THE APOGEE

Date: July 5 - 7, 2025 Location: Serpentine Range, Mount Aspiring National Park, Glenorchy, Otago, New Zealand Team: Rob Fraser Field Notes: For F-Knob, start from Routeburn Falls Hut and head West until you reach the first bridge. A ground trail initially heads south, bypassing the bluffs to the east and ending near a group of tarns. Gain the North East Ridge and follow directly to the summit. To get to Ocean Peak, follow the obvious ridge line heading West, sidling difficulties on the north. For Xenicus, start from Falls Hut and climb above the hut into the valley. Cross the Route Burn, and head straight up a gully that eventually ends at 1,500 meters. Sidle around the South East Ridge on the Eastern side, gaining the ridge at 1,800 meters. F-Knob, Ocean Peak, and Xenicus Route Topo It's been a long while since I got stuck into a proper summit. June didn't provide much in the way of weather and I found myself skinning up Coronet Peak for fitness most of the time. May was filled with tramping, and April I was in Dunedin surfing. The last big trip in the hills was March 20th, when Alex and I did a speedy one-day ascent of Mount Tyndall. Work has also been busy, so when I saw three days in a row of perfect weather, I knew I needed to be outside for all of them. My soul was burning for it. We still need another good storm to properly open up some bigger ski touring/mountaineering days, so I left the sticks at home and wandered up the Routeburn. There are quite a few peaks there I haven't managed to climb yet, and the area is jaw-dropping. From the North East Ridge of F-Knob. Somnus, Momus, and the North Routeburn are on the skyline. I walked in to Falls Hut on a beautiful Saturday afternoon and was surprised to see about twenty other hikers there. I didn't mind the company - we are all there for the same reason, and I was grateful that someone had put in the effort to stoke the fire. I planned to climb F-Knob and take the ridge line over to Ocean Peak. Then on Monday morning, Rob was to meet me at Falls Hut, and we were going to climb Xenicus. I knew there wouldn't be a ton of snow up there, but I was surprised to see how little there actually was. From the summit of F-Knob. The Forbes Range and the Richardson's are on the skyline. In fact, I didn't put crampons on until twenty meters below the summit of F-Knob. The ascent was easy enough, although steep, and it was surreal to be high above the valley floor. The weather conditions were absolutely incredible. Sunny, low cloud in the valley, and the faintest breath of wind. Although these summits don't even touch two thousand meters, the scenery has got to be some of the best in the Southern Alps. I put my crampons on for the final twenty meters and front-pointed to the summit. From here, I looked over to Emily Peak which Alex and I had done earlier in the year. The temperature was rising so I kept moving towards Ocean Peak, following the easy ridge traveling West. At Point 1820, the snow was getting quite warm and I knew I needed to get over to Ocean Peak sooner rather than later. The climbing looked tricky over this section, so I followed a ledge system at 1700 meters that took me to a small basin just below the summit. From here, I booted up a gully to join the South West Ridge. I climbed higher until I met an awkward step that forced me onto the face. With exposure below, I front-pointed up to the summit. My eyes were drawn towards the wild peaks of Fiordland, especially Tutoko. Knowing it was only getting warmer, I left the summit quickly and made my way down. The Serpentine Range from the summit of Ocean Peak. Xenicus is in the foreground. Back at the hut, I immediately started boiling water as the hut was entirely devoid of the sun and was cold. I did my best at starting a fire with damp wood and coal, and after hours of work, wondering why the hut wasn't warmer, I was dismayed to find out that there were windows at the top of the hut that were open the entire time. By seven thirty, I crawled into my sleeping bag and called it a night. For the two nights I slept at Falls Hut, they may have been the best back-to-back nights of sleep I've ever had in the backcountry. I slept soundly, only waking up occasionally. Rob arrived at half past seven and I made him a coffee as promised. We started back up the Routeburn track, crossed the River, and headed north up through low scrub. Travel was not difficult by any means and we were glad to hit the snow. It was awesome having Rob up here - he's super fit, grounded, and has a great mindset. At 1,500 meters we sidled around to access the South East Ridge of Xenicus. It looked very straightforward, minus one little cruxy section. We cramponed higher, swapping places when the person in front needed a break. We arrived at the crux just below the summit and it wasn't ideal. There were sections of ice in a short gully with plenty of exposure off to our left. This is why conditions are almost everything in the mountains. We were both keen and tackled the crux, being diligent with our placements. At the summit, we congratulated each other, snapped a photo, and then headed back down. The crux required extreme care, and I wish I had a second tool. However, with patience, it was managed just fine. Rob climbing the final few meters to the summit of Xenicus At the bottom of the climb, Rob busted out a few of his girlfriend's homemade cookies, and I can confirm it was a borderline religious experience. Thank you, Daisy. We made quick work back to Falls Hut where we swapped mountain boots for hiking boots, and then continued on to the car park. It was a hell of a day and a hell of trip - and I celebrated with some much-needed Indian food back in Queenstown. Happy days...

Date: July 19 - 20, 2025 Location: Harris Mountains, Mount Aspiring National Park, Otago, New Zealand Team: Rob Fraser, Kevin Reid, Emilie Agnew Field Notes: From Shelter Rock Hut, Headlong Peak is a long climb - and even longer with ski gear. Climb to the top of Rees Saddle and then head north along Snowy Creek on the true left. The most convenient location to cross is about 1.3 km from Rees Saddle and about .7 km from the Snowy Creek Bridge (which is removed during winter). Snowy Creek is impossible to cross in most areas, and it pays to give yourself time to find the correct location to cross, especially in the dark. Once across the creek, take the broad west spur to the summit. There is one short section near the top around 40 degrees. Headlong Peak Route Topo Although it hasn't snowed much in New Zealand so far this season, we have had plenty of clear, cold days. Another high-pressure system rolled in for the weekend, lining up perfectly with our schedules. We had a great team assembled for this trip: Rob, Kevin, and Emilie. Fortunately, we were able to utilize Kevin and Emilie's four-wheel drive truck to get up the Rees Valley. 
 Rob biking up the cold Rees Valley Rob and I wound up biking as we had a later start to the day. But fortunately, Kevin and Emilie brought our ski gear and packs in their truck. up the valley. From there, it was only a two-and-a-half-hour hike to Shelter Rock Hut, where Rob and I spent the entire time talking about whether Kevin and Emilie would have the fire going upon our arrival. Funny enough, we arrived at the hut exactly when Kevin and Emilie had just gotten back from skiing Mount Cunningham. Kevin tried his best to get the fire going, and after a brilliant effort, he proved successful. We shared dinner together and talked about our plans for Headlong Peak. 
We decided to get up at the ungodly time of two o'clock in the morning with the intentions of being out the door by three. It was a frosty start, and we headed up the valley on dry ground. I find it's always difficult traveling in the middle of the night, where you can only see the silhouettes of the mountain peaks, the stars above, and the ground in front of you illuminated by a headlamp. It can be disorienting and at times frustrating, which shows us how influential the power of light really is. 
 Near five a.m., we got under Rees Saddle and boot packed our way to the top. We saw the nasty gut of Snowy Creek, which we assumed would be one of the cruxes of the trip as we were attempting to find a safe passage in the dark. The team skinning up the West Ridge of Headlong Peak. Rees Saddle behind. I was very confident in the route that I had found based on reading the topography and viewing satellite imagery. I led us north along Snowy Creek, at times losing faith, until we came upon the spot I had indicated on the map. It went! 
We dropped down to the water, walked across the creek in our ski boots, and attached skins. The excitement was building now as the climbing had finally begun. At this point, we had been traveling for close to four hours, and we still had a 1,200-meter climb ahead of us. Climbing the West Ridge of Headlong Peak. Cleft Peak center is at center image. 
I set off starting the skin track up the West Ridge of Headlong Peak, and we were immediately relieved to find very light and soft snow. And the higher that we traveled, the better the snow became, and the more the stoke built. And then, obeying the eternal rhythm, the sun rose and splashed colors of pink and red onto the tops of the peaks. 
Setting a skin track on a big day is always hard work, and we rotated to keep things efficient. Towards the top, we were beginning to feel the effects of a long day. We were already seven hours in and still had a few hundred meters left to the summit. On Headlong Peak. Mount Cunningham is at center image. 
There was a section of steeper terrain close to the summit that we had to navigate. Once past this crux, we were knocking on the doorstep. Although we were only one hundred meters away, it looked so far away. Sure enough, just as we popped over the rise, the summit was right in front of us. Thirty steps later of boot packing, we found ourselves on top of the peak. 
It was one of the best feelings that I had experienced in a long time, as it had taken us eight hours of hard work from the hut to reach the top. The final steps to the summit of Headlong Peak We were absolutely stoked to be sharing an incredible summit together with not a soul in sight on a beautiful, sunny winter's day. We were also aware that there was hang fire in the valley from the slopes above and things were heating up, so we wasted no time. 
We clicked into our skis and all took turns right off the summit. From that point on, we hooped and hollered as we leapfrogged each other down the mountain, skiing for the most part, in fantastic conditions down to the valley floor. This is truly what we live for! 
Back at Snowy Creek, everyone was buzzing. We attached skins, climbed out of the creek, and made our way back to Rees Saddle. At the top of the saddle, we clicked in for the last time and made turns back down to the snow line. We arrived back at the hut over thirteen hours later. 
Although we all wanted to sleep, the sun was setting. So we packed our bags, refueled, and got ready for the two-plus-hour hike back to the truck. 
Rob and I led out first, with Kevin and Emilie trailing just behind. Rob and I, which seems to be customary on all of our trips, engaged in deep and thoughtful conversation, interspersed with laughter and jokes, to pass the time. We were both feeling completely worked. By the time we had gotten back to the truck, it had been sixteen hours. We started in the dark, and we ended in the dark. Thankfully, Kevin and Emilie's headlamps emerged from the trees - it was time to go home! 
We loaded up the gear in the back of the truck, and bumped our way out the Rees - eyes and bodies burning from exhaustion. The team: Emilie, Rob, & Kevin This was one of my favorite trips in such a long time, not just because the skiing was fantastic, but because the company was sensational. The whole trip was filled with laughter and stoke - and a reminder of the power of good relationships. Happy days...

