Getting up at 3:00 am isn’t my favourite way to spend a Sunday, but I do it week after week. I head outside, driven by my Island Alpine Quest, the goal of summiting more than 250 peaks. In doing so, I find myself hiking in some seldom-visited locations on Vancouver Island. Why do I do it? I’m the type of person who needs a goal to stay interested. There are factors that help smooth the rough early morning starts, like those fleeting moments of looking through old-growth forest or picking my way along a craggy ridge. But occasionally, the quest takes me to a place that I’ll never return – one worth skipping. Strata Mountain is in this category.
It’s not that the mountain is out of the way; after all, it’s in the heart of one of the most popular regions of Strathcona Park. And it’s not that it doesn’t have anything to offer; the high ridge tops out over 1400 metres, with an easy walking alpine ridge that has great views of many nearby peaks, including Mount Albert-Edward and Mount Adrian. But because the area is overused, and because there are many other nearby peaks that offer a more dramatic and aesthetic ascent, it’s just not worth the effort – except maybe as a side trip.
Nevertheless, it’s on the list, and Strata Mountain demanded my attention. On March 4th, 2018, I led a group of six Island Mountain Ramblers on a winter trip to the summit of Strata Mountain. It was a near-perfect day for the long trip across Forbidden Plateau, with clear skies that persisted through the morning, and a well-packed boot track that allowed for a quicker-than-normal pace.
March 17th, 2018: We headed out from Raven Lodge, Mount Washington ski resort around 8 am. We took the western route through paradise meadows to and across Lake Helen Mackenzie, between Mount Elma and Mount Brooks. We continued past Strata Mountain and several hours after leaving the parking lot we were at our chosen base camp on Circlet Lake.
Skinning towards the distant view of Albert Edward
As parents, my wife Kim and I fall into all-too-familiar parent-child relationships with Hemingway and Octavia. My behaviour exemplifies the old platitude: When you love your kids, you want the best for them. You’ll go out of your way to make sure their lives are better than how you perceived your own to be. I take my children on backcountry adventures to give them formative experiences at a young age, experiences I don’t remember having when I was their age. Of course, believing that these adventures are making their lives better is a romantic notion; I wonder if Hemingway feels the same way. Continue reading “A family snowshoe loop: Featuring another family!”
Read the full report and see more photographs on Explorington.com
Dear Hemingway,
You’re four-and-a-half years old now–time sure flies. I made only two resolutions for 2018, and the first and most important one was to get my whole family out on a mountain adventure (Paradise Meadows doesn’t count). You’ve been my adventure companion on many trips, but it wasn’t until our January 6th trip that we summited our first mountain together: Mount Elma. It was a lot of work, but well worth the effort to see your smile when we crested the hill and walked out onto Mount Elma’s summit plateau.
Mount Elma Map and GPS route
Total Distance: 12 km
Starting Elevation: 166m
Maximum Elevation: 1418 m
Total Elevation Gain: 446 m
Total Time: 5h 30m
You’re a natural outdoorswoman! It was back on December 16th, 2017 that we finally got you out on your first snowshoe trip. I hosted a family/beginner snowshoe trip with the Island Mountain Ramblers as a way to get the whole family outdoors together. You were already 14 months old at the time — a whole year older than your brother’s first time! I’m sorry we waited so long to get you into a backpack and out in the snow! We tried to make it happen last winter, but between your age and the weather, we just couldn’t find a day that worked.
Arriving at the parking lot for the Nordic Centre around 10 am, we were surprised to see how busy it was. We speculated that the combination of fires in the interior and the number of closed Island trails created an above average number of visitors to the park this year.
Prior to heading out on the trail we met up a few days in advance to chat about gear, packing tips and travel arrangements. Rick was very helpful in showing us how to shave off unnecessary weight in our packs and meal planning. Turn’s out that Rick is quite the backcountry camp chef and he passed on loads of tips on preparing dehydrated meals as well as how to make pizza on the trail!
