Overall winner of the Damn Downhillwas LIB COVERNTON.

GOLD PIN

The silver and gold pin awards arepresented to members who have done outstanding work in the club. Over the years. therehave been quite a number of people who havecontributed “above and beyond the call ofduty” and who have received the silver pin.

The gold pin is the highest honourVarsity Outdoor Club can bestow upon one ofits members in recognition of his outstanding service to the club. Up until now,there have been only three gold pins awarded.

This year, the gold pin was awarded toROLAND BURTON for his work in planning andbuilding the high altitude hut at GaribaldiLake and in his honour the hut has beennamed the Burton Hut.

GRAD NEWS

CINDY MATERI

EUROPENancy Deas and Lou Purdy are touringaround Eope.

Peter Macek and John Rance are trekking over the peaks of Europe for ayear and then they plan to head forthe Himalayas.

Barbara Fulton is on a scholarship.studying French at the University ofCaen, in Normandy in France.

Peter Thompson is heading forSwitzerland for further studies inGeology.

Marg and Brian Ellis are attendingUniversity in Germany.

SOUTH AMERICAJohn Ricker is in Peru collectingmaterial for the climbing “GuideBook to Peru” which he is now writing. He is expected back thissummer.

Sue Tatum was in Peru helping take acensus during the disaster in thatcountry. She is now in Vancouver.

JAMAl CAMonica (Naysrnith) Morris is headingfor Jamaica.

NEPALAndres Loo is travelling around theworld. When last heard from, he wasviewing the Himalayas.

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HONG KONGLen Beaty is coming back from Hong Kongthis summer after having taught therefor two years.

CANADALinda Kemp is teaching in Kelowna.

Ken McKenzie (“Pine Tree”) and Eursula-—Ken is a doctor in Squamish.

Sally McEwan is a probation officer inPrince George.

Kathy Milligan is on a ranch inCalgary.

Jan and Hugh Naylor are residing inPemberton.

Joe Petty is a dietitian, interningin Toronto.

Patrick Powell is in Electrical Engineering at the University of Toronto.

John Rathjen is principal of a schoolin Alexis Creek, B.C.

U.S.A.Glenn Wordsworth is at the Universityof Princeton in New Jersey.

LATEST HITCHINGS

The editor of the 1969 Journal apologizes to the editor of the 1968 Journal,the former Sue Cushing, for the omission ofmention of her marriaje to Dave Wingate inthe summer of 1969.

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Charlie Brown and Manly Baker in

May, 1970.

Alec Deas and Joan Taylor in July,

1970.

Paul Starr and Marilyn Gilmour in

October, 1970.

Reg Wild and Joy Stanley inNovember, 1970.

Paul Sims and Maureen in October.

1970.

Les Watson and Carol in April, 1971in Calgary.

OFFSPRING

Dick and Alice Culbert —— a girl.

Denny and Marilyn Hewgill -- a boy.

Jan and Hugh Naylor -— a boy.

Michael J. Miles wishes it to be known that

he has not had any offspring (that he

knows of) Lucky Mike

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NEVE TRAVERSE

BOB BRUSSE SPRING 1970 - MIDTERMBREAK

PARTY: Roland Burton Bill PrescottMike Miles Gunther ?Andy Carson Bob Brusse

Kathy Bickerton Debbie WraggJudy Sparks Chris McNeilRolf Kullak

Knowledge of the Garibaldi Mountain area,and in particular the Neve Traverse route toGaribaldi Lake, is as integral a part of VOCas is its Whistler cabin or its climbingequipment. The recurrence of articlesrelating to the traverse testify to itsforceful impression upon the authors, ofwhich I am yet another. Garibaldi, likeother areas, does not change much from yearto year, but the flavour of experiencesaccumulated here over the past years is ouronly sustenance and all we have to tantalizeand share.

A late night ride to the parking lot(base camp of Diamond Head Chalet) and along cramped snowmobile ride to the lodgeended with nine of us standing in knee deepsnow gazing apprehensively at the veiledand sultry sky, and longingly at the smallcabin twenty-five feet away. We hadrented the cabin after rationalizingthatthe expense was justified on the groundsthat we would be able to leave for HighPoint (the highest point on the Neve, midway between Diamond Head and Sphinx Camp)early the next morning, unencumbered bythe menial tasks of warming our clothes,food and convictions for the trip ahead-

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a rationalization which subsequent eventsproved to be just that. Ah, but our convictions were saved.

Roland woke up, as is his custom,just after sunset, and was prepared totravel before we had quite knocked off tosleep, I thought. The man said somethingabout seeing blue fog and that this was agood sign. It didn’t register. I woke alittle later and can testify that a cigarette and coffee are not the things tostart the day with if you’re planning atrip that’s even a little bit keen. Thetrek up the saddle brought us above thecloud level and presented us with achoice: we could chance it and ski downinto Ring Creek and the clouds again,hoping for the best, or we could call thething off. Deciding to go ahead, thesix of us parted company with Judy (whohad managed somehow to make it up thesaddle in buckle boots and step—in bindings), Debbie, Rolf, and Kathy.

Skiing with a forty pound pack asPaul Starr has advised does not make forgrace, but skiing into treeline in thefog with a forty pound pack does make fora lot of other --—(complications). lnenterprising individual will somedayteach people the proper technique, if thereis one.

To anyone who happens to be on aNeve traverse for the first time, severalthings are vaguely hinted at but notquite explained. The first of thesephenomena is the Bridge. The Bridge onRing Creek is something everyone expectsto miss, but no—one does. It reallyexists even if you can’t see it. “It’sright there underneath you, honest,”

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several people have said to me on two orthree different occasions. The other thingthat is vaguely hinted at, is that gettingon to the Neve may be a little strenuous.No way. It’s simply a bloody hard slog.(By this time of the day I was beginningto feel the effects of only one cigarette(my last one ever?> and a coffee forbreakfast. The steady diet of glaciermints provided by Mike was as the carrot tothe donkey, and somehow kept me paces. ifonly small ones, ahead of exhaustion.)At High Point, camp was set and dinnerprepared. The hour being late, the temperature a little nippy at fifteen below, andwe tired, we hit the sack. I bowed threetimes to the south, a token of my glowingfaith in the warmth to be provided by mynew down bag. In the evening I was visitedby the gods of warmth, etc., for havingmade such a wise purchase and Roland (nowI know why he never sleeps) was visited byevil spirits in the form of Mike’s waterbottle, which leaked its entire contentsin his bag and promptly froze solid.

The trip into Sphinx Camp was uneventful insofar as personal inconveniences go.The weather cleared magnificently, leavinggood snow conditions for a spectacular runfrom High Point to just below the Shark’sFin. After Deception Pass, it was a silenttraverse down the Sentinel Glacier to thelake.

Arriving at the Burton Hut, we foundthe termometer reading ten degrees belowzero and not a sign in the registerindicating that anyone had been there sinceSeptember, just after the hut was erected.The rest of the day was spent warming upand later in sunning on the rocks.

The next day we did the 75c tour which,if you want to find out what it is, you’llhave to do at Sphinx Camp next spring foryourself. Sunday morning we woke to findit eleven below and spent some time thawing out our boots, etc. before heading outvia the Barrier Trail. The less said aboutskiing the Barrier Trail the better; sufficeit to say it qualifies as one of thoseexperiences any skier would find interesting.

At the Black Tusk Meadows, we cameacross Nancy and Lil Deas who, along withLou Purdy, had for some unknown reasonrambled up the trail for the weekend.

The drive home was uneventful withthe exception of vocal commitments by mostof the party to do the trip again, andsoon.

MIDTERM BREAK CYCLE TRIP

SAL McEWAN FEBRUARY, 1970.

PARTY:Vancouver Sillybuggers: The Winners:

Dave Whiting Mike MunsonBarry Narod Wynne GormanBarb Fulton Doug RogersJill Bridgeman Neil HumphreySal McEwan

Thursday morning, Sal’s cycle gangdescended upon the small burg of Chilliwackand almost immediately set off cyclingtowards Harrison Hot Springs. Our bigtreat of the day was an official policeescort across the Agassiz Bridge by a

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friendly cop (identified as Harvey Hamburgerby Doug Rogers). After lunch and a rousing game of circle tag on the sandspit ofHarrison Lake, we cycle back to nightlodging at Chilliwack. Succulentlydelectable morsels of spaghetti and caramel pudding were magnificently preparedby the girls of the trip, while treatedby the guys to tales of the good old daysof cub scouts and a description of Neil’sermine woggle. (Dib, Dib, Dib - to youDave). After a fast game of touch football in which the Vancouver Sillybuggerswere badly beaten by the opposing team,we were of f to bed, er sleeping bag.

Friday morn brought a leisurely 9 A.M.breakfast after which we cycle off towardsthe Vedder River. outside Sardis. Itwasn’t long before we found a pleasantspot by the river where we had lunch anda lengthy afternoon nap. Later we playeda game of soccer in a parking lot, in whichthe V.S.B.’s were soundly trounced again.After turning down a challenge by the localelementary school soccer team we cycledback to Chilliwack and headed home. Totalmiles of cycling—-about fifty.

EASTER CANOEING

DOUG ROGERS APRIL, 1970.

Led by those keen, but novice voyageurs,Mike Munson and Sally McEwan, twenty VOC’ersspent the East Weekend learning the finerpoints of canoeing. The group, less NeilHumphrey, met at the cabin Thursday night.Neil arrived about 5 A.M. Friday, and afterthawing him out of the Honda motorcycleriding position, we headed off to D’Arcy andAnderson Lake.

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The morning was spent enjoying thecalm and quiet waters, and leisurely paddi—Ing up the lake. After a lengthy lunchbreak we awoke to discover that our placidlake scene had taken on all the aspects ofthe Gulf Coast in a hurricane. It didn’ttake even the most inexperienced canoeistlong to discover that paddling into thewind is a lot more work than paddling withit.

The return voyage was further delayedby frequent stops to replenish our supplyof pine cones which were the major form ofammunition in the mQnumental naval battlesthat were continually taking place. Wereached the cars much exhausted and aftergiving our thanks to the god of the waterswe were quickly organized by Jill Bridgemaninto a game of frisbee tag — much to thedelight of the locals.

The trip back to Whistler was held upfor several hours at Pemberton. on accountof the death of the McNeilmobile (ChrisMcNeil’s V.W. bus). By 8:00 we were allback at the cabin and eating supper.

Saturday’s weather was beautiful tooand we decided that after having proved ourselves on Anderson Lake a little slow-pacedand easy canoeing at Alice Lake would be inorder. The minuteness and calmness of AliceLake allowed us to move our frisbee tag tothe water and an enjoyable afternoon washad by all. Steve White even found timefor an impromptu swim. About 4:30 we onceagain loaded up the canoes, Barb Fultontaking four on, and in her truck, andheaded home to await the arrival of theEaster Bunny.

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EXERPTS FROM THE SPHINX LOG 1970

DAVE ROSENBLUTH APRIL, 1970

Greetings from the Glacier Ghost

Your food arrived two days late. PeterJordan ate snow and ice and robbed AC.C.of salt and pepper and unholy amounts ofcrunchies and cookies. The helicopter hadto make three trips... My steak is (was)left out in the sun to rot and thus is (was)inedible. No points. McNeil! The localinhabitants are two wolverines, a fox orraccoon, an owl, some idiot whiskey jacksand lots of grungy gwonk. Big BlackRolling Ugly Gwonk.

April 18. 1970.

The Phounding of Sphinx Camp. MCMLXX.I left the parking lot at :45 A.M or so

The trip was uneventful except for avicious attack by a pack of ferocious wildwhiskey jacks. Average difficulty wasexperienced in crossing the creek and aboveaverage difficulty was experienced incrossing between Lesser Garibaldi andGaribaldi Lakes. A white out on the lakemade a compass necessary... I dug out thecabin and dug a water hole in the lake....After dusk, Pat Powell arrived.

April 21, 1970.

Me and Hannes went up to Pringle’sRidge to meet the Neve party... thecrevasses were very extensive and it wasdifficult to find a route through. Therewas one——and---only---one and it terminatesvery high on the ridge. Fresh heavy snowmade rough going. We left fifty wands

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over the route. Got back about 5:30 andfound the Neve party had come up theBarrier.

April 22, 1970.

An animal has been at the meat,although I don’t see how. It is a classfive climb in and out of the pit and it iscompletely covered and there were no tracks

Everyone except Peter Jordan andHannes went to the Guard Deception Coland enjoyed a lousy run in horrible snowand worse weather. Later, some of usjumped off cornices above the lake, whileothers built the Sphinx.... Fred has theworld’s reddest long—johns.

April 24, 1970.

Super horrible weather... All headedup to the Sphinx Deception Col despitecommon sense. The snow, however, was super—perfect. Just short of the Col. theweather suddenly worsened to gale—forcewinds, and with the greatest reluctancewe eagerly turned back, The run down wasbeautiful, in perfect deep powder snow,despite the visibility which was likebeing inside a ping-pong ball.

April 26, 1970.

Peter Jordan, Virginia Moore. RoifKullak, Hannes, and John Frizell, withNorma Kerby and Barry Narod set out forBookworms Col. .. .The summit party (all theabove) enjoyed a superb view of IsoscelesRange, Mamquam, etc. as well as a fantasticthree mile run in light true deep powder.,.Only John and Norma. using snow—shoes.weren’t exactly turned on by the downhillrun. Quote John, “Downhill snowshoeing

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has to be felt to be believed”

The following is written by John andNorma:

“Due to the inferior downhill properties ofsnowshoes, Norma and I did all but the lasthalf mile and the first half mile in a whiteout. Highlight of the trip was watchingPeter Jordan swim up the side of a monsterwind cirque. Advice to snowshoers:

1. Wax your snowshoes for downhill runs.2. Install crampons on the toes for steep

slopes.3. Do not associate with skiers.4. Use ski poles.5. Learn to ski.

In the words of the immortalized JohnFrazzled, “Snowshoeing is Hell:”

April 28—29, 1970.

After having survived several nights ofconditions in the hut somewhat ressemblinga T.B. sanatorium, a few of us decided torejuvenate the good old days when you gotup in the morning and spent the first hourthawing out your boots. Also, we thoughtwe might look at Pringle’s Ridge.... Wethought we might climb Garibaldi while wewere at it. So Norma Kerby. Ellen Woodd.Roland Burton, Peter Jordan and Barry Narodhauled ridiculously heavy packs all theway up to the aol between Glacier Pikesand Nameless Bump to the west. Here wecamped after the usual talk like “Youcan see Garibaldi better from here.”...“It’s flatter here” ... “Yes, but its amile to the john” ... “Which way doesthe wind come from?” Unfortunately, thesun set behind Nameless Bump immediately

after we had climbed it. .. .Morning. it wassnowing so we packed up our wretched packsand skied out in a white out which was sothick that Peter couldn’t even find thewands that he had put in a few days earlier.

April 29, 1970.

Cancelled.., .only eventful eventis that Wild Reg, Neil Humphrey. DaveRosenbiuth, and Art Neumann (with guitar)arrived.

April 30, 1970.

Goaded by lethargy. Dave, Art. andNeil started lazily before noon andmeandered up to Guard Deception Col, stopping en route to sun bathe, take picturesand generally beat all records for decadence and sloth. The sun came out andbathed Sphinx and the Bookworms. Had lunchat the col and decided to go no furtherdue to fog (but really it was laziness).Ski down was fantastic!

May 1, 1970.

.Marilyn (Gilmour) and I (PaulStarr) climbed with great alacrity to GuardDeception Col, only to watch the mist closein. In a fit of pique, we decided to climbthat dauntless peak, Guard Mtn. Followingmany goat tracks, we picked our way throughthe crumbling rocks only to find more goatsigns (droppings, of course) right on thesummit.. .The best part of the trip wasseeing a white ptarmigan on our way down.The ski down was misty, gorpy, and unevent.ful.

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May 2, 1970.

The great Garibaldi Expedition triumphed, and that beautiful peak succumbedto hordes of Sphinx — campers (sixteen noless), including three prominent dignitaries of the VOC W.L.F. (Ellen, Wynne, andMarilyn) ... The weather was excellent andthe run down fun, although a bit soupy.

Also that day. . . Good weather endslethargy. and six (Duncan Etches, Jim ByersDave Rosenbluth, Vera Rosenbiuth. Karenand Ken Lefever) climbed Sphinx (four toDeception Col). After watching the Garibaldi horde storm the bergshrund, wetraversed to the Bookworms. Four climbedthe north peak (most of the way) andsoaked up the sun until we figured supperwould be ready by the time we skied down.

May 3, 1970.

Louise Purdey and John Rance didGuard. This was a last minute decision.The original plan had called for doingnothing today, but the weather was justtoo good. After we came back to the col.we met Neil Humphrey who went up and didit solo. The run down is irrelevant,because neither of us can ski.

May 4, 1970.

Hour Peak has fallen. The lastvirgin peak within a reasonable day’strip to Sphinx Camp was climbed by DuncanEtches, Paul Starr, and Steve White. Wealso did a ski traverse of Isosceles Peak.Near tragedy was averted when Steve andPaul climbed down seven hundred to eighthundred feet to recover Paul’s run—awayski. A very fine and strenuous trip.

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May 5, 1970.

A slack do nothing, burn the garbageand dry everything out day. Mixed weatherconditions —— from sun to snow.

Suggestion that came to mind:

Unless some permanent garbagefacilities are planned, a well-thoughtout procedure that is basically foolproof should be conceived and appropriateinstructions to carry out this plan beposted in the cabin. While trying to cleanup garbage so as to achieve the ‘no—one’sbeen here before” look as in the past, Ifound remains of burned garbage in twodistinct locations, the second of whichstill lacked any signs of efforts to keepit in one small area.

.Gradually the life in high mountainsis taking its toll. Each morning it becomesharder to get up and eat breakfast. Soonthe will to resist the dishwashers becomestoo weak, and they wash your cup; then youcan’t find it and your food is cut off.accelerating the downward slide. The citybeckons, with promise of a bath and summerwork; broken only by about fifteen weekends

It seemed to be a large trip this year;some disbelief from the Parks Branch thatwe sleep twenty here and feed maybe thirty—five. If there are more than about fifteen,it becomes hopelessly crowded and then itdoesn’t matter any more,... I don’t thinkwe’ve changed the ecology too badly.

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HOUR PEAK

STEVE WHIflE MAY 3, 1970.

PARTY: Steve WhiteDuncan EtchesPaul Starr

One morning, (very early by mystandards, since Sphinx time was alreadytwo hours ahead of city time, and I hadleft the city only a couple of daysearlier) Paul was talking about going somewhere in around Isosceles and Parapetpeaks. There were rumours about a firstascent of a little peak back there.Duncan was going and I, very keen aftera beautiful trip the day before, andSphinx being the first time I had reallyski-toured, decided to follow along.

It took us about three hours to reachBookworm Col. The snow was still frozen,so it was easy going and a beautiful day.We picked our way down the steep west sideof Grey Pass, mostly by the traverse andkick turn method. There was a cute littlecliff which we sideslipped down among therocks (it was even more fun coming backup). The other side of the pass was inthe sun, we now broke through the crustand it was extremely hot. The mountainswere wild and beautiful. Paul and Duncanpointed out the wonders of the world tome (such as a narrow crevasse extendingdown into bluey darkness). We went northto Parapet and had lunch on the north sideof Isosceles, looking way down intoCheakamus canyon and up to Sir Richard andMount V.0 C.

20

We decided we might go on towards HourPeak and see how the time went. The bestway seemed to be through a crevasse fieldunder some beautiful cornices — it wasstill early in the day, so it should beokay?

Well, we were at the foot of Hour, soof course we were going to climb it aftercoming this far. One side of the peak wasvery impressive, but it was a fairly easy(class 4?) climb up the back. We congratulated ourselves and built our littlecairn. We guessed the peak to be about7700 feet. Paul was gloating over how madPeter Macek would be that he didn’t botherto come.

It was getting kind of late so wefigured we should hurry a bit, as we werea fair distance away from camp. We camewest over the top of Isosceles. The viewwas fantastic; we could see Baker andShuksan to the south and I don’t know whatin the other directions. We could alsolook way down into Cheakamus Canyon on oneside and Pitt Canyon on the other, about2000 feet and very steep.

Coming down off Isosceles, it wasfairly steep and narrow. I didn’t have apack so I decided to ‘run it’ to a flatspot just below the peak of Parapet. Paulhad a pack and he did a somersault. Hisskis came off and his safety straps held —

but the cable to which one strap wasattached, didn’t. The ski went by metowards the depths of Pitt Canyon.Luckily it stopped just above an icefall,otherwise it would have been lost. Istarted after it and Paul borrowed Duncan’sskis and came down too. We were both toostubborn to stop while the other went downto get the ski. So we both skiied down this

21

very steep bowl with the snow creaking allaround us. It was late in the day and veryslushy, hence kind of unstable. A coupleof minor avalanches broke off at our skitracks. It was just as well that therewere two of us, as it was very steep comingout of the bowl. One carried the ski whilethe other broke trail.

We found Duncan waiting at Grey Pass.He had waded through the snow carrying oneski. Duncan and Paul got their skis sortedout and fixed. It was quite late as weclimbed the steep slope back to the Bookworm Col. Luckily it was in the shade allday, therefore fairly frozen. At BookwormCol it was an easy run down the corridor tothe Burton Hut. The snow was grungy but itwas all downhill.

A very enjoyable and fairly strenuoustrip. A great way to get turned on to ski—touring and mountaineering.

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McG

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1970

SUMMER ACTIVITIES -

MAY TO SEPTEMBER 1970

TETRAHEDRON PEAK

PETER JORDAN MAY 6-7, 1970.

PARTY: Mike Miles Emil AbolashJim Byers Peter Jordan

As a small but insane group of SphinxCamp veterans, we decided we had had enoughof the slack, wide—open spaces and set offto purify ourselves with some real bush.The Tetrahedron group looked like a goodplace to start - it’s the group of threepeaks visible when looking down the WestMall, at U,B.C.

A late start was forced because of theferry ride over. Emil’s aging PontiacGrande Slug took us a few feet up the logging road, and we continued on foot in searchof the “trail” described in the MountainTrail Guide. This proved non-existent, sowe faked it through the forest, fightingwindfalls, devil’s club, and knee—deep snowuntil we reached tirriberline and a reasonable campsite at about 4500 feet. Wespent the rest of the day stomping a levelplace. big enough to pitch the Crestlineand Mike’s Ultimate Inferior.

The peak is of negligible difficultycompared to the approach. Deep snow andlots of vegetable holds. Emil and I alsostrolled up Mt. Rainy and bumschussed backto camp. Seeking a better route down, wedropped straight into the logged-off area,much to our regret. Very many hours were

23

spent fighting only a very short distancebut through impenetrable second growth,characterized by the rare but notoriousRubus Horibilis, which combines the worstcharacteristics of slide alder and devil’sclub.

Conclusion: Is a class 1 peak worth aclass 4 buskwack?

MT. SEDGEWICK

BARRY NAROD MAY 9-10. 1970.

