–A personal trip report submitted by Evan Martin
Ever since my failed attempt up Mount Septimus’ X-Gully last year I’ve been eyeing the Route 2 Variation. We were so close to the summit last year. All the technical parts of the route were complete – the gully proper, the glacier crossing, and the steep snow off the glacier. Hence, I still wanted to bag the summit, but wanted to do it via a fresh route. The standard “easy” rock route is 2V, which is rated 5.6, but requires multiple pitches and Phil Stone’s description in Island Alpine Climbing is “easy climbing but poor protection”. I was intimidated by the route, so wanted a solid partner. When Trevor, my climbing mentor from Newfoundland, asked me if he could come out in early May to do some climbing, I quickly narrowed in on 2V as our objective.
I’d normally consider early May as too early for a trip like this. However, after a devastating ski year I was optimistic I could make this work. I was monitoring the snow pack via every online resource I knew leading up to the trip. All indications were that our snowpack levels were about 5 weeks ahead of schedule. My recent summit of Triple Peak had confirmed this. I explained Septimus to Trevor as the most rewarding but lowest probability of success of our potential objectives – he was in! He booked his flight out for 7 days, and we hoped we could find a weather window within this period.
We departed Victoria on May 10th. The forecast for the day was a few showers around noon, followed by two days of sunshine and then questionable weather coming in behind that. We packed up four days of food to ensure that we had sufficient options. We took our time leaving Victoria as we had to make a stop in Nanaimo to pick up some gear at MEC. This meant we didn’t arrive at the trailhead until around 12:30. We encountered little of the forecasted rain and were optimistic that the forecast had been conservative. We departed the trailhead just after 1pm excited for the days ahead.
As we hiked towards Bedwell Lake a few small showers persisted. Nothing we hadn’t anticipated. However, as we started to drop towards Baby Bedwell, the rain picked up. We encountered two other hikers heading towards us. After only one night they were abandoning their trip due to “full on winter conditions” near Little Jim Lake. With spirits dampened we plodded on to Baby Bedwell. That’s when the pouring rain started. We stood near Baby Bedwell contemplating our decision. Was it snowing on Septimus? Should we choose a less technical objective? Should we turn around? I wasn’t ready to call it quits yet, so we left our options open and carried on. Trevor had flown all this way and he was about to have a miserable time.
By the time we got to Little Jim Lake the rain had eased a little, but we were wet and miserable. The fog prevented any view of the mountains so I still wasn’t sure whether it had snowed on Septimus. We decided to stop here for the night. We had ruled out summiting anything the next day and figured this would be a good place to regroup, assess the conditions, and decide where to go from here. I was feeling a little better at this point, but Trevor – with less big mountain experience than myself – was having a harder time. Everything he was wearing was wet and he had forgot his rain cover for his pack so his sleeping bag and spare clothing had also gotten damp. I suggested he go to bed in his wet clothing and told him he’d be dry by morning. He gave me a sharp look of disbelief, but took my suggestion. We settled down for the night early and I managed to fall asleep just after 7pm.
I woke up in the morning in better spirits. The sun was shining and our view of Big Interior and Tom Taylor had returned. No fresh snow on the summits! I watched the fog rolling over Big Interior as I puttered around camp waiting for Trevor to awaken. He was amazed that his clothing had actually dried. It wasn’t long until the sun rose above the hills and was shining on our camp. We could feel the warmth of the sun recharging our spirits. At this point there was no question – we were proceeding towards Mount Septimus.
We left camp at 9am and made a leisurely time out of the final part of the hike to Cream Lake. It was Trevor’s first view of the rugged Vancouver Island alpine including Mount Septimus which looms above as you head towards Cream Lake. We stopped often to take in the sights, discussing routes up Septimus and Nine Peaks. It was after 11am when we reached Cream Lake. After doing our mandatory camp chores and spreading our wet gear out to dry, we spent a relaxing day basking in the sunshine. As this was Trevor’s first mountaineering style objective we used some of the afternoon to review self belay and self arrest. The day was an excellent reminder that not every day in the mountains has to be go-go-go. It’s a beautiful place to catch up with a good friend, do some yoga, and take a nap or two!
The next day – day 3 – was summit day. We had already burnt through our contingency. We didn’t want to be on the rock when it was too cold, so there was no need for a true alpine start. Our goal was to be starting 2V at 9am, so we decided to leave camp at 6:30. The route up to the West Shoulder – the Septimus Neve as it’s called – is a moderate snow climb. Despite his body language telling me he was nervous, he kept a positive attitude and seemed to be enjoying himself. I did my best to kick steps through the hard surface crust to help him along. I’m sure his ice climbing experience contributed to his confidence.