Date: August 3, 2025 Location: The Remarkables, Queenstown, Otago, New Zealand Team: Emilie Agnew Field Notes: The classic M3 route on the West Face. 150 meters, 4 pitches. Bring a full trad rack. An ice screw or two might be useful depending on conditions. The West Face of the Remarkables has always held some sort of mythical allure for me. Almost every day I stare at it, knowing it holds quality climbing, yet I’ve never ventured out there. This winter has seen a disappointing amount of snowfall so far - so disappointing that it has led me to question how much longer I will stay here. One benefit of this, at least in winter, is that low snowfall means other opportunities open up, such as mixed climbing. MK Gully, West Face of the Remarkables Emilie and I were fresh off our respective ice and mixed climbing clinics and wanted to get stuck in. Kevin’s knee has still been bothering him since Headlong Peak, so it was just us two. The forecast was meant to be stunning and avalanche conditions were virtually non-existent. Our choice for the day was the M3 classic - MK Gully. We decided to skin up to Shadow Basin, stashing the ski kit and transitioning to climbing boots. Walking around the West Face and seeing the extreme drop-offs reminded me of why conditions need to be perfect back here. Any mistake would result in severe consequences. Emilie led out on pitch 1 - one of the cruxes of the route. It was a full body length step, which was awkward, but was made all the more difficult with spin drift pouring down in her face. Eventually, she got through it and brought me up. I led out on the second pitch which was just a steep snow climb and apologized at the lack of protection I placed when Emilie rejoined me. Swapping leads again, Emilie led out through another rock step until she set up a belay at an awesome ledge in the sun. It had been an epic day out so far, and we were frothing. I took over for the last pitch. I made a start up a snowy gully until getting to a rock step at the top out. One of my favorite things about mixed climbing is the art of using tools, hands, and crampons. At one moment, you hook a tool behind a rock. The right foot steps up. You leave the tool and place your hand on another rock. The crampon on the left foot finds a crack. Although I was in a no-fall zone, climbing at somewhere around my technical ability, I was in the zone. Fully immersed in the moment. This last crux had great protection, so I plugged a bunch of gear, mantled, and topped out. Topping out on MK Gully I left out a shout of satisfaction as I stepped into the afternoon sun. Finally on top, I built an anchor and brought Emilie up. We were absolutely buzzing and the only thing we could think about was doing another route! After a bite to eat, we walked back down to our gear and skied back to the car. I can see why this route is a classic. Happy days...

Date: August 4, 2025 Location: The Remarkables, Queenstown, Otago, New Zealand Team: Emilie Agnew Field Notes: The climb is 170 meters and completed in three to four pitches. Bring a full trad rack. We found the start to be the crux and the climb to be one step up in difficulty from MK Gully. Still buzzing off our climb of MK Gully the day before, Emilie and I went right back to the West Face for more. Our goal was to do something of equal or slightly greater difficulty. We landed on Saturday Morning Special, graded at 3+. My friend Henry warned me to take mixed grades with a grain of salt, so we went into it with an open mind. Saturday Morning Special taken from Queens Drive Standing at pitch 1, which was apparently the crux, it looked to be a decent step up. Being a stronger rock climber, Emilie started us off. It looked technical and awkward. I still wonder if we attacked the first pitch in the best way possible. Regardless, Emilie composed herself and made her way up. When I followed, I was glad I wasn’t leading. Emilie on the first pitch of Saturday Morning Special The second pitch definitely wasn’t as challenging as the first, but it didn’t let off the gas that much. I led out on moderate angled snow until another awkward body length step. I tried to find protection, but none of it was confidence-inspiring. I remember throwing in multiple pieces before committing to the move. Climbing the second pitch of Saturday Morning Special I had to shimmy myself up until I could get high enough where I could place a tool over the step. To my dismay, the snow was soft and deep, and I burned energy trying to get solid placements. Eventually, my tools secured a solid purchase, and I committed to the top out. Feeling vulnerable above the step, I was greeted to a fifty-degree-plus snow slope with massive exposure below. I climbed this six to seven-meter section, making sure every placement counted, until I reached the glorious safety of a belay cave. Emilie climbing above the awkward step on the second pitch of Saturday Morning Special I brought up Em, where we swapped, and she climbed a short section right before the top out. Because of the rope drag, she belayed me and let me take the final pitch in the sun. This climb felt harder than MK, and I relished the easy climbing with good protection all the way to the top. The afternoon sun was strong, and I practically belayed Emilie up in my base layers! We celebrated just as stoked as we had been the day before, buzzing off two back-to-back climbs on the West Face in perfect conditions. Ravished - we ate like dogs (or at least I did) and set off back to the car. Happy days...

Date: August 24, 2025 Location: The Remarkables, Queenstown, Otago, New Zealand Team: Rob Fraser Field Notes: Climbed in two pitches. Pitch one is the obvious snow gully that heads up to a rocky area. The gully splits here. The second pitch climbs the left side - a slab/rock wall. Still buzzing off some good days on the West Face, I had the Enforcer at the Notch circled as one of the climbs I really wanted to try out. The weather looked perfect, and Rob and I set off early with high stoke. We walked along the West Face for over an hour trying to find the start of the route. I was convinced we had to be close, but nothing looked right. Rob wasn’t sure either, and after scratching our heads long enough, we called an audible. Plan B: Number One Gully. Number One Gully - Remarkables It was Rob’s first time mixed climbing, so an M2 felt like a solid introduction. The first pitch was mellow—just an easy snow gully. The second pitch was awkward - a steep slab covered in dry, unconsolidated snow made every move feel awkward. I had to dig and scrape off snow to find anything that resembled a placement, and more than once I felt like things were teetering on the edge of sketchy. Bit by bit we worked our way up until the snow finally gave way to sun, and we topped out with big grins. Not the Enforcer, but still a win—Rob got his first taste of mixed climbing, and I got more experience mixed climbing. Rob topping out on Number One Gully Happy days...

Date: October 6, 2025 Location: Richardson Mountains, Queenstown, Otago, New Zealand Team: Solo Field Notes: A fun ski if there's enough snow. Hike up to Ben Lomond saddle and choose any convenient route to the summit. I wound up doing two laps. Spring has been ruthless, there's no other way to put it. Storm after storm after storm has made it extremely difficult to do anything in the alpine. In fact, looking back as I write this, a good one month later, this is probably one of the best ski descents I've had of the whole season! I know it sounds crazy, but the best quality snow that I've skied the whole season, (besides arguably Headlong Peak) has been this. Two cool Aussie dudes made for great chat on the way up I saw a brief gap in the storms, a sunny morning with light winds and thought to myself... wow, there's a chance that Bowen Peak could be corn... so I decided to follow my intuition and head up. From near Ben Lomond Saddle, I attached skins and climbed up the obvious southwest-facing ridge of Bowen Peak. As I climbed up, the snow was in amazing condition. The sun was out, I was in a t-shirt, and I was smiling from ear to ear. Today, I was genuinely going to be skiing corn. The summit of Bowen Peak I think I like skiing corn as much as I like skiing powder. There's something about the amazing sound that your skis make when in contact with the snow. The skiing is super stable and I find it to be immensely enjoyable. At the summit, a beautiful view of the Richardson Mountains opened up in front of me. I snapped a few photos, clicked in, and made creamy turns down the south-facing bowl of Bowen Peak. At the bottom, I let out a loud yell, so stoked to finally be skiing something in good condition! I decided to attach my skins and climb right back up for a second lap. Honestly, even just writing this makes me smile. It was such a simple day, but so much fun, and I caught a lot of second looks from tourists as I hiked back down the main trail. People asking me, is there supposed to be skiing up there?! Happy days...