PARTY: John Frizell (L) Emil AbolashPeter Jordan Jim ByersMike Miles Barry Narod

Being the first weekend after SphinxCamp, we decided to open the climbing seasonwith a slack two day run up Mt. Sedgewick(and Roderick). 6:00 Friday evening, phonecalls completed, we headed up to the Wood—fibre ferry and spent Friday night at theFrizell residence (no. 14, the white one).

A brisk 8:30 start, a quick run up toHenrietta Lake found us at snowlirie fairlyearly in the day. Typical early May weather-foreboding skies, crusty snow, dampened ourbodies but not quite our spirits. Jim andI were able to skitter along the uppermostcrust, but for some reason Mike was entirelyunable to stay on top of the snow. Eachstep that he took would be a series ofmuscle straining breakthroughs anywherefrom knee deep to hip deep into the snow.Cold, wet and tired, we reached Roderickas it was getting dark and set up camp.

2l

An early start next morning to catchthe hard snow, lunch on the sammit, backwards wolverine tracks on the way back whichfor some reason detoured our camp, and moregrungy snow for the pack out finished ourtrip. We had successfully extended anormally easy one day trip into a longtwo-dayer.

OLYMPIC BEACH TRAVERSE

SARA OLIVER MAY 16-18, 1970.

PARTY — North to South:Walter Boizer (L) Susie LabergeWendy Taylor Nelie JohnsonSheila Townsend Emil AbolashEric Hinze Sara OliverPaul Aube Margot ?John & Patsy Swift

— South to North:Pat Howe Susan RouleauDaryl Woods Dave MitchellIan Patterson Rod McLeishJanet Marshall Andres LooAnne Sawarna Katherine WoodPat Gibson Patrick Taylor

We left Vancouver on a rainy Saturdaymorning and drove through Washington toKeystone. While waiting for the ferry wejoined the other cars, explored the near—byfort ruins, and were amused by a middle—aged motorcycle gang. We arrived in PortTownsend just before a noon parade celebrating a pop festival and were the only carsdriving down crowd-lined streets. Talkabout being on display We all met inSappho, where we divided into two groups -

one starting in the south, and one starting Iin the north.

25

We (the northern group) drove to Ozette,where we parked the cars and hiked throughthe woods (along a good trail) to the beach.A short way down the beach we found a campsite, set up the tents, and had dinner. Itcleared that night and the moon was beautiful on the waves.

Sunday was clear and sunny for the dayshike down the beach. We met the other groupfor lunch, exchanging keys and comparingJapanese floats collected along the way.The rare stretches of sand were welcomeafter climbing over rocks most of the way.By late afternoon we were tired and readyto stop for the night. Walter kept usgoing with the promise that Cape Johnson(our goal for the day) was just around thenext cape — and the next — and the next —

and finally it was.

Although Monday was another gloriousday, many of us wore lots of clothes to keepfrom burning our sunburns. Our goal fortoday was the flat—topped rock off thebeach at La Push. We continued to roundcapes, hurrying to beat the tides. At onepoint the tide won out and we had to climbover a headland. Finally we reached thelast cape, and climbing through a rockyarch half-full of water, we stopped for aswim,. After picking up the cars, we droveto Sappho, got into our own cars, anddrove to Winslow. Here we caught theferry for Seattle and the Co—op.

This is a super trip for beach loverswith a long week-end and at least two cars,

26

BAMFIELD FOR THE UNEMPLOYED

SARA OLIVER MAY 20-24, 1970.

PARTY: Mike Miles Chris McNeilNeil Humphrey Jim ByersAnn Little Wynne GormanSara Oliver Steve & Francis

Sykes

On a sunny Wednesday, the actively unemployed filled the infamous McNeil-Mobile(don’t sit on the herbs, plants or loom:)and headed for Victoria via the Tsawwassen—Swartz Bay ferry. Here we stopped to pickup Steve and Francis (Chris’ sister and herhusband). We drove to Bamfield — stoppingto repair a flat tire on our poor bus - andset up camp on the beach at the end of thelogging road. Because Chris insisted ontempting the gods by sleeping out, it beganto rain in the night.

We picked everything up in the morningand moved to a near—by shack to dry out andhave breakfast. The hike to Pachena Beachwas wet and uneventful — not even the sealions were out in the rain. We set up ouralready wet tents and gave up all ideas ofsurvival tests — except Chris. of course,who lived in a tree and plastic sheetshelter.

Most of us slept in on Friday morning —

why get up in the rain. Oh well, we hadMike’s quick wit (talk about illuminatingpersonalities) to entertain us, lots offood to eat, and we would be going hometomorrow. But by mid—afternoon it hadcleared somewhat, so Mike and I collectedmussels, goose—neck barnacles, and snailsfor dinner. Yumniy (I don’t think Ann andWynne were convinced)

27

The next day was super — sunshine.While Francis and I enjoyed the sun, theothers hiked down the beach and returnedfor dinner full of enthusiasm for the seacaves they had found and explored. Deciding to stay the extra day had been a greatidea.

Sunday was another beautiful day, butwe really didhave to get home. We packedup and hiked back to the bus, dreaming allthe way of the Chocolate Milkshake Stevehad been talking about during the entiretrip. When we finally hit the Dairy Queenin Port Alberni we staged a real horrshow.Ive never seen so few people consume somuch ice cream in so little time! Each ofthe guys had at least three concoctions.As we slowly rolled back onto the highway,stuffed with ice cream, the sight of thepint Jim had bought at the last momentmade everyone a bit green — but we finishedit. We dropped Steve and Francis off inVictoria, drove to the ferry looking forpec3iddles and ganging up to tickle Mike.and just caught the last ferry for home -

where a traffic jam from Tsawwassen awaited

McGILLIVRAY PASS

ROB BRUSSE MAY 24-26. 1970.

PARTY: Roland Burton Barry NarodMike Miles Anne LittleJim Byers Wynne GormanRob Brusse

The first summer meeting was held atChristy Shaw’s house. Here, the summerschedule was handed out and perused by thepeople in attendance; some of us found itlacking in mountaineering trips of any sort,

28

to say the least. We decided to remedy tnesituation and soon people were runningaround drumming up support for trips tothis, that, or the other area. Our enthus.iasm was dampened when we discovered nocars were available to take people tothese places. Someone suggested we takethe P.G.E. train to McGillivray Pass. Atrip was born.

The P.G.E. is a unique railway serving, as the government advertisements say,“the People of British Columbia”. A ridefrom here to D’arcy is something to belooked on as a budding sociologist’s dremm.Very meaty stuff. The train eventuallystopped at McGillivray and left sevenprospective ski tourers, with all theirequipment. standing on the shore ofAnderson Lake in balmy 70 degree weatheras people strolled about in bathing suits,giving us funny glances and visibly wincing.

We regrouped and redefined our frameof reference. (A shrewd move for ski—tourers with not a hint of snow anywherewithin a fifteen mile radius.) Skis andassociated paraphanalia were abandoned in

a railway shed and in ski boots we startedup the long dusty trail. A cloud formedin the distance but we took little noticeof it until fifteen minutes later when wewere all dripping wet and moving up alogging road where mud cakes, four inchesthick stuck to our soles and made a pacethat would shame a snail. Much to our joy,after four hours of this nonsense, we cameacross a cabin which was open and free forthe use of those who needed it; we did.It had beds, but best of all an old barrelstove that threw lots of heat.

29

An early rising saw us off at 7 A.M.in an effort to get to the Pass and hopefully a cabin owned by Paul Kleinshrot,The trail through the Pass follows an oldBC. Telephone line that has been abandonedsince mining in the Pioneer—Bralorne areahas been phased out. The Pass itself isunusuaily long and at a fairly high elevation. Access is the main problem and sincethe motive is no longer there, namely thatof making a fast buck through mining, thePass is making a comeback as a recreationaland historical area. Along with theglimpses of old telephone lines there aremaintenance sheds, cabins and mines. Partof the area has been set aside as a skipreserve and Paul hopes some day to developthe area for skiers.

We proceeded along the trail fairlyquickly until we reached about 5000 feetwhere we encountered mushy spring snow.Our luck held out however, for, over thenext few miles right on the trail there wasa set of huge bear tracks. They had beenmade a day or two before and had sincehardened. We were able to hop from trackto track without sinking into the snow.

At one o’clock our luck ran out and under thehot sun everything turned to mush. Weplodded through the snow to a point justsouthwest of Mt. McGillivray and made camp.Since there was little progress we couldmake, we decided to eat and siesta untildark. We broiled in the tent for severalhours until sunset and shivered for a fewmore waiting for the snow to harden. Atabout 10:00 P.M. we left camp and climbedto near the base of Mt. McGillivray. A fullmoon illuminated the scene from McGillivrayto the Black Tusk. We had to leave the

30

Pass early the next morning to catch thetrain so our stay was short. As we slidback to camp down the avalanche gulliesmore than one person was heard to mumble.“I’ll have to come back here to do someskiing dammit”

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LE GRAND TWR DE SALTSPRING

DOUG MONK MAY 29-31, 1970.

PARTY: Wendy Taylor Pat GibsonSara Oliver Sheila McLeanFrank Baumann Andres LooCam Pearce Harry BruceDoug Monk Len WinterTom Pearce Daniel SayGail Trethewey Lib CoverntonDoug Davison

Friday night, 12 P.M. and ten VOC’ersinvaded the privacy of Wendy Taylor’s quiethome. Parking bicycles by the stairs. underthe coffee tables, behind the furnace, eachrushed to stake a sleepy-bye claim on therec.—room floor. Frank Baumann observedthat his property assayed out to 70% wool,28% nylon, arid 2% gold rug fuzz. A veryworthwhile find, Frank. We passed up aRita Hayworth — Frank Sinatra mouldy oldybecause the vertical hold wouldn’t; andMonopoly for the usual reason; and finallychose sleep for the evening’s entertainment. Well, Cam Pearce and Gail Tretheweyand Wendy Taylor and Frank Baumann thoughtof something different, but the rest of uschose sleep.

It was a perfect night for a campout:weather conditions were stable, the ceilinga cloudless and starless yellow, no dew tospeak of, the thermostat reading a steady69°, and the pleasant light of a full street-lamp flickering through the venetian blinds,All began to enjoy the perfect serenity —

welcome rest from the distant city’s madclatter. Save an occasional train rumblingthrough the basement, the reassuringlysteady flow of traffic zooming of f thefreeway exit overhead, and the festival of

3].

frogs and crickets convening bernongst theadjacent bog and shrubbery. the nightpassed uneventfully. — Oh. except whenWendy’s parents stumbled in at ?:O0 AM.from a marathon rugby party. (Where elsecould Mr. Taylor have learned those songs?)

Next morning we arose early so as tooccupy the kitchen before the Taylors couldorganize any critical resistance. Mercilessly we plundered the porridge. ravishedtheir rye bread, terrorized their toaster.and looted their loganberry. Fortunatelythe Taylors, when they appeared. proved tobe highly resiliant hosts, and offered usorange aid instead ot the expected cannonadefor messing the place up. Thank you Mr.and Mrs. T. Please forgive all these pettyslanders. (P.S. I am mailing you the knifeand fork I borrowed that weekend, — yes,the ones bearing the wedding inscriptionsfrom Mrs. T.’s grandmother. They’llarrive in time for Christmas. D.M.)

Stuffing countless bicycles — everything from sleek new racers to hump-backedspineless old hulks — into Frank’s borrowedBronco (Mr. Ed), we sped southward for the9:30 ferry, pausing only to psssst our tiresand discover the massive growth on theside of Wendy’s tire, At Tsawwassen wefound some handy parking, unloaded ourbikes, loaded our packs, unloaded ourpacks, adjusted our rat traps. re—loadedour packs and wobbled hurriedly along fivemiles of frigid causeway to the restlessold S.S. Chinook, pausing only to debugsome brakes, shape up our shifters. andspot weld an ailing frame or two,

Aboard and underway. we carvortedaround the cardeck playing “Bumperlock”(winning team hooks up a whole lane of

32

cars without detection), capered in the

cafeteria with a dicey game known as Coco—

Moco” (Obiect: carefully submerge a twenty-

cent package of hot chocolate in a fifteen—

cent cup of coffee, pay for the coffee. and

pass the cashier before the chocolate start

floating up. Loser gets a thirty-day to onyear rap for petty larceny). Later we trie

to distract the helmsman during the tricky

navigation of Active Pass. and we filledout our passage with a spirited indoortrackmeet in the forward lounge. Torn Pearce

took the sommersault race over a toughfield or two, Baumann and Taylor snaffledthe wheelbarrow event, completing a fullcircuit of the newspaper stand in just under

42 seconds, with Pearce and Covernton just

a frog’s (sorry. Daniel) hair back after atough fall. The Crustacean Scuttle featured

Baumann again as Alaska King Crab. He

almost got his claws cracked though whensome irate woman treed to bump him withher baby buggy. Lib Covernton easily nailed

down the Olympi.c thumb—wrestling event with

a fabulous record of twenty—three wins, nolosses. Meanwhile, able young promoterLen Winter paid for his weekend with athree—wicket paramutual operation (cleanedupon the piggy-back race) until we werefinally shut down by a ferry man who moved

in with the vacuum clearner, to room ourrace track.

Thumping into Saltspring. we sprung to

our cycles and slalorned up the ramp. debark.ing the trunks of several passengers. until

once out of range of hurtled insults, wecould stop to adjust pedals, brakes. seats,

handlebars, re-load loads, wrenches, rat—traps. adjustments. and finally to adjustour adjustments. Soon we were puffingalong the smooth blacktop oven from LongHarbour to Ganges.

33

Ganges: Beautiful Ganges: You plumof the Pacific: You were radiant in yoursleep. dear Ganges, with your quaint roadside giftshops; windows stuffed with glassgiraffes, sequined plastic servietteholders and those precious bits ofJapanese Canadiana that feature a stalwartmounty on horesback, or standing proudlyat salute, proudly astride his cherishedoath of service “Happy Time Curio Shoppe.Saltspring Island, Canada”. Oh Ganges:Your ‘Central Ganges Trading Emporium”,that bastion of mercantile endeavour, thatheavy of light commerce, backbone of theSaltspring Board of Trade. Oh Ganges.blessed with such gregarious youth. (“Leavethat bike alone, kid.17 favoured withsuch fabulous food stores. (“How much arethose jaw—breakers?” “Five cents each, andkeep your hands in your poc’cets unlessyou’re buying. you grubby hippy”) starencrusted with a host of freidnly servicestations (“No we don’t have air — you aforeigner or sumpthin’?”); Oh Ganges. howhospitable is your hospital haven. (“Sorry.you can’t all go in. Doctor’s orders.Only two of you can see her.”). Oh butGanges, jewel of the Gulf, starlet of theStrait, you center of the Summer Swim Set,alas, you have no bicycle shop, andWendy’s amazing tire will soon give birthto twins. Oh grave fear, oh tumescentperil, Is there time? Will Wendy’s tirehold out? It looks like a job for SooperFrank: Faster than a downed sandwich,more powerful than a cragmont cola. ableto leap low hedges at a single bound; willFrank, fearless champion of the bicyclecrowd, be able to find a suitable replacement in time? Watch him sift through thestores of beautiful but hopeless downtownGanges, his X—ray vision flashing. Tunein next week folks for the explosive etc...

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We lunched in beautific, commemorativeCentennial Park (the plaque stuck to a rocksaid: “In loving memory of the countlessservices performed by Mr. and Mrs. T.E.Levine.” — local minister? funderal director?brothel keepers?), playing first on all thewonderful death traps and bone breakers thatmake a park fun for children, etc

After lunch we joggled along a choicegravel road, (tastefully potholed, luxuriously lumpy) to fabulous Erskine Point. Therewe beheld Erskine Point Acres, an excitingnew real estate developement located justa short fag across the bay from scenic,but invisible Crofton, the local pulp andpaper olefactory. All the trees and nativevegetation had been thoughtfully removedfrom E.P. Acres, undoubtedly to make thearea more attractive to Vancouver’s summering lawnmower set, or perhaps to rid thearea of the dreaded loopworm scourge. Orwas the developer (“Dwindle Balding” saidthe real estate sign) a retired stripmern? In any case, the broad boulder—strewn field of E.P. Acres would make awonderful parking lot, or could perhapsbe fenced in for a scrap iron yard. Leavethe Goddamn trees alone why can’t you

Not to give the wrong impression.Most of Saltspring is decrepit, unmodernand beautiful: untouched by the senselessclaws of the real estate developer, and themanicured fingers of the proud homeowner,with his humdrum Lucite and Alcan tickeytack ies.

We decided not to swim at ErskinePoint, the water was cold and not tooclear, but to wait instead until St.Mary’s Lake, five miles north. Slaloming

35

the potholes up hill and down dale. wepaused only to pick up Sheila Maclean’sbicycle seat (which had fallen off alongwith her pack. -An omen?): tightenLennie’s chain; walk up the steeper hills;to swear at my slipping rattrap which,with smug pride, had snared my back brake,instead of its licensed prey; to fix thenameless ills of a dozen more pantingmachines, to lose Libby, Sheila and Tom,and to find Harry Bruce, Sara Oliver andAdres Loo who had taken the great circleroute (via Schwartz Bay ferry and FultonHarbour) to arrive several hours late.A tearful reunion, and then off the mainroad to pitch camp amid the skyscrapergrass and thistles next to St. Mary’sLake. A swim before dinner, and someboysprout follow—the-obliterated-arrow--on—the-road-signs to catch Tom, Libby,and Sheila, then the good smell ofscorched flesh as all primed theirprimus stoves for a crummy dinner.

Evening entertainment highlightswere Len Winters demonstrating his alpinesprocket in a mad charge up a 40% gradethrough the Space Needle Grass (couldn’tsee Len for the grass), completing therun with a majestic chain rupture, andan anguished bawl. Next we played“Missing link in the Haystack” and (ugh)Len finally welded his chain together witha white hot volley of swear words. Tomwon a marshnallow pulling contest with hismost original sculpture, a ten fingerconstruction employing seventeen marshmallows, entitled “Super NoVa”, and spentthe rest of the evening nibbling his handsfree. Finally bed, and an extemporaneousmusical program featuring the completeworks of Johann Sebastapool Bogge, music

36

for frog gribbit, cricket leg, andmosquito wing, presented by the St.Mary’s Lake Foreshore Ensemble, andconducted by Bull Rush. It was adivine program enhanced by the freakylight show overhead.

Up and swimming by 8:00, Cam hadalready chopped a hole in the ice forus. Then breakfast, and flake out againsoaking up the sleepy morning sun, andfavouring every contorted muscle.

We get underway pausing only totighten handbrakes, loosen gear cables,adjust etceteras, close our parentheses.and coax unwilling legs out of insinsateparalysis. It is Sunday, the day ofSheila’s bicycle accident. Of course noone expected it. least of all Sheila andso everyone was startled, — most of allSheila. Whizzing along Sunnybrook roadtoward Vesuvius — ah but it was a perfectday for an accident. - unfrotunately weweren’t kept long in suspense. Over thetop of a hill, down into the hollow.Sheila gaining Gail. Wendy tight on thecorner, gravel on the corner, Sheilagaining, slipping - the gravel, the ditch.—— ah the tall grass, Sheila spinningout Ah Ouch Thump. Spinning of up—turned wheel. collapsed bicycle, buckledforks, collapsed Sheila, spinning head.painfully buckled back.

Frank went for help. The rest of usstood around shielding Sheila from the sun,telling her jokes which increased the pain.giving her frequent drinks of water; doingall the things that people who are anxiousand useless like to do for someone theycan’t give material assistance to. Helpful

37

locals; a reassuring nurse; and a man whophoned for the doctor came to our aid.The doctor arrived, complete with authenticblack bag and hangover and said it wouldbe all right to move her carefully when theambulance came. It came and swallowed upSheila for the hospital. — still feelingpretty lousy. We continued cycling toVesuvius then back to Ganges, more or lessuneventfully, save that Tom’s front wheeldecided spontaneously to buckle up into abutterfly shape. — probably a gesture ofsympathy toward Sheila’s mangled vehicle.We switched bikes somehow, — I still don’tknow how, - and all got to Ganges. Severalof us visited Sheila at the hospital.despite friction from the nurse. — foundher tired, but more comfortable, and x—raysshowed no vertebrae damage. So off to theferry leaving Sheila in the eager hands ofthe gleaming Ganges Hospital staff (‘Firstyoung female patient we’ve had in twenty-five years” confided the gnarled old resident surgeon with a sensuous grin).Nevertheless, in cold blood we left for theferry, got on the ferry, went home, etc.Sheila and everybody lived happily everafter. Goodnight.

WEDGE MOUNTAIN

ELLEN WOODD MAY 30-31. 1970.

PARTY: Jim Byers Roland Burton (L)Emil Abolash Morrie SchneidermanBob Brusse Jennifer LilburnEllen Woodd

After waking up Bob at 5:30 Saturdaymorning we (Bob, Emil, Jim, Roland and I)headed for Wedge Mtn. Morrie and Jennifermet us at Whistler and after coffee they

38

followed us to the Wedge turnoff, about fivemiles past the Whistler cabin. We parkedthe cars on the other side of the bridgeand started up the logging road at 9:30.Fifteen minutes later we were bushwackingup the ridge. We climbed 500 feet, killedforty mosquitoes, then climbed another 500feet. Soon we were into the snow and afterfilling our water bottles at “DysenteryLake”, headed up towards a feasible camp at6500 feet. After supper and setting upcamp, we climbed the many ridges to get aglimpse of Wedge and check out the proposedroute. The weather, which wasn’t lookingits best before, began to show changes forthe better and we had our first clear viewof this impressive peak.

The next morning dawned cool and clearwith a fair crust on the snow. Roland hada bad sore throat and decided not to go tothe summit. After breakfast however, hejoined us “just up the ridge”, and he didend up going to the top. We started up at6:15 because we wanted to get up and downbefore there was any danger of avalanches.We roped up for a snow ridge walk that tookus around to the side face we were plannintto climb. Unroping, we scrambled up an oldrock slide which was a bit hairy since therocks were none too stable. Soon we wereon snow again and four roped up——two withice axes and two without, for what lookedlike the last haul. Reaching the top wefound ourselves on a long ridge with Wedgepeak about half a mile east of us. Theridge and peak were corniced but the viewwas stupendous: Garibaldi, Castle Towersand Baker to the south, the Spearhead Rangebelow us, and Weart just a hundred feet

39

lower, Jennifer, who had felt the nauseouseffects of altitude, was feeling better sowe started down. Glissading, bumschussingand scrambling we made it back to campsoaked and hungry. And after drying out fora couple of hours, we shouldered our packsat 3:30 and were down to the cars by 7:00P.M.

RUBY LAKE - SAKINAW LAKE CANOE TRIP

ROD McLEISH JUNE 13-14, 1970.