When we arrived on the West Shoulder we got our first view of Septimus’ southwest face. My heart sunk when I saw how much snow was on the face. I voiced my observations to Trevor, but he missed my concern that the route may be blocked with snow. We kept our break just long enough to identify the start of the route and study what bits of it we could see from this vantage point. We then proceeded down the shoulder and traversed the snow slope towards the base of the route. I wouldn’t call the snow steep and it was starting to soften, but Trevor still appeared nervous as we made our way across the slope. Once we arrived we made a small step off the snow onto a narrow rock ledge where I took off my crampons and scrambled 5m up to a nice little alcove. We decided to bring our ice axes, but left the crampons at the base of the route- the snow was already softening so we wouldn’t need them even if we did encounter snow. Trevor opted to drop the mountaineering boots in favour of approach shoes. I had carried rock shoes, but decided to hold off putting them on. It was 9:00 – we had made it to the start of the route exactly on schedule.
This is where Trevor’s and my roles in this story reversed. It was the face that I was nervous about, and where Trevor locked in. At this point we were still uncertain where the route was, and I couldn’t see any rappel anchors left behind by previous climbers. I let Trevor take the first lead as we headed up the cliff side in what we felt was the most natural direction. After a short low 5th class pitch Trevor found the first rappel anchor giving us some confidence that were in the right place. From here we proceeded to swap leads up the next three pitches. We judged these to range from 5.5 to 5.7, close to the official 5.6 grade in Island Alpine Climbing, but none of the pitches were sustained. The route finding through these pitches was not straightforward as the route zigzagged up the face to the left of the main granodiorite dike described in the guide book. There were multiple patches of cedar trees, which made us uncertain if either of these were “the” cedar cluster in the guide book. The next pitch was straight up the dike. The rock quality up this pitch was good, but there were no obvious places for protection and Trevor climbed an entire 60m up the low 5th class dike without placing a single piece. From here I took the short 4th class traverse to the now obvious cedar cluster. Although the terrain at this point was backing off, we continued to pitch out the climb. It was now Trevor’s turn to lead. He skirted a snow patch above the cluster of cedars – the only snow we found on route – and scrambled up a classic low 5th island pitch consisting of a mix of shrubbery and rock. From the top of this pitch he could see the next rappel anchor so proceeded to link the next pitch. This was followed by a traverse to climbers left. The traverse was 3rd class, but was exposed to the left where the Standard Route ends. When I came around the corner the sense of accomplishment hit. We had made it to the Septimus-Rosseau Col and I could now tell that it would be an easy 2nd to 3rd class scramble to the top. It was too early to celebrate yet, but we had overcome the part of the trip that had made me apprehensive.
The view from the Col is a little deceiving as you’re looking at a false summit. However, this is easily bypassed to climbers left. We managed to stay on rock the entire way to the summit, avoiding the snow still clinging to the North side of the mountain above the Green glacier. We had finally made it! It took us 3.5 hours and 8 pitches from the start of route 2V to the summit. The view was incredible. Of course there’s the immediate peaks forming Strathcona Park. Then there’s the numerous other mountain ranges across Vancouver Island including the Mackenzie Range. This is all backed by a view of the Juan de Fuca Strait and the Olympic Mountains far in the distance. We found the summit register wedged in a crack in the fractured summit block, giving the impression the top might shear off at any moment. We took in the view, signed the register, and refuelled. After implanting that experience in our memories, it was time to head back down.
Although it feels like the trip is complete when arriving at the summit, one soon remembers that the way down isn’t trivial. This is particularly true on technical objectives where rappelling off the mountain is equally, if not more dangerous than the ascent. We scrambled backed down the ridge to the Col and then around the corner that made up our last “pitch” to our first rappel anchor. We added new webbing to the anchor and pulled off some of the old tat. I stacked the rest of the webbing in my pack, feeding the tail end through the water hose opening to allow me to easily access it without taking off my pack. We had used two 60m twin ropes for the climb giving us flexibility on the rappels. From the first rappel anchor we linked the first two rappels, taking a steeper but more direct line down to the cedar patch. We kept with a system of me rappelling first, setting up the next anchor, and making myself secure before Trevor proceeding with his rappel. While he was rappelling, I would organize for the next one.
