Midi - Plan Traverse

Toyohashi Alpine Club
Mountaineering in Europe

Midi - Plan Traverse (3673m) 

Chamonix, France
19th August, 2000
Party: Iain Williams, Adrian Engelbrecht , Jack Brindle
Report by Iain Williams

This was our third climb of the week and it turned out to be a lot of fun. Earlier in the week we had met Jack, on his own, on the Aiguille du Tour and had enjoyed several lazy lunches with him over the following days. He had climbed and skied extensively in the area and was an interesting source of info. We though it would be good to do a route together so over another lazy lunch we made plans to meet up at the telepherique station the following morning in time to get the first cable car up to the Aiguille du Midi. 

Adrian and myself managed to get ourselves up and out of the campsite on time. The weather for the day was forecast to be ok for the morning with storms in the afternoon. Our plan was to traverse from the Aiguille du Midi across to the Aiguille du Plan and then return on the same route being back down in Chamonix in the middle of the afternoon enjoying a beer or two. We met Jack, bought our tickets and then waited, with a ton of other climbers, eating breakfast of oranges, muesli bars and chocolate. 

The ride up was the usual squash and once at the top we went in search of loos and then got kitted up in the cold damp rocky tunnels of the Midi station complex. Outside the wind was blowing coldly and strongly. I put on plenty of clothing and felt a bit apprehensive. By the time we got going for real it was about 7:15. We plodded out of the tunnel entrance onto the snow. There were many parties heading out and down the ridge, some going our way and some heading down the ridge and breaking off to the right. The initial descent was pretty steep but the snow was good and the steps large. On our left the ridge fell away steeply down to Chamonix. Our route soon flattened off and we plodded along with Jack at the front and myself at the rear. The route rose and fell keeping to the snowy crest of the ridge. At times we had the odd awkward step down to contend with but generally it was easy going. We then started a steep descent down onto the Col du Plan. 

From here the route got more interesting. We left the ridge and skirted off to the left onto a dirty steep snow face. After going a short distance, Jack gave the order to turn around. He was having problems with one of his crampons and wasn't too keen on reversing the section later in the day. Back on the col he said he'd leave us and head back to the Midi station. We then went back onto the steep ground with Adrian in the lead. We front pointed our way round and below some crumbly rock. Above us was an English youth anchored to the rock. We waited for him to move on. Time ticked away so Adrian put in a screw while we waited. Eventually we gave up waiting and climbed up to the rock and carefully traversed along it before front pointing back up on to the ridge. It was a good section despite the dithering English youths. We left the screw in place with the intention of using and collecting it on our return. 

We continued along the snowy ridge for a short distance before descending onto another col. It was then a scramble up some loose rocky terrain to regain more snowy ridge. We then came to a cliff section. As we only had one rope we needed two abseils to get down. I decided to leave my crampons on and on the first ab slipped sideways banging my bare elbow on the warm brown granite. A nice bloody gash appeared, not liking the sight of blood I successfully did my best to block it out of my mind. The second ab deposited us onto a steep snow slope, which really didn't feel too secure. We got ourselves roped up and then carefully headed across the steep slope. After a few steps Adrian stopped briefly. There was then a loud soft thud behind me. My immediate thought was someone had fallen but on turning around I saw a large flat rock tumbling quickly down the slope taking plenty of soft snow with it. Looking up at the cliff, we thought where the hell did that come from. It had fallen a long way out from the secure looking cliff above. We didn't dwell on our close call and moved carefully and swiftly across the slope, thinking that at any moment it might avalanche. Thoughts of returning were not filling me with joy. 

I felt some relief once we got back on the crest of the ridge. The rocky summit was now very close. We slowly plodded up to the base of the rock. We met another party of four who had just abseiled down and had caught their rope whilst pulling it down. We had a quick search for the easiest line up and then Adrian took the lead and shot up. The climbing was easy and fun. The next pitch I took the lead and stopped just below the summit to avoid rope drag. Adrian finished the last 10ft off with an elegant mantle move and we were then on the small flat rocky summit. As usual the views were awesome. We had the usual photo shoot and then took a good break and discussed how to return. We decided the snow was now too soft to safely return the way we'd come and that the safest option was to descend the steep crevasse ridden Envers du Plan glacier down to the Requin hut, plod along and down the Mer de Glace and then take the train from Montenvers back down to Chamonix. As we sat there some small birds joined us. They had their heads back, beaks open and were calling out for food. I found the situation a little unsettling. 

We sorted the rope and abed off. Not learning from the party we saw earlier, we also got our rope jammed as we pulled it down. Adrian did a nifty little climb to retrieve it.

At the top of the steep snow slope, on the Col Sup du Plan, the adrenaline started flowing. I set off in front, at first facing out, and then opted to face in kicking good steps as we slowly descended. As we neared the bottom we came to a steep rimaye with snow covered crevasse below. Foolishly I tried to front point down it and swung my ax in to the soft snow for some support. Not surprisingly the head just slipped through the snow and I fell a couple of feet before Adrian held me on the rope. He then slowly lowered me on to the snow bridge where my left leg instantly sank up to my groin. Panicking like mad I tried to scramble out and off the snow bridge. It was hard work but eventually I got out and slumped down onto more solid snow breathing heavily with my heart thumping. I then belayed Adrian down and across while he made short and easy work of the obstacle. We took a short break. As we sat there soft slushy snow was pouring down the slope across to our right. 

We quickly got going and enjoyed some flat terrain before the glacier started to drop steeply down. Our route took as around some huge gaping crevasses, often on steep narrow bridges around and across them. At times we had to descend steeply between large yawning drops. I found the descent mentally taxing and was happy to get out of the thick of the crevasses and onto easier terrain. As we neared the hut cloud was rolling in and rain was looking very likely. It had taken us 2 hrs to get down. We took our packs off and sorted out the rope and our gear. The guardian came out to us to find out where we'd come from. We downed a couple of cokes while the guardian explained how we should descend the Mer de Glace to return to Montenvers. We had an hour and half to get down if we were to catch the last train. 

We set off at pace in some light drizzle and descended down onto the large flat dry glacier. We took a line heading down and across to the right. This was what I thought the guardian had instructed. After skirting round a heavily crevassed section we found ourselves on the rubbley moraine on the wrong side. It soon became apparent we were way off course. We slowly plodded up and down the moraine trying to find evidence of a track, occasionally spotting the odd cairn. It was miserable hard work, we were both tired and the chances of making the train were quickly disappearing. Eventually we left the rubble and headed back on to the glacier. We crossed some fast flowing streams, falling in to one would have been curtains, and carried on heading down and across. Adrian slowly pulled away from me. I felt totally beat. We had missed the last train and I really didn't want to hike all the way back down to Chamonix. A few times I stopped and bent down to drink from small pools on the glacier. The water was beautifully refreshing and chilled. As we neared the end of the glacier we found route markers. It was then a steep climb up some metal ladders onto a well worn track above. 

The hike back down to Chamonix took about an hour and a half. It was quite pleasant being back in the trees and off the snow. I regretted not filling my water bottle whilst on the glacier. As we neared Chamonix it was nearly dark. Once back on the tarmac roads we headed for the station and stopped at a cafe for a couple of cans of cold coke. They tasted great. It was then a quick march back to the campsite before the shower room closed at 9:30. It had been a long day, we had climbed only a few hundred metres but descended close on 3000m and covered about 17km. It was also the first peak I had climbed where my start point was higher than the summit. After a clean a shower and a change of clothes we headed back into town for a mighty feed but when the food arrived we discovered we really didn't have an appetite and only managed to force down a plate of pasta. All in all it was a fine day on a route that seemed to have a bit of everything.

Mt. Fuji (3776m) & Yatsugatake (2988m), Japan

Toyohashi Alpine Club
Mountaineering in Japan

Yatsu ga Take (2988m)
Fuji San (3776m)

Nagano/Yamanashi, Japan
December 1999 / January 2000
Report by: Iain Williams
Party: Iain Williams, Malcolm Field

This trip was centred around climbing Fuji for the millennium. The schedule planned for three days in and around Yatsu ga Take, an ascent of Fuji, a few days skiing and an ascent of Yari ga Take in the North Alps.

It all started at Chino station, just to the west of Yatsu where Mal, trusty climbing partner of old, picked me up on a fresh Monday evening. We spent that night in a very comfortable pension. The following day we drove up to the trailhead and prepared ourselves, and packs, for the next three days. The last time I'd been there was almost four years ago with Darren when we had completed a one day ascent of Aka Dake after a 2 hr kip in his car. This year we had plenty of time and were under no pressure to beat the clock.