Early Saturday morning 28 people. 10canoes, and one kayak (on and in cars) metat Frank Baker’s parking lot and drove together to Horseshoe Bay to catch the ferryto Langdale. Only a few cars made the firstferry so the rest of us liberated the swings,sand box and teeter—totters while parentslocked their children inside and phoned thepsychiatric corps. We caught the secondferry and after an hour were driving throughreally beautiful country on our way toRuby Lake via a very sneaky turnoff.After lunch and a swim we swung our paddlestowards the first portage (the only “work”of the trip). Arriving at Sakinaw Lake wepaddled to a small island near the end ofthe lake where we camped. With the exception of the wasps’ nests, it was a perfectspot. Later we played “Sardines” and“Capture—the—Flag” until it got too darkto see where the trees were and the groundwasn’t. The weather was clear and warm sowe slept out; not waking until 8:00.

Sunday, the weather was a bit rougher.so we tried to get to Pender Harbour beforesmall craft warnings were issued. I don’tthink we made it The waves were about

twice as high as the boat, and coming fromtwo different directions while the wind wascoming from a third7 it was really great:Luckily there were no unplanned swimsalthough we were all a bit damp by thetime we arrived at the wharf. Cam drovethe drivers back to the cars at Ruby Lakeand within a couple of hours we had joinedthe hoards on the road. Cam Pearce’s skirack. carrying two canoes, collapsed enroute (at 50 m.p..h.) but nothincr drastichappened. We arrived home at 9:00 P.M.,just in time to see the ‘Forsythe Saga”.

MAMQUAM NUMBER ONE

LOUISE PURDEY JUNE, 1970.

PARTY: Roland Burton Jennifer LilburnAndy Carson Dave RosenbluthNancy Deas Barry NarodBob Brusse Louise PurdeyPeter ? fromAustria

One Friday night in early June, theabove-mentioned nine assembled near SquamishB.C. to plan what they hoped would be thefirst southern ascent of Mount Mamquam.There was a certain amount of hassle getting permission from McMillan-Bloedel touse the limited access logging road whichled to the base of the trail. So, Fridaynight found us camped beside the MamquamRiver, just north of Squamish. Our sleepwas disturbed by a truckload of locals ontheir way to a clearing where they couldhave a little party, but in spite of this,we rose bright and early in order to onceagain approach Mc—Blo for right to access.This was obtained a little indirectly.

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after a side trip to the Squamish Hardwareby the most respectable looking member ofthe gang.

By Saturday noon we were where we hadhoped to be Friday night - at the base ofthe (wrong) trail. More time was lost whenone party member became lost during thehourlong bushwack. We reached our firstsnow just above a slashburn, and from here,meandered north through open forest, takingfour lunch stops despite the late hour andslow progress. Camp Saturday night was onthe only bare patch of a dead ridge overlooking a nameless lake. By 5:30 Sunday,determined to make the most of our lastday, the nine of us sped down the gullyto the lake and began ascending theopposite ridge by a route which we haddecided the previous evening was leastlikely to be the wrong one, By 7:30 wesummitted the ridge, with its two prominences, Edsel Arret and Agnew Spire. By8:30 we were as far as we could go in anydirection except backwards. Lunch wascalled, and we told jokes til about 10:30.then headed back to the nameless lake foranother rest and a bask in the sun. Ourtrek back to the cars revealed the actualtrail we should have taken. By laterafternoon we skulked back through thegate, reassembled it. and headed home,happy that, if we hadn’t attained ourgoal, we had at least narrowed down thealternatives for the next party.

THE WEST LION

ELLEN WOODD JULY 1. 1970.

PARTY: Duncan Etches (L) Daniel ?Roland Burton Jennifer LilburnDoug Davison Wynne GormanRoy King Ellen Woodd

Why go to the Lions the easy. safe, andsure way up a good trail, when there is agrungy bushwack: Such is Duncan Etches’reasoning

After pushing the cars through muskegand quagmire of the Cypress Bowl Highwaywe abondoned them and started working ourway in the direction of the Lions. Around2:00 P.M., after many hours of faking it,we found ourselves on top of UnnecessarilyUnnecessary Ridge. At the base of theWest Lion we met most of the people in CamPearce’s group, and talked Dorothy andKaren into coming up. The weather, whichhadn’t been looking too good, cleared aswe pulled ourselves over the crest of thesummit. After patriotically unfurlingEllen’s sweather and joining our voices in“0 Canada” we returned.

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CANADIAN BORDER PEAK

ELLEN WOODD JULY 4-5, 1970.

PARTY: Bob Brusse (L) OTHER PARTY:Barry Narod Ken LefeverCam Pearce Roy KingDavid Rosenbiuth Cindy MateriEllen Woodd

We were the Saturday working people wholeft Vancouver Saturday night to try andcatch up with Paul Starr’s party. Darknesscaught us at the end of the logging roadwhere we spent the night. The next morningdawned clear and bright so we left all ourovernight gear there and headed up the hillto look for the others. We found them allin bed. Paul took a party up AmericanBorder Peak and we left for Canadian. Aftera bit of trouble finding the route we madeit to the top. We had been joined a fewhours before by Ken Lefever’s group who hadhad problems with the ridge route. Theview was stupendous — so nice after climbing and looking at the Garibaldi Park peaksall spring. We were a bit late coming downand were met by Rolf and Roland who saidthat there had been an accident on the otherpeak. Som.e of us went up to help theAmerican Peak party coming down and learnedof Eryl Pardoe’s tragic accident. Aftereveryone was down, camp was broken and weset off for home.

14)4

CANADIAN AND AMERICAN BORDER PEAKS

PAUL STARR JrJLY 4-5, 1970.

PARTY: Paul Starr (L) Terry ?Eryl Pardoe Jennifer ?Steve Heim Virginia MooreDuncan Etches Peter JordanEmil Abolash John Frizell

The weekend really started well. Itwas a sunny Saturday morning and there wereover twenty people at the roadhead. I washappy. Eryl and I were talking of thecoming expedition to Alaska and of lastweekend’s three day effort up Mt. Slesse,just across the valley. We were fit andfairly skilled; we knew that the BorderPeaks were pretty easy, compared to manyclimbs we had already done.

The road was hot and dry. We stoppedfor lunch at the end of the loggin road,before a half—hour bushwack to the tree—line, heather benches, and a perfect campsite. We dumped our overnight gear andcontinued upward to the Canadian BorderPeak. Steep third class scrambling up abroad, loose gully was capped off by aroped pitch at the top. Thirteen of theoriginal twenty made it - then we had thedescent to look forward to. Some wentdown by down-climbing; the rest of usrapelled to avoid the loose rocks, makingit back to camp just before nightfall.

Nine A.M. the next morning saw anambitious crew of ten head out for theNorth-East face of the American BorderPeak. Eryl and I debated over the bestway to approach the notch between theSouth peak of Canadian Border Peak and

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the American Borr Peak. We finallyagreed on a rock cliff next to a prominentwaterfall, followed by easy-looking snowslopes and rock bands. The rock cliffproved harder than anticipated--roundedfourth class-—but the remainder was easyand we were in the notch by 11:30. Themain face of the American Border Peak roseabout 1000 feet above us, but it didn’tlook unreasonable; the guidebook describedit as third class. Up we went, fixing handlines on the harder rock and for the steep,soft snow pitches. The summit ridge wasreached after about eight 150 foot pitchesand the summit block was another half leadhigher than the ridge. Everyone made thesummit.

We started down at about 4:00 P.M.with six hours of daylight left. Eryl andI were concerned because a good deal oftechnical ground had to be descended, butwe were by no means desperate. We fixedhandlines and made long rappels. One ofthe experienced climbers would then down—climb the last pitch. At 6:00 P.M.. wewere halfway down the face and we couldsee that some of the other parties werejust making it to the summit of CanadianBorder Peak. Down, down, we went. Wefixed three ropes tied together to getdown the steep slope gully at the bottomof the face. Eryl was the last to descend(unroped. as there was no anchor in thesnow gully) and he came slowly and carefully. Duncan and I coiled rooes.Between the three of us we had 5 of the6 ropes of the party. The rest had goneon ahead with Steve, due to the easynature of the terrain.

Eryl and I were breathing easier now.It was only 7:00 P.M. and the worst was overtIt had been a beautiful summer day and I feltelated. We came upon the rest of the partywho were waiting at the top of a fairlysteep snow slope which was in the shade sothe snow was reasonably hard. A few of theparty had already gone down to the bottom,but the one rope they had, did not reachall the way. Duncan went over to fixanother rope; Eryl and I proceeded to plunge—step down the slope, confident of our abilityto self—arrest. Besides, there was at leastthree hundred feet of open snow and ourheels were penetrating into the snow quitea bit.

I heard a scraping sound behind me.I stopped and turned to see Eryl slidingdown the slope. Fully expecting him toarrest, I stood and watched while he slidfaster and faster. He started on his back,but whenever he would flip over and beginto dig in his axe, the hardness of the snowand the uneveness of the surface would fliphim over again onto his back. This happenedthree times and then he disappeared over acliff.

I was afraid. The need for speedseemed totally overriding. But restraintseemed pretty important too because theprobability of another accident occurringwas high. It took five minutes at least toget down to where Eryl was. While I wasdescending, I was thinking of all theemergency measures I had learned, but whichhad passed from my mind from disuse. Butwhen I got down, I knew it was all unnecessary because Eryl had fallen into a moat(the space between the rock and the snow)after falling down a 75 foot cliff. There

was a waterfall coming down on top of himand I could hear him moaning.

There was no one else at the siteexcept Virginia and myself so I prepared arappel into the bergshrund while waitingfor more people to help pull out the body.He stopped moaning within a few minutes.Once enough people to rescue me in case Igot into trouble had assembled, I rappel—led into the waterfall and fumbled withropes, trying to find something to tiethem to. Finally I tied Eryl’s legs to—gether and scrambled out, half—prussikingand half hand-over-hand ; a few helping handsgot me over the lip. I abdicated, shivering uncontrollably while Duncan and Peterengineered a pulley system that worked.

The rest of the day was sort of ablur. We got the body out. I finallystopped shivering, and got ready tocontinue the descent. I asked someonewhat time it was and they replied “7:45”.Only three-quarters of an hour had elapsedWe groped our way down——super cautious.No—one even wanted to step on a snow slope.The final rock pitch next to the waterfallhad to be rappelled and Steve and I spentabout half an hour finding a suitableanchor——there were no cracks and it wasfrustrating. Roif and Roland arrived witha few Others with food and sleeping bagsRoif had seen the fall. I rappelled downto them first and the rest followed.Duncan was the last down and he rappelledin the dark. It took another hour ofmiserable groping on frozen snow to getback to camp.

Some soup, a fire, and then moremiserable descending with four headlamps

kB

for twenty people, then the logging road— tripping continuously over rocks. Theaurora borealis interjected a bit of cheerand color, but I was so tired and numbed,I hardly cared. When we got down to thecars, Duncan and I went on ahead to reportthe accident to the R.C.M.P. The R.C.M.P.,however, had set up a roadblock on theChilliwack Lake Road to catch some escapedprisoners. The Constable was somewhatdisconcerted when I answered his firstaccusing question (just what were we doingon this road at 3 A.M.) by reporting theaccident. The entire troop of us werehereded into the R.C.MP. building inChilliwack where we all had to fill outstatements.. The rest left at 6 A.M.. butDuncan and I waited for the air—sea rescuehelicopter which was to evacuate the body.It was my first ride in a helicopter, andI must admit I was slightly thrilled inspite of the circumstances: I got to ridein the cockpit and I even got my own radiointercom It was soon over and all therewas left to do was a leisurely drive backto Vancouver.

It took days to unwind, at least forme. Events such as these become milestonesin one’s life and cause much painful introspection. I decided not to give up climbing; and I certainly wasn’t going to passup a perfectly good expedition to Alaska.But I have noticed that I stopped climbingat a furious pace and so have a lot ofEryl’s good friends. Any violent death,especially that of a good friend, is boundto affect drastically even the most seemingly hardened of us.

Eryl was not an official VOC member.He had arrived from Wales the previousJanuary (after qualifications had ceased),

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but somehow he had become assimilatedalmost immediately into the club. Hedidn’t let himself get really close tomany people, but his warm smile andfriendly manner endeared him to everyone.And then there was his ability as aclimber. His rock-climbing was superb,all you had to do was watch him climbonce to be convinced of his ability, heseemed to float up the cliff. He wasn’tsuper-strong: just very skillful.

He was destined to make a real impacton the mountains of British Columbia.Before he died, he had already done threeof the major routes on the Squamish Chief:the Grand Wall, Tantalus Wall, and University Wall. Then, along with myself andIan Paterson, we did the third ascent ofthe Northeast Buttress of Mt. Slesse, athree day climb involving thirty-four leadsof roped climbing. Already we had beentalking of all the new ambitious routesthat could be done, and I was lookingforward to a very productive summer.

None of us knew Eryl well enough toclaim we knew him well, but we all lovedhim while he was with us. It may be acliche to say that he lives on in ourmemories, but it is true. I will neverforget Eryl Pardoe.

50

SHALL WE TRY FOR SEDGEWICK?

SARA OLIVER JULY 11-12, 1970.

PARTY: John Frizell Bob BrusseChristy Shaw Roif KullakSara Oliver

On Saturday afternoon we decided thatsuch a nice sunny week—end should be spenton a trip out of the city. John suggestedMr. Sedgewick (what else would you expectfrom a native of Woodfibre?). We caughtthe Wood fibre ferry and stopped in atJohn’s home to meet his parents and to gethim some food. Then we started the hike upthe road and trail, wondering, as darknessset in, why we hadn’t brought the car tothe end of the road and why we had decidedto come in the first place. Finally wereached Henrietta Lake and crawled into oursleeping bags.

Sunday morning we slept in — much toRolf’s disgust — despite the bright sunshine.We hiked up to the meadows, finding it hardto believe John’s tales of the deep snowthat was on the trail in May. Christy andI stretched out on the rocks to sunbathewhile the guys hiked on to Sylvia Lake.The run back down the trail was painfulonly because of the tree puns with whichwe amused ourselves. By the time we reachedHenrietta Lake again we were ready forlunch and a swim at the dam, before thehike back down into the smoke of Woodfibre.We ran for the ferry and managed to hold itfor John while he picked up his motorbikefrom home.

Maybe next time we’ll reach the summitof the mighty Mt. Sedgewick.

51

MT. REXFORD

JENNIFER LILBURN JULY, 1970.

PARTY: Barry Narod Barb FultonDuncan Etches Roland BurtonJennifer Lilburn Ellen Woodd

This was a one—day trip sometime inJuly. On Sunday we set off into the rain inBarry’s Zephyr and Duncan’s MG. The MGimpulsively stopped to investigate a ditch.choosing to ignore both the bridge crossingit and the road parallel to it; but someonepushed it out, said “NS”, and we continued.I was very new to VOC, so I was thinking“NS? Enness? Is that like SWT?”

We arrived, looked at the wet bush,and Roland happily began casting rainwearto the multitude.. Once on the path, Rolandobserved that it sure was like the trailinto Alice Lake. Someone slipped on a log.Totally unperturbed, Roland said that itsure didn’t taste like tomato juice.While all this was going on, Duncan wasgetting ahead on the trail so he could say“No peace for the wicked”, and scoot up thetrail again when we straggled into sight.

At lunch it started to snow, so wecrawled under a rock. The noonhour entertainment was provided by Duncan’s lunch,which looked like it had been made sixmonths ago by a psychotic Totem Park dietitian.

We went on up the ridge where Barb.Barry, Ellen, and Roland set up bivouacsbecause of the fog and snow. Duncan wenton and I attached myself to the end of hisrope and was dragged up on it. I was really

52

impressed by the summit I thought-the fogthere had more class.

By this time the people on the ridgehad got bored and left, and Roland andEllen were, giving creditable imitationsof Big Ben all the way down. Up above, Iwas creating a scene by slipping down asnow gully, ice axe swinging gracefullyabove my head. Duncan decided to stop mebefore I did anything rash like kill myself,and then I decided to get the hell off themountain and forget VOC.

But down at the A & W having coffee, Ireconsidered and decided to hang around longenough to find out what “NS” meant.

MT. BAKER

ROLF KLJLLAK JULY, 1970.

Mt. Baker is too nice a mountain to beleft unclimed. However it is too difficulta mountain to be climbed under anything butfavourable conditions. There are fierceglaciers with yawning crevasses swallowinganything in sight. Some open themselvesso much that you could lose a P.G.E. boxcar that you are carrying in your pocket,despite Uncle Bennett’s Prohibition Thismeans that you must be particularly careful, since some of these crevasses arehiding, just waiting to open themselves asyou happen to come along.

It was no wonder then, that FrankBaumann cancelled his scheduled trip toMt. Baker because of the bad weather forecast. Naturally, that bad weather nevercame.

53

Determined to try again, the trip wasrescheduled two or three weeks later. Lotsof people came; there were over twenty ofus, and also a few hundred from Seattle—---.equipped with hard hats, head lamps,thousands of feet of rope; in other words,armoured to the teeth (that’s where the iceaxe goes). I had the pleasure of leadingour tiny group of invaders.

Saturday was nice, and camp was setup at the old approved camp spot. All tentswere cramped Good weather was forecast.There was lots of snow, just great forskiing. Nobody believed me, therefore, Iwas the only one with skis. But the weatherhad turned bad. Well, you can’t win themall Anyway, the Seattle people decided tn

give it a try and they all lined up one byone at 2:30 in the middle of the night tobegin the trek. Just an endless chain ofheadlamps trailing up the mountain pastour camp. Weather -— light drizzle; no—one from our group would get out of bed.But the drizzle finally stopped, and agood half of us got ready to go up to theNorth Ridge of the mountain, about fifteenhundred feet above the camp. I had a niceski run down, beautiful tracks. Everybodyelse had to walk. Soon after that, wedecided to go ack to bed again. The rainhad begun once more.

By noon we decided that we would goto Gail Tretheway’s place in Haney. Youhave to know that it is a strawberry farmand it was the strawberry season. Definitely the place to go. It was well worth it.And who would believe, that after aninvitation into a strawberry field, sometime to rest, to digest our strawberries.and an exhausting game of frisbee, a la

5k

Cam Pearce, we were invited to a deliciouschicken dinner. It was definitely a successful attempt on Baker.

But Baker was still unclimbed. And so,the trip was rescheduled once more. Newattempt -- August 2 and 3. Leader --

Roland Burton. Camp spot -- 4800 feet.Saturday a nice sunset. -—— and a thunderstorm and rain.

Sunday at 3 o’clock in the morning.still rain. People suddenly arrived ——

Bob Brusse, Ellen Woodd, Dave Rosenbiuth.and two others. You couldn’t leave themoutside, so everybody got put into somespace and Bob found room in Virginia’ssleeping bag. (See Goon Awards). By

6 o’clock Sunday morning it had stoppedraining and by 7 o’clock we started out.The clouds were hovering low, between4000 and 5000 feet. and the higher elevation was soon in sunshine. A fantasticday to climb the mountain. A light breezekept us cool until we reached the RomanWall. Only around the top did a cold hardwind blow, and bring in some clouds fromthe last thunderstorm. When I reached thetop with Bonnie MacKenzie, we had a badwhiteout. Only the tracks showed uswhere the peak was. We didn’t spend muchtime up there. just enough time to eatsome chocolate and then start down. Oncewe reached the top of the Roman Wallagain, we sped down quickly into thewarmth of the sun. After some lunch, wealmost ran down to the camp.

This was really a very successfulattempt and an enjoyable climb.

55

CHEAM

HARRY BRUCE AUGUST 9, 1970

With Duncan Etches (F.L.)1 and a castof thousands. A story of the gruellingassault of that killer mountain —CHEAM.

Part I: Approach

After an early (9:30) breakfast atPopkum (near Chilliwack) this crack team,disregarding all personal safety in adesperate race against time, forced theirway over a Class 3 logging road. Unfortunately part of the group had to walk as theonly vehicle capable of navigating thetreacherous route was assigned the task ofcarrying the summit teams to within astones throw of the summit. The approachtook the climbers. sherpas and portersthrough T.B.C.R,F.2 and over a falsesummit to Camp I. The view was magnificentand ultimately led to the startling realization that F.L had been somewhat mistaken.We had come the wrong way. Morale sagged,We must descend. We were not, however.defeated, and so, summoning courage andstrength, we began the search for theelusive trail.

Part II: Assault (S.s.)3

More T.B.C,R.F, More sweat. Noticeable discontent. Screams and yells Likea wave, that word of words — ‘Trail” -

surged back through the climbers and supportcrew giving strength to all. The speedincreased as the crew hit a trail wideenough for wheelchairs to pass. Despitethe loss of some of the more tired members,a large number ascended to the summit and

56

there, between attacks of altitude sick..-ness, exchanged congratulations and snappedsummit pictures. A short descent was madeto a plateau below the summit. Tea andcrumpets were served — really: F,L. welove you. Spirits renewed and stomachsfilled, the triumphal procession turnedits back on good ol’ Cheam, and racingthe impending dark, beat a retreat, bothhasty and otherwise, to the cars only todisappear into the blanket of death thatindicated the city was near.

The (cough) End.

Footnotes: 1. F.L. — Fearless Lr2. T.BC.R.F, — Typical B.C.

Rain Forest3. S.S, Still Sunday

GALIANO-MAYNE CYCLE TRIP

HARRY BRUCE AUGUST 15-46. 1970

PARTY: Cam Pearce (L) Barb FultonDoug Davison Hardi (friend ofJanet Barb’s)Lenny Winter Marilyn (alias 31’,Jane Kelly friend of Bar’Ford Cannon Chris McNeillHarry Bruce Mel Lynne

Debbie Wragg

Bright and early (isn’t it aiwaySaturday morning, 13 mad cyclists met at tTsawassen ferry. Our immediate objecL.was the coffee shop on the 9:30 inter-island ferry. Approximately one hourlater, fortified with a hearty breakfaiof coffee and raisin pie we disembarkeQ

57

Sturdies Bay on Galiano Island. Aft’r anumber of false starts. flat tires, skinnedknees, etc.. we headed off towards MontagueHarbour, seven miles distant.

Keen Kam, our leader, had r3eidedthat it would be best if we dumped our packsat a camp site somewhere and then touredthe island. Some of us decided to dumpourselves as well. So we did. Those ofus who stayed felt that the beach we wereon was such a groovy place that we weregoing to sleep there. So we did. and sodid everyone else.

Bright and early (again) Sunday morning we caught the ferry from Galiano toMayne Island. Mayne Island is very smallso the plan was to head for the other endfor lunch. We soon discovered that MayneIsland is made up of 3 hills, all qoingup. Despite the fact that there is only

one road on the island, Jane Kelly gotlost 25 feet from where we stopped forlunch. Not wanting to miss us at theferry she rode back to the dock andwaited for us. t the appropriate timewe met to wait for the ferry. Because wewere early the ferry was late. We passedthe time discussing the pronunciation ofthe word uapricotl. When the ferry came wetook it and that is how I (Harry Bruce)made it home to write this.

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WHAT IS RAINIER?

JOHN FRIZELL AUGUST, 1970.

