DÉCOUVREZ   LA  MONTAGNE  -  Summer  2005
A journal account of our climb up Athabasca ( 11 453 ft / 3 491 m ) August 13th, 2005
by Wayne Selby



Looking for the perfect antidote to aging, ennui, and lack of focus? Try climbing a mountain, a high mountain with a glacier. Start with two experienced climbing friends, lots of enthusiasm and a 1:30 am departure time, and in no time you are on an adventure to last a lifetime, or at least, till Christmas.

It all began the day after I arrived at the Columbia Icefields. We hiked to 8500 feet to reconnoitre, checked on routes, chatted with descending climbers and practiced crevasse rescues. And practiced more crevasse rescues. The endless 'z' procedures were like tedious grammar exercises and I was anxious for the real story to begin.



The following day was cold, sleety and not too inspiring. Deny and I went for a jog and I felt good, even though I had only been in the mountains 24 hours. That evening, I suggested we not have any wine as a small 'sacrifice' to our cause. I figured I'd sleep better as well. At 8:30 pm I was climbing into my tent and only at the Wilcox campground can you expect general quiet after 9 pm. I fell asleep in an hour and awoke at 1:15, ready and anxious to go. I rolled out of my tent, unsure of what a prairie boy was doing there and what the weather would be like. I stumbled while relieving myself on the rocks and just then, a meteorite burned vividly across the clear night sky. Wow! That's got to be a good omen.

By 2:15 am we were hiking up the moraine and soon we arrived at the ice and snow. Often, we turned off our headlamps to enjoy the still beauty of the night sky. The temperature was a perfect 0 degrees and the snow band didn't require crampons, much to my relief. I had flexible boots and old flexible crampons that were obsolete 20 years ago.



We continued our ascent and gradually the sky lightened to an incredible dawn in the Rockies. Suddenly, the sun was a copper ball on the mountain-dark silhouette and the rays pierced our very souls. Shakespeare's "The morn with russet mantle clad walks o'er the dew of yon high eastern hill" was never more apt. Unforgettable! This is why we climb before sunrise - to rediscover the world in new light.

We carried on across the glacier and the size and depth of the crevasses astounded me. Laughingly, I told André I would have paid much better attention if I'd known just how deep they were. At one point, I had to jump up the mountain to cross a wide gaping hole. I was roped but leapt with trepidation.



Quickly, we hiked under a massive serac which André said repeatedly was ready to fall at 'any moment'. We paused to shorten our rope and continued along the steep traverse to the base of the Silver Horn. I was loving everything so far, but ominously, the tracks rose steeply into snow and scree.

Wisely, André suggested we go around the back side of the Horn and reluctantly Deny agreed. He set to work double kicking into the hard snow, switchbacking his way cautiously. I cherished the little foot indentations, grateful he had the strength not only to carry the rope, but to lead climb as well.

Our elevation gain was impressive and the air thinner. At one point we were on a rockier path with light snow and the going was slippery for a stretch. We stopped a couple times to catch our breath, a break requested by André and appreciated by me; and before we knew it, we were at the top of the Silver Horn. We had made it! The view in all directions was stunning.



What's this? The summit is over there. It seemed we still had another hour to reach the crest of the mountain. Not only that, we weren't sure of the route. André was convinced we didn't have to climb on rocks, but in the end we did and it was the right way to go.


The hike to the summit was sheer magic. Fresh snow ensured we were the first climbers that morning and the sun's glistening light lured us upward. We were on a runway to paradise. I have never loved the mountains more and then we arrived, in only 35 minutes. 8:30 am and we were on top, exhilarated and joyous. The sky was perfectly clear and standing just below the cornice shielded us from the wind. We carved seats into the crest and posed for pictures. At one point, cautious André actually stood on the top and waved to the hordes far below. Deny and I calculated that, together, we would have enough ballast to counter his fall. All three were intoxicated by the beauty and the moment.

On the way down, I wanted to return the front way but prudence prevailed and we took the back route, thus avoiding the dangerous serac. The descent was long and plodding. We should have taken the first chute but elected for the second, resulting in some lateral scree slipping. I was awkward at times in the hard snow and ice because my boots weren't firm enough. I was told I would need better footwear next time.



We got lost a few times and I managed to bruise a finger but I had Deny self arresting most effectively behind me so at 1pm, almost 11 hours later, we were down. We had done it. Not only had we climbed a mountain classic on a gorgeous day, but most satisfyingly, we did it without a guide. Needless to say, we had double rations of wine that night.