Date: November 2, 2025 Location: Tasman Glacier, Main Divide Range, Westland National Park, New Zealand Team: Kevin Reid, Emilie Agnew, Louis Halpin, Ella Hartley Field Notes: Glacier Peak is a popular climb and ski from Pioneer Hut. The climb itself is straightforward, but later in the season crevasses will make this extremely problematic. The North East Ridge of Douglas has a thirty-meter ice/rock step. There is at least one abseil on the descent. For years, I had dreamed of flying up onto the glaciers around the Mt. Cook area. Huge, lofty, glaciated, snow-capped mountains — nothing makes me more excited. We had planned this trip months in advance, but with September and October proving impossible for mountaineering this year, I wasn’t optimistic about getting a weather window. But then, 10 days out… 7 days out… 5 days out… 3 days out… it became clear that a massive high-pressure system was moving into the country, aligning perfectly with our trip. Flying over the East Face Of Mount Cook When we showed up at Mt. Cook Village, there was a buzz I hadn’t felt in a long time. There was energy in the mountains. People were stoked and I was one of them. When we flew into Pioneer Hut, we found it completely alive — packed with climbers excited to make the most of the conditions. Pioneer sleeps 16, yet that first weekend, there were 25 people. Centennial was packed. Plateau Hut was reported to be full. One thing was for sure: if you love mountaineering, this was the time to be out. For our first mission, we decided Glacier Peak would be an awesome climb and ski. We woke up early — earlier than needed, to be honest — but because Emilie, Kevin, and I planned to attempt the Northeast Ridge of Douglas Peak as well. As we skinned under a combination of moonlight and head-torch glow, we looked up at Douglas, which looked incredibly imposing and coated in rime ice. We roped up for the ascent of Glacier Peak as there were many crevasses. However, conditions were excellent — everything filled in, firm, and solid. From the summit of Glacier Peak, we headed south along the airy and beautiful ridge toward Douglas. At the base of the crux, the group wasn’t feeling entirely optimistic. To be fair, conditions didn’t look good. The entire climb was covered in thick rime ice and looked completely unprotectable. I felt confident leading the first pitch, where I could see a way to back down if conditions weren’t right. Emilie and Kevin were okay with that, so I led out. The crux of the North East Ridge on Douglas Peak I climbed a small gully — something resembling a step on MK Gully in the Remarkables I’d climbed earlier this year. Above that, I continued climbing and began sidling right over steep, committing terrain. I hoped that around the corner would give me access the summit slopes. I checked my phone: we were just one contour level from the top — only about 20 meters. The sun was out, the sky was bluebird. We were truly in the alpine. This is what I live for. But as I came fully around the corner, I was dismayed to find the climbing looked just as hard, with another ice step and more rime ice making everything unprotectable. I sat there for five minutes, calming my breathing and searching for alternatives, but the reality was clear. The climb wasn’t in condition. It was time to go down. I backtracked and downclimbed to where I could loop some cord around a rock, then got lowered back down to Emilie and Kevin. I think we all breathed a sigh of relief. From here, we belayed each other down a steep snow pitch until we were back on firmer ground. We walked back to Glacier Peak, where we ran into a group of seven other highly stoked mountaineers sharing Pioneer Hut with us. They applauded our effort on Douglas — and to be fair, when we looked back, it did look extremely imposing. We weren’t out of the woods yet, as the west face of Glacier Peak was very firm and icy. We made delicate turns down the face. One of the guys I met on the trip, Neil — an ex-pro skier and all-around legend — was incredibly stoked for us, and we snapped an awesome team photo at the base of the ski. Glacier Peak, West Face Smiles on our faces, made our way back to Pioneer Hut to refuel. It was an awesome day. We had one hell of an effort on Douglas — and we skied off a 3000er. Happy days...

Date: November 3, 2025 Location: Fox Glacier, Main Divide Range, Westland National Park, New Zealand Team: Kevin Reid, Emilie Agnew, Louis Halpin, Ella Hartley, Patrick Hartley Field Notes: A straightforward climb from Marcel Col. I think the biggest issue would be navigating the crevasses on the Heemskerck Glacier in the dark. The upper pitch on Lendenfeld doesn't get steeper than forty degrees, but we did find hard ice at times. Buzzing off a fantastic climb and ski of Glacier Peak — and a so-close attempt on the summit of Douglas — we were keen for more of the high stuff. We had our eyes set on climbing Mt. Tasman. Realistically, that wasn't going to happen with six people. But we knew Lendenfeld would make a fantastic summit and another three-thousand-meter peak. The group decided on a 2 a.m. departure from the hut, which pretty much solidified in my mind that Tasman was not a realistic objective for the day. Still, I was super happy to climb Lendenfeld and get some valuable beta for a future attempt at Tasman. Mount Tasman and Lendenfeld Peak from Marcel Col We skinned off into the night again, headlamps cutting through the dark, though at times I left mine off because of the full moon. There’s something magical about skinning across the glaciers under towering, snow-capped peaks, illuminated by moonlight. There was some debate about how to navigate the crevasses since we weren’t sure of the exact route in the dark. Patrick had been through the area just yesterday but couldn’t remember the line he’d taken. I opted for the left-hand side; the group leaned toward the far right. In the end, we took the right-hand option, which proved to be the right call. We were able to skirt around the crevasses and use ski crampons to make travel as efficiently as possible. We finally got into a groove and got closer to Marcel Col. The contour lines on the map don’t properly show how steep the lower part of the Heemskerk Glacier actually is. Not steep enough for crampons and ice tools — but steep enough that ski crampons were definitely needed. Near the top of Marcel Col, the slope steepened again, becoming extremely icy with chicken heads everywhere. We had a few issues with ski crampons and dropping gear, but eventually everyone made it safely to the top of the col. After a quick break and a bit of reorganizing, we headed up the east ridge of Lendenfeld — just in time for one of the most spectacular sunrises I’ve ever seen. Climbing next to Kevin, the alpenglow lit up the entire range. It was such a special moment that I kept stopping to take photos of him as he climbed. Kevin in hero light and hero conditions on Lendenfeld's East Ridge It was quick work from the col to the summit, and we enjoyed an unbelievably calm morning with bluebird skies and warm sunshine. We ended up hanging out on the summit for a couple of hours — eating, relaxing, soaking it all in. I couldn’t help staring over at the North Shoulder of Tasman, which looked to be in absolutely incredible condition. Some days you hold 'em, some days you fold 'em. It was awesome hanging out with the whole crew — Kevin, Emilie, Patrick, Ella, and Louis. Everyone was buzzing atop the peak. Ultimately, like all trips, we began our descent. We down-climbed back to Marcel Col, clicked into skis, and made a somewhat icy but fun descent down the glacier. At ten in the morning, we bypassed a Japanese couple on the lower part of the glacier. They had a long way to go, up and down, in the blazing sun. It was no surprise that I saw the Japanese climber the next day with duct tape all over his face. He spent some time in the oven. Regardless... Happy days...

Date: November 4, 2025 Location: Fox Glacier, Main Divide Range, Westland National Park, New Zealand Team: Kevin Reid, Emilie Agnew Field Notes: The North East Face is potentially steeper and harder than other similarly graded routes out there. Bring two tools, snow pickets, some ice screws, and a light trad rack. We encountered alpine ice on the route and bailed very close to the top under rapidly warming conditions. After our climb of Lendenfeld Peak, the freezing level shot up. Ella, Louis, and Patrick were keen to ski over to Centennial Hut. This left Emilie, Kevin, and me with a day to climb something. The only problem was figuring out what. Many routes were either out of condition or plastered in rime ice. Kevin and Emilie came up with a great idea: climb a route on Humdinger. Originally, we thought about the Couloir Route next to the North Rib, but instead opted for something that felt a touch more manageable — the Northeast Face. The Northeast face of Mount Humdinger We set off relatively early and reached the base of the climb right around sunrise. We brought a few screws, a light trad rack, and snow pickets. As we approached, the line looked pretty damn steep. To gain the Northeast Face, you start by climbing a steep headwall — arguably the steepest part of the day. We all soloed it and it was good practice. Although most people tend to overestimate slope angles (myself included), this one genuinely sat somewhere in the 55+ degree range; by the top our bodies felt close to vertical. And no, I'm not exaggerating! We topped out on the headwall and began the main climb. It was already warm, and expectations were naturally starting to shift. The day was cloudy and socked in, giving everything a soft, muted feel. As we continued, we immediately ran into sections of low-grade alpine ice. The climbing was easy enough — maybe 40 degrees — but a fall unroped would have been disastrous. At the top of the first pitch, Kevin placed a couple of screws and built an anchor. Once we clipped in, it was unanimous: it was time to go down. We were close to the top, but conditions were too warm. No regrets, no second-guessing. Kevin belaying Emilie down the face The face was icy, with rime formations looming above us, and everything was warming quickly. Climbing a solar aspect early in the morning while everything is already heating up — with ice overhead — is not a great recipe. The call was easy. We belayed each other down, practicing rope techniques and careful down climbing, and made our way off the mountain safely. We timed it perfectly. Near the bottom, small bits of ice were already beginning to come down from above. Looking down The Northeast face of Mount Humdinger I think this trip was one of the most valuable experiences of the entire trip. We made good decisions together. Everyone kept a cool head. And most importantly, we all walked back into the hut feeling upbeat and proud of how we managed the day. It was a fun climb — short, thoughtful, and memorable. I’d love to return for another go at the Northeast Face or even the Couloir Route when conditions are better. Happy days...