From a distance it’s white, up closeit’s white too. Rainier is:

Signing in at a parking lot above thetreeline -

Packing four hours into Camp Muir -

Passing girls wearing running shoeswho didn’t know they were on aglacier -

Being awakened at 5:00 P.M. by someoneshouting, “Anyone awake in here?” -

Waking up at 2:00 A.M. to start theclimb -

Freezing by starlight -

Putting on crarnpons in a sandstorm at11,000 feet —

Wearing glacier goggles by moonlight -

Crossing snow bridges over crevasseswith no apparent bottom -

Walking in a cattle track three feetdeep -

Hearing the guided party radio backthat they had reached the summit -

Reaching the summit and finding that wewere the first that day -

Kissing all the girls in the party at14,000 feet —

Slushing down through sun—softenedsnow —

Waiting at Camp Muir -

Running down to base camp in one hour —

Passing tourists on the trail —

Putting on glissading shows before ahundred hikers -

Looking back in awe.

Colour it white, colour it fantastic

59

AUTUMN AND WINTER ACTIVITIES -

SEPTEMBER TO DECEMBER, 1970

BOWRON LAKES CANOE TRIP

PAT GIBSON SEPTEMBER, 1970.

PARTY: CANOE *1: CANOE *2:Ken Craig Pat GibsonTerry Clayton Mel LynneTerry Molsted

CANOE *3:Wendy TaylorFrank BaumannChris Watts

Entry 4*1 —- Saturday, September 6

We departed from Vancouver at 8 P.M. tomake the four hundred and sixty mile journeyto Barkerville by the coyote sun.

Entry #2 -- Sunday, September 7

After awakening the ghosts in Barker—yule, we ate a hearty breakfast at WakeUp Jak&s Cafe. Frank had spaghetti andmeatballs for breakfast. We then droveeighteen miles to the start of the firstportage, where we set out at 11 AM, underuncertain weather conditions, in truepioneer spirit, to forge our way into thisvirgin wilderness.

The first portage to Kibbee Creek isone and a half to one and three quartermiles long, and is a very good trail. Wecanoed one and a half miles across Kibbee—lake to the second portage, which is one

60

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Steve Heim on Castle Rock - Photo: Peter Macek

and a quarter miles long and muddy on manyplaces. We dipped our paddles acrossanother two miles on Indian Point Lakewhere we then camped on a peninsula halfway across the lake. We set up camp at avery good campsite. and in the midst ofpreparing grub, the great Manitou bombardedus with a super hailstorm which covered theground like a winter wonderland. It wasdarn cold on the feet. It rained all night.

Entry #3 -- Monday, September 8

We broke camp around 10:30 A.M. andproceeded two miles down the lake to thenext portage leading to Isaac Lake. Theweather was very unsettled. The portageis one and one quarter miles long aiJ isvery muddy in the wet weather. We canoedfOur miles to the North - South Arm ofIsaac Lake through gusts and rain showersand got separated from the Baumann crew forthe next two days. Rumour has it thatbecause Wendy was not very responsive tothe gang, we left her canoe behind,

On the West Arm of Isaac, the windswere with us for about two miles beforechanging to a north-easterly direction forthe next two miles. From the top of theNorth - South Arm to the Betty Wendlecabin, the wind was against us all theway. The lake was rough so we hugged theshore as we approached a cabin, situate’about two miles before the Betty Wendlecabin. This cabin holds three people andis in excellent shape. However, we decicecto move on to the Betty Wendle cabin asthis first site would become overcrcidedsince there were still two other groups ndthe Baumann crew to come. Also it was thefirst stop after the long paddle. The

cabin at Betty Wendle was quite small, mustyand run—down. The stove smoked, but it wasa welcome site to Canoe 4*1 as two sleepingbags were already wet. It rained againthat night.

Entry 4*4 —— Tuesday, September 9

Weather cloudy, no rain. Lake calm.Canoes 4*1 and #2 left camp at 8:30 A.M. andpaddled to the Isaac River. We arrived at12:30 P.M. and portaged the hundred yardsaround the chute. Frank and Chris were theonly brave ones to shoot it--—without gear,they say. The river is navigable and fairlyfast for four miles to the top of theCascades. Watch out for hidden logs in thelast pool before the portage on the leftbank. This portage is half a mile long.rocky, with muddy patches. Below theCascades we canoed half a mile to the logjam above the falls, which are worthwhileseeing. Approach them from the top of thetrail which is on the right side of theriver. The trail to the falls is indistinct.Portage to McLeary Lake is one quarter mile.short, steep and muddy. Canoes 4*1 and 4*2paddled across McLeary Lake, and down theCariboo River where we camped on an island.The Cariboo River is windy, silty. ovérhung with sweepers, has deadheads, thumpers.gravel shoals, and is multi—channelled witha slow to swift current

Entry #5 -- Wednesday, September 10

This morning we found fresh moosetracks between our tents. Winds strong,partly cloudy, gradually clearing. LaneziLake was very choppy. We arrived at thecabin at Turner Creek, wet and swamped. We

62

had lunch, and then were joined by Canoe#3 and Karl Ricker, an activer VOC’er from1956 to 1965, his wife, Nancy, and father,Bill. They camped with the Baumann crewon the second day and stayed with us thewhole way. The lunch site was fair, butsmall. The cabin there is excellent andthe view terrific. We paddled to the endof the lake where we stocked up with drywood from the small but excellent campsite,before proceeding to Sandy Lake. SandyLake, as the name indicates, is very sandyand also very shallow. We camped at anexcellent campsite there.

Entry #6 -- Thursday, September 11

Canoe #1 decided to get an early startand proceeded as far as they could in oneday. The rest of us decided to make aside trip to the Caribbo Falls, which arevery worthwhile seeing. To get to thefalls, you take a trail from Unna Lakewhich is on the left hand side of theCariboo River. The passage to the fallsis no more than six feet wide. Unna Lakeis small, peaceful, well—protected fromwinds and has sandy shores. Great area forcamping. We tried fishing without success.Canoe #2 decided to leave early after lunchand proceeded up Three Mile Creek. Thecreek is navigable in parts but most of theway, the canoe must be carried. We had tocross over four beaver dams. Upon reachingthe end of the creek, a small gale withsnow and rain, prevented us from paddlinginto Babcock Lake. We sheltered in aprotected spot but could not disembarkbecause the shore was of the quicksandmud variety. After one hour we venturedout into the lake and pulled in at thefirst campsite. An American group of

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canoes, already there, had problems. Oneof their canoes had a hole in the keel whichwas six inches long and one inch wide, andthey were without a patch kit. We savedthe day. The Baumann and Ricker crewscaught up with us so we all proceededacross Babcock Lake, over a one quartermile portage (super highway) to Skoe Lake,crossed this lake to reach the finalportage where we camped for the night.Canoe 4*1 camped at the head of Swan Lakein a cabin. The wind was strong and coldthat evening. We saw moose on BabcockLake and beaver in Skoe Lake.

Entry #7 —— Friday, September 12

Winds strong and against us all theway. Sunny with a few clouds. Snow leveldown around 4800 feet. Paddled downSpectacle and Swan Lakes, ten miles downthe Bowron River to Bowron Lake and across.to reach the cars. Canoes 4*1 and #2 headedto Vancouver immediately with a supper stopin Quesnel, while the Ricker’s treatedCanoe #3 to a super good steak dinner at“?“ Cafe in Wells.

Advice

1. Bring extra plastic garbage bags; theytend to tear after awhile. Wet gear is notpleasant.

2. Bring a patch kit for canoe. Nothinglike being stranded.

3. If you don’t do #2 and find yourselfwith a hole in your canoe, the Ranger advisesthat you heat up some gum from Spruce,Balsam, or Pine trees, add a bit of shavedsoap and some butter, lard or fat. Cut

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cloth patch to sizeF place over hole, andplaster it with the mixture. It will dothe trick.

TENQUILLE LAKE

BILL PRESCOTT SEPTEMBER, 1970.

PARTY: Sara Oliver Peter JordanRoland Burton Ellen WooddMike Miles Eric KerbyRolf Kullak Norma KerbyBill Prescott

It was early on an ominously cloudylooking Saturday morning that an “intrepid”group of VOC’ers picked me up and we spedoff in our two Volkswagens, driven byPeter Jordan and Rolf Kullak.

Our original destination had been LakeLovelywater until the evening before, whenmany last minute changes were made. It wasnow Tenquille Lake, fifteen miles northwest of Pemberton.

Things started well, but got graduallydamper as we ascended higher into the fog.Eventually the raindrops started . .

slowly at first, then with increasingfrequency.

We finally stumbled over the pass aboveWolverine Creek and went down to a beautifulalpine lake. It was raining hard by thistime so we put up tents and dried out overa roaring fire made from some handy two—by—fours that someone thoughtfully packed infor us.

Our singsong that night was accompaniedby ??? with a ukelele supplied by Nancy

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Deas, ??? , and Bob Brusse made upthe other Tenquille Lake Party, who arrivedat the lake shortly after we did.

Sunday morning greeted us with acloudy sky, but with a promise of change-—it lied. Shortly after one group left forSun God Mountain, and Neil Humphrey and Ileft for an inoccuous looking bump on theother side of the lake. the clouds rolledin.

After climbing up damp heather andmuch talus. Neil. and I reached the top of“our bump” just as it started to snow. Thiswas just too much for us, so we sat andconsidered it over a quick lunch and thendescended

Camp was being broken (into littlebits and carted away) as we returned. Itwas so wet everyone had “chickened out” andwas heading for the Whistler cabin. Itsounded like a good idea so we chickened outtoo, leaving Norma and Eric to enjoy therain alone. The Whistler cabin was warmand dry.

Monday was delightfully slack. Wehad lunch at Alice Lake with the touri.stsand then went rock climbing at Murrin Park.

HUT BUILDING 1970: NEVE HILTON

BARRY NAROD SEPTEMBER, 1970.

Let me set the scene: some nebuloustime early in the year. at a Mountain AccessCommittee meeting attended by Roland Burtonand Jim Tupper (Alpine Club Member), SecretaryTreasurer Mary Wells explains to the committee

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that the government has supplied them witha grant to further their cause (and to helpthe government’s public image), and asksif anyone has any ideas for worthwhileprojects. Roland and Jim confer, decidethat if the government is giving awaymoney, then why shouldn’t the clubs try toget some.

JIM: “The Varsity Outdoor Club and theAlpine Club would like to build apublic shelter on Pringle’s Ridge.”

MARY: “Okay... .Everybody agreed . . .Onethousand dollars enough?.. .Willsomebody move that one thousanddollars be allocated to the V,O.C.and A.C.C. for purpose of construc-.tion of a hut on Pringle’s Ridge.,

So the VOC - ACC, (hereafter referred to asthe VOC plus one, or simply the VOC) founditself with money to build a hut and nowhad to build one.

Working for the Physics Department, Iwas able to supply shop facilities as PatPowell had done the previous year for theBurton (Sphinx) hut. Techniques and information gathered the year before were immediately applied and early in July the firstlaminated beam came off the press.

Negotiations with the government forpermission to place a hut in Garibaldi Parkwent ahead, and two trips went to Pringle’sRidge to select and prepare a site. Thegovernment came through and again agreed tobuck the chopper costs. Back in S.U.B.materials gathered, and by the end ofAugust prefabrication was completed. Atthis point Roland, Dave Rosenbiuth, Ellen

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Woodd, Wynne Gorman and myself vanished intothe Fitzsimmons—Cheakamus boondocks for aweek. (See McBridge Exp.). When we returned,Mike Miles had also returned from Inuvik,and pro expeditor that he is, he agreed tocon the army into supplying transportationfor the lumber from the Student Union Building to Diamond Head.

Friday, September 11: Mission accomplished, as an emergency vehicle, commandcar and volkswagon bearing two lieutenants,three privates and five VOCers headed forDiamond Head.

Saturday, September 12: The lumber isunloaded at Diamond Head Chalet, we stop forcoffee, and the army takes its leave. Thesky is crystal clear, blown clear by strong,gusting west winds. The helicopter arrivesat one o’clock and ferries Roland and myself to Pringle’s Ridge. We establishradio contact with Diamond Head Base.Twenty minutes later we are joined by MikeMiles and the first load of plywood.

Another strong load, and then a longwait - without radio contact. Finally wehear Jim Tupper who explains that thechopper dropped a load, and calms us ‘bytelling us that he still has the beams.

The chopper brings one more lightload — the remainder of the small goods,then ferries Bill Prescott to the site.Because of other obligations, the chopperwon’t return on Sunday.

The four of us confer, trying to figureout exactly what is lost. We set up theMcKinley tent. Strong winds. Very cold.We eat, then turn in.

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Sunday, September 13: Up early.Radio contact appears impossible -- highpowered fishermen are drowning the band.Eat cardboard mush, then break camp.Finally radio contact; John Frizell is atDiamond Head. We agree to rendezvous atOpal Cone to start a search for the lostlumber. We set out across the Neve.travelling leisurely. observing thegeology, wandering through icefalls. Attwo o-clock we locate the lumber on theflank of a prominent westeral morraine onthe east bank of the Ring Creek. Nothingsalvable. Mike Miles decides to take apiece home (See Broken Board Award). Wereturn to base, meet Jim Tupper, and headto Vancouver.

Monday, September 14: First day ofclasses. Replacdment lumber for that whichwas lost, is bought in Squamish and truckedto Diamond Head Base Camp. Peter Tchir andI head up to base camp, rendezvous withEmil Brandvoldt, bundle up the lumber andload it onto his truck. Then up to WhistlerMtn. and spend the night in the VOC cabin.

Tuesday, September 15: Up early.Morning warmup by pushing the non-functioning fuel pump car, one—quarter mile to thegondola. Over to the helicopter. A different pilot this time, it’s Clarke — theexperienced regular. The air is misty.warm and still. Nine—thirty lift-off andwe fly towards Mt. Garibaldi, arc aroundthe Black Tusk, skim Helm Glacier, LakeGaribaldi, the Table, Warren Glacier, andfinally Pringle’s Ridge. Moving the lumberis uneventful; everything is accounted for.Peter and I are picked up and we returnto Whistler (by a different route; I onlyused up four rolls of film). Back to

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thinking about the fuel pump; but the pilotused to own an M.G. Ten minutes later weare free—wheeling down the highway, missionsuccessful.

Saturday. September 19: Finalassembly. Twenty V.0.C. ‘ers and JimTupper assemble very early at Diamond HeadBase Camp. The weather is terrible. Somehad come up the night before and camped inthe parking lot. They are miserable. TheBrandvoldts arrive and pick us up in twotrucks. 7:30 A.M. we start walking. Verycold and damp. Whiteout conditions on theglacier. We don ropes and crampons, travelby compass. Accidentally we choose theideal route to the site. Bad weather andthe prospect of sleeping with insufficienttents prompts immediate action. The hutgoes together as planned. Floor, wallsand roof are completed by nightfall andmost of the builders spend the first nightin it.

Sunday, September 20: The weather hasimproved. Sunlight warms us. The hut isfinished and camp is gradually broken. Byearly afternoon the last of the buildersare leaving for the Diamond Head Chaletwhere we all congratulate each other andaccept a ride down to the cars, the hutnow being complete.

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THE LAKE LOVELY WATER TRIP:OR HOW NOT TO DO AN ICE AXE ARREST

PAUL STARR SEPTEMBER, 1970.

PARTY: Eric Kerhy Justin SchmidtPaul Starr (L) Meagan DavisNigel Eggers Pam GlennenMarilyn Gilrnour Helen SterlingEric Hinze Ann SawarnaSteve Heim Ray ChipeniukGary Kozel

Accidents always seem to happen at theleast expected moment. Our trip began onone of the most miserable days I have everseen in the B.C. mountains. When weassembled at the bottom of the Chief at7 A.M., things looked as grim as grim couldbe (even after allowing for the fact thatit was 7 A.M.). The rain was hard and thefog was thick, but thirteen foolish (superstitious anyone?) souls had gathered toventure forth into the wilds of theTantalus Range.

So we went. We crossed the river withreasonable ease and three to four and a halfhours of sweat were expended in walking fromelevation zero to elevation 3900 feet andLake Lovely Water. Needless to say, fearless leader was last. Fortunately for ourdripping bodies, the Alpine Club of Canadahad made available their cabin at the lake,and I arrived to a quite substantial fireand to the musky odor of drying clothescaked with sweat and mud. The afternoonwas spent in quiet indolence by most:bridge and canasta being the order of theday. Gary and Pam went fishing (to mygreat amusement), but I felt rather mortified when Pam showed me her ten inchrainbow

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My whole rationale in setting out insuch weather had been: “If the weather doesbreak, it is better to be somewhere whereone can take advantage of it, rather thanin Vancouver.” However, in all honesty, Idid not expect anything to happen. Butwonder of wondersZ Around 6 P.M., the sunbroke through the clouds, the rain stoppedand the clouds started to disappear. revealing rock walls and hanging glaciersliberally doused with fresh snow. Thislake is probably one of the most beautifulspots near Vancouver.

We got a reasonable start the nextmorning, and headed for Mount Niobe (6600),a fairly easy climb requiring some classthree rock scrambling and a bit of glaciertravel.

Around the 5000 foot level, we pausedat a moderately steep slope in order to dosome ice—axe arrest practice. The snow wasextremely hard--just short of being ice.

Nigel, an experienced mountaineer, waspracticing with a great deal of vigor. Hestarted descending the slope head-downwardand on his back, a situation normallypractised at VOC snow schools. Unfqrtunately,as he was flipping in mid—air to get intoarrest position, he dropped his axe, whichwas new and very sharp. The head end felldownward, making the shaft momentarilyperfectly vertical. At this moment, Nigelfell directly onto the ferrule and itpierced into his side between two ribs.This happened so quickly that no—one wassure if he had been hurt. Even Nigeldidn’t know: he got up immediately andstated that he was O.K. However, sincehis parka was ripped, I went up to him

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and lifted his sweater and saw a ratherlarge hole in his side. He soon collapsedin extreme pain.

There was little we could do in theway of first aid. All the injuries wereinternal. We put a gauze pad over the holeand gave Nigel a few 292’s; we treated himfor shock. Then we deliberated. It wasdecided to send a small fast team to thebottom for help (myself and Pam), whileGary was to go lack to the A.C.C. cabin toget sleeping bags, a stove, and some food.Justin, Eric and Manly stayed with Nigel;all the rest returned to the cabin to wait.

The accident occurred at approximately10 A.M. Pam and I walked into the R.C.M.P.office in Squamish at 12:30 P.M.: we haddescended the trail in less than one hour.Unfortunately, a helicopter couldn ‘t besecured immediately, and it arrived atabout 2:45 P.M. Nigel was evacuatedfifteen minutes later (the clouds fortunately stayed away from the Lake LovelyWater region while all of Garibaldi wassocked in, just across the valley) andtaken directly to Vancouver GeneralHospital. He was operated on within anhour.

Nigel was in the hospital for aboutthree weeks. He enjoyed a complete recoveryand climbed on the Squamish Chief less thana month and a half after his accident. Inretrospect, he was both very lucky and veryunlucky. The ice axe barely missed hislung, but it pierced through his liver anddestroyed his gall bladder. The pain wasfrom bile and blood being released intohis abdominal cavity. Again we arereminded of our fragility in the mountains

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and of the transient nature of our visits.We are all just thankful that tragedy wasaverted this time.

SKY-PILOT MOUNTJUN

NEIL HUMPHREY SEPTEMBER, 1970.

Early Saturday morning, cool but clear,twenty—seven VOC’ers, (mostly new members)met at the Chatterbox cafe in BritanniaBeach. Using a deviously acquired key wegot all the cars up the good gravel road tothe Mt. Shear townsite, where we parked andmentally prepared for the climb (read: woke-up). We straggled up to the start of thewell-marked Marmot Creek trail with noproblems, except that Marilyn (now Starr)and Peter gave their packs to a truck whichdisappeared up the logging road.

We rested at the beginning of thealpine meadows and divided into severalgroups, depending on how slowly we wantedto reach the summit. We gained the saddlein sparkling sunshine and part of the groupdecided to capitalize on their depreciatingenergy supply by sunbathing, while the restdescended to the scree basin east of Sky-Spilot. We scrambled up the gully separating Sky-Pilot from Lege Mt. and then passedthrough the blue ice of the “shrund’ whichseparates Sky-Pilot from a steppe northfacing snow couloir.

By two & clock, eighteen of us hadreached the summit. The view was fantastic.Woodfibre mill was still closed down due toa strike and the wind had cleared most ofthe smog and fire haze. Sky-Pilot is arelatively isolated peak so the panorama is

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uninterrupted by any close—on largemountains.

Then with due ceremony the prize ofconquest was awarded the victors. Thebinoculars were brought out and focused onthe Garibaldi Neve and the awe-inspriingview of the week old ‘Neve Hilton” survivalhut was offered. The sky blue hut stoodstarkly visible against the light blue ofthe Neve snow and the milky blue sky onlytwenty miles away. Two people actuallysaw it:. (You actually can see it. ifyou know exactly where to look.)

After a slow lunch in the sun wedescended to the saddle where half of thegroup went down the Utopia Lake trail andthe other half swept the Marmot Creek trail.We were slow descending because one of thegroup felt ill but we reached the cars justbefore sunset.

It was a beautifulway to spend anearly fall day and it is a good qualifyingarea.

CADET MOUNTAIN

LIL DEAS SEPTEMBER 26—27, 1970.

PARTY: Nancy Deas (L) Solveig FridhLouise Purdey (L) Bruce JohnstonePeter Macek- Ellen Woodd

Consultant Mark ?Peter Peto

Our group of nine met at Glacier Basinlate Saturday afternoon, after hiking onehour from the cars. The Basin is a verybeautiful area, surrounded by mountains-—

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among them Cadet Peak and the impressiveMonte Cristo. The weather was fantastic--windy and very warm. We pitched out tentsas far as possible from the hoardes of BoyScouts in the area, and during the eveningthe budding astronomers observed lots ofmeteorites, satellites, and thousands morestars than ever appear in Vancouver skies.The night was warm and very breezy, but theMcKinley did not blow down, much to thesurprise and relief of its four occupants.

Sunday morning we headed for CadetPeak, climbing through very loose scree.By about 11 A.M. we reached the last ridgebefore the summit. Our formerly quite keengroup grew lethargic after having filledtheir bellies and decided to loaf in thehot sun. Since the rock scramble aheadwas very rotten, and our group too largefor a safe climb, we decided against trying for the peak, and remained on theridge and gazed at the fantastic view.

Finally we headed back down theslightly hairy scree slopes, searched forsome snow and held a snow school——courtesyof our technical consultant, Peter Macek.

The rest of the afternoon passedquickly, and we cleared out of our camp,cleaned up after the Boy Scouts andreturned to the cars.

On the way home we decided that eventhough we had chosen the wrong route upCadet (normally a very easy climb), we hadreally enjoyed the weekend in this beautiful area.

P.S. For Ellen, it was an especiallyworthwhile trip. For it was on this tripthat the word “gross” was added to hercolourful vocabulary.

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GOAT MEADOWS

PETER JORDAN OCTOBER 3-4, 1970.

