Bugaboos Alpine Backpacking Trip

Chapter 1 | Cold, Sweat, and Rain

Bugaboo Spire

Day 1 | June 29, 2012
Bugaboos Provincial Park, BC

My experience in Bugaboos Provincial Park is probably the time I reached my true physical limit. It was an alpine backpacking trip -- something that a casual hiker cannot really handle. I went there with a skill level equal to that casual hiker, however surrounded by more experienced hikers and scramblers, even by some veterans.

Bugaboos is a stupendous place to hike and do fully-blown mountaineering, glacier walking, and climbing, and all sorts of extremity. We arrived at there on the June, 29, 2012, Friday morning.  The parking lot was swarmed by mosquitoes and other kinds of bugs; we then covered our vehicles with chicken wires to prevent porcupines eating tyres overnight. The hike began fairly well .

The initial stage involved 30 minutes long flat hike, as we passed along a well-maintained trail with bridges and all. It felt quite tropical at this stage with richly-textured landscape surrounding us. 

After this, there we began ascending steeply about 930 metres to the Konrad Cain Hut. On our way, we encountered a big old snow patch, steep, and slippery and all -- it wasn't an easy pass, and at that moment, I thought I should've brought crampons and ice axe rather than icers. A thought that will have continued to recur in the following days. In the meantime, I gradually found out that my pack was heavier than it should have normally been in a typical 4-day long alpine trip. As others continued to ascend, I was lagging behind -- of course, I was continuously encouraged that the pack will be lighter so soon as we reach to the base camp and drop the food, dry clothes, pots, and all. A thought that somehow enhanced my endurance for about an hour or so. 

It took us several hours to arrive at the Cain Hut run by Alpine Club of Canada. We were welcomed by the marooned-lookin' custodian (he was actually a cool lad, one of those quiet types that would enjoy solitude in a place like this). We gathered information about the weather condition, ACC regulations, camp place, and all. I remember thereabouts feeling almost completely knackered and my clothes being quite damp, for it was a gruelling hike/snow-walk up until this point. But it wasn't over. We had to either ascend to the upper camp ground, or to descend to the lower. Considering that most of us were exhausted and the weather was far from being uplifting in the higher ground, we took the lower ground: A descend that will have later prompted me to do a rather clumsy but technically correct self-arrest first time in my life. 

So we descended. My goodness! It wasn't a normal descend where you can casually put one step after another. It was at least a 45 degree slope, fully covered by unstable avalanche snow. I remember opening couple of deep holes on the snow while descending -- I was still lagging behind though. I knew that I hadn't eating something substantial, as I was continuously trying to catch up with others rather than taking longer breaks. Our laudable group leader often stayed behind me though; he was always watchful in case of something happens. I think at most times, I was the weakest member of the group in terms of fitness and experience. 

After the descend, we have arrived at the camping ground -- sorry, no camping ground. It was completely caked under snow! All the tent-spots! There was only one tent where two Australian climbers were staying and I estimated that they must have 'made' their places. Same procedure we were about to follow: shovelling.

At this stage, I felt the trip begin turning into some type of commando training; as though we were in some type of boot camp. It wasn't a nice thought considering my detest for military. We'd just had a considerably taxing hike, and now we had to shovel the snow away? -- I wanted to say "no way", and yet I didn't want to let my group down. They needed manpower and I hadn't been so useful so far. Well, it turned into a fun activity though. Teamworking, that is. Making mine and my tent partner's place! Ours was probably the most difficult clean as I recall it being completely shielded by chunks of firm ice. I was pretty much dead-beat but kept going still... 

As soon as we set up the tent, I knew that I wanted to go inside and sleep -- something I shouldn't have done. I tried to do so for about an hour. By the end of it, I was famished with hunger and began considerably shivering in my sleeping bag. I was unable to warm up. I then put an underlay cold armour to warm up quickly. It didn't work out.  

When my tent partner arrived, I told him that I might be going into hypothermia. He looked at me for a short while, then began pondering a little bit. Then he suggested that I might decide to go up and stay in the hut for a night (it is pricy of course). But he first went to the group and had a word with the leader. About 5 minutes later, he came back and explained me my options: Foremostly, I needed to go down to our improvised food court and eat something hot. Second, they were preparing me a hot water bottle which I needed to put in my sleeping bag when sleeping. Third, he said that he'd go and have a word with the custodian about me staying there for the night -- I had to admit my tent partner was probably the most able outdoorsman I ever saw. A feat that will have proved vital for the integrity and yes, for the survival of our group in the coming days. Blessings to him!

