Author: megan

The Bugaboos – a group of inspiring granite towers clustered in the Purcell Range of British Columbia, and the site of my first proper mountaineering/alpine rock experience. Also the place where I learned that anti-balling plates on crampons are a really good idea.

 

 

Arriving in the carpark, the first step after getting gear ready was to critter-proof the Jeep. Apparently porcupines and other wee beasties like to nibble on rubber and brake linings and other car parts, so all of the vehicles in the parking lot were encircled by chicken wire, held at the top by the logs, and at the base by rocks.

 

The Jeep, all critter-proofed
 

The trek up the hill isn’t far – it’s only about 4.5km to the hut, with an elevation gain of 720 metres. So up the glacial valley we hiked, looking ahead to get our first glimpses of the spires of the Bugaboos, and of the Bugaboo Glacier. A few ladders, chains, steep steps and stream crossings later, we were dropping our gear in the Conrad Kain Hut. There were ropes and crampons and gaiters and ice axes and boots everywhere. Climbers and hikers were draped across bunks and chairs, or were creating steaming pots in the kitchen, or poring over the guidebook. That’s right, it had been raining today.

 

Looking up at Hound’s Tooth and Bugaboo Glacier as we start our trek up the hill
 

James and I set off around 6am the next morning, with the light of the sunrise glowing off the surrounding peaks. The weather wasn’t looking promising, but we were heading up to do the Kain Route (5.6 III) which had an elevation gain of 1000 metres above the hut, but wouldn’t be too hard to bail off if necessary.

 

Looking back down at the hut in the morning light
 

So we set off across the snow, putting crampons on, and then roping up as we got towards the snowy col, then stepping up and up and up in the early morning light. At the saddle between Snowpatch and Bugaboo Spires we stowed crampons and ice tools, and started scrambling. The Kain Route basically climbs the south ridge skyline of Bugaboo Spire, so even on the easy scrambling there were sections with large cliffy dropoffs on either side. As we moved higher on the spire, we moved into the lurking cloud. It would occasionally swirl aside and provide us with views of the surrounding spires and glaciers, and the route ahead, but then close back in again, leaving us in our world of whiteness.

Eventually we reached the technical climbing pitches – and as we prepared to start climbing, the weather prepared to start snowing on us. “It’ll be fine,” we said, “it won’t snow on us,” and both carefully covered our boots with our gaiters, so no snow or rain could get them.

We swung leads towards the summit. I managed to incorporate a section of shuffling along the ridgeline with my right leg hanging down towards the hut-side cliff, and my left leg hanging down towards the other-side cliff. After passing the committing slabby move round the Gendarme, we just had the final pitch to the summit. As I started up the pitch, it started snowing on me.

 

Beautiful view from the summit of Bugaboo Spire, at 3204m (10,512ft). Note snow visible against slings. (Technically the actual summit is about eight metres away, but you get the idea…)
 

The snow was melting on the rock, making the lichen slippery, and generally making life a bit cold and unpleasant. And the thick cloud at that point had the added side-effect that I couldn’t actually see the summit. I assumed it was up somewhere, and decided to keep going up until I couldn’t. This plan paid off and I reached the summit to be greeted with beautiful views of white. I belayed James to the top, we posed for a summit photo against the gorgeous backdrop, then started rappelling down.

 

Rapelling back down again, the top of the Bugaboo-Snowpatch Col visible in the background
 

As we rapped down, I was disappointed to note that the clouds were clearing, and I was actually able to see out to the surrounding landscape. Lakes, spires, glaciers, distant snow-capped mountains.

 

And for just a moment, the clouds seemed to disappear entirely, and it was sunny and lovely and warm.
 

After a few rappels we were back to traversing back over ground we’d already covered, then another couple of rappels, and then we were at our mountaineering boots, nice and snug and dry in their gaiter nests. We switched back over and then started the scramble back down. And down and down. It was a fun scramble on the way up, but on the way down it seemed to last forever. My sugary food was all gone, and my water had run out too. I contemplated eating James, then decided a better plan would be to steal his food. Luckily he offered me an ‘Oh Henry!’ bar and a sip from his Camelbak and catastrophe was averted.

As we reached the saddle again, the wind picked up and it started raining on us. We attempted to shelter under a large boulder for a rest and food break before starting the final descent. The wind blew the rain onto us, so we decided to sit there and sulk until it stopped raining five minutes later.

We weren’t decided on which way to go down the col would be best, so we initially tried just walking down. But my crampons had no anti-balling plates, and were picking up the warm afternoon snow like that’s what their purpose in life was. I went for a small slide, then a slightly longer slide where I had the self arrest with my axe, and then we were conveniently next to a rap station, and decided that was probably the best way to get down.

 

James rapelling down the Bugaboo-Snowpatch Col.
 

After rapping as far as we could there was still a bit of steeper snow to walk down before we got to the easy wander downhill. I tried to keep wearing my crampons, but was having to tap them with my axe every step to prevent them from balling up so much they would do nothing but slide. In the end I got sufficiently fed up with them, took them off, and could suddenly move ten times as fast – and ran down the hill to James who had been impatiently waiting at the bottom of the hill thinking about dinner. By the time we reached the hut we’d been out for about 12 hours, and were starving and exhausted – luckily Alex was on chef duties, and made us food while we collapsed into tired heaps.

 

The hiking trail out, and down into the valley.
 

There’d been talk of doing another climb the next morning, but the long day on Saturday combined with the lack of sleep meant that all we really wanted to do was lie down. Unfortunately we still had to walk 4.5km downhill with all our climbing gear though – which we finally managed to do, after lazing around all morning. This time it didn’t rain on us, and was instead ferociously sunny, with chipmunks and squirrels cavorting around the path as we hiked down.