PARTY: Peter Jordan (L) Richard BuhierFred Thiessen John HallidayDolores Dibble Eric Madsen

Our two faithful Volkswagens bottomedout at 1200 feet on a class 5 logging road,so we shouldered our packs and strolledthrough several miles of pleasant fieldsof charcoal. At the top of these fieldswe fought down our temptation to drive$ aOO, 000 worth of logging equipment intothe canyon and continued up the trail, buthard to find since the Great Central Herdof plains buffalo had just been driven downit during the Great Flood. By 2 o’clock wepassed the high point of two VOC expeditionsfrom last winter, and crossed over theridge into view of the meadows and the twosteep glaciers that tumble into their upperend. Like lemmings we marched into the icycreek, but fortunately at this time of yearthe water was only thigh deep, and we crossedwithout incident, except for upgrading ourcolds to pneumonia. The peaks still lookedtoo far away, so we continued to the end ofthe cattle trail and set up camp on top ofa wind—swept ridge, in view of the sunsetting over the broad Neve on one side,and the lights of Pemberton 6000 feet belowus on the other.

The sun did not rise the next morning,so we gave up on our peaks, which wererapidly dissolving in the clouds, and retreated to the welcome shelter of therancher’s cabin by the creek, which wasabandoned for the winter. Here we warmedourselves by the wood stove for a couple ofhours before daring the drizzle and the

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ford. Abundant grizzly bear tracks didnot encourage us to spend any extra timeon the trail, and we quickly dropped intowhat was left of the forest below.

This area deserves to be re—visited.It will make dedicated conservationists ofall who see the results of slash burningin the forests, and overgrazing by cattlein the alpine meadows. However, thecountry in between is very pleasant andaccessable, and the peaks and glaciersbeyond look capable of repelling quite afew climbing parties.

LONG HIKE 1970 -

BLUEBERRIES MAKE HIKING SLOW

BILL PRESCOTT OCTOBER 3-4, 1970.

Long Hike 1970 started off with a realbang. It seems the navigator (Cam) didn’treally know where he was going, so the buswas half an hour late arriving at Hollyburn.

The trip was billed as being the slack—est of the year. Our dear president M.M.took this to heart and apparently allowedsomeone else to carry his pack 21so HeadQuagga (S. Oliver) struck again, carryinga pack so full of food that it had to belifted onto her back. The people allarrived at Westlake Lodge and eventuallywe set out for the ack hikes up Hollyburnand Strachan (pronounced Stron). Blueberries were plentiful and the hikingtherefore easy and slow. In all we spentabout an hour lying on top of Strachan;eating and sleeping. Eventually we ranout of time and meandered down.

Jim Byers (the Chef) cooked a superb

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supper of spaghetti and garlic bread.New members should note that this isunusual on VOC trips.

Dancing started off early in theevening with the Salty Dog. Later onChris McNeil and Neil Humphrey did a solofor us. During a lull in the dancing N.Miles got wet (soaked) thanks to fourscheming females, Neil Humphrey and PaulStarr. Paul was soon “paid back” whenMike proved how dumb grad students reallyare in the traditional fork game.

The dance went really well and agood time was had by all. New memberswere worn into the ground by 1:00 A.M.(I do not mention that most of the oldmembers were worn out by 9:30 P.M.)

Everyone slept in late, had breakfast of mush and scrambled eggs andmeandered down the mountain to meet thebus at noon.

MAMQUAM MOUNTAIN

SARA GOLLING OCTOBER 10-12, 1970.

PARTY: Roland Burton (L) Erich HinzeBob Brusse Bill HockingDoug Davison Peter HolmesSara Golling Fern KornelsenWynne Gorman Paul McGuiganAnn Renesse Peter TchirHarvey Schroyen

Thirteen intrepid explorers, withRoland’s tent and two McKinleys were foiledby fog and other descending moisture. Wedid get our exercise though. First lap: —

up to the Diamond Head Chalet. stepping

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graciously aside for the occasional jeep—load of paying customers. The last jeeprelieved certain slackers of their packsfor the last mile or so.. . . Then up anddown various steep places, following thestone arrow and orange eyes printed onrocks (sometimes we could even see throughthe fot) to a ridge upon which we sat.waiting for the fog to do something else.It obliged with a strip—tease glimpse ofMamquam Lake. Immediately we plunged.splashing, down cliffs and through treesto the shore, then over a few creeks, downsome ravines, through the swamp thicketand so on, looking for a suitable placenear water to camp. Found water (upperSkookum Creek) but no suitable place. so wepushed aside a few too few of the creekbedboulders and settled in. (And me with nofoamie).

Night——wet. Spent it listening tonoisture creeping through the tent floorinto my sleeping bag. Morning—-socked in.Obviously the weather gods were offendedby our burnt offering from last night’sdinner. Sorrowfully we decided to go tothe hut on the Neve and give it a doorinstead of attempting to ascend Mamquam incomplete fog. Onto the Neve from the northside of the Opal Cone; a ho—hum trip forthe others, blase mountaineers — but I’dnever even seen a glacier before. Beautiful

At the hut we found four sleeping bagsand some bottles containing alcoholicbeverages. We abstained nobly. BCMC’ers.Imageine their surprise at finding thirteenextra bodies and a doors The interior wasmade picturesque by Harvey “the Flap” running around in the most authentic lookingunion suit you’ve ever seen.

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In the morning we found a convenientplace for an ice school, doing it in the

most realistic way (not enough equipment).When the soggy boots froze over, we set offto do some sightseeing. Since it becamerather pointless in the ensuing white-out,we followed the footprints back to pack upand go home. Meanwhile, during our iceschool four of the group. (Doug, Peter T,,Paul and Fern) went over to SentinelGlacier and saw Sasquatch tracks and had afew hours of lovely sunshine and a viewof Garibaldi Lake before heading back tothe clouds on the other side of Pringle’sRidge.

THE INFAMOUS CHILLIWACK—HARRISONCYCLING TRIP

JACK McCUTCHEON OCTOBER 17-18, 1970.DAVE WHITING

PARTY: Gail Trethewey Dave WhitingJudy Echlin Cam PearceAnthea Farr John IrelandMoira Lemon Jack McCutcheonWendy Buy Bill Thomas

Part I: Saturday

Early on the morning of October 17th.with cicyles on car roofs and in a trailor,six cyclists arrived at the Whiting’scottage in Chilliwack. After fortifyingourselves with cups of tea we startedcycling around Fairfield Island, It wasa typical autumn morning in the FraserValley. The air was crisp, a mist hungover the fields, and there was scarcelya sound to break the silence. We spentthe morning exploring the narrow, twisty.flat country lanes. occasionally passing

81

a tractor but very seldom seeing a car.We had lunch beside the Fraser Riverlooking towards the Hope and Harrisonareas. In the afternoon we cycled throughthe town of Chilliwack, under the freewayand then south to Vedder Crossing. Wealso explored an old graveyard outside ofSardis in a rather morbid fashion. It washere that Wendy dropped one of her contactlenses which was subsequently found. Wearrived back at the cottage to find JackMcCutcheon awaiting our return. AfterAnthea, Moira, and Dave had cooked theirhorrible little suppers, we watched Wendywith morbid fascination as she cooked Jackhis steak and mushrooms. After dinnerWendy. Bill, and Marion left for homeleaving Anthea and Moira at the mercy ofJack and Dave.

Part 2: Sunday

The Sunday leg of the cycle tripincluded three of Saturday’s die—hards plusfive new recruits. Four of them, Cam, Gail,John and Judy thoughtlessly stumbled theirway into Dave Whiting’s panabode adobe at4:00 A.M. Sunday after broomball, and rudelyawakened the sleeping occupants.

By about 11:00 A.M. we had the crewconvinced that the rains weren’t due for atleast another day so we set out into thescenic Fraser Valley. This is dairy countrywith cows in the fields, vicious dogs hidingin the bushes and hop plants and silossillhouetted against the grey western sky.Life took on new excitement and meaning aswe met the valley monsoon in Agassiz. Theroute from Agassiz to Harrison was uneventful except for the increasing intensity ofthe precipitation varying inversely withthe water repellency of our clothing.

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Upon arriving in Harrison, we discovered an abandoned trap—shooting dugoutin front of the Harrison Hotel where onecould eat without getting his lunch wetter.Following lunch, we vetoed Gail’s idea ofcrashing the hotel pool but decided to checkout the public pool. The gang put thumbsdown on a Sunday sulphur swim because adollar and a half was too steep. we werealready wet enough, and there were toomany stout ladies and gentlemen wallowingin the entrance to the shallow end.

After drying as much of our bods asdecently possible under the hand dryers inthe public washrooms, we left for Chilliwack.After about half a mile on the return trip.Dave Whiting and the girls parked themselvesin the Sasquatch Cafe and refused to budgeuntil John and Cam rode back to Chi].liwackto get the cars. (Besides, Anthea wastired of pulling up the rear on her one-speed racer.) Jack, also not being asissy, rode back alone to brave off theferocious dogs that John and Cam hadantagonized on their way through.

WEDGEMONT LAKE

MARILYNN RODE OCTOBER 24-25, 1970.

PARTY: Teresa Colby Tim O’ConnerJoan Davis Marilynn RodeGarth Evans Paul Starr (L)Alex Grant Marilyn StarrNeil Humphrey Eric (Rick) StathersJim Jordan Eric WhiteEric Kerby Ellen WooddNorma Kerby George ?

Ann LittleVirginia Moore

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Sunday super—keeners:Bob BrusseMike MilesDave PattersonTerry Rollerson

Wedgemont Lake: located at the end of theWeart Glacier. between WedgeMountain and Weart Mountain.about 6200 feet elevation.

Eighteen enthusiasts met at the VOCparking lot at Whistler, then carried on enmasse to the logging road that would giveus easy access to the trail and a bridgeacross the Green River. Once across theriver, we discovered a gate, (luckily itwas open) so it was decided to leave a caroutside so we could get a key when wereturned. Somehowe piled everyone and thepacks into the three remaining cars anddrove right to the bottom of the trail.The ability to drive to the bottom dependsupon the condition of the road.

We left the cars at 11:30 A.M.,, justas it was starting to snow. It continuedto snow intermittently throughout the day,but spirits were not dampened: and by4:30 P.M. we were all well established inthe hut.

The trail is quite steep: it risesapproximately 4000 feet in a very shorthorizontal distance. The trail needs alot of brushing out, some switchbacks cutif possible, and more flagging. On our wayup, more flagging was done, but the trailstill needs better marking in a lot ofplaces.

Our intermittent snowflurries decidedto set in for good and real. Due to the

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inclement weather it was unanimously agreedto hold the knot—tying and prussik practicein the hut, despite cramped quarters. Thehut slept only ten people, so the tentswere erected before dark. After supper,plans for an ice—school were made for thefollowing day. There was a short-livedsing—song, then Marilyn Starr read a bedtime story, “Annapurna”, which turned intoa general discussion on similar expeditions.

Sunday dawned clear and cold, and abouteight to ten inches of fresh snow coveredthe ground. Just as we were getting readyto head for the ice—school, four super—keeners whipped in. making us twenty—twostrong. They tad joined us because of thecancellation of another trip. The ice-school was held on the glacier that flowsinto the lake and was centered around alarge cravasse, which everyone practisedprussiking out of. Despite the sunshine,it was cold standing around waiting foryour turn, so we tried out various methodsof warming ourselves up. The most successful was doing the “Salty Dog” on the edgeof the crevasse. Later on, ice—axe belaysand mountain rescue techniques were perfected. Our leader, Paul Starr, found outthat it took six people to pull him out ofa crevasse.

Having got an early start in themorning, we packed up and returned to thehut early in theafternoon. Once back atthe hut, everyone set about collecting alltheir gear and generally cleaning up. Theintention was to get down the trail beforenightfall. Everyone was down to the carsby 5:00 P.M. All we needed was the key tothe gate. A short hour’s wait and everyone piled into their cars and headed forVancouver and books, all agreeing that it

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had been lots of fun and an area worthmore investigation,

CHIEF DAY

PAUL STARR NOVEMBER 8, 1970,

The annual Squamish Chief Day HorrorShow occurred on schedule and was enjoyedby all. The momentary respite from therains was spent loafing on the Sugarloafwhere the usual things happened. Aroundnoon, everyone became somewhat bored, andsince it wasn’t raining yet, the partydivided into several groups. The sanepeople went with Hugh Burton to learnabout aid or stayed with Marilyn Starr onthe Sugarloaf. However, some of us wheshould know better, volunteered to takesome people onto the slabs of the Apron(namely the climb known as Sickle), Ledby Paul Starr (alias Fearless) and NeilHumphrey (alias Francis), twelve fool-.hardy individuals roared to the base ofthe Apron and started up the Diedre trail(read waterfall). As soon as I startedto lead the first pitch. I knew I had madea mistake. Normally easy slab moves hadbecome relatively difficult, Now I hadknown this all along (deep down inside),yet I persisted. To make a long storyshort, three leads were accomplished byeleven people, (we lot one person on theway). Steve White did his first lead onwet slabs very admirably. Two long wetrappels ended the climb. And it rained(surprise). i1 the participants decidedto miss an excellent Kakademon Kioset dueto wet apparel except for Steve and Neil(who must be masochists),

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SKY PILOT - SHEAR AREA

ERIC WHITE DECE4BER 12-13, 1970.

PARTY: Rob Brusse Sara GollingSara Oliver Eric WhiteRoland Burton

The trip got under way about 7:15 A.M.half an hour late because Sara G. had notbeen informed that we were leaving early.Once under way, the trip proceeded welluntil we hit the road above BrittaniaBeach. At this point we discovered thatRob had no chains for the vehicle. Wemanaged to get the car about another halfa mile up the road by digging sand out ofthe bank and spreading it on the road.After finding a parking spot for the carwe proceeded to walk the extra mile or twowhich had been added onto the trip.

Once we hit snow, we put on our skisand everything went smoothly for awhile.The weather was overcast but not doinganything. Just when the trip started toget into coordination, Eric’s skin decidedto fall apart. This created a nice breakfor everybody while it was fixed, for thefirst time. These skins, rented, fellapart three times during the hike in, andwere finally tied on with parachute cord.

It was easy going, until we decidedthat the road went the wrong way, so weproceeded to make our own way through thewilderness. Our own way threaded itselfup a horrendous slope with two feet ofpowder. At one point Sara O.’s pack thoughtit would be nice to sit in the snow bankbeside her feet, and her skis thoughtthey could fly. But in spite of all obstacles we made it into the cabin at dusk.

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The trip out was most uneventful,except for the usual events: peopleflying gracefully down the slope, ontheir packs. Skiing on ice is anexhilarating experience, but it doeswonders for the bases of your skis asEric found out. We all made it home by8 o’clock Sunday evening.

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CHRISTMAS TRIPS 1970

CHRISTMAS AT O’HARA

WENDY WATSON CHRISTMAS, 1970.

PARTY: Roland Burton Mike MilesJim Byers Diddi PriceLii Deas Rick PriceWynne Gorman Wendy WatsonSteve Heim Ellen WooddPeter Macek Bob WoodsworthChris McNeil

Arriving back in Vancouver after spending seven days wrapped within the warmfriendly walls of the Alpine Club Cabin,guarded by the towering peaks which surrounded Lake O’Hara, we were greeted withcries of “Our trip was THE BEST” from allsides. I’m sure they were the best to thepeople who experienced them.

The mood which prevailed over our sevendays was relaxation. The five hour trip in,itself, was not strenuous; and the heavy padloads of wood and food carried the onequarter mile from the Ranger’s Cabin to theA.C.C. cabin in the meadows proved the moststrenuous effort of the day. This activitywas enough to work up a thirst for some“Earl Gray” tea, savoured as we quietlyslouched into our Hobbit chairs and placedour feet before the warmth of the fire inthe pot—bellied stove which was quicklydrying the gloves and socks hung by thechimney with care. Outside, crystals ofsnow were continually in the air, and attimes more than a bit of snow would accompanthe wind which would roar down through thetrees and send whirlwinds of powder snowroaring past the cabin and through theopen meadow.

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The one day this did happen we stayedinside and watched the snow through curtainsof icicles hanging from the eaves. Mostdays either the whole group or sometimesjust a portion of us would head of f insearch of the unknown; a good ski run home,hopes of seeing new peaks or even thefamiliar ones from a new angle, or possiblya different route of ascent.

Each day brought satisfaction, as noplans were laid down and everything justhappened-—including a first ascent of thepicnic shelter with two different teamscompeting to be first to reach the chimneytop. This turned to chaos as the roofavalanched and we ended up with a searchand rescue effort, searching for one bala—clava and four ski mitts, three of whichare waiting to be discovered by summercampers.

One of our longer trips took us toOpabin Pass. Sitting on the lee side ofthe pass to get out of the piercing windexperienced on the way up, eating SWT’s,cheese, salami and frozen Tang, we watcheda powder avalanche silently slip down theside of Biddle, never reaching the groundas the updrafts in the valley blew thesnow skyward again. On our right, Hunga—bee watched silently as we removed skinsand prepared for a long floating ski downover the glacier, through knee deep powder(with occasional spills), down to the trailthrough the trees where people were hootingand hollering and cursing and swearing theirway back to the lake, picking up a load ofwood, then heading to the cabin for afternoonTEA

Other visits were made to McArthurLake and Odaray Plateau where the ridge to

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the peak was considered, but weather didnot permit an attempt. Schaffer, the onepeak attempted and achieved by Peter, Boband Rick nearly ended in disaster as Bobgot caught in an avalanche. The size ofthis avalanche grows every time the storyis told! Bob came out on top, in onepiece (minus a hat and one ski pole) andthey continued to the peak, but then beata hasty retreat back to the cabin.

The two hour ski run out brought usback to civilization; people, cars,crowded trains and tales of other trips.all the best, just like ours!

THIRTEEN CAME HOME FROM O’HARA

The snow was damply falling and the icywinds did blow.

The ramis bit into their boots and thedrizzle turned to snow,

Their eyes were red. their hopes were dead,and the mush was running low.

And the thirteen slogged on through theforest.

Their sweat fell on the ski tracks as theystumbled in the sleet,

A dozen faces stopped to stare as someonestopped to leak,

Their castle was a cabin and their outhousewas a creek,

As the thirteen ignored the forest.

Up a dark and dingy couloir, four climbersmade their way,

Be fore too long an avalanche had taken Bobaway,

And he wondered how it happened that heended up this way,

Getting buried like a fool in the snow slide.

9].

But as we lay there sleeping, a visiondid appear,

We saw outselves as Hobbits, drinking teanot beer,

Thinking slothful thoughts and gazing outin fear,

As the blizzard raged on through the forest.

And so we spent our holiday in slothfulslack repose

Wearing out our long johns, instead ofpanty hose

Getting pretty dirty and freezing peoplestoes

As the storm raged on through the forest.

With a mighty roar the big tmin soarsalong the railway tracks

Eighteen bucks is a lot to pay for soreeyes and sore backs

C.P.R.’s a rip off, Accommodation’s slackAnd the thirteen came home from O’HARA.

MeGILLIVARY PASS CHRISTMAS 1970

FRED THIESSEN DECEMBER 26, 1970 -

JANUARY 4, 1971.

PARTY: Rob Brusse Peter JordanFred Thiessen Rod MeLeishDolores Dibble Tom O’ConnorPat Gibson Sara OliverSara Golling Bill PrescottJohn Halliday Dave Rosenbiuth

Dec. 26 - The beginning: three Volkswagonsof people arrived in Bralorne.We assembled and spent the nightin Bradian, a townsite of Bralorne(and now a ghost-town).

Dec. 27 — We awoke at 5:30 A..M., sorted out

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equipment, ate breakfast, droveup to Pioneer, and got on thetrail at 7:00 AM. After ninehours we reached the cabins atthe Pass. Breaking trail presented problems as there had beena lot of fresh snow. Once in thecabin we had a quick supper andwent to bed.

Dec. 28 - As was typical throughout the trip.we awoke at 9:00 A.M. After breakfast we explored our new surroundings by going part way up Mt. Royaland had a fantastic run downthrough knee—deep powder snow.

Dec. 29 - After having a VOC breakfast(mush) we decided to go up Mt.McGillivary. At the base of thepeak Rob, Peter and myselfdecided to try and climb thepeak while the others skiieddown. We never made it to thetop, but we had a very enjoyableski—run down.

Dec. 30 - We took a very slack trip up toTelephone Ridge. admired thecornices, and skiied down.

Dec. 31 — New Year’s Eve, another slacktrip up to Telephone Ridge. onlythis time we traversed the ridgeand admired the scenery, thenskiied down to the summit of thePass. The only significant thingabout New Year’s Eve was that wewere too tired to see it in andwe went to bed at 10:00 P.M.

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Jan. 1 - Dave, Rob, Sara 0.,, and Pat leftus, went through the Pass and

caught the southbound train thenext day. The rest of us wentto the top of Mt. Royal andobserved the scenery. The BlackTusk and Mt. Garibaldi were quitevisible even though they were 65miles away.

Jan. 2 — We cleaned up the cabin and left,The trail out took three hours asopposed to the nine hours in.Arriving at Pioneer, Tom, Rod.Dolores. and John decided to leavefor Vancouver that night whileBill, Sara G.,, Peter and myselfstayed and were entertained andput up by Paul Kleinshrot who ownsthe cabins we stayed at.

Jan. 3 — The end of a beautiful trip and areturn to Vancouver for classesthe next day.

MT. ASSINIBOINE

ANN LITTLE CHRISTMAS, 1970.

PARTY: Alice Culbert Marilyn StarrJane Davis Duncan EtchesFern Kornelson Rolf KullakAnn Little Steve WhitePaul Starr

On the morning of December 26th. aftermuch planning and anticipation, our tripbe an (with a flat tire). This occurred atsix o’clock in the morning, on a Burnaby busroute. We unloaded our gear and fixed thetire, and then the ten of us. plus gear,piled back into the carry—all truck we had

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rented, eager to begin the day’s drive toBanff.

At about 10 P.M. we arrived at WaptaLodge (near Banff) and dropped in to havetea with the O’Hara group. It seemed thatthey had been able to rent some rooms atthe lodge, where they stayed the night tobegin their trip the next morning Wedidn’t stay too long because we still hadto drive to Banff, check in at the rangerstation, drive to Kenmore, and up a road toa dam at the beginning of Spray Lake. wherewe would spend the night. Well, with theaid of a police escort, we were able tofind the road and arrived at the lake.

The next morning, the 27th. we wereorganized and crossing the dam at approximately 9:00 A.M. Following the trailbeside the lake for three hours, we stoppedfor lunch and continued the rest of theway on the lake. By nightfall, we had goneapproximately nine miles and found a trailerwhere we spent the night. Due to a fewequipment problems, we had not reached thefull ten miles to the end of the lake, asplanned.

On the 28th, we continued to the endof the lake and proceeded eight miles up theBryant Creek trail to a ranger stationwhere we spent a comfortable night,

On the 2 9th, continuing along the trail.we met three ski—tourers who had come invia Sunshine. Following their tracks, wecontinued up through Assiniboine Pass andon to a lodge near Lake Magog, completingthe last seven miles of our journey. Thelodge was surrounded by seven or eightsmaller cabins, giving the scene an appearance of a small alpine v1laqe.

