Friday, October 28, 2016

west of the river 2: alpha

A couple of months after visiting Echo Lake, I ventured into the Tantalus mountains again, to attempt Mt Alpha. The mountain has been on my mind for years as it is the most striking of the peaks visible from the Sea to Sky highway north of Squamish. There is even a popular viewpoint on the road from which tourists frame their selfies with it 365 days a year. I am a sucker for mountains that look like mountains, irrespective of their actual difficulty. Alpha is satisfyingly pointy.

Alpha in winter
I know many people who have climbed Alpha. Two of my friends have soloed it in a day, starting and ending on the valley floor with an altitude gain of 2300m. One of them did it door to door from his house, cycling the not-insignificant distance to the usual start point. Unfortunately, being a defiant aerobophobe (is this a word? - if not it should be) that kind of madness is not for me. Thus my ascent waited on the discovery of a climbing partner both as lazy as me and with the financial stature to pay for a helicopter ride: Chris. Over the last year or so he has become one of my most regular climbing partners, almost wholly on sport cliffs, but we only recently confessed to alpine urges.

Helicopter access to the Tantalus is laughably convenient. We met our pilot at Squamish airport around 6:45am, had the payment and a safety briefing complete by 7:00 and were landed by Lake Lovely Water at around 1000m altitude by 7:10. We bagged a camping platform by the hut there, tossed beer into the lake to cool and had begun our ascent well before 8:00. Our plan was to climb up and down the East Ridge route. The more standard itinerary is to descend to the west on a lower-angle scrambling route but a study of numerous online trip reports suggested that 1. everyone gets lost 2. the hike back alongside the lake from the west side to the start point is long and tedious.

The trail to the start of the east ridge is reasonably well-flagged through the initial forest section but then less distinct on more open heather-and-talus slopes above. But it doesn't matter too much as it is fairly clear where you are headed: a slight col on the ridge above. However it was buggy; I was glad to have brought a head net. At the col, where you meet the glacier, there was more wind and temperatures were cooler, so bugs less of a problem. 

The last section of the approach trail
The East Ridge from the col
The East Ridge breaks down into three sections: scrambling on the crest of the ridge or snow plodding at varying angles to its right; a short 5th class climbing section where a rope is a appropriate; a final few hundred metres of scrambling/ easy climbing. We had both chosen to wear approach shoes rather than heavier boots, and correspondingly did not have crampons, though we did each have an ice axe. For the first section, Chris chose to scramble the ridge whilst I took my chances with the snow. With hindsight his choice was probably better, as the snow was a little harder than I had expected, and I felt insecure at several points. We met up again at the notch under the 5th class section, where we dumped the ice axes and roped up.

Niobe and Lake Lovely Water from the start of the east ridge
Chris below the short 5th class section
The roped climbing was straightforward and obvious with just a couple of steep crack moves around 5.8 then the rest much easier. We did it in three short pitches, of which the last was definitely unnecessary. Above that section we dumped ropes and the other climbing gear, though I chose to continuing wearing climbing shoes (a comfortable pair of Mythos).

Route finding from there to the summit was confusing at times, with multiple options. It reminded me of easy ridges I had climbed in the Swiss Alps as a teenager. Not technically demanding at all but definitely "mustn't fall" terrain in a couple of spots. When I was much younger, that kind of casual unsensational risk-taking never troubled me much, but as I grow older it hovers around the edge of my conscious thought rather more. There had been a high profile fatality in the Coast Mountains a few weeks previously. The accident was on a much bigger and tougher peak, but my understanding is that the victim's critical slip was on easy unroped terrain. I had actually met her briefly at a Squamish cliff earlier in the summer, as I was climbing with one of her mentors and friends. She seemed energetic, thoughtful, experienced. A unfathomable, sobering loss.

Chris starting the final summit tower
Chris and I spent about twenty minutes at the summit eating lunch and taking photos. Views were excellent. Eventually we were spooked by some cloud starting to form on the nearby, but higher, summit of Mt Tantalus, so decided to head down.

Dione and Tantalus from the summit
Looking south to Howe Sound and the Georgia Strait
Looking across the valley to a very bare Mt Garibaldi 
Descent was mostly uneventful. We drifted briefly on to the glacier hoping the snow would be softer but then reverted to the ridge. Very near the end of the unroped down-climbing I had an uncomfortable moment when I pulled off a loose hold in a slightly comical slow-motion way. But I had a solid hold in my other hand and didn't fall.

On the descent
We were back at the lake mid-afternoon with significant time to kill. Bugs were still bad, so we drank beer rather claustrophobically in the tent. I also had an experimental swim in the lake: very cold, very refreshing. Later we drank more beer by the lake with a small, possibly-illegal campfire to keep the bugs at bay. A couple of other climbers joined us and described the west descent of Alpha which we had avoided. It sounded like quite a chore so we felt vindicated in our decision.

Did I mention the bugs?
Last light over the lake
We had booked our ride out at noon the next day. This gave us an opportunity to wander around the lake on the opposite side from Alpha and admire the previous day's route. Also to research the approach to the north side of Mt Niobe, which we both thought a worthy objective for a future trip.

Alpha east ridge in profile, from the lake
Chris checking out boulders at Niobe Meadows
A SUP out on Lake Lovely Water
Back at camp, I had a final swim. Lake Lovely Water is well named; it is a very very aesthetic spot. With its glacier-fed water and high alpine backdrop it is reminiscent of the Rockies' famous Lake Louise, but without the ridiculous faux-chateau and thousands of tourists. Indeed, at least fleetingly, I had the lake all to myself.

When diving into cold water, there is a distinct and interesting interval, just after the conscious commitment to launch but just before the inevitable "christ, it's freezing" shock. In that moment, I was unexpectedly overwhelmed with elation: that I was alive in a beautiful place, that the world was as perfect as it could possibly be, that kind of hippie stuff. Sensations like that don't often hit me these days, and being a jaded old cynic about most things I can easily rationalise it as post-fatigue endorphins or perhaps even the childish anticipation of another helicopter ride. Anyway: it happened and it was uplifting, and it reminded me why we go into the mountains for pointless adventures.