We set off from the car park and slowly plodded up the remainder of the road onto the trail. We had the remainder of the day to get up to the campsite. I remembered the trail as being fairly flat and friendly. It wasn't so flat and we moved leisurely up through the trees. The higher we got the more snow we saw. We reached the campsite after just over 2 hours and set about pitching the tent on the snow. The campsite was next to a hut (can't remember the name) at the base of the main Yatsu ridge. The spot was very picturesque and sheltered from both wind and sun. We soon had the tent up and with the rest of the afternoon to kill, we decided to hike over to another hut about 30 mins away. Again the walk was pleasant under all the snow covered pine trees. At the next hut was a large map board where we could check out our route for the next day. By the time we got back to the tent the light was fading and the air becoming colder. Up above us the mountains were bathing in the evening alpenglow. In the other direction, looking through the haze I could see the North Alps with the Daikiretto clearly splitting Yari from the Hodaka massif. The view brought back many memories of my first trip across those mountains way back in 1993 when we got caught in the wind and rain on the top of Yari and then experienced a miserable (?) time getting across to the Kita Hodaka hut.

We cooked up some food and then retired for the night. Although it was early, I was jet lagged and ready for a good sleep. It was the first time we had both camped out in the snow and I for one was a little apprehensive about the night as my sleeping bag was only 3 season. In the end I was warm all night, thanks to my gore tex bivvy bag, but I felt that I never really slept. I also learnt the importance of having a decent sized P155 bottle at the ready. The next morning the inside of the tent was covered in icy condensation fur. Once up, hot soup and coffee went down well together with the usual muesli bars and dried apricots.

Our objective for the day was to do a circular route, going across to the other hut , then up onto the ridge taking in several peaks including Aka Dake, from where we would descend back down to the tent. The whole route would take a good six hours. We set off just after 9, the weather was fine, plenty of sun with the odd bit of cloud and not too much wind. Once at the other hut the trail wasted no time in getting steep and we were soon switch backing up through the trees. It was hard work and a bit of a shock for my body that was more accustomed to dealing with the large quantities of alcohol and food that it had had to deal with over Christmas. My thoughts were on how miserable the slog up Fuji was going to be.

The route broke out of the trees and we found ourselves near the top of a large rocky ridge. We took a quick water break. It was then a pleasant walk up the rocky ridge on the summit of the first of our peaks, Iwo Dake (2742m). The summit was large and flat with a few cairns dotted around the place. Photos and a quick breather followed. The views were pretty good but a little hazy. The one mountain I really wanted to see could be seen sitting proudly on its own off to the south west.

The next section of the route started very easily with a sweeping drop and rise across a large section of the ridge. The wind was rather fresh and the snow not that deep or even plentiful. As we started ascending again we got some shelter from the wind. The route also got more interesting. The ridge became a succession of pinnacles. Unfortunately they were covered with chains and ladders, otherwise it really would have been fun.

All too soon we reached the next summit, Yoko Dake (2825m). Also on the top were a party of students all roped up and taking it all very seriously. I asked one of them if I would need crampons for the next section, he gave a little laugh and said 'oh yes.' I put my crampons on and we continued across a few more pinnacles before descending down more rock, chains and ladders to a hut. We took a breather in the hut and I took my crampons off, after being more a hindrance than a help. The hut was warm and had the pleasant smell of burnt kerosene. We had a coffee and then went back outside into the cold.

The next section involved a very steep hike up to the summit of Aka Dake. There was plenty of snow and lava. We steadily kicked steps up to the top. At the top of the slope we passed a boarded up hut and plodded over to the summit with its small shrine. Out came the cameras and summit photos followed. The views were all familiar. Down below I could just pick out the tent in the corner of the campsite. More impressive though was Fuji. The South Alps were also in view but not much else. I took a good long break and sat down to enjoy the view of Fuji. It really is one of my all time favourite views and due to living in London I really wanted to make the most of the moment. It was still on the hazy side but the almost symmetrical conical shape was very prominent.

Eventually I got up and started my descent. It was steep but the rock was generously covered with chains. Once out of the rocky section I turned right and headed down the steep snow slope towards the direction of the tent. Again it was way steeper than I had remembered. I passed a couple of folk having a hard time on the way up. Back in the campsite the population had grown with the arrival of a group of students. I dumped my pack by the tent and wandered into the hut for a coffee and a sit down away from the cold outside air. The route had been enjoyable and the views memorable.

That night we cooked dinner in the sheltered foyer of the hut together with others and had a similar night to the previous one, warm and comfortable but not much sleep. I would have been interested to have known what the night time temperature fell to?

Next morning we were slow to get going. We eventually left the campsite around 9. It was another sunny but cold morning. I set off listening to the Stones on my MD player. It was the perfect hike out with good music, snow covered trees, blue sky and all the time in the world. Back at the car we quickly threw everything in the back and slowly drove away passing loads of folk heading in. We were gobsmacked at the number of people we saw, presumably all with the intention of seeing the sunrise from the top of Aka Dake.

Our next stop was the onsen (hot spring) down by the Yatsu ski ground. It was pure heaven getting cleaned up and bathing in the hot water. I think I managed to set a new 'pb' for staying in the water. I wish all countries had onsen in the mountains, they really are the perfect way to end a climb. From there we drove over to Fujiyoshida, a small town on the north side of Fuji. We wanted to stay in the local Youth Hostel but it was closed for the holiday so we ended up staying in a comfortable hotel in the centre of town. A good night's sleep on a warm comfortable bed was the priority. That evening we watched the weather forecast a million times over. The forecast couldn't have been better, a big high was sitting over Japan and there was a comforting distance between the isobars.

I had a great sleep and awoke the next day feeling slightly edgy about how the day was going to unfold. The morning weather forecast was still good. After a quick breakfast we headed for the Fuji skyline road. Driving up to it the mountain was covered in thick white cloud, then it partly cleared giving us glimpses of the white, snowy upper slopes. It all looked very dreamlike and big. At the toll gate we got stung but were happy that the road was at least open. We then slowly climbed up through lower slopes forest counting off all the levels. Fuji is split into ten levels with the various roads ending at the fifth level and the top being the tenth level. The higher we got the more excited I became. Everything was going according to plan and a successful ascent looked very promising.

The end of the road came too soon. There was the usual collection of eateries and souvenir shops together with car parks with tour buses. We parked and threw the gear out onto the ground and got ourselves kitted up. There was also another group of lads getting themselves ready which was in a way comforting to see. The view from the car park was rather grand. There was a thin layer of broken cloud below us stretching across to the South Alps and Yatsu ga Take. Up above us were the dark shadowed lava slopes of Fuji and then bright blue sky. It was cold and fresh. As usual my pack was bigger and heavier than I wanted but only contained the bare essentials, plus a small bottle of champagne. [Note: the Fuji Skyline road from Fujinomiya on Fuji's south side is closed from December to April. On the north side, the Fuji Skyline road remained open to the fifth stage of the Kawaguchi-co trail. - Ed.]

We set off from the car (2300m) at just before midday and followed the Kawaguchi Ko trail around the mountain away from all the tourists. The plan was to climb to the top where we would pitch the tent in a sheltered spot, celebrate at midnight and then get up to watch the sunrise. On the trail we were joined by another bloke who had done the climb on the previous New Year's eve. He was camping at the fifth stage and would set off early in the morning to see the sun rise. He explained that this was what most people did. The trail, then to my horror, started descending. Down we went and then plodded up again. The view from the trail was good. We were walking along just above the cloud, which stretched away from us, as far as we could see. A cool breeze kept us refreshed and focused. Up to our left I observed some huts and a gate. We headed up onto a concrete platform, the sixth stage, and had a quick breather. The sixth stage had come very quickly and easily. We met an older couple there who were planning to camp at the fifth stage and climb to the top at night. That afternoon they were going to the seventh stage for a hike. I thought they were mad. Plodding on Fuji is not much fun and to just go to the seventh level for an afternoon walk is something I don't understand. They warned us that it was icy above the eighth stage. We followed them up the wide lava trail/road switch backing up and past large barriers positioned to prevent landslides. The seventh stage took a long time in coming. We passed many huts on the way but none were marked as level 7.

Not far past the seventh stage we met an American (Jeremy) descending. He had started at the first stage (not the fifth, like 99% of all Fuji climbers). He had been to within a few hundred metres of the top but as he didn't have crampons had had to turn tail. We chatted until we got cold and then headed on and up. Coincidentally, we met up with Jeremy a few days later on the streets of Matsumoto. He was an interesting bloke hailing from Skagway, Alaska and in the summer months guided people on the goldrush trail.

The route was steep. I don't understand why it gets so steep as whenever you see a picture of Fuji the slopes never look that bad. The trail was now largely snow with a line of lava at the side. I had refrained from getting cramponed up and steadily plodded and kicked steps in the snow. Unlike the last time we climbed Fuji I was finding it much easier and moved at a steady pace. Mal, meanwhile, was slowly dropping back. Not far past the eighth stage I veered off the trail line and traversed out between some large lava retainers covered in wire. The slope was steep and the snow hard and icy. All of a sudden I was in a position I didn't want to be in without my crampons on. Cursing myself for being so stupid I carefully climbed up to the wire bound lava rocks, kicked out a small ledge, took off my pack and clipped it into the wire, then quickly and carefully put my crampons on. In the mean time Mal had caught up with me and was keen to stop and camp for the night. Looking up I could see a hut so suggested we climb up to it and discuss stopping in more detail once there. I was hoping by then he would have settled back into a pace and would want to continue.