Twelve of us set off for Crest Mountain from the trailhead on the Gold River Highway. The forecast was for good weather and the sky was promising. The trail is well-designed and built, but gains 1100 meters in the first 5km. We didn’t hit snow until the 1400m elevation shortly before coming onto the plateau by the first tarn. The tarns are still 3/4 frozen with blue water pooling among the snow and ice. A forty minute hike in the snow from the tarn saw us gain another 100m and the cairn marked summit.
Strathcona Park is a jewel nestled among many of the island’s tallest peaks. In many places, the long mountain ridges are the natural boundaries that define the shape of the park. All around the park, and sometimes within it, is evidence of industry: logging and mining change the landscape, and the juxtaposition of the two creates a dramatic, and obvious, delineation of the park boundary. Like it or not, these industries create roads that give access to some of the more obscure regions of the park, including the underappreciated northwest tip where Mount Judson (1750m) is located.
From some angles, Mount Judson looks intimidating. Bands of cliffs are clearly visible through pockets of dense forest, and on the skyline, steep snow slopes hide the true summit from view. For us, it was more than just a simple hike to the summit, but on June 11th our group rose to the challenge.
Phil asks this simple question after each of our adventures. In so few words, it gets to the heart of what drives a person to find adventure. That question came to mind as we hiked up a steep, pristine section of old-growth on our way to the summit of Mount Heber. Phil and I agreed that there are two overarching reasons that drive adventure-seekers: aesthetic or athletic. Of course, these are oversimplifications; there are likely as many reasons to seek adventure as there are people seeking it. Whatever our individual motivations, on June 4th, our group of five was keen on summiting Mount Heber. It was more than the fine weather and the promise of a view that made the trip memorable; we were excited because it was our first snowshoe-free alpine hike of the year!
Mount Heber GPS route & topo map
Total Distance: 11 km
Starting Elevation: 567 m
Maximum Elevation: 1683 m
Total Elevation Gain: 1238 m
Total Time: 7h 20 m
We had a typical alpine start: Phil and I picked up Shannon at 5:00 am, and Rick and Colleen followed after us in their own vehicle. Mount Heber is a long way from Nanaimo, far enough that we spent at least as many hours driving as we did hiking. By day’s end, we would drive more than a hundred kilometres of highway and logging road. The drive itself wasn’t without adventure: notably, our logging spur off the Heber Mainline included crossing a decaying bridge, driving through board washouts, using a saw to remove windfall, and getting the Jeep stuck with one front tire and one rear tire hanging in the air while the Jeep wobbled back and forth. If anything, these offered some levity to the otherwise lengthy drive.
We parked where the road becomes an alder-filled, seasonal watercourse (~650m). Though there was no snow where we parked, we knew we would still find snow on the mountain, so we strapped our snowshoes onto our backs. I noted that despite it being just 9:00 am, there wasn’t any dew; the trees were dry. Summer was coming! We quickly worked our way up the road, crossing a few bad washouts and walking long stretches of open road, finally arriving at the terminus of the decommissioned logging grade. Along the way, we did cross a few bushy sections, but nothing worse than B2.
The road ends at a ravine, and it’s here that we stood to examine the route ahead. The roar of water convinced us to avoid entering the watercourse, and instead head up through the cut block to the right of the road. An easy ramp led up the embankment, and we then followed the easiest route over the fallen timber, through devil’s club and shrubs into a section of old-growth that lined the watercourse.
The terrain just inside the old-growth gently climbs; we easily avoided most of the bush by weaving between large trees and around thickets of shrubs and saplings. Phil and I were the route-finders, so we surged ahead checking for obstacles, and waited for the others when we couldn’t hear them. Around 1150 metres we found the ideal place to ford the river. We stepped out of the forest, crossed a wide gravel bed, and walked into the forest on the opposite side. Stepping out of the ravine, the terrain became a manageable grunt up through the virgin forest, though much of it was on a forty-degree slope. One thing is for certain: the route to Mount Heber doesn’t lack for vertical gain!
We hadn’t even reached the alpine yet, but we were already blown away by the beauty of the hike! Perhaps ours was a reaction against the advice we’d received about the trip. We were told, “Take your whole crew, because you won’t want to go back.” I disagree with the second part of that statement, but admit the first is correct: Take your whole crew. It’s so worth it!