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The next morning, our first day atthe lodge, we toured on the surroundinghills, eagerly waiting for the cloudscaught on the peak of Mt. 2ssiniboine toclear. They never did clear completely.The second day proved a bit more profitable as people were rested and moreenergetic. We toured north of the lodgeup to a ridge, hiking from there on foot,over loose snow-covered rock to Nub Peak.The sky cleared and the sun shone, althoughthe wind remained strong as it had beenever since we arrived. The view wasunbelievable. Just to stand and look wasto be happy.

After a rollicking ski down (througha few trees) we returned to the lodge tofind three visitors. They were three cross—country skiers from Calgary, who stayedto join in our New Year’s Eve celebrations(which were declared at 9:00 P.M. to allowfor an early start on our trip out thenext morning) - We made scones and cinammonbuns with the aid of our huge wood stove.and after numerous wars of one sort oranother had taken place, we hit the sack.

Rising early the next morning, westarted for home with thoughts of hotshowers and home—cooked meals. By noon,after a riot of skiing down, we reachedthe ranger station and ate lunch. Continuing down the trail, we reached the lakeearlier than was expected and decided topush on, via the road this time, to reachthe trailer we spent the first night in.

Starting from there the next morning,we reached the truck beside the dam atapproximately 3:00 P.M. On arrival, weloaded up the truck and head for Banff anda change of food (pancakes to be exact).

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Driving to Salmon Arm that night we stayedat the Booth’s home. They were delightfulpeople and served a huge breakfast thenext morning. Scrapping the idea of goingdownhill skiing, we drove up to ShuswapLake to visit Mrs. Booth at. their cabin.Some of us went canoeing and the rest justrelaxed and enjoyed themselves in front ofthe fire, reading old magazines.

That afternoon, we reluctantly leftfor Vancouver, arriving home about 11 P.M.,tired and yet happy with memories andalready a yearning to return.

RED MOUNTAIN

PETER BARKHAM CHRISTMAS, 1970.

“In the dark and lonely pre—dawn hours,guided by the light of setting Juniper,they left Vancouver’s Neon desert forpowder-filled vallesy vibrant withcrystal light, high in the easternmountains.

Having journeyed through the fabledOkanagan, where snow lay so thickly on theground that even blades of grass were barely

visible, we approached Rossland with feelings ranging from apathy to despair. By

the time Red Mountain appeared there was at

least sufficient snow to make skiing apossibility, and we passed on oir way to

Trail’s Ra-Lyn Motel impressed by the awful

steepness of the hill.

After the customary chaos of arrival,

an amorphous and motley crowd set out to find

sustenance. Trail could hardly be described

as a gourmand’s nirvana, as those unable to

afford the extortionate and exotic repast of

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chicken and meat balls at the KootenayHotel soon discovered. It thus came topass that our first feat of endurance wasdinner at “Smiling Jack’s” Trail subsidiary, a meal which defies description andalmost defied eating.

Other events of the evening we soclimactic by comparison that I will passrapidly to the next day, when we startedsix days of skiing freshly covered slopesand deep untracked powder in the unpopu.lated vastness of Granite Mountain. Snowfell every night, and conditions were sosuperb as to border on the unbelievable.

For those blessed with acute nocturnalvision, total landscape recall, vividimagination, and for the suicidal insane,Red Mountain was “illuminated’ for nightskiing. All VOC’ers seem to fall into atast one of these categories, and we willlong cherish the memories of those evenings: the cries of “Where did the hill go?”,the man—eating moguls, and the sheer terror.

Not all our time, however, was devotedto skiing. Unknown to most people, atTrail resides one of the Seven Wonders ofthe World, the Red Mountain Chair Lift andBearing Destruction Device. Many happyhours we spent swaying in a stationarychair, surveying the countryside, thequaint old lift towers of reclaimed mineshoring, and the Bearing Destruction Device—urn——Top Station (made of old mangle machinesand mine elevators) busily vapourizing itsbearings. Speaking of mines, I shouldmention the trips to the Trail Smelter, ofwhich it was once said “the where what?”.

Although our own cuisine had beenconsistently supberb, on New Year’s Eve we

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once again took money in hand and repairedto the Kootenay Hotel for their remainingspecialite de la maison, meat balls andchicken. Food and entertainment wereprovided in copious quantities by theefforts and antics of our resident buffoon,organiser of cooks, and waitress extra—ordinare, Peter II. That fateful day alsohappened to be the birthday of Chief CookGail, and was duly celebrated with champagneand ski—cake. The birthday oration wasgiven by none other than oral Peter II,who talked a great height and length abouteverything (except Gail and her birthday).

With minds addled by meat balls andchicken, mulled wine, champagne and Peter II,what else was there to do but attend BCIT’sNew Year’s Eve party? It was a gas. Twodetails stand out from the haze: BCIT’s reaction to ye olde Salty Dog Rag, which wasof stunned incredulity, and T DRESS. Thispiece de resistance (unlikely) was providedby BCIT, and covered the attributes andintention of its occupant as effectivelya Saran Wrap. Everyone returned safe andsound, although some may remember more thanothers,

Our last day was so magnificent that ittranscended ordinary mortal experience.Any aescription would be inadequate, butimagine a sky of deepest blue, snow sugarsmooth shining in clean bright light, andice crystals glinting with rainbow coloursdancing in the cold air. Sun caught mistsrising above frosty lakes and finally set,at the end of a day beyond compare, turningthe wind-blown snow plumes to rose and gold.I think we found, at the end, that whichevery skier seeks under the sky.

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IT ALL HAPPENED TO MURRAY

For everyone else, catastrophe wasunknown. The mctel had an easy slalomcourse (of concrete blocks) at its entrance.Oh well, he was probably distracted at thetime, with his six day pass vanishing justlike that, and anyway the damage was nottoo serious. That was on the first evening.fate was kind, or rather was biding hertime, until the fifth day. Our hero wasschussingamogul field, as was his wont,and encountered, of all things, a mogul.When he collected himself together, oneof his brand new Harts had snapped, andthe tip swung gently to and fro supportedby the one remaining lamination.

Fate still had one final trick toplay. Coming back over the Hope—Princeton,we were driving along in great spiritswhen the car skidded sideways, turningsedately through 360 degrees before hitting a snowbank, and another 180 degreesbefore coming to rest. Murray laughedinsanely, and Fate withdrew her ficklefinger.

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CLINBS AND EXPEDITIONS

NIRVANA

PETER MACEK

Grand Central Tower rises from thePeshastin orchard as a massive tiltedslab. its main southern ridge sweepingunbroken for three hundred feet to thesummit. The guide book interspersestechnical details with comments about thebeauty of the route; at 5.9 the hardestfree climb in the pinnacles.

Nirvana Ridge: The route has beenthe idee fixe in my mind for two years ofPeshastin trips; the ideal against whichI have balanced my ability and psyche,waiting for the partners and the opportunity, contemplating the bulges and groovesfrom afar. We decided to try on Sunday.a cold and threatening day with the firstbig winter storm hitting the mountains tothe west. Steve got the first lead andstepped onto a fierce little slab thatbegrudged his progress right from theground. The rope paid out slowly and fromsomewhere above, delight alternated withthrusting grunts and curses. The firstoverhand yielded, Louise started up and Isat back in the scrub, impersonallywatching the contest. silently kibbitzing,waiting.

My turn. The subtle holds forced animmediate total concentration and for onehundred and fifty feet my entire beingfocused on conserving strength. The bigbulge yields to layback move off apebble, feet flt on the polished slab.I. passed low, got the hardware from Steve

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and continued, deciding that a rest couldcome on a pedestal just above. The restnever came. As I stepped off the belaybolt into a smooth, shallow groove, thefirst dry throbbing of fear began. Theearlier concentration was now intensified——no comforting rope stretched above toreassure, no longer the calm voice in thebackground saying “Steve led this, you cando it.’ The pedestal was precarious Icontinued onto the face——a layback up atiny flake, a reach to a finger ledge,mantle, slide your left hand so you don’tstep on your fingers, slowly stand up, andgrasp a protruding pebble. Adrenalin wasreally pumping now. A doubtful pin, thena bombproof jam nut and the long delicateleadout. The universe was four squarefeet of yellow-gray rock, each wrinklesearched for utility, apprehension battling the inner calm of confidence. A rampled back onto the ridge, overhanging, onehundred feet above the ground. I reachedup and did two exposed mantleshelf moves.I clipped into that last bolt, straddledthe ridge and achieved immediate and totalrelease. The mind’s reaction to that suddenswitch is dazzling. The world, which hadhereto been totally excluded came rushingin and the sensation — starved brain graspedand examined the commonest minutae in alltheir intricacy. The rain was spatteringdark wet spots onto the yellow rock, arandom discolorationiich diffused and wasabsorbed, vanishing and clearing the stagefor the next one, as the pregnant dustysmell of first moisture was borne by thewhisper of wind below my feet.

A dark blob splatting onto rock——insignificant, yet a totally unforgetableexperience. How long did it last? Bareseconds elapsed before “On belay” signalled

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Louise to come up. The instant had passed;and yet still the mind remembers in joy,and peace.

SQUAMI SH-CHEAKAMUS DIVIDE(CAYLEY TRAVERSE)

ROLAND BURTONJIM BYERS JUNE 2-6, 1970.

PARTY: Roland Burton Duncan EtchesJim Byers Rick Price

On a clear day when you are skiing atWhistler and riding the Red Chair, and youlook south—west across the Alta Lake Valley,you see a large flat expanse of white inthe distance, with two jagged peaks stickingout of its southern end. This is the icecap between the Squamish and CheakamusValleys; the two jagged peaks are Cayley andFee. The north end of this icecap ends atMt. Callaghan (also known as Powder Mountain),and we found that a ski/logging company hadbuilt a road almost to the base of it. Wedecided that the trip from Callaghan to Mt.Brew, near the sbuthern end (also near thehighway) would take five days, that fourpeople would be the ideal group, and if wewent during early June we wouldn’t needskis.

Before we started, Bill Tupper in hisCessna 172 dropped a load of food for uspart way along the route. Tuesday nightafter work we were taken to the end of thelogging road and made our first camp.

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Entry 1. — June, 3 Spmetime in the, afternoonq .... -

Rick,’ buncàn :à f left iandbuvër yesterday afternoon and drove to the CallaghànCreek logging gate. It was unlocked so,while Duncan. stayed there to ensure that itremained so-; Rick.and I went ex’1oring. Wefound an old ‘lágging’ road about one quartermile south of Brandywine that went. about

two ntile.s in.. tt may come in Iahdy ,ön ,theway out.

MeajwIule, Duncan had 1one a littleexploring oh his own. He’d located a raft

;:fl ,.th smaLJ. lake by%]e gate,. It was ratherJ,ot and Uhzç 5f.usuccumbed ta the..

.tmptatwn The top itIcI or so was gu;t‘arm. There erea’fedtk i ,mdtWHen

the P G.E ud-cawtifelily-i ike leas hednôürmodesty.. . •s

bf1 •“:IV C.., Sjvhtbflètr. Nancyoveo tesnq line; bid.

podye to the rans.po:n any; set U =n’t; 1had sqmething to ead went to bed.

14 - . ..

Started walking .bo4 :30 this motning——two hours on ioggngro,ad to Callaghan ake.The area aoiand the oith end of,thè lakeapars to be .suIi1d.éd into sniall lots.Crossed the creek on a ‘rather shaky one logbridge at the lake outflow. Another two

haurs toJthe top.of.te ri.dg sQu.thof Mt.Callagahn. Arived a CA1P CAKE about11 30..in L emittenra shwer pit.upthetent4

ilj@ eb-rp .-‘..

Duncan has gone expl&mnalong tOmOrrow’s The rest of us are resting.Really quite pleasant lying here listeningto the rain and wind.

10k

Entry 2 — June 3 — later

Got restless after supper and leftshortly after seven to climb Ring Peak, asmall flat—topped mountain to the west.Traversed across a fresh avalanche trackunder a cornice on the east side —— totop via N.E. ridge (class 3, a new route).On top before nine——second recorded ascent--the first, according to the cairn record.was a solo by John Clarke in May last year.He also claimed a first of the other flat—topped peak four miles northeast. Thesetwo peaks are similar to the Talble inGaribaldi and may be of similar origin.Returned to camp via the ring and talusslope on south side.

Entry 3 - June 4 - Evening

From CAMP LAKE we climbed directly tothe high point being careful to bear Westand stay high to avoid the rock bands. Gota fantastic view east into Garibaldi Park.A slight drip down then an ascending traverseleft into DROP or OLSTILE PASS on the northend of the BOILERPLATE SNOWFIELD. It wasvery hot so we spread things out on therocks to dry while we collected and sortedthe air drop. Everything had been wellwrapped and nothing was lost. The parcelcontaining the crackers landed on the rocks——nothing too serious. Crossed the snowfield (approximately four miles) in veryhot afternoon sun with very heavy packs.Sure is an awful lot of food! Set up campon the divide col just north of Cayley.Fantastic view of the summit tower ofCayley slowly growing over the horizon aswe crossed the snowfield. A beautifulapproach to an unbelievably beautifulpeak.

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Entry 4 — June 6 - EveningJune 5Yesterday we climbed Cayley by the

north ridge —— a possible first. Sustainedclass 3—4 rock and snow all the way. Thesummit towers are relatively solid rockand enjoyable climbing-—one fine class 5move. Everyone up the north and highertower——no cairn or record—-in fact noroom.

Spent over an hour around the summitshaving a leisurely lunch while Duncan gavean extended course in coastal geography.All 360 degrees of familiar and unfamiliarsnow—capped mountains Wedge—Singing Pass-Sir Richard—Davidson—Castle Towers—BlackTusk—Mamquam—Garibald i—Bonnycas tie—SkyPilot Group-(Fee, Fye, Fo-Fum in foreground)—Tantalus Group—Panther—Zenith-Peleon—Ossa—Jimmy Jimmy-Icecap—Tinniswood-Meager PeaksCurrie-Weart-back to Wedge-(Rainbow andSproat in the foreground. Whistler aninsignificant ridge in the middle—distance).In the immediate foreground to the southwest was Pyroclasti and the Vulcan’s Thumbboth of them unclimbed if not unclimable.The wind coming up from the Squamish Valleyshipped up clouds of reddish dust from thesetwo giving some idea of just how rottenthey are.

We completed the traverse descendingby the south side, the normal up route.into the Pyroclasiic area. It was a shortsimple descent-—much quicker for Rick thanfor the rest of us. His camera fell outof his pack and rolled down the steep slope.He gave rapid chase, quickly overtaking meas I scrambled for a belay stance. Unfortunately he ran out of rope and sat downrather quickly before overtaking thecamera. Fortunately the camera stopped ten

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feet below him, just before plunginganother hundred feet to a rock rib.

Returned to camp under the east facethrough a small ice—fall and back up theicefield to the divide.

After a small supper we broke campand continued along the divide. stheastof Cayley, down an icefield staying to thewest to avoid icefalls. We were forcedoff the divide by some steep rock anddetoured down the Squamish side into anarrow canyon. The sides consisted ofdistinct layers of columnar basalt showing different cooling rates and/or eruptions all resting on volcanic ash (hence—-ASH HOLE). Returned to divide andclimbed to summits of FO-FUM, climbedwest summit and traversed over eastsummit, thence along ridge to vicinity ofFYE. About three hours from Cayley camp.

There was still a little light leftso, while Rick and Rol set up camp (i.e.food), Duncan and I traversed over andaround FYE back to camp (3/4 hr. NTD).Slept out on rock ridge in small sand!gravel depressions.

June 6Dunc and I broke camp and headed off

to reach Fee while Rol and Rick traversedFYE. Began route up snow on west face——Rick joined us as we moved onto the moredifficult part. Two 90 foot snow/rockleads followed by a long 175 foot lead withno protection then a 100 foot lead throughvery rotten rock to the summit. Amazed tosee how much the east face of the south(unclimbed) tower is overhung. A verycautious descent avoided injury fromfalling rock. Joined Rol in a warm dustbath for lunch.

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Continued along the divide to BREWJUNCTION and made camp. Tent on snow, campon rocks, a nice combination. Duncan hasgone exploring again, this time along theroute towards Triconi. The rest of us havebeen lying in the door of the McKinleyenjoying the indescribable view of thepeaks, snowfields, hanging valleys andlakes on the west side of the SquamishValley. Another beautiful sunset.

Entry 5 — After the end

Up early——breakfast—out on crusttowards Triconi——Rick and Rol climbedCypress while Dunc and I scrambled alongridge to Triconi. Tn. is of fairly solidrock with many possible routes of varyingdifficulty (permanent ice to sustained highclass 5, the best climbing in the area).Climbed in and out of swirling clouds upan easy 3—4 route, short pause on top anda run back. (About three hours out andback.)

R. and R. had already broken campbut we lay in intermittent sun/cloud untilabout noon. The long haul out over Brew isa lousy route, there must be a better way.Located the end of that old logging roadabout six o’clock and got down to Rick’scar at Brandywine Falls about an hour later.

Hindsight

We had been woken up Day 1 by Duncan’salarm clock but it became missplaced andwas not heard again.

It is hard to conclude anything fromthis trip, but we did ‘notice that the weatherwas excellent and maybe it is for all VOCexpeditions when it matters. Early June is

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a good time to cover long distances onfoot. because what snow remains covers thebush and you don’t have to lift your feet.The country we visited is very pretty andwild, but we’ll probably not be backbecause there’s such a lot of country to beseen.

BOUNDARY MOUNTAINS

TERRY ROLLERSON JULY, 1970.

One day while working for an evilexploration company in the Southern Rockies.Doug Skidmore and I espied a fantastic snowwall on the B.C. Montana Boundary Ridge justwest of Waterton Lakes Park. The snowsoared up from a small hanging glacier atabout 7600 feet in every increasing steepness to crest out at a small col betweenthe two highest peaks on the ridge. Sincethe border wasn’t really a definite part ofour area of operations and we had alreadydone quite a few climbs, including severalfirst ascents on company time; we didn’texpect to find too much sympathy in campfor our desire to prospect the abovementioned snow wall. But things seem tohave a way of working out; especially fortwo climbers with very devious minds, thus;a week later we found ourselves de—embarkingfrom our chopper for a two day stay on apile of rocks by a small lake at the headof Starvation G. One day we were to prospect and one day to explore. It just sohappened that the snow wall was about2000 feet above our carrip and by some er—sight, we had arrived with all our snowand ice equipment. The first day weprospected and found a reasonable route tothe base of the ice. By the next day theweather had become rather unfriendly but

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since there was no way we would ever be ableto get back to the place we decided to makea try for the summit. By 9 A.M. we were at8700 feet and about 1100 feet up in the snow,getting onto 450_500 slopes and expectingto crest the snow at about 9300 feet. Wewere completely fogged in by now, and theodd snow flurry as well, made us reallyhappy. However we had two altimeters.compasses, maps and all sorts of othergroovy equipment so we weren’t too worried,at least not until we reached 9600 feet,still hadn’t crested the snow, and couldn’tsee anything except the maps which saidthe peaks were only 9400 feet and 9500 feethigh. Fortunately two more leads and wecrested the snow and 200 feet of scramblingbrought us to the high summit and a firstascent at 9900 feet. (It seems the actualsummits were in Montana and didn’t showon our maps.) As the weather was steadilydeteriorating we hurriedly built a cairn,headed down to the col and started totraverse around the North face of lowerpeak. Since we lacked courage to retraceour steps back down the snow, another wayhad to be found. North sides of mountainsare known to be inherently unfriendly andthus we found the way down became up andwe found ourselves doing the first ascentof the lower peak (9800 feet). We againstarted down, this time on a “North” ridgegoing south into Montana, which wasfollowed by five hours of wandering aroundmountains, traversing avalanche fans,climbing back up things and following goattrails down seemingly blank walls to getback to camp.

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McBRIDGE EXPEDITI ON

ROLAND BURTON AUGUST 29 -

ELLEN WOODD SEPTEMBER 3, 1970.

PARTY: Ellen Woodd Barry NarodRoland Burton CL) Wynne GormanDave Rosenbluth

This was the proposed expedition starting at Singing Pass and coming out at theSphinx hut at the south end of GaribaldiLake. Unfortunately the weather didn’thold out for us and also we couldn’t placeon the map where our second food drop was.Apart from the above it was a beautifultrip which did turn out to be a traverse.It started at Singing Pass and ended at thewest end of Cheakamus Lake.

Wynne and Roland flew with BillTupper and did the food drop.Around 6:30 P.M., after they hadarrived back, Mr. and Mrs. Naroddrove us up to the Singing Passtrail where we camped the night.

Aug. 30_ Up and out of camp by 7 :3O Goodtime was made, and by 11:30 wewere drying our gear (it dewed onus during the night) and eatinglunch above Russet Lake. After afew hours of relaxing and exploring, we again shouldered our packsand headed up the glacier towardsthe Whirlwind—Fissile Col. Wynneslipped and her ice axe arrestdidn’t work and she suffered someloss of skin. She scared us butwas O.K. Camp was set up just

in

below Refuse Pinnacle. It hadbeen a beautiful day although itappeared to be blowing a bit inthe west. To bed by 8:30 P.M.;stars were PHEN0MENAL

Aug. 31 - At 6:00 A.M. clouds covered thesky. Although there was discussion about going home it wasdecided to keep on going. Weclimbed up Refuse Pinnacle andit was here that our noses itchedand our ice axes hummed eerilywith an impending electrical storm.Fortunately the clouds rolled overand when, at 10:30 A.M.. we wereat the top of Mt. Overlord, wewere in clear sunshine From thecol between the two peaks of Mt.Benvolio, we descended around thelarge crevasses of the DiavaloGlacier. Lunch was spread outon the rocks at Detour Ridgeabout 12:30 and while the restslept, Roland and Dave climbedthe Ridge to view the proposedroute to Naden Pass. Gettingaround Detour Ridge turned outto be more trouble that wethought. After getting hung up ona couple of bluffs we finallyfound a pass through to the otherside. There before us were thewonders of the strength of advancing and receeding ice. The wholevalley had been gouged out by theDiavalo Glacier which loomed upabove us. The fun part was stillto come - the creek had to becrossed. At one point Wynne,Roland and I took off our bootsto cross the stream — WOW — was it

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freezing Up the ridge towardsNaden Pass we continued untilaround 6:00 PM. when camp wasset up above the lake. Dave andRoland set off to look for theair drop and didn’t get backuntil 9:30, by which time we werestarting to get a bit worried.The benevolent animals hadn’tseemed to have touched our food,but one whole carton had beenlost and much of the food wassmashed. Anyway we had enoughto get home.

Sept. 1 — The clouds had descended upon usand there was no way we couldcontinue the planned expedition.So it was decided that we wouldretrace our steps as far asDetour Creek and then head forCheakamus Lake. The famed andterrible bushwack began themoment we hit the CheakamusRiver. It was horrible; classsix bushwacking - slide alder anddevil’s club sprinkled liberallywith black currant and stingingnettles. What a riot Everyonce in awhile we would catch aglimpse of the river and on wewould go. Camp was finally setup beside a creek, supposedlyRefuse Creek but it wasn’t. Aftera dinner of fried dog food wecrawled into bed with the happyprospects of another bushwack onthe morrow.