Not so, at the hut he was quite adamant about halting. Surprisingly, he was really feeling it and wanted a good rest. Being a two man team I had no option but to stop. I was a little disappointed but Mal also reckoned we wouldn't get to the top before nightfall; it was already 4:30 and light was beginning to fade. There were a few huts around us, perched on the snowy slope. We hunted around for a flat sheltered spot to pitch the tent but could find nothing that satisfied both requirements. We chose a site on the flat snow covered roof of a hut, positioning the tent so that it would be as aerodynamic as possible. As we finished securing it another American, Rob, climbed up on to the roof. It was a nice surprise and I thought a bit of a coincidence that the only gaijin (probably) on the mountain were camping in the same spot. A few minutes later his partner, David, arrived and they set about making camp. They were both students who had travelled up from Kitakyushu with the same intention as us. Before settling into our tent I suggested to them we head for the top together the next morning. Before getting into the tent I made two small piles of snow in the tent entrance and took some photos. We really were in a very special place. Way down below there was a huge sea of cloud stretching off to the horizon. On top of the cloud was the ever lengthening shadow of the mountain. To our left and right, huge snow slopes with rocky ridges of dark lava swept away and down to the cloud. It was getting dark and the wind, coming from the west, was cold. So too were my feet.

In the tent I took my boots off , quickly put on some fleece socks and wriggled into my sleeping bag. Amazingly my feet heated up instantly. We were both warm so got the stove going and melted some snow. Dinner was excellent, a fresh pasta pack of four cheese tortellini covered in a mushroom and lava cupa soup followed by a mars another cup of soup and a finger of fudge. After dinner we spent the next half hour melting more snow to refill our water bottles. It was then lights out with the intention of getting up to see in the new millennium.

As the evening progressed the wind got stronger. To start with I wasn't too concerned as I still had strong memories of the tent bending and getting bashed about in the Wind Rivers during the summer. After about 10 o'clock it had got way too strong for my liking. I spent the next two hours feeling very scared and concerned. As midnight drew closer I thought of everyone down on the ground in Japan and the rest of the far east partying, drinking and having a whale of a time. I would have given anything to be off the mountain. We were at a height of around 3,400m and there was nothing as high as us to break the wind for thousands of miles. I could picture exactly where we were and felt very exposed and totally at the mercy of the wind. I knew that at that height the wind could do whatever it wanted and had thought of us literally getting blown away or the tent (not 4 season) getting shredded.

Just after midnight I timidly wished Mal a happy New Year. We weren't in the mood for celebrating so the champagne remained inside my sleeping bag. I started to relax thinking that whatever was going to happen was going to happen and there was nothing I could do about it. After dozing for a couple of hours Mal shook me and said we'd lost our anchor on the front of the tent and if we didn't sort it we'd lose the rest of tent. Not the best start to the New Year. Luckily Mal had a spare bungy chord so we attached it to the tent and then to an ice axe that was poorly planted in the sugary snow. Leaning over the axe I started to push a large piece of lava against the axe when it popped out and up thumping me in the forehead (carry on camping!). It hurt but fortunately it missed my eyes and didn't cut me. Mal decided to get the other axe and hammer it in to the snow and refix everything. It was holding so we zipped the tent back up and tried to relax. My thoughts turned to what we'd do if we did lose the tent. The first option was to go into the other tent next to us or pick up the axes and hack our way into one of the heavily boarded up huts. For the rest of the night the moon shone brightly and I could see the shadow of our anchor axe holding firmly. The wind also started to slowly move round to the west again, fortunately that end of the tent was securely anchored into icy compact snow.

At around 4:30 the other two were up and getting ready to go to the top. They came over to the front of our tent to tell us they were going to go for it. I said they were mad and that if the wind picked up again they really would be in a dangerous predicament. They went away and came back 15 mins later saying they would now descend. We wished them luck and off they went. I suggested to Mal that we too get up and get down as quickly as we could. He preferred to wait for daylight thinking there would be a lull with the wind around dawn. Feeling tired and groggy I didn't argue.

At around 5:30 I asked Mal if he wanted to go up. The wind had dropped and we had heard a couple of people slowly trudge past the tent. Mal wasn't up for it, he'd been to the top three times before and wasn't quite as fired up as I was. Feeling lousy I got my boots on and unzipped the tent. The view was mind blowing. Light was slowly seeping over the horizon. There was a bright smiley moon, venus was shining brightly and many other stars were twinkling. The colour of the sky ranged from a rich dark blue to black. Down below the lights of Fujiyoshida and other small towns twinkled. I was really moved by it. I think it looked doubly impressive after the adrenaline filled night in the tent. I quickly got my crampons on and slowly plodded upwards. Up and below me I could see the odd head torch. The wind was not too bad and only occasionally would blow so hard that I had to stop and keep my balance.

I realised that I was not going to make the top before sunrise so constantly looked over to my left for the first sign of the sun. The snow was hard and icy. I caught up with a bloke who was standing on his own waiting for the sun. I waited with him for a few minutes and watched it slowly creep into the new day. This was the second time I had watched the sun rise on Fuji and this time it did feel special. The first time was in the summer with all the hoards, and to me it was just like watching from an aircraft window. We took a few photos and then I continued on. The sun slowly started to light up the icy slopes casting a warming alpenglow across the crisp snow. More impressive, though, was the colour of the rock. It was a vibrant rusty red hue and mixed with the rich blueness of the dawn sky and the white snow made an unforgettable sight. I remembered the same scene from the last time we had climbed Fuji. All the colours were so rich and simple. I was incredibly happy with my position and knowing I was going to top out. The views now had made the night all the worthwhile.

The route continued to zig zag slowly upwards. Way off to my right I watched a helicopter coming in. The passengers would have had an incredible view of the mountain. I think it landed on the top, flew around a few times and then flew away. Above me was one final steep snow slope separating me from the top. Looking down at the snow, small ice crystals and pieces of lava skipped across the icy surface in the fresh wind towards the ever brightening horizon. I slowly ascended the last section picking out my own route. It was the steepest section but didn't last too long. Two lions and a new gate marked the end of the trail and the crater rim.

On top at last and mighty happy to be there. The last section had taken about an hour and a quarter and I had arrived on top just after seven. I wandered around the boarded up huts. There were a few tents pitched up against the walls and a few other folk outside. The scene was the opposite to the summer one when there are hundreds of people resting and walking around. I considered walking right around the top but quickly changed my mind. I got someone to take a couple of photos of me and then started my descent.

I passed several people slowly plodding up including a Canadian bloke. I stopped and chatted with him. He was being guided but his guide was way off on front. His guide also had a key to a hut at the seventh stage and he had spent the night there with a group of others. I continued down. The views were still impressive. All of the much lower surrounding hills were covered in hazy mist, otherwise the visability was good and the sky cloudless.

Back at the tent Mal was still resting. He got up quickly and with cold induced speed we packed up, stuffing the tent into my pack doing our best to make sure nothing got blown away. Dave and Rob had also done a swift job of packing and had left quite a few tent pegs lying around. We didn't bother with breakfast and started the never-ending descent. It was a relief to be plodding down. Back in the night I had visions of us having to crawl down. We moved slowly and stopped a few times to lose layers and crampons and drink our crunchy Fuji lava water. I was slow and Mal pushed on out in front. Once past the seventh stage we got back on the wide lava trail/road and then had to slowly plod back up to get to the fifth stage. The nearer to the end we got the more tourist day trippers we saw. We also got some strange looks being gaijin and fully kitted out.

The weather was excellent. The sky was still cloudless and the whole of the mountain on display. Back at the car I quickly fished out my champers and swigged it down. I had a reason to celebrate. The climb was finally over and we were back down safe and sound. It had been a great start to the new millennium, with possibly a touch too much wind.

Driving down and off the mountain in search of an onsen I vowed never to climb Fuji again or at least until my hundredth birthday. Two winter and one summer ascent has been more than enough. From now on all my admiration for Fuji will be done well away from it.

The Wind River Range, Wyoming, USA

 TOYOHASHI ALPINE CLUB

THE WIND RIVERS
August/September, 1999
Wyoming, USA.
Party: Iain Williams and Darren DeRidder
Report by: Iain Williams
 

Following our pursuits in the Tetons and a few days playing at tourists in Yellowstone we made our plans for our trip in to the Winds. The plan was to go in for three days climbing in the Cirque of the Towers area taking in a route on Pingora, the East Ridge of Wolf's Head and one other climb.