Date: November 5, 2025 Location: Franz Joseph Glacier, Main Divide Range, Westland National Park, New Zealand Team: Kevin Reid, Emilie Agnew, Louis Halpin, Ella Hartley, Patrick Hartley Field Notes: For the West Face of Minarets, climb the snow slopes between De La Beche and Minarets. The slope gradually steepens to 40 degrees. Although we had great conditions, there can be large schrunds on this face throughout the year. The good graces of the weather continued, and after we attempted the northeast face of Mt. Humdinger, we skinned over in the afternoon to Centennial Hut for attempts on Minarets and Aurora Peak. We woke up to another beautiful day in the Southern Alps. God it was good to be out here. We left at sunrise, dropped down from the hut across the Chamberlain Snowfield, and made a quick approach to the west face of Minarets. Initially, we used ski crampons to ascend the initial section before reaching a flatter area where we switched to crampons and ice axes. The West Face is a sustained 40-degree climb up the face, and the team made quick work of it. Ella topping out on the West Face of Minarets We topped out on the ridge between De La Beche and the twin summits of Minarets. I watched two climbers whom I’d met in the hut, drop in to a 1,000-meter-plus ski descent of the Ranfurly Glacier. We continued higher and arrived at the first summit on Minarets, just 9 meters below the true summit. We hung out for a few minutes, took photos, soaked in the mind-bending views, and then walked over as a team to climb the higher summit. At the top, we lounged around taking photos, eating food, and enjoying the bliss of another 3,000-meter peak. It’s astonishing when you look around from these summits: in every direction, hundreds — no, thousands — of snow-capped peaks. In every direction, a classic route. And in every direction, an unclimbed line waiting for someone to take a shot at it. All while the ocean sits within reach to the west. Kevin summiting the high peak of Minarets Eventually, we decided to head down. We returned to the top of the west face between Minarets and De La Beche and got ready to drop in. Patrick, being the best skier in the group, went first. I watched him sidestep down the icy crux, make two jump turns, and then zip out of sight. I admired his ability to ski so proficiently in what I would soon discover were absolutely terrible conditions. I was next. I sidestepped down through the icy choke and called up to the others, “You might want to consider down climbing this.” I’m not sure anyone heard me — the wind likely swallowed my voice. Once past the crux, I stared down the face: a 40-degree icy slope ending in a massive crevasse at the bottom. A slip here wouldn’t be nice. I sideslipped the first section, preparing mentally for a jump turn. But I couldn’t commit. The slope was steep and I simply didn’t trust my edges in conditions this icy. Had it been corn or good snow, different story. But sometimes it’s better to put your ego aside, stay in control, and get down safely. So I did exactly that. I sideslipped the entire face, and I’m not ashamed to say it. The team at the bottom of the West Face of Minarets When I met Patrick at the bottom, we had a good laugh and waited for the others. The rest of the team followed, and long story short — there were some moments of real tension, but everyone got down safely. At the bottom, you could hear two distinct sounds - laughter and very deep sighs of relief. We skied the lower portion of the face, where the snow was “slightly” better, but the true treat of the day — besides the summit — was the few-hundred-meter descent down the Chamberlain Snowfield, in which corn was harvested. By now, the sun was blazing. So we regrouped, de-layered, and made the final hundred-meter climb back to Centennial Hut, where we relaxed and took (except Ella) a cold bath in the snow. Scorching sun on the Chamberlin Snowfield Another fantastic trip. Happy days...

Date: November 7, 2025 Location: Franz Joseph Glacier, Main Divide Range, Westland National Park, New Zealand Team: Kevin Reid, Emilie Agnew, Louis Halpin, Ella Hartley, Patrick Hartley Field Notes: A fantastic ski from Centennial Hut. Straight up the North Face with a few steeper sections. After a full rest day at Centennial Hut, where we waited out a 24-hour storm, we woke up to improved weather. Waiting out the weather at Centennial Hut The rain the previous day, combined with cold, clear overnight temperatures, had locked the snowpack up into a sheet of ice. It was going to be a while until we skied anything that resembled corn. So we waited. And waited...and waited... We got very antsy in the hut. People started acting like wild barnyard animals. Shit got weird for a minute Eventually, noon hit, we all became human again, the sun came out from behind the clouds, and we raced to put our gear on and head out the door. Our line off the summit of Mount Aurora Skinning towards the peak, Aurora is a small but beautiful mountain. The three-hundred-meter face is a perfect ski line. At the bottom of the face we transitioned to climbing gear and headed up. The only difficulty of the climb was navigating the two schrunds on the face. They were solid enough to cross, but later in the season could pose issues. Towards the top of the face, we met the second one and decided to detour and climb the Northwest ridge to the summit. The snow was quite warm already, so we transitioned quickly on the airy ridge and got ready to ski. Lewis summiting Mount Aurora One by one we made our way down the face, skiing a combination of corn and firm stuff. The last section over the schrund was the steepest bit, and care was taken over this last section. Once through this crux, we skied good snow down through the apron - stoked and smiling in the sun! Condition-wise, this was easily the best ski of the trip. Happy days...

