Category: trip reports

Scott Duncan Hut – Bow Hut. 17km. 750m altitude gain – 950m altitude lost. 10.5hrs.

After the long day yesterday we decided to sleep in for a bit… which meant not getting up until after it started getting light at 6am. I stumbled outside and looked around. A sea of snow and glaciers and mountains looked back at me. Everything was bathed in dawn light, and looked incredibly beautiful and remote.

Pottering around the hut getting ready, we didn’t feel too bad, and decided to keep heading onwards. If we ended up feeling hideously sore we could turn back. We flew down from the hut out across onto the glacier at 8.15am, roping up as we started heading uphill. It probably wasn’t necessary, but we really didn’t know the terrain, and we figured it couldn’t hurt. Plus more practise with roped up travel wasn’t a bad thing.

Our first goal was to reach Balfour High Col. We could see it from Scott Duncan Hut, and it seemed so close for a point that was several kilometres away. Travel conditions were good though – we were still trail breaking, but the snow wasn’t sticking to our skins now, and it was a pleasant clear day. Not windy, not too hot, not too cold. We were surprised to discover that we really weren’t feeling too sore, and could easily keep up a decent pace as we gradually reeled in the distance between us and the Col.

As we started climbing up onto the bench before the Col, we ran into a couple of other groups, heading towards Scott Duncan from Balfour – hurrah! We wouldn’t be breaking trail anymore! Although our run of isolation had now ended, human contact had been made.

We stopped on top of Balfour High Col to look at the road ahead, and decide on a route. We had two options. We could pass underneath Mount Balfour, along a bench with seracs looming over us on one side and great open crevasses lurking beneath, or we could turn downhill earlier, and weave our way down a narrow path between a rock and the crevasses, and then turn across to the hut. Everyone who had come up that morning had gone for Option A. The path looked clear and obvious, and we’d have the advantage of speed to help us clear the serac danger-zone quickly. We went for Option A, but decided to stay roped up.

Through necessity, we quickly got the hang of skiing downhill with ropes on. I was last on the rope, after being deemed the one least likely to fall over. We hurtled past the seracs as fast as we could, discovering that trying to stay in control with heavy packs and tired legs wasn’t as easy as it sounded. I’d almost prefer to have been going uphill. Convincing tired legs to keep going, we turned down the last slope, then pushed across the short uphill section to reach Balfour Hut.

There were hoards of people milling around the hut – well, we knew it was booked out that night, otherwise we would have been staying there. Balfour Hut was our second escape point in case of extreme exhaustion. If we really had to we could beg for a spot on the floor. But although we were all feeling pretty tired, and the downhill to reach the hut had taken longer than planned, we weren’t feeling that desperate. It was 2.30pm, so we still had another 6 and a half hours of daylight. And if necessary, headlamps. Besides, we’d finished the longer section – 10km down, 7km to go, and the uphill was nice and gradual. A quick lunch, and we pushed onwards.

The ski up Vulture Glacier was indeed gradual, but we slowly started to melt as the afternoon sun reflected at us from all angles. On rest breaks I’d dive my face into the snow in an attempt to cool down, and eat handfuls of snow to keep my mouth from drying out. Thankfully it started to cloud over though, and as Amy set a fast pace up the glacier, we marched and marched into the clouds.

Counting steps and counting steps, staying roped up we made our way up to Olive-St. Nicholas Col. It seemed like we would be at the top in just 500 steps… maybe another 200… another 100… another 100. With the clouds came snow and a cold wind; my ear started filling with snow and feeling numb, where just a couple of hours earlier it had been overheating in the sun. I pulled my neckwarmer up to cover it. Convincing tired limbs to keep moving, we finally reached the top. The afternoon storm was clearing, the sun was getting low in the sky, and the Wapta Icefields were spread out in front of us, mountains sitting in a sea of glacier.

We unroped and started flying down towards Bow Hut. I got stuck with the rope (perhaps I volunteered), and my tired legs protested as I turned down the hill. The snow was gorgeous, but my legs refused to appreciate it, as I struggled to keep a consistent snow plough going.