Sept. 2 - up and out of camp by 7:30 A.M.The day was cloudy, the devil’sclub huge and the slide alderfought back as you strove to get

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through it. We decided to followa goat trail and the goats led usup and over hairy bluffs. It hadbeen logically thought out thatif we went higher we could escapethis jungle, but after climbingalmost 3,000 feet it was still badso we started angling down towardsthe lake which could be seen forthe first time away off in thedistance. At the lake a lovelygame trail was found that wendedits way about two feet from thewater. A good camp was set upabout a third of the way down thelake. It had started to rainaround 4:00 P.M. and still was.

Sept. 3 — It rained during the night and theclouds were rolling around us whenwe woke up. Today was to be hopefully the last leg of our journey.Pouring rain made travel prettygrim as we slipped along the slidealder. We were all so wet afterawhile that it didn’t matter. ArOute is flagged from SingingCreek and we soon hit the maintrail. The sun had started toshine but the trees drippedterribly as we ran along thepath. At the road we took offand hung to dry all our wetclothes. It had been an excitingweek of meadow meandering, climbing mountains, roping down icefields, jumping crevasses andwading streams; not to mention ahorrendous bushwack through theCheakamus Valley.

ilk

BUSHWACKING

In the Che’akamus Valley the devils’ clubsgrow

Between the slide alders, row on row.It covers all spaces yet there’s still

roomFor stinging nettles and black currant

bloom,We are the VOC’ers; short days ago we

lived,Felt dawn, saw sunset glow.But now we creep and now we crawl,Looking for the route to end it all.

Composed anonymously duringthe Aug. 28 to Sept. 3expedition.

SAXIFRAGA AND CASSIOPE PEAKS

PETER JORDAN SEPTEMBER 10-13. 1970.

PARTY: Norma Kerby Mike JordanBruce Erikson Peter Jordan (L)

During the last two summers, whileworking at Place Glacier, north of Pemberton.I had noticed an impressive group of peaksto the south., about which nobody seemed toknow anything. I guessed that they werethe last unclimbed peaks within sight ofPemberton, so during registration week ourparty ventured into the area to see what wecould find.

We found an old disused logging roadpart—way up Spetch Creek, and much to oursurprise, a well—built horse trail leadingto about 5000 feet. This trail seemed tobe leading too far south, so we bushwackednorthward to timberline and made camp in a

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small cirgue at 6500 feet.

The next morning was clear and cold,and we filled our packs with crampons andropes and set out in search of our mountain.I had seen it before from the north, andits north face was precipitous and plaster-.ed with steep glaciers, but from our sideit proved to be an easy walk. Indeed, itappeared to be a first ascent, so withappropriate ceremony we built a cairn andleft our record scratched in yellow waxfrom a Gouda cheese. Below the north facewas an impressive glacier and a group ofsmall lakes, which we called the ElusiveLakes, as they were in the valley we wereoriginally trying to reach. From thesurrounding peaks, we guessed we were at8300 feet.

Next day we crossed into the nextvalley to the east, which contained abeautiful clear—blue lake (Petal Lake)surrounded with lush meadows. From here,we followed a ridge which led up to apicturesque 7500 foot rock peak. Theridge offered class three climbing, andwe spent an enjoyable morning on it,before reaching the highest peak. Wedescended by a different route, which ledinto yet another valley with another lakeand more meadows. We named this peakCassiope Peak and our climb of the daybefOre Saxifraga Peak, both after plantswe found in the meadows.

The weather was still clear and coldon our fourth day, and we left only becausewe were out of food. We had explored anarea not visited before by mountaineers,and it was one of the most beautiful hikingareas I have ever encountered in the Coast

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Range. The good access would make itideal for weekend trips.

PINECONE LAKE

PETER JORDAN OCTOBER 17. 1970.

PARTY: Peter Jordan Eric KerbyNorma Kerby Fred Thiessen

Way in the middle of nowhere on themap, about half—way between Howe Sound andthe Misty Icefields. lay an impressive holein the guidebook. Indian summer stilllingered. so we decided to see what wasthere. Much to our surprise, we found itvery easy to get to. A logging road led toabout 3500 feet, and 2000 feet of easybush and ridge—walking led us to KnotholeLake, a unique glacial relic which bars theway to the pass leading to Pinecone Lake.We could not circle around it because ofthe sheer granite walls forming its shores,so instead we climbed the easy 6500 feetpeak above it. From here, we had impressive vistas of Mt. Marnquam and the MistyIcefields, as well as Pinecone Lake, 1500feet below us. and several glaciated peaksthat would easily be in reach of a camp atKnothole Lake. The summit cairn showedthat we were the third party up this peak,but we did not know if the other higherones had been climbed.

NOTES ON SOME SQUAMISH CHIEF CLIMBS

PAUL STARR

CLOOCH’S BUTTRESS: (III. 5.5. A3)

In early March, Dick Culbert began toeye a smooth rock face (which had a fewcracks in it, fortunately) on the Squaw, a

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sub-peak immediately to the north o.f theChief. This face is located immediatelyto the right (south) of a deep gully andchimney system known among climbers as theClooch’s Crack. The problem with the Squawis its great distance from the road, henceits general unpopularity. We climbed thisface in two seperate days, after spendingsix hours on the first two leads. Theclimb is six leads long: it follows (1) aprominent crack system to the right of theface7 and then (2) traverses under an overhang onto the main facet a single bolt(3) gets one into the face crack, which isA2—A3; this spot can be more easily reachedby bush and crack climbing to the left ofthe face. Another lead (4) finishes thefaces and two more leads (5) and (6) ofwandering, lead one to the top. Thisclimb was most notable for the descent.however. We got up just at dark and ourheadlamp was apparently seen from below.We were lost and not terribly keen onrappelling down cliffs in the dark, so wewandered east and eventually intersectedthe logging road which runs along the backside of the Chief. As we descended thisroad, the roar of shifting gears warnedus of the approach of a vehicle, which turnedout to be two R.C.M.P. officers who werelooking for us “vandals” They kindly gaveus a ride down and saved us four miles ofwalking

GRAND WALL: (IV, 5,4, Al)

The joint executive meeting ended atmidnight. At 4 A.M. Dick Culbert pickedme up and we headed for the Chief. I hadalready climbed the Grand Wall with FrankBaumann the previos summer, but this timewe planned to do the whole thing. Somehow, everything went smoothly. It was

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cold and a bit wet; we climbed mainly inour down parkas. The first eight leadsto Dance Platform took ten hours. Thetop five leads (Roman Chimney) took anindeterminate amount of time, becauseDick’s watch stopped. Coming down, wefreaked out several tourists and scaredaway all the bears due to the jangle ofiron.

WESTERN DIHEDRAL: (V, 5,6, A2-A3)

Dick Culbert and I did the secondascent of this climb on the same Aprilday that Eryl Pardoe and John Rance didthe Grand Wall. It is a bit bushy, butthe great corner which gives this climbits name is quite challenging and fun(requires quite small pins). We bivou—aced on the only ledge of the route andamused ourselves by throwing ropes at atree the next morning. The seventh leadgoes almost entirely free and is mainlyfourth class. The eighth lead is a veryenjoyable face crack with one thousandfeet of exposure,

TANTALUS WALL: (IV, 57, A2)

We did Tantalus Wall in somewhatless than fine style. We did the leftside of Yosemite Pinnacle and cheated onsome of the free (a 5.8 overhanging jamcrack). We then fixed those two leadsand came down. The next day, four of usjumared up and each of us got one of theremaining four leads. Eryl led the overhang in fine style, and Fred Douglasproved that the awesome rope throw at thetop around the tiny dead tree was justas bad as Jim Sinclair said it was.

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UNIVERSITY WALL: (IV, 5.4, A2)

Eryl Pardoe and I wanted to do Univers-.ity Wall and we needed a ride. So we askedPeter Macek if he wanted to come along(curiously enough, he also has a car).The first three leads are overhanging;Peter complained about jumaring and nevertouching the wall. The left—facing cornerended in what was described to me as a“bivouac ledge”. Deeming this to be something of an overstatement, we rapidlynailed to the next ledge, which was larger,but will rather narrow. Peter finishedthe last lead on the next morning and wedecided the University Wall is the nicestclimb on the Chief.

THE NORTHEAST BUTTRESS OF MOUNT SLESSE

IAN PATERSON

PARTY: Ian PatersonEryl PardoePaul Starr

One of the major difficulties inmountaineering in British Columbia, is bush.This we were all agreed upon when we emergedexhausted from a jungle of slide alder,devil’s club and deadfalls, to find ourselves in a lonely amphitheatre tuckedbeneath the northeast face of Mount Slesse.To describe this face as imposing would bethe understatement of the year; it was vast,majestic, impregnable, and possessed amagnificent soaring buttress. To climbthis buttress was our ambition.

Three of us were present on the venture.Paul, Eryl and myself. Paul, from theeastern states, was the dirving force behind

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the climb Eryl, a modest Weishman, hadquickly gained a reputation as a remarkable mountaineer in the six months he hadbeen in B.C. So, with myself, a Scotsman,(I provided transportation) we formed aninteresting combination. After a meal anda short nap on the morraine, we turned ourattention somewhat apprehensively to thelofty buttress which towered over us andtried to spot the line of least resistancefirst ascended by Beckey in 1963. Thebuttress had three steep sections of whichthe second and third looked difficult andit would obviously be to our advantage togain as much height as possible beforenightfall.

The first few pitches involved climbing vegetated grooves and slabs withoccasional aid sections. Much energy wasdissiapted struggling through gnarledjunipers while carrying sacks and iceaxes. As jumar belays were used whenclimbing, the leader and the third personon the rope would climb simultaneously toexpedite progress. When darkness descended,

Paul was ‘giving best’ in a tricky openbook and finally, with a last supremeeffort, made it to the top of the firststeep section. I have vivid memories ofthe gloom, much to my surprise, the nakedfigure of Paul Starr jumping around in thesnow——it must have been the new moon....

After a cold clear night, the sunarose and we stirred in our bivouac sacks.A trickle of melt water temporarily satisfied our thirst and we proceeded upwardswith occasional difficulties. One sensational pitch involved stepping from a precarious pinnacle onto the steep wailforming the east face of Slesse and climbing for twenty-five feet on poor holds with

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no protection. 2 P.M. found us below thesecond vertical pillar realising that wewere about to cross the Rubicon. Paul leda section of mixed free and artificialclimbing up the nose of the pillar and setup a hanging belay in an overhanging recess.At this stage, we realised we were offroute——we were right on the nose of thepillar and Beckey’s party had ascended theslabs on the northern flanks, Apprehensionhung in the air—-will we make it? Eryl rosegrandly to the occasion leading two hard100 foot vertical pitches with sensationalexposure——’Its just like Welsh rock’ hedelightedly cried. At this stage, I found,somewhat embarrassingly, that my jumaringtechnique left much to be desired, and was

gEven a crash course by Paul, whilst spinningunder an overhang on the end of a 150 rootrope. Arriving at the top of the pillar,we fell upon a melt water spring, andattempted to satisfy our ravishing thirstand bivouaced for the night.

Dawn on the third day found us trudging up a snow slope after an even coldernight to start the assault on the finalsection. The route lay directly up thenose of the steep buttress with occasionalexcursions onto the north wall giving thefinest free climbing we had experienced:-—sustained, exhilarating and the essence ofmountaineering. We sensed the approach ofthe summit and were spurred on. Suddenly,emerging from an overhanging chimney, theangle eased off and the summit could beseen.

Together as a team, an internationalteam we had climbed the mountain--if onlythe nations of the world could operate asa team.

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LAST MARCH TO BENI

DICK CULBERT

With half the Milky Way sprawled bare, wewoke

Still stiff from chaffing packs, dry mouthedAnd clammy with the dew.Coaxed a rapid tea to wash the small

potatoes downThen through the first grey smear of

Himalayan dawnBegan our final march.Upon the flood of day we reached DebangAnd caught the haze of breakfast fires.

with 3chool boysTrying out phrases from their English texts,

then onBruised feet and heavy loadsAlong the stoney, dung—strewn river trail.

Ten ragged days of packing now behind--high passes,

Ice, then yak trails on a canyon face.And now a quiet land, but pressing—-two

days late for rendezvousTwo whole damn days.Behind our heavy loads there followed

heavy thoughtsOf worried friends but they would

wait?Two days they’d wait at least, we’d told

ourselvesBut three?And so this march——one day to Beni, one

last push.

And with the sun there swept the tropicheat.

Then thirstWe must have crossed a hundred taunting

streamsAnd wet our hair and licked dry lips

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But knew the taste of dysentry too well,and then the fruits

In coloured orbs and strange soft shapesup through trail—side trees

Or vines on garden walls.Still vivid from two days before, the form

of FrankSprawled in a village square, ringed by

staring kidsClay-white from shock, and dark with grate

ful flies,Poisoned, curled in pain, there throwing up

his gutsUpon the dirt, and shiveringIn the noonday heat——we left the fruits

alone.For lunch there’d be potatoes, eaten wholeWith eggs poached in the milk of buffalo:lnd so it was, then on into the searing

afternoon.

We passed an expedition, Japanese;.A file of fifty porters laughing in their

tumpi inesFeet bare, and canvass to their canvass

backsWhile packboard frames stuck somewhere out

behind.Next pas their sherpas, high on rackshi,

coming downFrom seven weeks of ice, and rich at that.Out front the sahibs, packed in little

groups, decked outIn cameras, and their radios,Locked in sweet-come—sour thoughts of going

home without successOr accident, or climax——noneThank hell we’d set no published goal.

But now the heat and pain were somethingvery real

2nd personal--with each man half withdrawnto have his back against a wall;

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The fields were harvest gold, the housesThings of fairy tales, with ripple marksAnd fossils in the rough stone walls——no

timeOn tunnel vision down the rocky pathAll sweat and rags and Frank with tendonitisPulling up a foot upon a string each stepTo save his ankle flexing——scarecrow down

wardsThrough the late November gold.

And why not porters?Half a dozen must have offered——seen our

sweatAnd stopped to ask us by the trail--but no:We could not drive a coulee as we drove

ourselvesWe’d saidAnd yet we could--this one last day at

leastNor for a hundred porter’s payWould we have undertaken such a task

ourselves.It’s deeper then:This thing, this trek——ten days of canyons,

snow, and sketchy trails.Ten days committment to a game, and weWould finish by our rules—-yes, and something

elseAny story, dream——experience——can hardly

taste a wholeCannot breathe deeply, lacking some clear

peak,Some time of urgency or action,Risk perhaps, or trial by doubtAnd sweat enough to be a part of things.Somehow below the conscious point, this

day rang true.

A dozen small shale hamlets——crowded cystsAthwart the trail--one streetJust festering with kids,Eyes clustered in dark doorways. smells7

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A stream to cross perhaps, then in we’dstride

And “ameste”, and “Nameste”, and “Nameste”,and “Nameste”

And out into the harvest fields againAnd on, and on, each in his shellEach locked in gaines to shrink the day,To make his world less real.

Quite suddenly the end.A final canyon opens on a valley floor,And Beni—--so long a word aloneUnwinds its squalid streets, then laughterWith the calls of friends;Our porters next—-Tibetan—leather faces

crackedIn child—like smiles——they must have

worried too;They take our heavy loads and walk befOre,Bow-legged toward oblivion,

And with a night of rest how much remains?The pain, the toil——these memories quickly

leak awayInto a common pool that grounds the mountain

code.The game we shall recall in style arid outlineDrawing there some spark in calmer days;Some tidbits from the countryside perhaps,

rag—familiesThrashing grain by hand, an urchin with a

bamboo switchDriving a dung—caked god across steep slopes;Oh yes, and then the Kola, green stillFrom silt and ice—fed streams, still nervousFrom the canyons of its birthThere stumbling down a slow, blind, aimless

courseAcross its last wide valley, goldenWith the harvest time.

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JUDGE HOWIE APPROACHED

RICK PRICE

We’re gunna climb we’re gunna climb ohboy oh boy oh Mt. Judge Howie. Stick anengine on a boat forget to float and squirmup rocks all foam up water on our knees.Make a propellor a lerplopor when it manhandles a rock, and see how wet a boat canget when men pretend to know such thingsas rivers. NOW we’ve done it just listenkrung krung jrfgzx. Worried steel jollywater Stave is a name for such a river.Oh shit lets walk. NO. Lets camp.

Sand is stars and vice is verse on anisland camp. Judge donning magistrate curlsbeckons cloud lawyers to the dock.

We sleep.

Sleepy—time wind ruffles our younghair and says to shadows be gone for soonthe sun and yes we were gone ago. HelloPete hello Rick says hello bush and no morepleasantries today.

Now up, and dancing nightmare cha—chasin spring—knife weeds where all is bush andeverything is heat. Oh Hot! Color seesmy eyes in only green as non—existant hazewaters thoughts to green mumblings. Visionsof blue buzz overhead and hint to stop andrest.

From the macro to the micro from thein to the fin my green and salty mind issaved by an inchworm. It was brown.Furthermore totally lacking jumars it handoverhands THOUSANDS of feet in a cheeryand restful attempt to escape on a silver

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illusion. But maybe it tickles. OURillusion is buried in packs of shoulderstraps and grappling hooks. No rest forthe stupid so onward.

Sleeky log tumbledown gorge andpepsi—cola devil’s club for those whothink young in a stupid heat. Now steepwhere only down is up not us as wallsreplace inchworms and are silver—splitby tunefull waterfalls boasting goose—down splashes. Oh Hot oh jesus to bein that water on that ledge where onlybush is non—existant and all is lunchand love and bare brown bodies weep ofweary hours to the grateful, lovingwater as it sluices weary flesh just onemore time then on.

Not climbers were we, but onlyfriends who happened to climb. A kindof love brought us here as only we reallyknow and it was love that turned us back.Love of all that has been said and couldbe said about such things and love ofhating it enough to want to do it more.But on, like lifeswell salmon seekingnest and sniffing death in unknown wallsand unplumbed gullies. We lived then,on those walls and in those gullies. Welived death and died life and whisperedfear but it was not enough.

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SPECIAL FEATURES

SNc—CAMP ING

ROLAND BURTON

Time: 5 P.M. - late November,Place: somewhere. Elevation: 6,000 feet.It’s getting dark. The view’s good here,but it’s more sheltered by the trees.We choose the view. Set up the tent.WM, is it ever cold: The tent floor isbrittle, like waxed paper. Careful tokeep snow out of the tent. Skis and skipoles tie it down so it doesn’t blow away.Throw in the sleeping bags. the foamies,the ensolites, the food, the stove, and thespare socks. The first stars are out.I’m freezing. One last walk, then into thetent. Boots off——damn frozen knots, andfrozen fingers. Thaw fingers. work onknots, knock off snow, open door of tenta few inches and fill pot with snow. Soonmelts, add more, soon soup being stirredby light of flashlight7 sleeping bag getting warm. Sandwiches have ice in them.Outside, the wind increases; the tentrattles and frost crystals flutter downfrom the walls. Inside the tent it issuper—cozy; unzip the door a crack andshine flashlight outside to check packs.A swirl of snow comes in, zip up door.Maybe packs will blow away tonight. Toobad.

Morning (at last). Tent wall isdistinctly visible (It’s been audible allnight). Unzip door——grey dawn, and snowpowder moving in waves across the windswept crust. A drift half a foot deep infront of the tent. Packs almost buried.Breakfast; get up. put on frozen boots,

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pack everything, and another night isofficially over.

SKI TOURING

ROLF KrJLLAK

During the past summer, I kept my eyesopen for areas where skiing in the winteror even in the late spring would be nice oreven challenging. Everybody knows thestandard touring areas like Singing Pass,or Sphinx but there are many others lessfrequented.

For the winter, I would like to suggestone look seriously at Rainbow Mountain.Nobody has been skiing there for at leasttwo or three years. It should be mentionedthat this is definitely an overnight trip.

Another area well worth looking intofor touring in the winter is south and eastof Utopia Lake in the Sky Pilot region, butnot on Sky Pilot itself. Here the besttime for skiing would be from the end ofMarch until June. Nice spring skiing caneasily be combined with an enjoyable climbof Sky Pilot I would recommend skiing theMarmot Creek Valley. However, because ofunsettled snow conditions, especially during March and April. there is much avalanchedanger. Last May, I found fantastic cornsnow there while climbing Sky Pilot.

With the newly-paved road to Pemberton,the mountains in that area should be exploredfor skiing. I don’t know too much aboutthem but McGillivray Pass and Goat Meadowsare apparently like Singing Pass. In otherwords, these are possible ski areas in thewinter time. Tenquille Lake, however,

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should be recommended for later in theyear, not before February. The mountainsthere are steep and challenging but alsoat tinies dangerous on account of avalanches. It might be mentioned that thereis a hut at Tenquille Lake which is keptopen all year round.

For the more experienced ski mountaineers with extensive glacier experience.Mt. Baker is worth a try. The area towatch out for is between 6000 feet and9000 feet. In the summertime, ratherlarge crevasses are often found in thisarea—-the upper part of the Lower ColemanGlacier. One would do well to keep to thewest when skiing down.

Lastly, I would like to mention amountain which is really a challenge, whichwill really let a skier find out what outstanding ski mountaineering is. Themountain I am thinking of is Mt. Ranier.The mountain is not only difficult, it isalso long. In early spring, that is Mayor June, the crevasses are still sufficiently closed that skiing is fantastic.Z11 the same, one should look out forcrevasses at all times.

The Ranier Park open about May 20 anda recommended route would be over SteamboatProw and Emmons Glacier. If the lower partof the Emmons Glacier is still in goodshape, one might be able to ski to aboutone hour above the White River campsite.That is approximately 5500 feet. It wouldmean 9000 feet of skiing in probably themost challenging terrain available in thisarea. Particular attention should be paidto the region between 11,000 and 13,500feet. There, I found the largest and mostdangerous crevasses. If the lower part of

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the Emmons Glacier is impassable, then thenormal route through Glacier Basin shouldbe the one taken. However, the area issteeper and one has a little longer marchback to camp, even though one ends atabout 6000 feet.

An approach over Camp Muir does notappear to me too interesting though skiingfrom the camp must be great. But fromthere, one has to cross two rocky ridgesto reach the Tomahoy Glacier. Between11,000 and 13,000 feet, this area is notalways passable. This region is extremelybroken up, and bridges are probably notvery strong during the time in question.

The idea of skiing in the above-mentioned areas came to me when I was climbing there during the last two summers. Attimes, I regretted not having my skis upwith me, for there was sufficient snow touse them. Later in the year, when the snowis all gone, one can only look at thecontours and imagine what it might be like.

Al R.-DROP

ROLAND BURTON

For a trip into the bush of two orthree days duration it is no hardship tocarry your own food, as well as the usualequipment. For longer trips, or tripsinvolving many people, it may be cheaperto fly in ordinary food instead of carrying in expensive freeze-dried food. Theflight over the area permits a preview ofthe route, which may be handy for navigation later.

Helicopters are very nice. but at

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present they cost $155/hour for a machinewith 600 pounds payload, and you pay flyingtime from wherever they are stationed,which may not be near where you want to go.Besides, what are the four of you goingto do with 600 pounds of food, anyway?So we usually use airdrops.