I knew that I had to eat something. It's just...I didn't have the guts to wear those wet socks and boots again, nor had the enough energy to go down there -- it was, of course, steep avalanche snow I had to walk on, and after the experience I had an hour ago, I just had no will power to do so. On the other side, I was coming to my wits. At some point, I reminded myself that I was unable to warm up and that my shivering was getting more frequent than ever. I knew that I was on the verge of the beginnings of hypothermia, with my clothes, socks, and yes my sturdy mountaineering boots, being wet and all. Then up game our group leader -- he tried convincing me to go down, and explained what would happen if I don't eat. He pretty much taught me how hypothermia occurs and subtly implied that I was going to have one in a bit. He said that in this kind of trip, mountaineers continue to wear wet socks and boots for days after days and bear with it, because they want to keep their warm clothes in their tent, for sleeping. I didn't forcefully embraced this idea as my cognitive executive functioning was considerably impaired due to physical fatigue and an impending hypothermia -- yet after all, I have always been a strategic thinker. I was still in good shape to think through my moves. Finally, I made peace with wet socks, boots, and my low level of fitness level, and went down to eat, following after the group leader.

A man has to eat. He's gotta survive, he's gotta enjoy some other pleasures we all know about. Man's job is tough as hell. Man is the only animal gets cancer from stress. And if there is stress, it means that there isn't good enough fitness, both mentally and physically -- psychophysically. This idea occupied me for a while as I was eating the chicken noodle soup prepared for me. As I was gradually warming up, I continued to be in awe of the wild nature -- at its most profound sense -- standing before my eyes. My hope and aspiration for future were gradually rekindling. What might they be? Foremostly, being a citizen of this beautiful country, finding the love of my life, eventually becoming an accomplished researcher that made the link between the implicitly intricate dimensions of human evolution and our evolved, organic need to be in touch with natural environments for our psychophysical survival -- each sip from that chicken noodle soup was restoring my 'marooned' and somewhat derailed mind.

We then went back to our tent. I also had a hot water bottle with me now. "Put it in your sleeping bag and you'll sleep like a baby and be ready to go for another hike next day" said our leader. Indeed, that happened to be the case. This is the reason why he was "the" group leader. A veteran backcountry-man, knowledgeable about outdoors at great lengths -- he'll be someone I look up for as I continue to developing my fitness and skills.

As my tent partner and I arranged things in the tent and shared some good laughs, we gradually fell asleep in the company of an ever-running creek beneath us. Hot water bottles made a lot of difference. They are lifesavers in situations like this. As such, I wasn't the only one using a hot water bottle because I had just had a risk of hypothermia. Everyone was prompted to make hot water bottles, as though they had foreseen or felt what was about to befall us next day...

Day 2 | June 30, 2012
Bugaboos Provincial Park, BC

Blue birds. I thought I saw a couple of them on the branches above our tent, as my tent partner lifted up the flies, getting prepared for the day. It was around 7am in the morning -- it had rained whole night, and we were wishing that we'd get some good sunlight today. All of our outdoor clothes including boots and socks were wet. Alas, no sunshine. It was raining on and off by the time I had woke up. After having a warm night, what an excruciating thing to wear those wet socks and boots and descend to the food court ! Had to do it. Had to act more with the gut than with the brain. I was famished with hunger once more.

As I arrived at the court, there was some grumbling about that wee bit of rain, and that clothes and boots were still wet. Where was the sunshine that was promised? And yes, the broken hiking poles. Some of us had actually managed that to save themselves from a possibly dangerous slide. Forgot to tell: me too. While I was descending to the camp site, I slid once and it was my hiking pole that saved me from an otherwise nerve-breaking slide. But my pole ended up getting dislocated from the midst. Impossible to repair with conventional tools. I left it in the tent. All in all, despite these unfortunate issues, we were somehow upbeat while eating the breakfast.

Other needs pertaining to self-disposal also pressed. But it was in such a spot that in an odd way, one enjoys his business while looking out that arc and admiring the splendour of the alpine environment. In any case, it is an important task to deliver before starting off a potentially amazing day.

After tending to our needs, we were ready to set off once more. I was hoping that we were going to explore the valley beneath us -- I was wrong. We were going to explore the valley above us. The valley where those dodgy weather and razor-sharp granites were. Another one of those 45-60 degrees of ascend for about 300 metres or so were expecting us. The moment I began ascending, my knees began hurting. I think that was the first moment I recognized that I wouldn't be able to complete this trip. Others were doing well, and I continued to lag behind. It was such a difficult ascend. Since there wasn't much strength in my knees, I was more prone to slide. And I only had 1 hiking pole left.

Our group leader taught me some techniques of how to walk on the snow while descending and ascending. I think I didn't listen well due to that strong ache in my knees. In any way, he was wearing crampons that day. he must have recognized that some extreme measures needed to be taken. The crampons are astonishing tools: I was following his footsteps because his crampons were literally making a clear ground to step in, with its front spikes impaling the snow deep and nicely. It took me half an hour to get to the Cain Hut, whilst others reached there in 15 minutes or so, without the crampons! -- that's the skill and fitness level gap I then recognized I needed to fill in the following months or maybe years. I kept reminding myself that this trip proved to be highly educative and that I needed to focus on the positive aspects if I wanted to get through it.