Date: Nov. 16, 2024 Location: Humboldt Mountains, Mount Aspiring National Park, Glenorchy, Otago, New Zealand Team: Rob Fraser Field Notes: A mega classic. Access is up the North Routeburn. There is an excellent bivy rock at the base of the line - Hobbs Bivy. The couloir itself is roughly 900 meters. Some people may wish to head to the summit from the top of the line, which is an additional 300 meters. Although no steeper than 40 degrees, the couloir is very prone to avalanches, icefall, and rockfall. Bergschrunds form in spring. It is also very common to find wind slab at the top of the line. The Somnus Couloir is an incredible line. When one sees it, one knows. I tried to climb it two years ago and got a couple hundred meters from the top before turning around. Too warm, too many schrunds, too much risk — I bailed. I remember walking back down a bit disappointed when all of a sudden a massive piece of ice fell off the walls behind me and thundered into the couloir, maybe 50 meters behind me. This is a line that, although not that steep, comes with big consequence. And I knew I’d be stoked to get to the top of it one day. Somnus Couloir, North Routeburn Fast forward to 2024, and a trip out there never happened. Maybe I was unmotivated — I’m not sure. But 2024 wasn’t the year. In 2025, I was definitely motivated to ski the line. Winter didn’t really deliver the conditions I’d hoped for, and then September and October were nonstop storms. I remember texting my buddy Paul, who also wanted to ski the line, telling him, I just don’t think this is the year for Somnus. After coming back from my Mount Cook trip, I figured there wouldn’t be much time left for skiing. I was very wrong. A friend sent me a message showing current conditions on the couloir, proving it was still in. I hit up Rob to see if he wanted to ski it. We had talked about it multiple times and even viewed the line earlier in winter from the summit of Xenicus. As a bit of extra motivation, I said, if you don’t want to ski this line, I’m going to take your firstborn child. Unsure whether he was motivated by excitement to ski a mega classic or fear of losing his firstborn, he said yes. Rob climbing Somnus Couloir in the early morning hours The next question: alpine-style in a day or an overnighter? On my previous trip I’d stayed at Hobbs Bivy — a perfect base at the bottom of the line. But the reality is: carrying heavy packs sucks. Carrying a heavy pack with skis and boots on your back sucks even more. So we opted for light and fast — done in a day. I picked Rob up at 10:30 p.m. on Saturday and we drove to the Routeburn Shelter. We pulled in and started walking up the trail at 12:15 a.m. On the drive, Rob and I talked a lot about expectations, which I think is one of the healthiest things partners can do before going into consequential terrain. Rob is one of my all-time favorite partners. His mindset is switched on. We don’t agree on everything — which has now sadly become a negative in modern society — but what I want to point out is the quality of these conversations when we do have different points of view. When we talk through decisions, we express how we feel in a place of non-judgment, listening, and sharing perspectives. Even when we both agree, we still pick it apart to make sure we are not both blind. I can't think of a single time any discussion turned emotional, which is critical in these environments. Rob is also very fit, which comes from an ultra-running and ski background. He is also very switched on with snow science, and I'll often find myself picking his brain. As we expressed our concerns and views about the day, we settled on two words as our mindset for the climb: pessimistic and skeptical. Pessimistic because we'd just received 30 cm of new snow on Friday. We were pessimistic that the line would be safe. We knew we’d encounter wind slab somewhere over 900 meters of terrain. Skeptical because there were many unknowns. Skeptical of the weather — is it cold enough? Skeptical of the wind — is it transporting snow? Skeptical of the snowpack — is this safe enough to ski? If anything felt off, we’d bail. From the trailhead to reach the snowline at the couloir took us about five hours. Halfway up Somnus Couloir at sunrise Although I was pessimistic we’d be skiing the line, my confidence rose slightly. The sky was clear, stars shining, and it was cold. The day prior I’d also watched the Harris Saddle webcam and saw the snow go through a consolidation cycle. We put on crampons and started booting up. A few things stood out: old avalanche debris (expected, but never comforting), and ugly snow for the first hundred meters — nothing skiable. But another positive: the snow was frozen hard and firm. We continued upward. I felt energized and we moved quickly. Any time either of us noticed a change in the snow, we stopped and talked about it. The couloir isn’t that steep — maybe 40 degrees max — and it’s wide enough to make actual turns. However, the consequences are huge. It’s the perfect angle for avalanches. It’s south-facing and holds instabilities longer. It’s 900 meters long, so the variability is enormous. There’s rockfall, icefall, and debris everywhere. The top walls of the couloir get more sunlight than people realize. And as I wrote above, two years ago a chunk of ice fell 50 meters behind me — something that would have had serious implications had it hit me. Rob nearing the top of Somnus Couloir About two-thirds of the way up, we hit a massive schrund. On both sides, though, there appeared to be a passage. We spent about 10 minutes probing with a ski pole and inspecting. If the bridge collapsed, the outcome would be very bad. We seriously debated turning around here. Eventually, I climbed the left-hand side, was satisfied with the snow, and climbed above it. Rob followed. We knew it was an added risk — one we’d have to ski above later. We continued the long grind upward. Near the top — maybe 30 meters below — we encountered wind slab. After multiple hand shears and assessments, we weren’t thrilled about it but felt reassured that it was unreactive and not propagating. Still, another added risk. Finally, at the top of the line, we looked toward the summit. Originally, we planned to tag it as a bonus. But seeing snow actively being transported onto the summit slopes — slopes now being hit by the morning sun — made the decision easy. That would be risk number three. We passed. The wind at the top was strong. We layered up, organized gear, and clicked in. Rob skied the first pitch to the safe zone we’d identified on the climb. After hearing safe, I met him there. The next section was where the money was made. I watched Rob drop in. His first turn sent a plume of cold smoke into the air. Two turns, three turns — he was hooting and hollering. This is what it's all about. I dropped in next, skied into the guts of the couloir, and linked turns through boot-deep, stable pow. I literally couldn’t contain myself. We regrouped, buzzing — skiing Somnus in stable boot-deep pow. Unreal. From there, we skied conservatively, knowing the schrund was below. Near the lip, we chose skier’s right, where we could make one quick turn over the snow bridge to safety. Rob went first, then me. After that, we leapfrogged down the couloir, mostly doing jump turns due to the variable snow. 100 meters above the end of the snow, we transitioned back to crampons and walked the final section over the rutted terrain back to our boots. Finally back at safety, we did your classic bro hug. A truly special moment. This line is a mega classic — and we fucking nailed it. Not only did we nail it, we nailed it as a team: efficient, great judgment, and tons of fun. For me, efficiency is one of the biggest draws in the mountains. I love the feeling of climbing quickly and smoothly and waking up the next morning still stoked. We made the obligatory stop at Mrs. Woolly’s for coffee and food, sitting there bleary-eyed and talking about buying one of the wool blankets. After Mrs. Woolly’s, we jumped in the lake for a cold plunge — a ritual after mountain missions. The cold zapped any remaining energy, and as soon as I got back behind the wheel my eyes crossed and Rob had to finish the drive. That night I slept for 13 hours straight. I feel super grateful we were able to ski this line — safely and in good conditions. Happy days... Rob skiing Somnus Couloir

Date: November 23, 2025 Location: Humboldt Mountains, Mount Aspiring National Park, Otago, New Zealand Team: Rob Fraser Field Notes: Take the Glacier Burn Track up until it ends at the treeline. Staying on the true left of the Burn, continue up to 1,600 meters until you sidle onto the Bryant Glacier, which provides access to the North Couloir. The couloir is 300 meters long and steepens to about forty-five degrees. At the top of the couloir, an awkward slab is encountered, which leads to a 10m high step. Some parties may or may not pitch this (grade 11). Once past this, climb the steep and narrow ridge until the false summit. Beyond this, climb steep snow to the obvious notch in the ridge. Rappel for 25 meters down to a ledge and walk up to the true summit. Return to your rope and climb a grade 14 crack back up to the notch. Retrace your steps back to the couloir where the 10m step can be rappelled. The rock is notoriously loose in this range, and the North Couloir has high objective danger. Mount Bonpland stands at 2,343 meters and is the tallest mountain in the Humboldt Range. When viewed from Glenorchy, it’s not easy to distinguish the summit, as the east face rises in one gigantic wall. It is a beast of a mountain. After skiing the Somnus Couloir just a week prior, Rob and I were thinking about another ski-focused trip. The Glacier Burn provides fantastic access, and I was originally interested in some of the couloirs off Bonpland. For over a year, I’d also been interested in climbing Bonpland. The North Couloir provides rapid access to the North Ridge, and I knew time was running out before the couloir became dangerously out of condition. I hit up Rob: let’s go alpine climbing instead. We swapped skis for a trad rack and decided on another midnight start — just seven days after our last one. With two hours of sleep, we left the van at 12:30 in the morning. The stars shone brightly above. Bonpland rose high in the distance. The temperature was cold — we would definitely get a freeze. Headlamps on, we set off. Rob climbing the North Couloir on Mount Bonpland at sunrise. Travel was quick up the Glacier Burn track, and before we knew it, we broke out of the treeline. A dirt trail turned to a boulder field. A boulder field turned to snow. We stashed footwear and put on crampons. Bonpland is a big objective, and I know many strong climbers who’ve taken multiple attempts on this peak. The Bryant Glacier is a war zone, with avalanche debris on every aspect. Beyond avalanches, the rock in the Humboldt Range is notoriously terrible, and rockfall is common. This is why we started so early. We wanted to be at the top of the couloir exactly at sunrise, and off it as quickly as possible. Slow is smooth and smooth is fast was our motto for the day (credit to Rob, who credited it to the Navy SEALs) — and it’s a motto I’m going to embed into my climbing forever. We set a consistent pace from the trailhead and never broke it. By the time we topped out on the North Couloir, we had climbed 1,900 meters and felt very fresh. Things were lining up. The sky was clear, winds were light, the snowpack was bomber, and we were moving well. The North Couloir is steep — maybe forty-five degrees — but not beyond fifty. At the top of the couloir is where the technicality began. Immediately, an awkward slab is encountered, which many parties might pitch out. We opted for a short downclimb on very steep snow to cross the base of this slab. Then we encountered the 10-meter step that probably goes at grade 11 for a move. We were fortunate to have snow buildup at the bottom, which made the crux significantly easier, and we opted to solo it. Without the snow, the rope would have come out. At the top of this step, our confidence boomed. We sidled along the exposed ridge, climbed another pitch of steep snow, and found ourselves walking along the false summit. The North Ridge is fucking epic — we were truly absorbed. This was some of the best climbing of my whole life. Rob rappeling from the notch on Mount Bonpland At the false summit, we spotted the final obstacle: a traverse across steep and exposed snow to the notch where we would rappel twenty-five meters. The snow felt straightforward, but a fall would mean a ride down the entire east face. Gingerly, we climbed across. If I were doing this again, I would take out the rope — you climb directly to where you’re going to rappel anyway. We found a solid horn of rock to build an anchor using a 240 cm sling, set ourselves up for the rappel, triple-checked everything, and went down. I rappelled first to clear loose rock. Rob followed. At the ledge, I smiled one of the biggest smiles of my whole life — we were going to summit. We walked sixty seconds to the high peak and embraced. What a moment. I checked my watch: seven and a half hours to the summit. There are days when nothing goes right — mindset off, gear lost, weather craps out. And there are days where everything aligns — mind, body, soul, team, mountain. This was the latter. We hung out for maybe five minutes to have a quick bite, snap some photos, and stare into the mystic. Rob reminded us: we are halfway. We returned to the rope, climbed the grade 14 crack at 2,300 meters, and pitched the steep snow back to the false summit. We continued moving. It was just past eight in the morning and the sun was ripping into the east aspects. We retraced our steps along the exposed ridge until we reached the 10-meter step. I got out some cord, built an anchor, and set up the rappel while Rob organized gear. Off went Rob, and I joined him shortly after. We were almost out. Now we talked non-stop about the snow conditions in the North Couloir, paranoid about its safety. We had one final crux across the steep slab, and then we found ourselves at the top of the couloir at 9:45 a.m. Shit. I’d wanted to be there earlier. Rob began the down climb. The snow is shit, he said. It was extremely hot now. I followed Rob, taking care with every placement. The snow was indeed wet, but as we continued, we found it was still safe enough. I was more concerned about rockfall than an avalanche in the couloir. At the apron, the snow truly turned to shit. We were sinking up to our waists, and we opted to glissade all the way to the massive flat area at the bottom of the “glacier.” Finally away from most of the danger, we organized gear and prepared for the long walk down. We continued on, following the Glacier Burn down to a beautiful grassy bench beside a glacially fed stream. I looked up at Bonpland... Was I dreaming? Had we really been climbing along that lofty ridge just a few hours ago? I dunked my head into the stream to get an answer. We had. It was a magic day. Happy days…