In the end we stumbled into the Hut at about 7.45pm, revelling in the luxury of being able to take our skis off, and not having a pack on. And it wasn’t even dark yet! Bow Hut is like a mansion of huts. There’s a separate wing for the bunks, another for the huge kitchen area, and the toilets, instead of being in a little outhouse in the snow, were just off the corridor joining the other two areas.

We dropped our things on a bunk then thankfully collapsed in the kitchen to cook dinner, feeling smug as we heard people who had just started the traverse talking fearfully about what a long day it was going to be tomorrow, having to ski all the way to Balfour Hut. A few people asked us where we’d come from, and were amazed. But honestly, it wasn’t that bad, we didn’t get up super early, and we definitely weren’t travelling super fast. It’s only 17km even if it is with a heavy pack. Now Wapta Traverse in a day, THAT would be a challenge…

Sherbrooke Lake – Scott Duncan Hut. 12km. 1300m altitude gain. 12hrs.

After leaving Canmore not long after 5am, we were driving up the Icefields Parkway in the snow to drop off one of the cars by Peyto Lake. Back at West Louise Lodge in Amy’s van (with it’s trusty worn summer tyres that made it somehow), we got everything together and started skiing up the trail at about 9am. The trail up to Sherbrooke Lake was a bit steep, but covered in fresh snow it was fairly easy going and easy to follow.

We crossed the lake and meandered up along Sherbrooke Creek – a lovely sunny day so far. It was all going well until we had to veer up into the trees, and then the snow started sticking to our skins, and then clumping onto our skins, and the snow was also getting nice and isothermic, and then we started punching through the crust and wallowing uphill through trees with an igloo-worth of snow attached to the bottom of our skis. You could say that travel was slow. And painful. And we were looking forward to the idea of not having to see another tree for four days.

Finally, 10 hours later, we made it through the trees. Well, perhaps it wasn’t that long. But nearly. We were exhausted. Travel conditions improved once we got out into the open, although we all continued to have issues with snow sticking to our skins. The weather began to close in too – cloudy and flat light, just what we wanted as we were getting close to the first glacier.

We roped up as we drew alongside Mount Niles, and then crossed onto the Niles Glacier, the start of the Waputik Icefield. By this point we were all feeling fairly exhausted, and it wasn’t long after that the counting began. It was the easiest way to make your legs keep moving – singing required too much mental effort. Even counting could get difficult… 106.. 107.. 108.. 109.. 200.. what? no… um…

It was only 3 kilometres from Mount Niles to the Scott Duncan Hut, but they’re some of the slowest kilometres I’ve ever travelled. We’d been breaking trail all day, thanks to a combination of fresh snow and wind. And my skins would not stop gunking up with snow, which made every step a dragging effort with no glide at all. The landscape was so huge it felt as if we were hardly moving, so the only thing that helped was the counting.

Finally though, we swung underneath Mount Daly, and could begin the final (short) climb to the hut. And as we did the sun was setting, and there was the most brilliant pink sunset sky that I think I’ve ever seen – and it will remain that way too, as I was far too tired to even think about dragging my camera out.

As we stumbled into the hut, we breathed a sigh of relief that we’d have it to ourselves. Scott Duncan is a tiny little hut that sleeps only 16 – and would be very cramped with that many. But it feels wild and remote – especially after a day of trail breaking, and not another human in sight.

As we ate dinner we discussed whether we’d actually be able to carry out the trip as planned. Thanks to issues booking huts, we were doing the traverse in reverse (most people do it from North to South, giving less uphill, and a much MUCH easier first day), and we’d also been unable to get into Balfour Hut, meaning that tomorrow would be another long day, combining what would usually be two days of the traverse into one. And after the exhausting day we’d just finished, we weren’t sure if we’d be able to do it. So we went to bed, deciding we’d see how we felt in the morning. If necessary we could always turn around and ski back to the car.