The trip started with a slow leisurely breakfast in Jackson and a trip to the supermarket. The drive down to the Winds was interesting for me. As we left the Teton hills the countryside opened out into fairly flat farmland which looked a bit dusty and bleak. Our last stop was at a service station where we filled up our water bottles. The last part of the drive to the end of the road was on dirt roads and the navigation got a little more serious. Fortunately Darren was more switched on than myself otherwise we would have been driving around aimlessly for hours. There was also an air of apprehension in the car. The landscape was very bleak, almost desertlike and it seemed a bit weird that within a few hours we would be in an alpine environment. Eventually we came to the end of the road and the Big Sandy Opening car park. We threw all our gear out on to the ground and got packing once again. After our heavy packs in the Tetons we were keen to try and cut down on what we'd take in. Some climbing gear was sacrificed and more foolishly we only took in food for four days.

We finally hit the trail just after 4, way later than we'd expected. The guidebook said it was a five hour hike in to the Cirque, which meant if we were going to get there on the same day we'd have to motor. Just after setting off we stopped to chat with a bloke who was just coming off the trail after a week of wandering around. He was full of himself and had clearly had a super week. He was yet another person who had nothing but praise and admiration for the Winds. We continued along the flat trail close to the gently flowing river crossing long grassed meadows and hiking through pine woodland. It was very pleasant, occasionally we'd smell some kind of sweet pine, not sure what it's called but it was the sweetest natural smell I'd ever smelt. We kept a good pace and soon hit the grassland surrounding Big Sandy lake. It had taken us two hours to cover five miles. Again the scenery was quite stunning, the large calm blue lake, surrounded by pine forest with sweeping granite slopes in the background, all under a blue sky in the soft evening light. Taking it all in we decided to bin our original plan and camp by the lake for the night.

We chose a spot under the trees on some high ground just off the trail next to a stream. This was way more pleasant than our rocky campsite in Garnet canyon back in the Tetons. Once again I pitched the test while Darren filtered the water. We dined and got a good fire going before hanging the food away from the tent and out of reach of the tallest trampoline using bears in north America. The night passed with a bit of rain.
Next morning we had a slow and leisurely start. The plan was to hike the 3 or so miles into the Cirque, pitch the tent and climb the South buttress of Pingora. This next stage of the hike was way more taxing. We took it slowly as the path rose and fell. I was filled with a mix of excitement and apprehension at what lay ahead. Through breaks in the trees I eagerly looked for the peaks of the Cirque. The climbing in the valley we were in looked impressive enough without going any further. The guidebook told us there was a small path we could use that would avoid the worst part of the hike in, Jackass Pass. We managed to identify the so called climbers trail and followed it down the side of a small lake and then along the large boulders of another small lake. We hiked steeply up from the lake following a trail of cairns aiming for the gap between a huge boulder and the rockface. We passed through the gap and there in front of us was our first view of the Cirque.

Straight ahead was the chunky column shaped Pingora and just to its left was Wolf's Head. It felt weird seeing them for real after spending so much time in London studying the guidebook. Again I was filled with a mixture of excitement and apprehension. Everything looked big and I felt small. The names of the surrounding peaks added to the sense of respect that I had for the place. Warbonnet, Warrior I and II, Lizard Head and Shark's Nose, all suitable names for the surrounding towers. Two years before in the Canadian Rockies I had been a little dismayed with the early climbers/pioneers naming of the peaks. Naming a mountain after a monarch or dignitary in my opinion is very dull and doesn't really do mountains justice. Not so, in the Cirque of the Towers.

We plodded down into the cirque passing a couple of yellow tents, crossed a large stream and started heading up the next slope towards Pingora in search of a spot to pitch the tent. After spending a bit too much time hunting around, for which I take all blame, we found just about the most picturesque spot ever. We were in a meadow between the trail and a small babbling stream, and next to a large boulder. All around us was an amazing selection of wild flowers. We pitched the tent and sorted out the gear and got ourselves ready for an ascent of Pingora.

Hiking up to the base of Pingora's rocky slopes I was more focused on the east ridge of Wolf's Head. That was the route that I was really psyched to do and had spent hours going over the guide book description back in London. At the base of Pingora we started scrambling up a rake heading up to the right. Darren was shooting up as if being pulled up by a magnet. It was fun scrambling up and I have to say in a few spots I felt rather exposed, well aware of the drop below. Once at the base of the route we looked up at what lay ahead and then across to the west for any signs of approaching storm clouds. As it was late afternoon we decided to leave the climbing for the next day. We left most of the gear in a sheltered spot between some rock and headed back down to check out the beginning of the Wolf's Head route and for a wander around a small tarn.

Back at the tent we chilled out, enjoying our surroundings, Darren did a spot of bouldering on our large boulder, I preferred to sit on the top drinking tea saving my strength for the next few days. Next morning we had another leisurely start. The short hike up was easier this time with our light packs. Again, Darren was clearly under some kind of spell. I was feeling very apprehensive, I'd had some pretty whacky dreams in the night and didn't feel too relaxed.

The scramble up was quickly polished off and before we knew it we were back at the gear. Some vermin had dined on my rock boots during the night but otherwise everything was unmunched. The first few pitches were easy steps which Darren quickly knocked off. At the beginning of the first real pitch I took the sharp end of the rope, traversed round to the right and then headed up a crack system. The rock was perfect, excellent purchase, nice gradient and tons of potential gear placements. It was a delight to climb. About 20m up I was running low on quickdraws and feeling on the tired side, presumably the altitude, so set up a hanging belay on some insitu slings. Darren quickly followed up and finished off the pitch onto a big ledge at the base of the K crack. Still feeling tired I offered the last pitch to Darren. The K crack looked very inviting but we stuck to our intended route and headed off to the left and up. Darren made short work of the last pitch. I followed, again thoroughly enjoying it and a little sorry that I'd handed D the lead as it was a very nice pitch. The last section on to the top was an easy scramble so we dumped the rope and gear and skidaddled up onto the top. The usual summit photo session followed and it was then time for a good look at Wolf's Head. From the top of Pingora the first section looked very narrow and exciting. The sky off to the left was getting duller and rain was looking imminent so we set off on the descent. As we abseiled back down we spotted a couple beginning the Wolf's Head route. We thought they were pretty mad considering it was mid afternoon and the sky wasn't looking particularly friendly. Once off the rock we ambled back down to the tent happy with our ascent even though it was rather short.

As we were cooking up dinner the rain started to fall in big heavy drops. We moved everything into the tent and finished off cooking and dining under cover. Outside a full scale storm developed with rain bucketing down and crashing thunder with lightning. We both lay staring out the back of the tent across the flowers at the steep walls of Wolf's Head wondering how the couple we had seen were faring. The rain was cascading down the granite slopes and the thunder continued to crash and roll around the cirque. In a way it was quite exciting to witness. The light was also starting to fade. We were getting very worried about the couple plus another party of four who we knew were also doing the route. We considered going out on a search mission but didn't really think it would achieve much so decided to stay put until it was nearly dark. Eventually we saw the foursome head down the small trail, we flashed our headtorches at them and they quickly passed in search of shelter.

20 mins or so later we were very relieved to see the couple come down and called them over to our tent. They were French Canadian and had got caught on the top. Their quickest way down was to abseil down the steep south face through cascades of run off water and rain, sacrificing gear in the process. Amazingly they got down safely. The girl didn't even have a waterproof jacket. They were very lucky. After telling us there was no one else up there they shot off and we zipped up the back of the tent to try and get some sleep. All our food was in the tent with us. We had visions of the storm disappearing, with the local bears coming out of their caves into the fresh cool night air and immediately honing in on the food odours coming from our tent.

We didn't have a peaceful night. The storm continued. The tent had epileptic fits in the wind but held fast and watertight. The thunder kept on crashing and rolling. At times we heard the disturbing sound of major rockfall. Standing on top of Pingora I felt we had conquered one of the towers, now in the bottom of the cirque in our small tent in the storm I felt very small and insignificant again. We got some sleep and when we woke the next morning the rain had stopped. Outside the sky still looked hostile, and the clouds were racing across the sky. There was no way we would be going up onto Wolf's Head. We wondered what to do. We didn't really have enough food to wait for a day or two and dry weather. After breakfast I headed off to the party of four that we saw the previous evening. They had been soaked to the skin and all the gear was lying out around their tents drying. They were staying for the rest of the week and would wait out the bad weather. Back at our tent we eventually made up our minds to move out. We packed up with very heavy hearts. As we headed back up to the pass we met a guide and discussed the conditions with him. He reckoned it was the worst storm he'd experienced in the Winds and that our decision to go was the right one. This made us feel better but we were still disappointed.

The hike out didn't have the same atmosphere that I'd experienced on the way in. I took it easy and was relieved when we finally dropped down to Big Sandy Lake. Darren had shot off in front. I took a breather before starting the last 5km back to the trailhead. As I got nearer the end I started to really tire. We had pushed it and when I finally got to the car I felt totally whacked and took a lot of satisfaction in dumping my pack. After a good drink we threw everything in the car and began the rough and rocky drive back to the tarmac road and on to Jackson and Dennys.