Date: December 8, 2025 Location: Hāwea Conservation Park, Haast Highway, Otago, New Zealand Team: Solo Field Notes: Park your car at the parking lot at Camp Creek. Walk back up to the main road, cross the bridge, and take the track which starts on the true right of Camp Creek. Follow this steeply until it breaks out of the bush line at 640 meters. Follow the southwest ridge towards Point 1408, sidling this on either the west or southern aspect. Continue along the ridge to the summit, which is best climbed from the south. Camp Peaks is an objective I’ve always been interested in as a day strike because of its proximity to Queenstown and the access is right off the road. This is one of those mountains where, once you start, you’re only going uphill. No messing around. Unfortunately, Deanna flew out the day before, but on the plus side, the weather had cleaned up significantly. With one day left before jumping back into work, this felt like the perfect time to go up Camp Peaks. There was no need for unnecessary weight on this one. A light shell, some water, snacks for the day — that was all I needed. The track starts on the true right of Camp Creek, just near a small pullout on the side of the road. It kicks off steeply, and I’m incredibly grateful to whoever cut it, because the scrub here is absolutely heinous. The trail ends around the 640-meter contour, where it breaks out of the scrub into open tussock. From there, I continued straight uphill on steep tussock slopes. There was no respite, but I felt strong and moved quickly. I climbed the first 700 meters in under an hour and continued on feeling really solid. As I gained height, the views opened up across the lake toward the Minaret Peaks and the Albert Burn. Just under Point 1408 is the first obstacle of the trip. I chose to sidle around it on the western aspect, though it would be just as easy on the southern side. From there, I continued roughly along the ridge, and this was where the summit finally came into view. I kept moving fast, scampering toward the summit. The final section is the crux, with a few scrambly bits and some false summits. There are three prominent bumps, all of which look about the same height, but the true summit is the farthest one to the east. Peak 1999 on the right and Teat Ridge from Camp Peaks I scoped out my options and scrambled up via a steep, exposed section. Personally, I think the better route is to sidle all the way around to the south, scramble up a loose scree gully, and then walk the short slab to the top. That’s the way I descended, and if I were to do it again, it’s the route I’d take. I spent about 30 minutes on the summit, lounging, eating snacks, resting, and taking in the views. It was a perfectly beautiful day. My favorite view was actually to the north, toward Point 1914 and Teat Ridge, though Sentinel Peak looming above Camp Creek was equally impressive. Eventually, I pulled myself away. The sun was ripping, and I was only in a T-shirt instead of my usual sun hoodie. I scampered back down, shocked by just how hot it was. Summer is truly here. Down I went, fighting the heat, until I finally started running downhill to get away from the sun. I made it back to the car in 5.5 hours round trip, immediately stripped off my clothes, and jumped into Lake Wanaka for an incredible post-trip swim. Happy days...

Date: November 29 - 30, 2025 Location: Pisa Range, Cadrona, Otago, New Zealand Team: Deanna Luu Field Notes: Park at Tuohys Gully carpark and follow the 4WD track up to the saddle just west of Point 1202. Then follow the track down heading southeast to Meg Hut. Bring firewood. Photos: Deanna Luu I was so happy to have Deanna back! The last time she visited, we had an amazing trip up to McIntosh Hut. This was the second time Deanna had come to visit me, and both times her goal was the same: to spend a night in a backcountry hut in New Zealand. I had bigger aspirations for this trip, but as often happens in New Zealand, the weather had other ideas. Rain seemed to be falling almost everywhere. That said, I’ve noticed that the areas around Wanaka and Queenstown often miss the worst of it, so I decided to take us to Meg Hut — a short, straightforward trip to a place I’d never been before. The journey was simple. We walked up the four-wheel-drive track toward the hut on a mostly gorgeous, though slightly cloudy, day. We gained elevation steadily and slowly, setting a casual pace and enjoying each other’s company. Travel to Meg Hut is very straightforward. It’s a farm track that climbs roughly 650 meters before dropping about 200 meters down to the hut. Once there, though, the setting is spectacular: rolling tussock hills, a beautiful stream running past the hut, and a peaceful location. I’d hiked in firewood, and even though the temperatures weren’t expected to drop too low, we couldn’t pass up the novelty of lighting a fire inside the hut. We spent the rest of the afternoon lounging in the sun, cracking jokes, doing some breathwork, and I made a half-hearted attempt at a cold plunge. As the sun began to set, we lit the fire and enjoyed the simplicity of the moment and each other’s company. That night, we slept incredibly well. Meg Hut, Pisa Conservation Area In the morning, the early sun was warm. We sat outside with our coffee, soaking it all in. The walk back to the car was quick and easy — light work. Meg Hut makes a perfect short overnighter and is a great option for anyone looking to get away and spend a peaceful night in the hills. Happy days...

Date: Dec 27 - 29, 2025 Location: Makarora, Mount Aspiring National Park, Otago, New Zealand Team: Solo Field Notes: Care must be taken when crossing the Makarora River on foot. I walked up the Young and camped near the hut, although fantastic options exist if you can make it to Young Basin. The paddling starts once you get over the pass and hit Siberia Stream. Cruisy Grade I rapids turn into sustained Grade II, up to Grade III-, about 1km upstream from Sibera Hut. This can easily be portaged. Takeout 1.5km after Siberia Hut when the stream turns into a nasty gorge. Great camping to be had at Kerin Forks, and the final paddle out the Wilkin is stunning. An amazing write-up can be found here from PackraftingTrips.NZ The Christmas holiday period arrived in New Zealand, and I had been scheming some longer solo adventures to get off the grid. The weather hasn’t really cooperated this season for big trips. November turned out to be amazing — most of my missions happened then — but outside of that, I’ve been focused predominantly on rock and trad climbing. Gratefully, a few days of stable weather finally lined up, and I was keen to head up the Makarora. My packraft was getting dusty, and I wanted to put it to use. My original plan was to combine the trip with a climb of Mount Awful. However, warm weather and heavy rain leading up to the trip put me off that idea. I left my bike at the trailhead to the Wilkin River, drove further up the road, and started my journey up the Young. The forecast called for showers clearing followed by two fine days. Well… the showers hadn’t cleared, and I started the trip out in rain. At the first river crossing across the Makarora, a fisherman approached. “You’re not going to cross that… are you?” “I’ve got a packraft.” Then a second fisherman approached. “You’re not thinking of crossing that… are you?” “I’ve got a packraft.” Still not registering, I pulled out the packraft and inflated it. Suddenly everything made sense. I had a packraft. The rest of the first day was peaceful. I hiked alone through beautiful beech forest, across open valleys, over a couple of bridges, and eventually ended up near Young Hut. I saw no one. I camped in a lovely grassy clearing about ten minutes from the hut, next to the gurgling Young River. The night was calm and cold, and I slept well. Point 2026 from Gillespie Pass On the second day, I woke to improving weather, packed up, and began the climb toward Young Basin. Upon arriving, I immediately wished I had camped there — a truly stunning place to pitch a tent. I continued climbing to Gillespie Pass, passing trampers huffing and puffing their way upward. There was a lot of confusion seeing a guy with a paddle strapped to his pack. At the top of the pass, the views of Mount Awful opened up. What a mountain. The descent off the pass toward Siberia Stream was a bit of a grunt — steeper and more technical than expected — and I was grateful when I finally reached the crystal-clear water and began inflating my raft. This is where the fun began. Siberia Stream starts as a cruisy grade I paddle until about 1 km upstream of Siberia Hut, where a boulder garden and sustained rapids run for the entire section. I scouted it, felt comfortable, and went for it. It was the most fun part of the trip — super playful whitewater with options to pull into eddies and scout before committing. Being solo, I constantly reminded myself of the consequences of falling out and stayed laser-focused. Downstream from Siberia Hut, the stream turns into a nasty gorge, and I took out to begin the final hike to Kerin Forks. I basked in the afternoon sun, went for a swim, and enjoyed a rare moment of zero sandflies. That would not last. At Kerin Forks, the sandflies were unreal. The view was too. Not a soul in sight. I lay in my tarp tent while the sandflies swarmed the inner net, desperate for blood. I enjoyed the stillness of the night, listening to the river and the wind rustling my shelter. Camp at Kerin Forks, Wilkin River I woke at sunrise to a gorgeous morning. The sky was clear, and the sun lit up the Wilkin Valley like a message from above. The only task left was to float out the Wilkin — and indeed I did. There’s something so magical about using a packraft. A small inflatable boat that fits inside your backpack, and with some air, it completely expands your relationship with the mountains in a unique way. Instead of taking five hours to walk out, it took only two to float out. This trip was everything I hoped for: fun tramping, awesome paddling, beautiful campsites, and a peaceful way to close out a phenomenal year. We are very blessed to live in New Zealand and explore these powerful mountains. Happy days…