The second rappel was the scariest part of the trip for me. Leaving the cedar cluster we had to traverse right to the next rappel anchor. This required a mix of rappelling and down climbing. Although secure on the rope, a slip here would have turned me into a pendulum across the cliff face. Although not fatal, it wouldn’t be pleasant. I had placed a nut on this section during the climb, but it was a shallow placement and had popped on me on the way up. Despite this, I stopped and studied the crack a little more carefully on the way down and found a place for a small 0.3 cam. This peice would prevent the pendulum should I fall. However, continuing to down climb was still an awkward endeavour. At this point, I decided to put my faith into my trad skills and weighted the cam. Gradually at first and then my full weight as I continued on rappel. It held, but I was still uneasy. A short while later I found a second cam placement to backup the smaller piece above. Feeling more secure I proceeded to the anchor below. I tied off the rope to the anchor to prevent a pendulum fall for Trevor and he followed behind.
The next few rappels were largely uneventful. We had the standard difficulties of trying to keep tangles out of 120m of rope and inevitably having to untangle 120m of rope. Otherwise they were textbook. The second to last rappel was probably Trevor’s most nerve-racking moment. Although he has ample experience bailing off routes, rappelling off shrubs, rock flakes, and horns – standard affair in the alpine – was largely new to him. This horn was particularly bad. Bad enough that someone had opted to traverse climbers left and sling a few cedars rather than trusting it. The location of the horn was such that it was a vertical rappel down to the next anchor, making it an even more dubious endeavour. I double checked our webbing, ensured it was under the older tat to minimize the chance it would slip, and finally weighted it. We probably could have finished the rappel from this anchor, but we decided to get off it as soon as we could. Trevor, now a little relieved after seeing me safe at the bottom reluctantly followed.
One more rappel took us back to our stashed gear and then onto the snow. While setting up this rappel I cut off an old piece of tat, tied it to the end of webbing coming out of my pack and used the old webbing to pull the new around the flake. I was surprised when the other tail popped out of my pack – we had used all 20m of our webbing. What had seemed like a ridiculous amount when we bought it, and an even more ridiculous amount as we were stuffing it in our packs, turned out to be just enough – despite us being able to skip rap stations with our double 60m ropes. We cleared a pile of old tat off the mountain and were safely back on the snow, making it a worthwhile investment.
It was now 4:00 and we were safely off the route. We weren’t done yet, but it was a simple trip back to camp. The snow had softened up making crampons unnecessary and any slip could be easily arrested. Trevor was now feeling more comfortable on the snow and was able to make better time across the traverse. Once we got to the shoulder and back on level ground we took the opportunity to organize our gear before descending the Neve.
I knew it would be a long time down if I couldn’t get Trevor more comfortable with the snow. He started face towards the slope reversing his upward movement. I followed behind in my jubilant plunge step – half walking, half falling down the slope – my favourite part of being on snow! After modelling the movement, Trevor turned around and loosened up and we started to make better time. Eventually Trevor got comfortable enough to try the sitting glissade – better know as butt sliding. Now we were really making progress! We made it back to camp at 5:15 – 10 hours and 45 minutes after we departed. We were wet from our fun in the snow, and in high spirits from this all around amazing experience. We reflected on the day while preparing dinner and went to bed early.
There’s never much to say about the final day. We packed up our gear and got out of there without much delay. Having accomplished what we came there to do we were ready to get back to civilization. When we got back to Little Jim Lake the weather began to turn for the worst. The fog had rolled in and we were getting some light showers. Our weather window had been perfect. In fact it rained the rest of Trevor’s trip in BC. It’s not often we can say the trip turned out exactly as planned, but this was as close to perfect as one can expect – even down to the last inch of rap tat. A little rainier start than we had anticipated, but we intentionally left the day before our weather window. Our spirits were up and down, but our perseverance paid off. We set off to summit Mount Septimus and on the way learn new skills, gain confidence, and most importantly enjoy the beauty of the mountains with a good friend. We achieved all of that and more!
- Free climbed off snow
- Horn with chock stone – low 5th (rap)
- Cedar tree to left – 5.5/5.6 single move (rapped of horn to climbers right)
- Up and right to anchor with nut- Crux pitch 5.7 (skipped)
- Bypassed anchor up and right to cedar and gear 5.6 (rapped off horn)
- Linked two pitches slab in light rock – low 5th (rapped)
- Up and left to cedars – 4th class (rap)
- Linked two pitches to horn – 5.5 (rap)
- Up and left – 3rd class
- Scramble to top