We took a little break at the Cain Hut. Now we needed to regroup and began climbing -- apparently, it is normally a scramble without the avalanche snow as we saw big rocks and edges under cornices. It was amazing for most of us witness that in about 10 minutes the puppy-like sweat weather had turned into the Cerberus, the ferocious guard dog of seven hells ruled by Hades. As usual, I was still lagging behind, and feeling that I was almost at my limit. In about a minute, the rain began pressing on a little, accompanied by a somewhat uneventful wind. When I reached at the first checkpoint, I knew that I had exhausted my desire to continue on further. Instead, I wanted to go back to the Cain Hut, and to spend my entire day meditating in front of those big windows, drinking hot tea, eating my dried nuts and mango, and having quality conversation with the custodian. I thought this would be the ideal life for me maybe about a year or two. Certainly, for a whole day, it was the ideal way of spend one day of my life (which would probably feel like 100 years... And it kind of felt). I notified my group: no sticking together, and I used an assertive language: "I am at my limit. Need to go back to the hut. You guys please enjoy what's out there, and also, in my stead. I'm happy to spend my whole day with the custodian Alex." -- it turned out to be the best decision I ever made during the entire trip.  Because when I was on half way to the hut, the weather was exploding. The situation was pretty grim.

I slowly descended since any slide at this point would have been dangerous. It's avalanche snow and there are cornices and crevasse around -- not a fun hike or any kind. But doing it alone, I think, was to a great extent a spiritual experience. I can't tell enough how many times I faced with my demons as I was descending to the hut while I was simultaneously admiring the majesty of the mountains, and more broadly, the foolishness of man becoming the mastery of nature. If you are in city, put the poster of Bugaboo Spire on your wall in office, and boast about expanding your horizons, conquering the business world, getting laid with the sexiest blonde of night in the pub, braving and having a word with your boss about a possible raise, demolishing a chunk of mountain and clear-cutting hectares of forest and butchering the wildlife in it from a safe distance: this is the 'assumed' mastery of man. Then again, if you are in a place like Bugaboos, literally aware of all kinds of pain you are having, and began praying to the god you never believed, pleading for a safe and sound return to that monument like hut, you are nothing -- in a positive way. That's the moment, you don't actually hate nature -- you learn respecting it and loving it for becoming like that. And this lasts for a lifetime. It's hell lot of a difference than staring at the poster of it in a mouldy office block, par excellence. It's majesty and splendour you are witnessing. You are bound to be speechless and ever-admiring.

Struggle of the day, of the year, of one's lifetime... A young man's struggle, his confrontation with his lies, demons, his disingenuous assertions, his unwarrantedness, his recklessness... his penultimate confrontation with his less, and recognition of his long-lost most... That's the spot man attains rude awakening and decides whether or not using this as a gateway to overcome his overbearings, to evolve alongside the path he feels right. I felt it again and again. It wasn't the first time though -- I had many similar experiences in the past. I am one of those people who experience things truly, deeply, and sometimes madly in a good way. Passion is my butter and bread in every of my undertakings, that is. I must live as deeply as truly as humanly possible otherwise living remains half. I must live by the grace of thousand suns. I must then love truly, madly, and deeply. 

Returning to the Cain Hut felt like homecoming. I felt that the place was familiar and I was therein before I'd ever stepped. There was also something familiar about the fellow Alex, something welcoming. Maybe I was recalling a past life, maybe not. All I knew is that I had to be there to warm up and let my rude awakening dissipate as newfound feelings and impressions sank in my cognition and body... 

Alex was indeed a quite fellow. This might be the reason he had chosen to become a custodian in a place like this. I went into the hut. He was cleaning and getting the facilities of the hut ready for the guests. Although their arrival were undecided considering the ghastly weather dominating the entire valley. I offered help to Alex and then he readily said he wouldn't need it -- quiet as he was, he seemed to be enjoying what he was doing. Almost meditative. 

Without losing a second, I got rid of my soaked clothes and found a corner to warm up. Alex then surprisingly offered me a cup of green tea. I melted some snow and boiled the water for about 10 minutes on the large stove of the hut. I still remember how exciting it was to make a tea in a mountain hut while the weather went completely berserk out there. I can still hear that hard rain smashing onto the roof, warning us not to come out. As though the rain had not will of its own but controlled by something else.

I spent half an hour drinking my tea and trying to warm up as quickly as possible. I really had to work at it. Then in came two alpine climbers who were similar to my dreaded situation of an hour ago. It took me a while pick up their distinct Australian accent. Most Australians pronounce words just as Southern English people (Historically, Australians were mostly migrants from Southern England anyway). At first glance, they looked very capable climbers. They had all sorts of mountaineering gear; but even they were knackered as though they'd fled from hell. After getting undressed, they embarked on  making themselves wraps to eat. It was kind of hilarious watching them cutting a large salami with a climbing knife. Australians! They are a fun bunch of people. They are among my favourite people around the world.

While trying to warm within the next half an hour, I saw a little pika in the kitchen sink. It was squeaking every now and again -- up came Alex and tried to move the tiny animal out of there. I didn't know what happened to it as I turned my back and there two from my group were standing wet and looked desperate in the outer cabin. I was happy to see them. They then began undressing and hanging their wet clothes onto the wall.

End of Chapter 1.