Date: November 12, 2025 Location: The Remarkables, Queenstown, Otago, New Zealand Team: Solo Field Notes: The Grand Couloir is the obvious snow-filled couloir that splits Double Cone and Single Cone. The average slope angle is somewhere around 30 degrees, with one short section hovering around 40 degrees depending on snow conditions. Avalanche and rockfall prone. Coming off of a fantastic trip from Pioneer and Centennial Hut, the weather was still beautiful and I wanted to take advantage of as much sunshine as possible. I had a light day of work on Wednesday and figured a good idea was to ski the Grand Couloir - a route I've only climbed but not skied. The Grand Couloir from a frozen Lake Alta My original intention was to be up early with a high freezing level, but when I woke up at 5 a.m., I put my head back down on the pillow and fell asleep for another hour and forty-five minutes. I woke up thinking I was probably going to be too late as everything would be too warm, but I decided to head up anyway and have a look. Skinning up to Lake Alta, I was blown away to see how much snow is still present. Lake Alta was completely frozen. As I got to the base of the climb, my concern of the snow being too warm was reversed. I realized I was probably going to be several hours too early. I slowly and methodically cramponed up the couloir, hoping it would magically thaw out. Although the sun was shining, there was a hazy high cloud that was blocking the sun from having its full effect and I knew I would be most likely skiing ice, a repeated theme from the last few weeks. At the top of the line, I wasted no time as this line wasn't going to thaw out anytime soon. I did a combination of jump turning and side slipping through the steep bit, and eventually linked turns when the terrain mellowed out. Next time, I think I'll have a go on the Petit Couloir, which looks a little bit more exciting. Either way, it was a fun day out, and glad to take advantage of some late-season turns. Happy days...

Date: May 7, 2026 Location: Gros Ventre Wilderness, Wyoming, USA Team: Solo Field Notes: The West Ridge is the most direct path to the summit and a solid trail can be found the whole way. Park at Poison Creek and head directly east onto the obvious spur. Continue on this spur heading north where one should be on the obvious trail. Beaver Mountain (left) and the Wyoming Range from Cream Puff Peak I had always wanted to do a trip up Cream Puff Peak ever since picking up Thomas Turiano’s skiing bible. Ideally, I wanted to ski it, but this was not going to be the spring for that. A few weeks earlier, Deanna and I had driven through Hoback Canyon to check out the campgrounds. I also wanted to see how much snow remained in the area. Not much. We still had a ways to go before summer, but this seemed like a great pre-season hike and an opportunity to get some solid vertical in. The unmarked trail on the spur east of Poison Creek. Cream Puff Peak is at the top right. I didn’t want to take the Cow Creek Trail, as it looked long and wandery. After looking over the maps, I figured there had to be some sort of trail from Poison Creek since it appeared to be the most direct option. I confirmed this by spotting a faint trail on Google Earth and decided to go for it. I parked at Poison Creek and headed up the obvious spur to the east. Sure enough, there was a solid trail the entire way — so solid it looked intentionally cut. And this trail is steep. You gain roughly 3,500 feet in just three miles, so for anyone looking for a direct and efficient climb, this is a fantastic option. I didn’t see a single person all day, nor did I see any wildlife, which honestly surprised me. At the summit, I checked the register and didn’t find a single entry for 2026. I expected this to be a more popular outing considering how accessible it is — right off the road and directly across from a campground. I brought along my small binoculars and spent time scouting ski lines in the Gros Ventres for the future. Beaver Mountain, in particular, looked incredibly appealing — though access looked tricky. We are incredibly lucky to live in a place with such an abundance of mountain objectives. While on the summit, the wind began to pick up and the sky turned hazy, signaling it was time to head down. I made my way back to the truck for lunch. Happy days... Unnamed Peak at the head of Poison Creek

Date: May 25, 2026 Location: Snake River Range, Wyoming, USA Team: Charlie Pirc Field Notes: Parking is available at Red Creek and a trail leads up to the summit. The Snake River Range from the summit of Red Peak We’re currently in that awkward transition period in the Tetons where skiing no longer makes much sense, but high snow levels still limit how high you can comfortably hike. Thankfully, the greater Teton area has a huge variety of mountain ranges that receive very different snow totals throughout the year. Some of the first ranges to melt out are Hoback Canyon and the Snake River Range. I proposed the idea to Charlie that we head up Red Creek. I wanted to show him some ski lines for next winter, and it also seemed like a good opportunity to get up Red Peak without any issues. The night before, we had an awesome time camping with Deanna and Olivia at Wolf Creek Campground. We hung out alone in the canyon beside a crackling fire late into the evening. We woke early, and I spent forty-five minutes making coffee for everyone while Charlie wolfed down three sausages. I was slightly envious as I sat there eating a bowl of cold oats. Off we went, while Deanna followed behind with Luca at a more casual pace. The trail through this zone is much appreciated because Red Creek can get incredibly bushy. We wasted no time gaining elevation and reached the summit a little over two hours after leaving the car. The summit views are fantastic and I looked deep into the range, envisioning the myriad of adventure possibilities. I was surprised when we ran into Deanna only about 1,200 feet below the summit — with Luca still going strong! We all hiked back down together, enjoying the solitude of the Snake River Range. Happy days...

Date: May 13, 2026 Location: Big Hole Mountains, Idaho, USA Team: Solo Field Notes: A great, straightforward route takes the snaking southeast ridge of Stouts Mountain on the west side of No Cut Timber Canyon. Look for a 4wd track that heads up to power lines. Walk up this track for a few minutes and take the track that heads northwest where there is an obvious gap in the fence. Looking up to the summit of Stouts Mountain It was midweek and with a slow day of work, I wanted to find a quick option to gain some vertical and stand atop a summit. I don't know much of the Big Hole Mountains, other than I stare at them every day from my house in Driggs. My buddy Charlie has told me of some fun ski descents from Stouts, and I figured the obvious ridge lines that lead up to the summit from the road would have a trail. On the southeast ridge of Stouts Mountain I parked at No Cut Timber Canyon off the side of the road and took the power line road up along a fence. There was an obvious gap here and to no surprise, an obvious trail leading up the ridge. Should I have taken bear spray? I don't know. Besides the blowing wind, it was quiet, and I wondered what my odds were of encountering a bear. Over the last two weeks, two people have died from Grizzly Bear attacks in northern Wyoming and Montana. I'm not sure if that increases or decreases my odds. I continued up and the wind was howling. The higher I went though, the quieter the wind became. Looking East up Pine Creek Road. The Tetons are on the skyline. The route provided good travel and I rambled up the ridge, finally getting a view of the final climb up to the summit. This section was steep and I wondered what it would be like covered in snow. The summit views surprised me. There were unique views of the Big Holes, Snake River Range, and the Caribou Range across the valley. Lots to explore by foot and by ski. Happy days...