We spent more time deliberating on whether we had made the right decision. As it turned out the weather remained lousy for the rest of the week and we got nothing else done back in the Tetons either. The week and the trip ended back in Salt Lake City with a very enjoyable day's rock climbing in Little Cottonwood Canyon. Our few days in the Winds left a big impression on us and I'm sure that one day we'll be back to take care of a lot of unfinished business!

Val David, Laurentians QC

Toyohashi Alpine Club
Climbing in Canada

Val David, Laurentians, Quebec

11-12 July, 1998
Report by: Darren DeRidder
Party: Darren DeRidder, Kenji Suzuki, Martin Kessner

At the beginning of this summer I made a wish list of stuff I wanted to do climbing-wise, and I'm happy to say that a considerable number of items on this list have now been ticked off, the latest being a visit to Val David. It's not quite the Tour de Classiques du Quebec I had originally put on my list but it's definitely a good weekend of climbing. To give it some geographical perspective, Val David is about an hour west of Montreal and two hours north-east of Ottawa. There are two or three mountains w here the climbing is done. None of them are very big, but they have some impressive cliffs, and a lot of routes, especially in the higher grades. I went with a guy from the Alpine Club of Canada named Kenji and a German exchange student named Martin.

We drove out early on Saturday morning and went to the place where I had been about a year before, called Mont Cesaire. There are several cliffs and we went to Les Champs-Elysees. We had the place to ourselves in the morning but shared the cliff in the afternoon with two parties, one with a fellow who wore jogging shorts and black patent leather brogue dress shoes. To start out Kenji led a 5.5. crack which I had done last time I was there, and none of us had a problem with that. After that we top-roped a parallel route and I decided to lead it. It was a 5.6 hand crack with good pro. Next we decided to try Fritz Directe, a 5.8. Kenji decided to try the lead so he set off and I could tell by watching him that he was pushing it all the way. It looked really delicate and at one section he put in a couple pieces of pro and hung for a while, while contemplating the moves. Then he finished it without trouble. I think he was a bit frazzled after that lead. I seconded and at one spot I just about swung off as I tried to deal with the pro. I was thinking the lead would have been beyond me. At least it felt really exposed. After a lunch break we moved our rope over to do some top-roping on the left side of the cliff. Kenji and Martin top-roped Magnum, a 5.8+. I top -roped Le Trou, a 5.11a. With some grunting, cursing, and hanging on the rope I eventually made it to the top.

By this time we were pretty hungry and tired so we went into town and drove around looking for a camping place. We had to drive to the next village to camp with about a hundred other tents all crammed onto a terraced hillside. You could have more privacy camping in your backyard, but some people actually do this for vacation. Anyways...

We went to Mont King the next morning, getting a rather slow start. At the trailhead a fellow from the Federation Quebec des Montagnes Escelades or something like that, asked us if we were members. If you're not, you can't climb here. We said we were members of the Alpine Club of Canada, which is an affiliated group, so he let us in and we hiked in to Mont King. The section we eventually decided to go to was called the Ampitheatre, so we looked for that and eventually figured out where it was and where the topo lined up with the rocks. It looked like nobody had climbed in this particular section for quite a while, but we decided to go for a 5.7 offwidth crack called Absence which went halfway up the cliff, and then finish with a second pitch of whatever looked do-able. Kenji won the Jan-Ken-Pon (paper scissors rock) so he took the first lead. It was offwidth and unforgiving all the way. He tried to talk me into taking over the second half of his pitch, but I told him he had a ways to go yet. The upper half of his pitch continued up an off-width crack that was a real pig to get up. I think all of us resorted to some laybacking to get over the steepest part. Once all of us were at the top of the pitch, I had a look up. It was pretty much straight up over big blocky sections of rock. It looked like there were big holds and ledges all the way up, with good pro, so I took the rack and set off on lead. It was easy going, on a route called L'Unique Directe (5.5) with one or two mantle moves which required a little care. Being the second pitch, it was pretty exposed in places, but all the holds were positive. I ended up in a sort of cave just below the top and set up an anchor there.

I belayed up Martin and Kenji followed. The height really impressed Martin, who had never done a multi-pitch climb before. He expressed this quite colourfully and I could tell as he climbed that he was getting worried when he started farting like a horse. We thought we had missed a quickdraw somewhere, so Kenji down-climbed a bit for a look, but didn't find anything. After walking down and descending a pretty long, steep fixed rope, we sorted our gear and found nothing missing. After lunch we were surprised that it was 4:00 p.m. already, and Kenji had to get back to Ottawa for a hot date, so we packed up and headed out. 

Although we didn't get an awful lot of climbing in, which can be attributed to the fact that we were unfamiliar with the place, we did have a lot of fun. Kenji might have taken Martin and I for a couple of clowns with our joking and goofing around, but he was pretty happy with his leads. He said if he'd known what he was getting into he definitely wouldn't have done them. Good way to get the adrenaline going.

There's just a couple of more weekends before heading over to Europe, so I'm hoping to get some good climbing in, locally in the Gatineaus or down in the Adirondacks.

Nishi Hodaka (2908m), Kita Alps, Japan

Toyohashi Alpine Club
Mountaineering in Japan

Nishi Hodaka (2908m)

North (Kita) Alps, Japan
1st/ 2nd January, 1998
Report by Iain Williams
Party: Iain Williams, Malcolm Field

Photo: wikimedia commons

The first mtn of 1998 and an unexpected one. After nearly two years I made it back to Japan through work and was lucky enough to be in Tokyo over the New Year period so had five days to make good use of. Naturally I teamed up with Mal and the Toyohashi Alpine Club was back in action for the first time since the summer. We spent the last day of 1997 skiing at Shiga Kogen and put aside the next two days for climbing. Mal's original suggestion was to do this mtn but I have to admit I wasn't too keen on the idea mainly because of the cable car involved. As time wasn't really on our side and I wanted to get as high as possible as fast as possible so Mal's idea quickly took concrete form.

The first day started in Nagano city with a late start due to a few beers too many the night before. We had to get ourselves to the small village of Shin Hodaka by at least 3pm if all was to go to plan. Mal got us there in time. The drive was interesting. We took the Kamikochi road that I hadn't been on since my first outing with Brendan, Wayne and Cam way back in 1993 passing the small carpark where I had my first of many car park bivvies. At the Kamikochi tunnel turn off we went straight and soon entered a large new and brightly lit tunnel that took us right through the Hodaka massif, very different to the other local tunnels that the Korean slave labourers built in the war. As we drove into Shin Hodaka the snow was falling quite heavily and our destination, the car park, was not exactly jam packed with cars. We quickly got ourselves sorted and headed off to the cable car station, where we got whisked up to Nishi Hodaka Guchi passing over the steep ski ground below.

We were told back in Nagano that it would take us two hours to get from the top cable car station to the Nishi Hodaka hut where we would spend the night. We set off at around 3:30 so thought that we'd have to motor. We moved at a steady pace through the trees on a path where the snow was rapidly deepening. The gradient was very pleasant and only occasionally did it get steep. Despite all the snow and the odd gusts of wind I soon built up quite a sweat and had to stop to lose a layer. Continuing on we passed a few folk who had bigger packs than ourselves as well as some folk heading back down. After only 45 mins the hut appeared through the snow and mist. So much for the apparent 2hr hike in. The hut had a generous covering of snow and after a short search we found the entrance. Once inside we checked in, lost some layers and had a coffee.

There isn't much to do in mtn huts so after twenty mins or so I suggested going back out into the snow and heading up the ridge towards the top. It was still snowing heavily as we set off again. Right outside the hut there were many people camping. We trudged past the tents and headed onto the ridge. We were now above the tree line and there was plenty of creeping pine under and over the snow. It was good fun scrambling up the wide and gentle ridge. As we got higher the wind got stronger and the light weaker so we stopped, took a few photos and then headed back down. It wasn't really a very sensible place to be but for me it was great after all my dull days in London.

Back in the hut we got changed and waited for our 6:30 dinner seating. The hut was quite large and modern and in the lobby area there was a good selection of Japanese mtn books plus plenty of people milling around. I got chatting to one bloke from Osaka and ended up chatting to him for 20 mins or so, talking about mountains all in Japanese which was a bit of a strain. Mal meanwhile was back in our room relaxing and chatting with someone else. Dinner wasn't bad, lashings of rice and miso soup plus other savoury tidbits. I was impressed with the quality and all the different bits on my plate. To be honest though I didn't have a huge appetite which I put down to the altitude and the cable car ride. Over the meal we also got talking to two Japanese blokes, Takehara san and his mate whose name I can't remember. They were planning to go to the top as well and were quite entertaining. Takehara san made a point of advising us not to follow him as the winter before he had fallen 150m down Koma ga ta ke, unhurt. He was also confident that the next day's weather would be good. We weren't so sure. Outside, the wind was still blowing and the snow falling heavily. I had resigned myself that we'd have a crack and turn around as soon as common sense prevailed. I was very happy just to be back in a Japanese mtn hut in the North Alps. After the meal we headed in to the lobby area with everyone else and watched the weather forecast for the next day. It was a good forecast but I still wasn't convinced. After the forecast we sat in the dining area and talked some more with Takehara san and mate.