To organize an airdrop, you proceed asfollows. First find somebody with a privatepilot’s license and a mountain endorsementToffer to rent the plane for him. Next, getthe expedition crew together and spendseveral hours packaging the stuff to bedropped. Some advice on this is includedbelow. Finally, get as many maps of thearea as you can find, and look for suitabledrop sites.

The choice of a drop site is governedby two considerations. You would like thepackages to land gently, and you want tofind them later, on foot. If the pilot isgood, he wiil fly fairly close to the groundover the drop site. This is not so thepackages will land gently, because theyare travelling at least at the plane’sspeed, but so they will not be spready outover too large an area. With practice, adozen or so parcels can be dropped in afive hundred foot diameter circle. Thereshouldn’t be any trees around to catch thewings of the plane. A wide snowy pass abovetimberline or a glacier free of crevassesseem to be the ideal sites. A frozen lakeis alright if it’s frozen hard enough.Snow is the softest thing we have found todrop things on.

Parachutes:— We don’t use parachutesbecause they cost money, and because youhave to fly high up to give them time toopen, and consequently where they land can

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not be accurately predicted. Also, thepossibility of a makeshift parachute wrapping itself around some important part ofthe little plane seems to discourage mostpilots.

There are two disasters which may befall your airdrop after you have droppedit. It may be buried by a fresh snowfall,or it may be eaten by the local inhabitantsof the area (chipmunks, wolverines. etc.).Metal containers stop these snafflehounds;but all you can do about snowfall is use adrop site at a low elevation, rememberexactly where the drop site is with respectto topography, get to the drop site assoon as you can, and don’t go anywherewhen its likely to snow. We are experimenting with dropping bamboo wands withweights on one end, so they will land upright and mark the drop site.

Packagin:- Remember that the packagewill be travelling at speeds between 90 and125 miles per hour when its hits the ground,and this is faster even than the averageautomobile accident. About the easiestthing to drop is bread (not sliced) becauseit is nearly impossible to destroy. Similarly, oatmeal, raisins, tang, jello,packaged soups, cheese, sausage, fruitcake,and hard candies are hard to destroy ifthey are put in small pastic bags. Bottledgoods, such as instant coffee, do notsurvive, and broken glass contaminateseverything else, like schrapnel. (Putinstant coffee in plastic bags, or evenbetter, take tea bags.) We dropped somestoned wheat thins on the SquamishCheakamus this spring and although theylanded on the only rock in the drop area,for some reason they were totally undamaged.This fall, on our Naden Pass—Cheakarnus Valley

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caper, we again dropped S’1T’s, and althoughtheir box was undamaged, every singlecracker was broken into myriad tiny pieces,the largest being about a quarter inchsquare. Conclusions???? Tin cans may bedropped if they are packaged very well.Jam tins should have their lids solderedor epoxied on, then wrapped with wire.Small tins survive better than large ones.When a package containing tins lands, thetins try to keep going. If you providesome crushable material around them, theywill happily burrow into it. If this isnewspaper. O.K.. but if it’s instantpotatoes, oatmeal, tang, nuts, or raisins,you will have an interesting stew.

Dropping white gas for cooking providesan interesting problem. In dropping standard five gallon drums, we found the drumstops but the gas keeps right on going,through the bottom of the drum. Thesmaller quart tins, wrapped in newspaperin heavy cardboard boxes, survive a littlebetter, with about half being recoveredintact. The best solution is to drop thequart cans packed tightly inside styrofoamacid boxes, obtainable from the localChemistry Department. On impact. the tinsburrow through the styrofoam and emergeintact.

And finally, some assorted Pearls ofWisdom:

—Don’t count on recovering every package,i.e., don’t put all the meat in onepackage.

-Expect the white gas containers to burstdon’t put food with the gas.

—Some time during the spring, with sixinches of soft snow, around two in theafternoon, conditions are ideal, and we

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once dropped twelve cans of beverageprotected only by their flimsy cardboardcarton, recovering all of them.

—Attempt to drop raw eggs — nine weredropped, each wrapped in two inches offoamy. One survived.

-It takes no effort at all to drop ahundred pounds of goodies, but if fourof you have to recover all of this, that’s25 pounds each, which is no fun to carry.You might have to camp at the drop sitefor a couple of days and eat your waythrough the food. The ideal aircraft forsmall drops seems to be the Cessna 172with jump door, which opens upward outof the way. If you can’t get an aircraftwith such a door, a regular door will do,but as it is not designed to be opened inthe air, you have to push on it very hardindeed, and it opens only about six oreight inches. At any rate, make sure youcan get your packages through the door ofthe plane. even when the wind’s blowing90 mph. outside the door.

-If you drop a climbing rope, mind itdoesn’t get caught on the landing wheels.

—Please clean up your drop site. Burncardboard, paper. etc.

—If your honey and your comet cleanser getmixed, don’t despair, spread the mess onthe skis of somebody you don’t like.

TRUTHS & CONSEQUENCES ABOUT AIRDROPS

BARRY NAROD

Of the two airdrops planned for this trip,only one was recovered, and since no inventory had been kept, what exactly was missingwas unknown.Nine fresh eggs were dropped in a canisterlined with foam rubber. One survived.

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Very little is required to burst a baggie;none survived.Powdered milk and potatoes mixed togethertaste awful no matter how they are used.Tang and soup envelopes all survived.Stoned Wheat Things (not Thins) are difficultto eat.

The difference between S.W. Things and SW.Thins is that the former is the latterbefore it gets dropped. Of the two boxesfound, one had suffered an internal shearfracture That is, along a perfect planein the box every one of the normallyforty-two S.W.T.’s had been split. Thecarton was unscathed. The other box musthave landed on a corner, the shock wavedispersing its energy uniformly throughout the contents of the box. The largestpiece was approximately the size of adime.

Recipes for eating S.W. Things:

1. Cup one hand and pour S.W. Things intohand.Drop a small amount of jam onto the S.W.Things.Roll both into a ball and pop intomouth.

This method is messy for the inexperienced so an alternative method isoffered.

2. Collect a small amount of jam on, a spoon.Make sure that the spoon is thoroughlycoated.Dip spoon and jam into box of S.W.Things and stir.Make sure spoon is covered with jam andS.W Things, then remove from box andeat off of spoon.

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CONCLUSIONS:

I feel that a study should be made onairdrop techniques in order to improve thelikelihood of successful airdrops.

BUSH CLASSIFICATION SYSTEM

ROLAND BURTON

To describe the difficulty of theirroutes, rock climbers have designed severalclassification systems, the most popularone grading climbs from one to six, with aseparate system for aid climbs. Skiershave also adopted, for runs. a six classsystem, namely: beginners, intermediate.expert, extra caution, closed, and avalanche danger. However, anyone who hastried to travel in our area, soon realizesthat rock bluffs and avalanches are trivialproblems compared with the vegetation ofour coastal rain forest. Here is a systemfor describing bush traverses.

Bl: No bush, similar to Granville Streetat 3 A.M, on a Sunday. or see theAmerican Forest Service trail network.

B2: The occasional fallen log must bestepped over, occasional branches maystick across the trail. Some difficultyto motorcycles.

B3: Here the brush first becomes noticeable:inexperienced mountaineers are heardto mutter under their breath, Mayhave to cross small streams, theoccasional patch of huckleberry bush,or some slide alder. The trail becomesdifficult to follow.

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B4: All members of the party are at leastintermittently swearing blueberry andslide alder abound, ground slopes upin direction of travel; there may bethe odd devil’s club or other pricklesplants, maybe a hornets’ nest or two,

P.5: All members are now swearing continuously, except when gasping for breath,while climbing over fallen logs aboutfour feet off the ground, surroundedby devil’s club, slide alder, vinemaple. Visibility is less than eightfeet. Ground, when it can be seen,slopes about thirty degrees at rightangles to the direction of travel.

P.6: A genuine B6 requires at least twokinds of poisonous plants: for instance.stinging nettles and devil’s club.In addition, there should be slidealder twenty to thirty feet high,growing among fifteen foot blocks ofgranite. There are bears in thespaces between the granite blocks.Visibility four feet or less. Notsufficient room to swing a machete,

137: The use of napalm, defoliants, and thelike are frowned upon by the Conserv -

tion Committee.

This system was figured out on an attemp4on Mt. Judge Howie by Peter Macek and RickPrice.

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EXPEDITION FOOD PLANNING

PETER MACEK

Of drinkand victualsand suchlikestuffa bittoo littleis justenough.

Piet Hem

These food quantities were calculatedamong VOC’ers first in 1965 by Bert Port andhave circulated among climbers and, withminor adaptations, been used on every majorclub trip since then. The acid test camein 1969 when Les Watson and I survivedfour months of mush and beef strogs with noapparent ill—effects. It is obvious thatlittle provision has been made for variety—this is not a great lack and after a weekor so, the desire for different meals becomes amazingly deadened. There should,however, be no compromise made with qualityof foods — a fine tea, cheese, or soup morethan repays the expense, and Robson St. isa handy place to get initiated to the varieties available.

MAN-DAYITEM QUANTITY

Breakfast: Oatmeal 1½ oz.— if 1/3 is Red River

Cereal, a more pleasing body results.

— Cream of Wheat, beingprone to lumpiness isseldom worth the effort.

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MAN-DAYI’IEM QUANTITY

-Whole Milk Powder 1 oz.—obtainable at Woodwards.

Demarera Brown Sugar l½oz.Raisons l½oz.Stoned Wheat Thins 2—there are approx. 40/box.Note lunch and dinner.

—for luxury, 10/day isplenty.8/day is certainly adequate.

Tea 1 bag.—bags are more convenientfor climbing and obtainablein most varieties.

White Sugar l½oz.

Lunch:Stoned Wheat Thins 4 or 5Margarine 2 oz.—canned N.AD.P. butter isxce11ent, keeps well andis expensive.

Jam 2 oz.Cheese 2 oz.—Cheddar, Edam, Swiss, PortSalut.

Sausage 2 oz.-should be quite mild

(Summer, Hunter) otherwiseindigestible when you areexhausted

OR Sardines 1 can/2 people.

Raisons - not really popularfor lunch l½oz.

Nuts — mixed 2 oz.Dried Fruits — apricots l½oz.

(Galloways best)

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MAN-DAYITEM QUANTITY

Candy 4—mixed, hard, individually wrapped

Tang or equivalent lpkg/—pre—sweetened 1(001—Aid 2 peopleis really terrible

Dinner: Soup (Maggi best) 2 pkg./5 people

Stoned Wheat Thins 2 or 3

OR l.(Macaroni 1½ oz.(Rice 1½ oz.

OR 2. (Canned Tuna (8 oz. tin) 1 can/2(Canned Corned Beef

(12 oz. tin) 1 can/3with Veggie flakes

Freeze—dried peas, beans,peas and carrots (Surpriseband)

3. Lipton dinners 2 pkg/-obtainable only in USA 3 people-Beef Stroganoff is by far

the best—these are really excellent.Ive had them well over 100times and am just startingto get sick and tired of them.

Tea, White Sugar (includedin breakfast quantity)

Jello, drunk hot 2 pkg./4 or 5

Cheese cake (no bake) 1 pkg./—this is excellent, good 5 or 6as occasional treat.

Extras: Salt (l½oz. shakers) 1 shaker/day

(if more than5 people)

Pepper ( metal tins)

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MAN-DAYITEM QUANTITY

Cinnamon (metal tins>—good to disguise mush.Other Spices—if you really can cook andaren’t just faking.

Matches (boxes, wooden) 1 or 2boxes/day

Toilet Paper 1/5 — 10—better if carried by man—days.individual

White Gas 4 fl. oz.—more if melting snow-note that th s is the only

item usually damaged in airdrops, allow 25% - 40% margin.

Baggies ) about twiceGarbage bags.) as many as

you thinkare required.

— it is well worth the effor to borrowmother’s kitchen scales and separate itemsinto day packages, or if larger group, into2 or 4 man—day packages. Then put all itemsrequired on a day into one garbage bag.Easiest if day starts with dinners and endswith lunch.

Breakfasts could be instant pudding orinstant breakfast on days requiring earlystarts. Also good is Puddin’ Mush (copyright R. Price) which is 50 — 50 Porridge nand Pudding.

Packing for airdrops is best done byWoodwards downtown — they’ve got a lot ofexperience and are extremely helpful. Talkto anyone associated with a recent “large”

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expedition for details. For an air—droppedbase camp, consider rye bread and otherfrills — they cost no more and are worth it.

The above food weighs about 2½ poundsper man—day, including gaslone,

Bon appetit

THE BROKEN BOARD AWARD

BARRY NAPOD

On September12, 1970. while movinglumber for the Pringle’s Ridge hut, anOkanagan Helicopter was caught in turbul.ence and started fishtailing near the OpalCone. The helicopter lost altitude; thepilot decided that either the lumber hadto go or the helicopter had to go. Hechose the lumber. Various excuses wereoffered to explain the loss; the chopperwas too small to handle the job, the pilotmight have been too inexperienced to handlethe turbulences or to choose the best routeto the site, the turbulence would have beentoo much for any pilot with that particularchopper. So ran the reasons. Anway, theload was jettisoned on the flank of theOpal Cone, and except for one 2 ton boulder,it was dropped in an open area of heather——-.you guessed it, bull’s eye on the boulderThe eight 2” by 8” by 12’ rough cedar jousts,three platform supports, and some cedarsiding that had all been bundled togetherwent snap; hence the B.B.A.

On the following day, after inspection of the wood, Mike Miles decided thatit would be fun to recover a sample of thewreckage. He chose one of the more spectacular of the fragments, a piece of 2” by8” dressed fir, very roughly four feet long,

and placed it on his pack as one would apair of wings.. He carried it all the wayto Diamond Head Chalet, where he learned thathe would have to carry the fifteen poundboard another seven miles to base camp.

The decision to create an award wasmade very shortly after leaving Diamond HeadChalet, and that this award be given firstto the ‘O.K. pilot, and secondly to Mike-for carrying the board——all this was soonagreed upon. It was decided that the awardshould become a permanent fixture in theclub, that it should be given for “stupidityabove and beyond, and/or, service below andbeyond the call of duty.” It was to beawarded not for accidental blunders as arefrequent, but for definitely preplannedbackfires or goofs.

It is the hopes of the originatorsthat the B.B.A. become a club tradition,and in that pretext, certain customs beattached to it. It is recommended thatthe President have the final decision as towho receives the award, and as recommendedby the executive, that a citation to themerit of each recipient be published inthis journal, and that the general membership of the club approve these intialrecommendations, In this way, the clubwill be able to obtain a truly memorablejoke award, and truly great blundersshall be included in the history of theclub.

THE ORIGINATORS: Roland BurtonJohn FrizellMike MilesBarry NarodBill Prescott

GOON AWARDS

ELLEN WOODD SEPTEMBER-DECEMBER, 1970.

To Mike Miles — For the man who has everything, but still has to shave hislegs.

To Bob Brusse and Virginia Moore — TheDivided Sleeping Bag Award.

To Jim Jordan — For the one and onlysleeping bag that won’t beforgotten.

To Frank Baumann — The Hot Dog of theMonth Award, for doing the elevenbolt rock in eleven minutes.

To Tak Uyede — A spool of string so hewon’t get lost on HollyburnMountain again.

To John Frizell — For the construction ofone of the worst john’s I haveever seen.

To Ellen Woodd — The Broken Board Award,for doing something completelynaturally but maybe not forEllen. S

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INCIDENT NEAR LITTLE DAL LAKE

JOHN RANCE

Late in June, it was light throughoutthe day and we got in the habit of going ontraverses after supper. This evening Ralphasked me to check some staining he hadspotted in a canyon south of the river.At 7 P.M. I was in the chopper as it skimmedlow across the meadows which surround thelake and followed the stream as it fallsout the open end of the horseshoe of ridgeswhich entrap the lake, 1500 feet above thesurrounding valleys

As we crossed the ridge, I gazed atthe mountain I had named Rainbow. I

traced the vertical strata from the treeless peak and ridge to where it disappearedin talus, and tried to remember for all timethe sequence of their colours7 yellow, buff,orange, black, rusty red, and grey. Notthe colours of a rainbow perhaps but seenwith the sun behind, low in the northernsky, as beautiful as any rainbow.

Tony was gazing as well, so when Karlasked where to go, neither of us knew. Afew moments later I had the photo lined up,and directed Karl to a landing on a grassyknob a hundred yards from the creek which Ihad not seen. It was 7:10 P.M. The chopperwas due to return at 8:00.

I ambled across the meadow in thedirection of a dull roar which I judged tobe the creek. Suddenly the roar was atmy feet and I stared into a narrow slitseventy—five feet deep and less than fivefeet wide, which sliced across the countryside. In the bottom of this slit was astream which twisted through the canyon’s

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bottom, rushing down sculpted passages andleaping in short arcs into deep bubblingpools.

In that first instant of discovery Iknew I was faced with an adventure thatwould never come again. I turned my backon the receding sound of the chopper andscrambled, mind filled with wonder, downa narrow talus slope, into that magiccanyon. I had entered by the only entrance.On all sides the grey walls quickly rose,waterpolished and overhanging, to a placehigh above, where, turned yellow—broze bythe low northern sun, they met a narrowtwisting strip of purest blue.

I faced upstream and saw around asharp bend a deep pool perhaps ten feetwide and thirty long, fed by a two foothigh waterfall which entered from yet anotherbend. On one side where the stream hadcarved deep into the wall containing it, wasa smooth sloping ledge. I decided to followthe stream to its source but the slab washarder than anything I had ever attemptedand I could not cross it. Back at theeffluence of the pool, determined not tobe defeated so easily, I removed my clothing except for my boots and plunged intothe rich emerald coloured pool. The poolwas alive with the purity of its water andthe effervescence created by the fall.Despite the melt—water’s cold, my body sangfor joy as I fought the current and climbedthe waterfall’s tumult. But the cold wastoo bitter and my strength too shortlived,and I was forced to retreat, beaten butexhilarated, to my belongings at the downstream end of the pool..

I wrapped my warm clothing, compassand notebooks in plastic bags and set off

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down the canyon. I say canyon, but thatword reveals nothing of the spirit of thatplace. Think of a tunnel, carved with soft,feminine, yet powerful curves through alimestone hundreds of millions years old.The entire experience could be compared towalking through such a mind as that ofHenry Moore, the British sculptor, who,when asked why his work had holes in it,replied, “I was cutting so deep into theheart of the stone that I discovered thesky on the other side.” That is what myplace was, a joining of depths of earthwith the fire of sky and water. I plungedon, enthralled.

Downstream the place changed character.The walls overhung more and came closer to—gether. The stream twisted more and attimes I felt it was attempting to turn asummersault or stand on its head. After afew moments, I came to a place where thestream steepened and plunged around a corner.The stream was so powerful that I could notwalk down it without being swept away. Byplacing my back on one wall and my feet onthe other I was able to make several feetof this, and I saw that the steepened streamplunged into a pool about six feet lower.I prepared to slide into this pool. At thelast moment I decided to get a better viewof the pool by reversing my chimney position.This done, I realized that the pool, farfrom being the end of the canyon, fed intoa series of high waterfalls. Disheartened,I retraced my steps and soon came to thetalus slope by which I had entered. Ilingered perhaps ten minutes allowing theplace to sink into my consciousness, thenI turned my back on it and climbed the sharplimestone boulders into the sunlight.

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It was 7:50. I was due to be pickedup in ten minutes and I was three—quartersof a mile from the rendez—vous point. Ihurried downstream and stopped in amazementat the place where the stream came to thesurface. It rushed, full of life and whitefoam, across a smooth grey slab into whichit had carved deep holes, much like bathtubs. I lingered here, not caring forcommitments or meeting places.

At the last possible moment, I rushedthrough my observations of rock types andmineralization. That was done in a fewfrantic moments. Then I ran laughing, downthe boulder stream creek, climbed the bank,and headed for the meadow. As I ran Iswung my pack onto one shoulder, reachedinside and pulled out my bright orangeflag. Just before I reached the meadowKarl popped a slight rise, saw the flag,and without circling, dropped into themeadow, ready to take me home.

REMEMBERANCE OF A FRIEND KILLED CLIMBING

JOHN RANCE

Eryl Pardoe died in the mountains.That at least is some consolation, becausefor Eryl, mountains were the focus of life.He cherished the freedom and exhilaration ofthe high places, the companioship of therope and the mastery of spirit and desireover the “surly bonds of earth”.

Eryl’s life was not only mountains.His interests were wide and varied. Hewas an accomplished engineer and he lovedmusic and song. Eryl loved poetry andoften spoke of Dylan Thomas, his favouritepoet. These things I learned of later, it

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was the love of mountains that was theforce which made him known to me.

He had several qualities which Iespecially admired and these he displayedwhenever he was climbing. He was a remarkably skillful climber and used grace andbalance in place o.f brute strength. Hepossessed a cool and calculating mind whichenabled him to pick routes quickly andcorrectly and to deal competently withemergencies and “foul—ups”. Finally, hehad a profound sense of the aesthetic inclimbing and he always, it seemed to me,tried to go about a climb in the “right way”.These and other qualities made climbingwith him a deeply satisfying experience.

There is need, I think, to elaborateon the implication of the previous paragraph that Eryl was motivated to do climbsaccording to an ideal. This ideal was notdogmatic. It had as its guiding forcethe feeling that a climb should be asbeautiful an experience as possible.Visually, logically, and morally, theclimb should be complete and whole. Thus,on our ascent of the Grand Wall, he insistedthat we climb the Flake Route, the truestart of the climb, even though we hadclimbed those pitches previously and couldsave two hours by walking up ledges to thetop of the flake. Likewise, at MarbleCanyon, on a new route which I later named“The Welsh Line”, he encouraged me tofollow a line of possibility which wasuncertain but went directly up the face,rather than a more obvious traverse whichwould have ended the route in a gully wellaway from its true ending above. Later,he was overjoyed by the route through aseemingly blank section of wall and talked

•7 r

of climbs in Wales and France which weresimilar in that they unfolded their logiconly to those who followed them. Wefinished that climb at dusk and the lastrappels were in darkness. As we coiledthe ropes at the base of the cliff I heardhis soft Welsh voice say, “Finishing afterdark makes me feel that we used the entireday.” Eryl wasted little time among themountains for merely to be among them orat the foot of a practice crag or sea cliffwas happiness for him.

Eryl’s death was not for me a tragedy.I was filled with deep sorrow, but I weptless for Eryl than for those who knew andloved him, and those cheated of the chanceto know him. Eryl of course had no desireto die, but less still did he have anydesire to leave the mountains which hadbeen his guiding passion for almost tenyears. Certainly he had discontentsbut he was certain about his love for themountains and climbing. I am sure thatuntil the moment of his fatal slide, he wasfilled with a profound sense of happiness.We who rue his loss must remember thatthere is nq reason to believe that Erylwould or could have done anything differently. The life he had was more beautifulthan those who choose safety and mediocritycould ever dream.

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Steve Heim on Castle Rock

— Photo: Peter Macek

I