The biggest obstacle of the day was a headwall that emerged somewhere around 1300 metres. We scouted to our left and discovered an easily-scrambled gully that put us on top of the headwall. As luck had it, the gully was filled with snow – the first of the trip – making it even easier to scale; however, the middle had a snow bridge. As the fifth person crossed over, it collapsed harmlessly. The headwall is worth mentioning; soon after that, the slope begins to ease.
Very quickly after this obstacle, the grade eased off, and as we left the dense forest behind for the open alpine, snow accumulated beneath our feet and the long snowy slopes rising ahead of us created a dramatic contrast to the dark forest below. We stopped for a few minutes in the shadow of a huge alpine fir, to rest and admire the view. From our vantage, we could see Treo Mountain framed between two large trees. Treo was the first trip that I did with Shannon and Colleen, and I’ll confess that I felt a tear in the corner of my eye over the sentiment. No wait, that was the sunscreen in my eye — it was hot!
I looked all around me for Mount Heber, but it was still out of view. We trusted a track set by a bear that had run down the hill the day before; his tracks led us up the easiest route, until we diverted to create switchbacks up a steep snow slope. The snow was in perfect condition for edging boots in, and when the slope became too much for switchbacks, I turned directly up and kicked steps to the upper ridge.
We crested the ridge and gave a shout of excitement over the amazing panoramic view. To the south, we could see the giants that populate the Elk River Valley and the ridgeline that marks the Cervus/Wolf divide (Filberg Range Traverse). To the north, we had a clear view of Victoria and Warden Peaks. On top of this, we could see our objective, Mount Heber, and the high point of the ridge which carries the unofficial name Kenite Peak.
The two peaks are less than a kilometre apart and the terrain between is mostly easy, just a small scramble to the summit of Heber from a notch. We hit up the higher, unnamed bump. On the summit of this bump (don’t be misled by the name Kenite Peak in Google Earth), we posed for pictures, admired the view, and ate some lunch. Phil, never satisfied to stand still, took off running across the broad snow-topped plateau to the opposite side. He was checking the height of a distant marker to make sure it wasn’t higher — it wasn’t. In time, we left the high point behind us and headed south, into a low saddle and up to the bump that sits below Mount Heber.
At the top of the bump, we only had to descend into the notch and then get up the snow slope to the top of Mount Heber. In the hot sun, the snow softened, causing us to sink easily with each step. It took very little effort to descend into the notch. Phil led the way. At the rocks, I used the adze of my mountaineering axe to clear the surface ice off the rock, making space for foot and hand placements. I used rocks, snow, and green belays to scramble up the route, and eventually reached the summit.
In my opinion, the view from Mount Heber offers the best view of the Elk River peaks. I’ve been told that it’s the only peak from which you can see all the others. Each stood tall, distinct from the other. The snowy features created a romanticized image of the mountains.
It was 1:30 pm when we started our descent. Wherever possible, we saved time by taking a direct route down steep snow slopes. Once we were back in the forest, we sought the easiest path down, and though we kept very close to our original route, I think it was a bit easier than the ascending route. Our only problem with the descent was the snow gully at the headwall; in the warm afternoon sun it was slippery, and as Phil stepped into it, the snow collapsed and sent him on a short, unexpected butt-slide.
We arrived back at the cars by 3:30 pm, much earlier than we originally anticipated. We had come ready for ten hours of hiking, but with the favorable conditions, we managed to make it much quicker.
As to the questions of aesthetic or athletic, my tastes tend toward the aesthetic, though my true goal is somewhat separate from either of these reasons. I don’t like to think of my Island Alpine Quest as simply peak-bagging, though it must appear that way to others. Whether it’s skunk cabbage blooming in a watercourse, a huge fungus growing on a log, or a snow-capped peak in the distance, I’ll enjoy them all. For now, I’m content to enjoy the aesthetic that comes in whatever place I visit. In the future, I may have more time to select my locations; for now, I’m content gathering data and visiting some of the most beautiful places on Vancouver Island. I’ll include Mount Heber among those places. And to answer Phil’s qustion, yes, it was worth the squeeze.