Retiring to our room we realised how fortunate we were in that there were only two others sharing it with us. It was a good room with the whole floor covered in newish and clean futons and bedding (not quite Switzerland!). The windows were boarded up but the snow had found a way in behind the boards. The metal panes were covered with frozen condensation. It wasn't too warm. Once the light went out I lay there listening to the wind and a flapping board getting blown around outside. I was looking forward to the next day but also felt slightly altitudey, even though we weren't that high. I didn't sleep well but I did sleep better than Mal who spent most of the night on the point of retching. In the early hours of the morning one of the other blokes started snoring and from that point onwards sleep was impossible. I would occasionally tug his duvet, which would briefly disturb him but was careful not to overdo it as I'd done in the Glen Nevis hostel the previous summer. However, when he got up he stormed out the room sliding the door closed extra hard. I stayed under my duvet as long as possible listening to the hustle and bustle that was going on around the hut, trying to stay rested. Inside though my heart was racing with excitement over what the day would produce. Once up I made straight for the latrines. As much as I like Japanese mtn huts I'm afraid the toilets are the same as anywhere else. I took a deep breath, slid the door open and tried to slip my feet into some small green plastic sandals then got my business over as fast as possible before dashing back to the sliding door, sticking my head out and getting a lungfull of semi fresh air.

Breakfast was the usual, rice, miso soup, egg, bit of fish and tea. I ate well, certainly better than I had done at the Kita Hodaka hut back in 1993. After breaky we got sorted and headed outside. It was still cloudy but it wasn't snowing and the wind had disappeared. We passed the campers and then moved steeply up onto the ridge. There was a lot of snow around but the path was well defined, one of the advantages of a 7:15 start. The route was initially very gentle and gave me the warm up I wanted. We soon stopped. Mal's crampons were doing their usual. On the go again the route got steeper and turned into a bit of a slog. The wind was also picking up a little and not far above us we got the odd break in the cloud. It wasn't long before we broke through the cloud and then it gradually disappeared altogether. Naturally the views of the Hodaka massif were spectacular. We plodded up and scrambled up onto the top of the first of a set of pinnacles. On top were several folk milling around.

We didn't hang around and moved on with a descent down the other side of the pinnacle. We quickly realised that things were now getting a bit more serious and we were out of the hiking zone. This was more of a concern for Mal who didn't have an ice axe, just a polished wooden stick. We carefully proceeded up onto another smaller pinnacle. Descending this one got my adrenaline flowing but we got down safely. Moving on we started to ascend again. The terrain was a lot of fun, we scrambled across snow and rock both on top and to the side of the ridge. It never got scary, it just stayed fun. Up in front of us we could see a false summit. Towards the top we had a bit of a scramble and then topped out. Again there were a few folk resting including Takehara san and mate. We stopped to take some photos and have a drink. It was bitterly cold and it wasn't much fun taking my glove off to take photos. The views of Hodaka were super. The west side had sweeping snow faces with protruding rock that occasionally disappeared into wispy cloud. Further over to the east were the South Alps and protruding proudly behind them was Fuji. To the south was the snowy saddle of Norikura dake with Ontake poking its head up just behind. Across from them lay the Central Alps. It really was a treat and a half seeing all these mountains again and the views alone made me very happy.

At this point Mal decided to call it quits which surprised me as the route to the top was clearly visible and didn't look particularly worrying. Takehara san and mate had also decided to turn round so Mal headed back with them while I pushed on. The route followed the ridge and finished with a short steep section which took me to the top. All along the way the wind was strong and cold. I did my best to hide my face behind my hood whilst plodding steadily along. Once on top I had the usual feeling of satisfaction and a slight one of relief. On the top were a couple of other parties taking photos and milling around. I took my shots and spent a few minutes taking in all the views again. It really wasn't the place to stop and savour a Mars and I quickly got going on the descent. Again no problems were encountered and I moved quickly along the ridge to the last pinnacle where I decided to take a break.

There were still people clustered there and a few had tripod mounted cameras to capture all the views. I found myself a spot, sat down and opened my pack. I had a very cold maki sushi which I carefully prepared and then wolfed down with a few swigs of ice cold water. A hot coffee would have been ideal. I finished off with a very cold and hard Mars which I have to admit I didn't particularly enjoy. From my cold snowy and rocky seat I could stare down at Kamikochi and the road in. I clearly remembered walking up there very four and half years before and remarking to Brendan how the tops didn't look that high and were about three or four Ishimakis high. Sitting looking down I was right. I was however sitting about 400m below the Hodaka summit, which we couldn't see from the valley. I didn't hang about for long and was soon on the descent. I ran/walked down the flattish snowy ridge back towards the hut. The wind wasn't as strong anymore and the sun was shining brightly. Before I knew it I was back at the hut and the views of Fuji and the other ranges were hidden again. Through the trees we could still see Norikura though. The others had got back half an hour or so before me and were relaxing inside eating and drinking. I joined them and had a coffee. After our snack we headed outside for a few photos and a seat in the sun. The weather really was superb.

We decided to hike together back down to the cable car station. The walk back down through the snowy fir trees was very picturesque. The path was a narrow channel through the snow. We passed the odd group who were heading up. Back at the cable car station we stopped to look back up at the mountain and take a few photos. It looked good and far bigger than it actually was. The wind was still blowing up there and was blowing wispy cloud off the ridge. It was nice and satisfying to look up with the knowledge that I'd been up there on the top a few hours before. It had been a very enjoyable climb and I said to myself that I must return and do some more winter climbing in Japan. It really is far superior to the summer, which isn't that bad either.

The cable car quickly got us all the way back down. Takehara san and mate invited us to join them for a bathe in a public hot spring next to the river just down the road. We were more than keen and headed down there and had a good hour in the hot water chatting and larking around. It was an excellent open air onsen and free to boot. After our bath we said farewell and Mal and I headed back to Nagano.

Our two days were excellent and were the perfect start to 1998. I just hope that the next time I return to Japan, and I'm certain there will be a next time, I won't be on my own and I'll be able to climb with another TAC companion. Right now I'm toying with the idea of being on the top of Fuji to see in the new millenium.

Mt. Athabasca (3491m), Jasper National Park, Canada

Toyohashi Alpine Club
Mountaineering in the Canadian Rockies

Mt. Athabasca (3491m)

Jasper National Park, Canada
August 1997
Report by Darren DeRidder
Party: Iain Williams and Darren DeRidder

Mt. Athabasca is located next to the Columbia Icefields on the way to Jasper. Like most of the nearby peaks it is glaciated and has snow or ice cover year-round. Looking towards the Columbia Icefields from the new Icefields visitors center, Mt. Athabasca is the most prominent mountain on the left. A glacier forms on the face of this mountain and reaches down toward the Athabasca glacier, which is the one tourists walk around on and fall into crevasses. It is an impressive looking ice-bound peak.

Iain and I drove off to the Columbia Icefields, stopping at points of interest along the way, including Castle Mountain, where we pulled off at the tourist spot to have a cafeteria-style lunch. It was crowded so we sat with some people who asked us if we were climbers and if we used "pokey things" on our feet. We also stopped at Mistaya Canyon where the scenery was really impressive, Sunwapta Pass where we took a little break and enjoyed the sweeping views back down the valley, and Peyto Lake, where we took a little hike to the viewpoint which was crowded with Asian tourists. We stopped at the little Lake below the Whyte Pyramid as well.

At the Hilda Creek Hostel we signed up for the night, then drove the rest of the way up to the Icefields and had a look around at the new Icefields Center. Mt. Athabasca was right in front of us and looked really impressive. We had a good look at it and could even make out what we thought was a trail in the snow which marked our route. In the Icefields Center there was a Parks Information desk where we registered for the climb and got details of the conditions. It looked good. We weren't able to drive up to the climbers parking area halfway along the snow coach road so we went back to the hostel and moved our stuff onto bunks. After a while we went back up the road to the Icefields Center and waited until the last bus was gone. Then the gate was open and we drove up to the climbers parking lot at the base of the moraine of the glacier that comes off Athabasca. We hiked up a little ways, just enough to get the idea that there was a definite path up along the crest of the moraine. Returning to the car-park, we met a Japanese fellow who said he wanted to climb Mt. Andromeda. He said Athabasca was too easy. We asked him if he had any gear and he said no. He didn't have crampons, an ice axe, or even boots. So we told him not to climb. Too bad there are lots of other idiots just like this guy out there - the ones who get themselves killed every year when the set off on a lark to "climb a big mountain".

The Hilda Creek Hostel is very rustic. Don't go there if you want the comforts of say, the Lake Louise facility. There are no showers, no flush toilets, no electric lights. Water is taken from the creek and should be boiled. The place was crowded too. We got as much sleep as we could and at 4:00 a.m. we were up and away. By the time we got to the climber's parking lot at the base of our climb, it was still dark, but there were some other cars and people getting ready. If you climb much you will know that in the predawn darkness of an alpine climb preparation, nobody is friendly. There is a sense of urgency and stress in the air. By the time it started to get light, we were off. We were higher up here, we were tired, and it was slow going all the way. The trail went up and up over the moraine and broke through a cliff by way of a short scree gully. From there it levelled out slightly and then dropped down a few meters to the base of the glacier. There was a snow-patch here and a couple of Japanese guys. They were going to try the North Ridge route. The previous day, they said, they had climbed the normal route, which we were trying. They must've liked the mountain or something.

They set off and we went after them. The first part was a little tricky since the ice at the bottom of the tongue of the glacier was a bit steep. The crampons did the trick. Soon we were right on the snow-covered glacier and moving along fast. We caught up with the Japanese guys and then split from them as we followed tracks which angled up under the main face of the mountain. Above were seracs which we had to move past quickly. I was in front and set up a demanding pace. There were a few crevasses which we had to step across. We angled up to the left first, and then cut across the face to the right, moving under the seracs. Finally we emerged on the saddle beneath the summit ridge. The rocks on the ridge looked near, so we aimed for them and decided to have a break when we got there. But they were farther away than they looked and it took forever to get there at our slowing pace. When we finally did get to the rocks it was cold and blowing and we didn't feel much like stopping anyway. We put on our Goretex jackets and that was one time when they really were needed. It actually started to snow a little bit. We kept warm as we moved on up the rocks and snow-patches. Before long we were at the summit. The snow on the ridge was piled up high to the North of us. We took turns climbing up the mound of snow to the very top, keeping the rope on belay.

On top of the mountain, we could see down into the deep hidden valley to the south. It was long and lined with steep mountain faces. All along the valley floor, an enormous river of ice was slowly creeping. I was very impressed to see such a perfect example of a glacier. I don't imagine many people get to see it, the Saskatchewan Glacier.

After some summit photos and the obligatory Mars bar, we headed back down, and this time Iain set a demanding pace. As we got lower we started feeling more and more happy. It was a little warmer and the wind wasn't blowing and it was so much easier going down than it was going up. We took some fun pictures of leaping over a crevasse. As we neared the lower edge of the glacier there were more crevasses and we had to find our way carefully. The ice became steeper as we edged our way over to the moraine.

As we crossed the steepest part, which was strewn with rock fragments fallen from the cliffs above, we heard a strange sound. It was faint at first, growing louder and louder, like a dull rushing scraping sound. My first thought was "Avalanche!" Peering up the glacier I couldn't see anything, and my next thought was that a big crevasse was about to open up. There was no apparent movement however and the sound kept getting louder and louder as if it was coming right towards us. Within a few seconds we saw a huge boulder, the size of an Austin Mini, come sliding over the edge of the glacier. It rocked and wobbled and sent splinters of ice spraying as it slid down the tongue of the glacier, as if in slow motion. As the ice curved away steeper and steeper, the huge rock gained momentum and swept past us only twenty meters away, continued to pick up speed and flew down the terminus of the glacier to explode on the rocks below with an enormous clap and a shower of shrapnel. I said to Iain, "Let's get out of here."

The walk down the Moraine was very, very long. It was hard on the knees. Finally we got back to the car, feeling pretty worn out but proud of ourselves anyway.

Checking the time, I was surprised to see it was only noon. We'd started at about 5:00 and made good time. I took off my gear slowly so that all the people passing in the bus could see me and point and say "Look at the mountain climber! Look, he's got... pokey things!"

We drove back to Banff that afternoon and went to the Sulphur Mountain Hot Springs. Iain calculated that out of all the climbs we did, we had the highest elevation gain on this peak. The summit is at 3491 meters, and our starting elevation was more than 2000 meters below that.

When to go:

It's gonna be covered with snow and ice any time of the year. Pick a day when avalanche risks are low. The slope on the north face is prone to avalanche.

What to take:

On the north glacier route, parties rope up but there's no need to place protection. It is essentially glacier travel so members should be familiar with glacier travel and crevasse rescue techniques. Crampons and an axe are of course normal gear.

Where to stay:

If you really want to rough it, the Hilda Creek Hostel. There are campgrounds by the Icefields.

Mt. Victoria (3464m), Banff National Park, Canada

Toyohashi Alpine Club
Mountaineering in the Canadian Rockies

Mt. Victoria (3464m), South Ridge

Banff National Park, Canada
August 1997
Report by Darren DeRidder
Party: Iain Williams, Darren DeRidder, and Rob Marson

After successful climbs on Mt. Temple and Mt. Edith, Iain and I considered our options. When we were planning our trip to the Rockies, Mt. Victoria had been one of our original objectives and so we settled on that. It meant we probably wouldn't get up Assiniboine, because that would require at least three days, and the mountain seemed to be out of condition - still.

So we booked the Abbott Pass Hut. And we stayed at the Alpine Center/ Youth Hostel in Lake Louise, which is a fantastic facility. It is really really nice, and the cafeteria has awesome food and a good atmosphere too. We stayed there several times and met some interesting people.

Anyway in the morning we drove out along highway 1A to the Lake O'Hara parking lot where we sorted our gear for the next couple days and walked up to catch the bus at 10:00. They don't let cars up the road to Lake O'Hara. You have to take a Parks Canada bus, because the area is "fragile". What that means is that it is absolutely incredibly beautiful. There is a lodge at the lake which costs hundreds of dollars to stay in, and there is a campground nearby, and an ACC hut, the Elizabeth Parker cabin, which is always full. One guy at the campground told us it would take us about three and a half hours to get up to Abbot Pass.
It was loose and slippery and pieces of rock occasionally fell off the towering walls on either side of us. We started out like true mountain men by going the wrong way around the lake. But there was a natural drinking fountain that had good water, so after a long drink we went back the other way around. The trail was perfect. It was very well maintained and on the steep parts, boulders had been arranged into steps and everything. At Lake Oesa, we could see Mt. Lefroy and Mt. Huber and part of the big scree slope we had to climb to get to the pass. We stopped to talk to a couple of climbers who were also on their way up, and the older one recommended that we try to do Lefroy that afternoon. We said we would consider it.

After Lake Oesa, the trail wasn't so nice anymore. We followed the trail up to the left and over a couple of snow patches. The trail got worse and worse and pretty soon it was every man for himself just trying to pick the path of least resistance up a long loose scree slope. It was loose and slippery and pieces of rock occasionally fell off the towering walls on either side of us. After a while I could see the hut and pretty soon we were there. It had taken us three and a half hours just like the guy said.

[Editors note 20/08/2022: sadly, in the summer of August 2022, the Abbot Pass Hut was dismantled and completely removed, owing to the instability of the slope on which it sat. Thawing permafrost had rendered the entire structure susceptible to collapse, and thus an icon of Canadian Rockies Mountaineering succumbed to the impact of global warming along with many of the glaciers, snowfields and climbs that were once considered 'trade routes'.]

The Abbot Pass Hut is one of the best of the ACC huts in terms of its location and appearance. It was built in 1922 by Swiss guides working for the Canadian Pacific Railway out of stones from the Abbot Pass. It was modified recently to make more room on the main floor for cooking and dining. We met some interesting people there, too, including Doug and Sarah from Calgary. They had been up Lefroy and were planning on climbing Victoria the next day, like us. We were glad that other people would be climbing the mountain, too. Before long, the two climbers we had met at Lake Oesa appeared. They started sorting their gear and said that they would go up Victoria part way and see what they could see. One of them was named Randall. We didn't think anyone else would show up, because it was unlikely anyone would have taken the 6:00 bus in to Lake O'Hara and then started the hike up to the hut.
It started to get late, and then we remembered that we hadn't seen Randall and his climbing partner back yet. Iain tried calling for them but got no answer. Iain yelled so loud he sounded like a yodeller with laryngitis. It was getting dark and we called and called but didn't hear any reply. Finally I thought I heard something. Iain went back towards the cabin. I tried calling out again, heard a reply, and then saw two figures appear at the crest of the ridge. I shouted to see if they were OK. "Yep", came the answer. Fair enough. 

We went to bed. Before long the climbers came in, but there were three. One had come up from Lake O'Hara after all. The new climber was Rob. In the morning , Iain and Rob and I were up getting ready. We started talking. Interestingly enough, Rob was from London England too. And lives, as it turned out, about two blocks away from Iain. Rob was planning on climbing Victoria too, but he didn't have a partner, so we asked him if he cared to join us. He was quite happy to, and we were glad to have him. Rob turned out to be a very experienced ice climber. His experience was helpful in getting us to the summit, without a doubt. Rob led casually up steep snow looking very secure, and Iain and I followed, somewhat hesitantly. We would probably have felt more comfortable on the rock next to the snow, but given the rotting condition of the limestone ridge, the danger of slipping was probably greater there.

We departed from the hut at first light. I carried the rope over my shoulders, resting on the top of my pack. It was quite cool outside. Immediately behind the Abbot Pass hut, a rock headwall rises up towards the crest of the ridge of Mt. Victoria. This has to be climbed to the crest of the ridge. There are various ways to go, but careful route-finding will keep you on the best path. The rock is low-angled, and there are many ledges. However it is all very loose and covered with scree, so great care has to be taken to find the more solid rock. The climb is so popular that there was almost a trail leading up this first part. At one point we stopped to discuss the best way to move ahead. Here Iain dropped his sunglasses and they went almost right down to the Abbot Pass. We had climbed up only 150 meters or so, so he decided to go back and get them. It didn't take more than 20 minutes and he was back, minus the nose-piece. They would be alright for the climb, he said, so off we went again. Passing below two mushroom-shaped formations, we moved right to where the rock looked easier and the angle lower. In fact, the actual route goes up between these two mushrooms. We moved up easily over this rock and came to some snow.

At this point we decided to rope up and also removed some sweaters and fleeces as we were getting warmed up. We were not yet on the crest of the ridge but Rob led up the snow and we followed, front-pointing near the top. At the top of the snow we scrambled over some rock to the crest of the ridge, which we then followed along. There were footsteps in the snow, a regular path. The crest of the ridge was snow covered and knife-edged. It dropped away steeply on both sides. On the right, we could see Lake Louise far below and seemingly far away. It looked so small! In front of the Lake we could see the Plain of Six Glaciers and the deep valley that ran up into "the Death Trap", which in turn led to Abbot Pass from the Lake Louise side. This route is not recommended these days. We heard a few avalanches echoing around in the big space between the cliffs, but didn't see them.

We were on the northeast face of the mountain on steep, rotten ice. Above was a vertical rock cliff and below was 2000 feet of space, dropping down to the Victoria glacier. 

Soon we came to "the Sickle", which is a deep depression in the ridge. The Sickle can be clearly seen from Lake Louise. The snow is still very "pointed" here, and the ridge very narrow. Iain went first down the steep snow to the lowest point on the sickle, about 25 meters away, while I belayed him with a standard boot-axe belay. Iain didn't like the looks of the belay. He carefully moved down the snow, facing in. At the bottom of the Sickle, he waited while I took off the belay and proceeded down. Rob belayed me from above this time. The snow was good. It was soft but not slushy or powdery. It was firm enough to hold the shaft of an ice axe.

Reassured by Iain's descent, I started out. Plunging the shaft of my axe into the snow and using the footsteps made by Iain and the previous climbers, I moved down into the Sickle, facing outwards. Before I reached the low point, Rob had to begin his descent because of the limiting length of the rope between us. Care had to be taken at every step.

Going up the other side was a little easier. Rob moved in front again and we continued over easy ground (snow) along the ridge. Soon we were confronted with a rock step. This feature can also be clearly seen from Lake Louise. The guide clearly stated to pass this on the right. The diagram as well indicated that the proper route bypassed this rock "fin" in its entirety on the right (northeast) side. We discussed this and then proceeded, even though it looked as if there was an easy way up through the rock onto the crest of the ridge. Trusting the guidebook we moved onwards and got into a very hairy situation. We were on the northeast face of the mountain on steep, rotten ice. Above was a vertical rock cliff and below was 2000 feet of space, dropping down to the Victoria glacier. Rob moved along passed a rock horn which he slung and then on across a steep ice field to the rock band, where he put in a piton.

Neither Iain nor I were liking this very much. I went to put my right foot down , and the snow came away. My foot skated out from under me. On my side, I began to slowly slide down. In my left had I had my ice axe, and I swung the pick into the frozen snow, gaining support and stopping myself. We clung to our stances trying not to move too much while Rob went on to see what the route was like. We were no longer sure we were in the right place, and were considering whether to go on or go back. Rob said it seemed that after about 20 or 30 meters we could regain the ridge. My foot skated out from under me. 

At this point Doug and Sarah appeared on the ridge behind us, just below the rock step. They stared at us and were very quiet. They didn't say anything, but Doug came along the ridge to the base of the rock step. Iain asked him where the route went, and Doug said "I think it goes up the ridge!" So we decided we had goofed up and we went back. It was a big relief. Standing in such an exposed place on front-points while Rob worked his way out front had shaken me. Iain had been at the rock belay, a more secure position. I didn't tell him until later that I was pretty much scared spitless.

Doug and Sarah disappeared up the notch that led through the rock band and onto the crest of the ridge again. We worked our way back and then proceeded that way ourselves. From then on the going was easy. At times the route went between the rock on the left and the snow on the right, like a trench. We met Doug and Sarah, who had been to the summit and were on their way down. They passed us and Iain said to have some coffee on for when we got back.

The last obstacle before the summit was a very knife-edged and narrow section of the ridge. The snow on the right was very very steep, and the snow on the left was almost vertical. The footsteps went right along the crest, like a balance beam. There was a groove just below the top where climbers had shuffled their feet across. Rob went over it first, moving his feet carefully along the lower groove, one hand on the top of the ridge, ice axe in the other hand, sticking the shaft into the steep snow on the other side of the ridge. He was bent right over the ridge. It looked really precarious. I went next and tried to do like Rob did, but found one foot on the very top and one foot down in the groove worked better. I tried plunging the shaft of my ice axe into the snow on the right side, but the snow was so soft, it offered no support. About in the middle I straddled the ridge. This didn't work at all and was a real pain in the arse. But the narrowest part was already done, so I managed to get up and step carefully across to where Rob was belaying me. Then we belayed Iain across. Iain didn't bother taking any chances and just straddled the ridge and scooted across like a cowboy riding a bucking bronco. And then in a few minutes we were on the summit. We took photos and ate Mars bars. Then we went down.

Getting down was as much of a climb as going up was. We had to go back through the sickle and then down steep snowy sections to the rock. We belayed much of it. Once on the rock above the hut we had to be very careful since it was so loose. We took off the rope since it was only getting caught on the rocks between us and causing pieces to fall down on us. We slowly worked our way down, looking for the path. We got on the right path, which led between the mushroom formations we had passed below on our way up that morning. There were some parts that were quite steep and others that were covered in loose scree and so we had to be very careful not to lose our footing. We had taken off our crampons earlier so that helped. Rob was less happy on rock than on snow, especially this loose and rotting limestone. But we got down without any problem and then, about 11 hours after we had started, I was trotting up to the outhouse (the highest outhouse in Canada, and the one with the best view, guaranteed).

In the hut, Sarah had prepared a bottle of orange juice for us, which was very refreshing. Well, that's it. We'd done it. I honestly didn't let my breath out all the way until we had set foot back inside the hut. (I didn't let my breath out all the way in the outhouse for other reasons). I was shaken from hanging around on the steep and icy face where we'd gone off route, but it was a great climb anyway.

It was evening, and we canceled our plans to descend to Lake O'Hara and camp. We stayed instead in the hut again. Some more people had come; a couple from Vancouver and a couple from Germany. Only the couple from Germany planned to climb Victoria the next day. Rob was going to try Lefroy. Iain was considering going with him. I would lend him my stiffer boots. Doug and Sarah were going down. In the end Iain decided he'd go down too so the four of us went down in the morning to Lake O'Hara. As we left the hut Doug and I saw Rob making his way up Lefroy. The face looks so steep, but we could see that he was walking up, switchbacking left and right up the snow.

Going down the scree slope was much easier than coming up. Doug was an expert at it, and practically leaped down it. Digging my heels in, I surfed the scree and came down shortly behind him. Sarah and Iain were right behind and we enjoyed the good trail, the sunshine, the spectacular views, and the sweet-smelling alpine air on the way back to Lake O'Hara. It had been a very rewarding and enjoyable climbing experience.

When to go:

As with so many of the mountains, the first part of August is one of the most promising times to do this climb. Weather is generally settled and the routes are generally in good summer condition by this time, meaning less risk of avalanches. As usual, an alpine start (before dawn) is wise in order to insure return to the hut before nightfall. Some parties will take longer than the suggested 6 to 10 hours, depending on experience.

What to take:

This route is suited to alpine short-roping. Since there is hardly any solid rock, wending the rope between boulders and rocks as you climb is your best bet. In many places I simply wrapped the rope around a rock protrusion in leu of a belay. No pro should be necessary for this climb, provided you stay on course. Nevertheless, a couple of pins and maybe an ice screw are reassuring to have in case you get into a pickle. If you are staying at the hut, all you need to bring is your sleeping bag, food, and white gas for the cooking stoves. There are plenty of cooking utensils and comfy foam mattresses upstairs in the loft. There's a coal stove, and a big pot for snowmelt, the water source. Don't eat the yellow snow.

Where to stay:

It is possible to climb the route in a day from the campground at Lake O'Hara. Up and down it would be a very, very long day however. Most people stay at the Abbot Pass Hut overnight and climb Victoria the following morning, returning to Lake O'Hara. The hut is operated by the Alpine Club of Canada and may be used by members. Reservations are required. The ACC's main office is in Canmore.