Date: May 2, 2026 Location: Grand Teton National Park, Wyoming, USA Team: Tim Messina Field Notes: An awesome moderate ski mountaineering objective once the park road opens to String Lake. The South Face is a solid 2,000 foot descent at roughly 35 degrees, a tad steeper at the top of the line. Mount Woodring from Rockchuck Peak. The South Face is at center image. I had wanted to ski the South Face of Mount Woodring ever since I stood on the summit of Rockchuck Peak many years ago. I dreamed of skiing this beautiful 2,000-foot fall line in perfect corn, straight down toward a frozen Holly Lake under a beaming blue sky. Maybe dreams come true... This trip almost didn’t happen. Tim and I were supposed to go on a work trip to one of the worst ski destinations on earth — Austin, Texas. Two days before we were meant to fly out, the trip got axed, and I immediately called Tim. “Trip’s canceled. Pack your bags. We’re skiing Woodring.” Tim answered the call of the wild and showed up at my house Friday evening. I loaded him up with red meat, salmon, and sweet potatoes in an effort to recharge him after the four-hour drive and prepare for the dreaded 3 a.m. wake-up. Tim during our approach up Paintbrush Canyon I’ve never found waking up early easy. In fact, I usually spend the first hour wondering what the hell I’m doing. I brewed extra-strong coffee for both of us, and we hit the road blasting Phish the entire drive while I alerted Tim whenever Trey was about to “go off.” That night was a full moon, and as we rounded the corner toward the String Lake trailhead, the silhouette of the Tetons with the moon sinking behind them sent a chill up my spine. I almost started howling like a wolf. It felt like affirmation for why I had come back. A few hours later, with much more light in the sky, we stood beneath the South Face of Woodring. So far, everything had lined up perfectly. The snow was ideal for cramponing, there wasn’t a cloud in the sky, and there wasn’t a breath of wind. We started up the face, skinning at first before quickly switching to crampons. I noticed Tim looked a little wobbly — maybe even slightly flustered. I knew it wasn’t his fitness; he’s part mountain goat. And this objective certainly wasn’t beyond him — he’s climbed and skied much bigger lines. He mentioned he wasn’t feeling great, and I assumed it was the lack of sleep. Either way, he kept moving. The sun transformed the face from perfect cramponing conditions to if this gets any warmer, we’re turning around in what felt like twenty minutes. It was time to move, and I encouraged both of us to keep steadily climbing. Thankfully, the snow held. Tim climbing the South Face of Mount Woodring We topped out on the South Face around 11 a.m., having timed it nearly perfectly, and transitioned quickly. The first turns off the summit were exactly what I had imagined: velvety, perfect corn. I wrote earlier that I dreamed of skiing this beautiful 2,000-foot fall line in perfect corn down toward Holly Lake under a bluebird sky. Well — that dream came true. I skied the first pitch, Tim skied the second, and I regrouped with him above the final 1,000-foot descent, hooting and hollering as I pulled up beside him. When I went to give him a hug, he turned away and dry-heaved. I think he actually puked. What I had noticed earlier was actually dehydration mixed with the effects of altitude. Come to think of it, he hadn’t really drunk much water since arriving the night before. He took a breather and we skied the final 1,000 feet in absolutely mind-blowing conditions. Tim nearing the top of the South Face on Mount Woodring We ducked into the shade at Holly Lake and gave ourselves a proper rest before beginning the long exit — water, food, shade, and a reset. Eventually, Tim came back to life. His batteries slowly recharged, and he became the Tim of old again: energetic, laughing, motivated. From here, it took us a few more hours to ski back down Paintbrush Canyon, switch back into hiking shoes, and walk the final two miles to the car. To cap off an incredible day, we took a long cold plunge beneath the bridge at String Lake. Happy days...

Date: April 21, 2026 Location: Grand Teton National Park, Wyoming, USA Team: Charlie Pirc Field Notes: A straightforward climb and ski from Hanging Canyon with the steeper sections when you're on the face. The East Face gets blasted by the sun at first light. The East Face of The Jaw. Taken almost exactly nine years earlier. For my first few weeks back in the Tetons, it’s been pretty damn good. I skied 4,000 feet of corn off Mount Saint John, had multiple powder days on Glory, and now found myself on another mission in the park with Charlie. The forecast called for warm weather, so we left Driggs at 4:00 a.m. We estimated about four hours to the summit of The Jaw, which would put us skiing by around 10:30. This was actually my second attempt on the peak — almost nine years to the day. Last time, we bailed just a few hundred feet below the summit due to rapidly warming conditions. After an energizing bike ride to String Lake, Charlie and I followed the summer trail around Jenny Lake, then headed up toward Lake of the Crags until we hit a tongue of snow and transitioned to skins. As soon as we got onto snow, it got hot. And the higher we climbed, the hotter it got. By the time we skinned into Hanging Canyon, it felt like we were inside a furnace. I can’t remember sweating this much in the mountains. Beads of sweat were dripping off my head, and Charlie looked like he had just jumped into a pool. Down low, the snow was still holding up. Crossing a frozen Lake of the Crags, I felt good about our timing. That confidence continued as we skinned up the final benches that led us beneath the East Face. We started the final 500 feet, skinning as far as we could before transitioning to bootpack. Charlie skinning in Hanging Canyon. The Jaw is in the back. And then it all went to shit. Charlie asked what I thought about the snow. It was getting warm, but there hadn’t been any major red flags yet — no rollerballs, no pinwheels, and we weren’t punching through. Then, right as we were talking, the first pinwheel of the day peeled off a sunbaked rock above us. We watched as a sizable rollerball cascaded down the face — and then suddenly a whumpf in the snowpack. Welp, time to get the hell outta there. We transitioned quickly and skied down. Looking back, there were a few key takeaways. First off, starting one to two hours earlier would have changed everything: likely a summit ski, and a safer margin overall. The day was extremely hot, and there was no reason not to build in more buffer. Secondly, we assumed that the conditions lower down were going to translate onto the face. I could not have been more wrong. The lower sections of the route had gone through a corn cycle, where the actual face on The Jaw had not. Thankfully, we did notice this snow transition at exactly the right time and decided to bail. Ironically, we turned around at almost the exact same spot as I did nine years ago. We may have missed the timing, but we walked away with more experience — and still a solid day out. Happy days...

Date: April 8, 2026 Location: Grand Teton National Park, Wyoming, USA Team: Charlie Pirc, Evan Flach Field Notes: One of my favorite Teton spring ski descents with 4,000 feet of fall line skiing to the valley floor. East facing so it gets first light - start early. Our descent route on the East Face of Mount Saint John, taken during a big snow year in 2017 A twenty-four-hour flight, five days in Salt Lake, and a four-hour drive later, I was finally back in the Tetons. Packing, unpacking, selling a car, buying a new one, and all the mental load that comes with moving from the bottom of the world had finally caught up with me. To be honest, I wasn’t feeling especially motivated for this trip. I could feel the effects of relocation, and my body needed deep rest. But spring ski season was going to be short with the low snow year, and I had been incredibly stoked to reconnect with these two legends for a long time. Alarms went off early, and I met Charlie and Evan at 4 a.m. in Victor — the first time I’d seen them in over five years. Whatever exhaustion I’d been carrying immediately disappeared. The stoke came rushing back the moment I saw them. We loaded up Evan’s car, did a quick gear check, and drove into the park. Soon we were pedaling through the dark on the forty-five-minute bike ride to String Lake. I mostly focused on putting my head down and spinning the pedals. Our original plan was to ski something north-facing out of Paintbrush Canyon. But while walking around String Lake, I asked Evan and Charlie if they had ever skied Mount Saint John. They hadn’t. Today was shaping up to be a perfect corn day, and Saint John has always been one of my favorite ski descents in the range. They didn’t need much convincing, and just like that, the plan changed. We stashed skins and ski crampons and began the long bootpack up the face. Right now, I honestly feel fitter than I ever have in my life. But on this trip, I felt wrecked. Call it stress from the move, lack of sleep, altitude — whatever it was, I felt completely worked. Thankfully, Evan is an absolute machine and punched steps up nearly the entire 4,000-foot face. I think Charlie and I each took maybe fifteen minutes on the bootpack before Evan reclaimed the lead and started charging upward again. It was impressive. I can’t remember the last time my heart rate felt that high. By the time we topped out, I felt slightly dizzy. Jesus. Was it the altitude? We snapped a few photos, had a quick bite to eat, and transitioned for the descent. Now the stoke was fully back. I had butterflies in my stomach from pure excitement. I’d been dreaming about skiing in the park again for too long. We dropped into a perfect 35-degree pitch of smooth corn right off the summit. Skiing pitch by pitch, we leapfrogged down the face, generally trending skier’s right. (Great options also exist on the northeast aspect of Saint John, but we weren’t confident enough in the snow coverage to commit to them.) Teewinot, Owen, and the Grand Teton from the sub-peak on Mount Saint John At the bottom of the face, we celebrated what had already become a phenomenal day. Maybe I celebrated a little too early, because shortly afterward I hit some sticky spring snow and got launched into the bushes. Twice. An unforgiving bike ride back to the car — complete with a headwind and spectacular views of Teewinot — capped off a brilliant day. I’m incredibly stoked to be back in the Tetons, and even more stoked to be back in the mountains with Charlie and Evan. Happy days...

Date:  March 22 - 23, 2026 Location: Richardson Mountains, Mount Aspiring National Park, Otago, New Zealand Team:  Solo Field Notes: Two fun climbs at the head of the Rees Valley. To climb Cunningham, I used the low angled SW Couloir, where I only needed light spikes on my hiking shoes. For Cleft Peak, climb an awesome slab at around grade 10. It is not protectable. Great camping exists around the 1,100 meter contour below Cunningham. The rock quality in this range is terrible, and a helmet is strongly recommended. Looking down the West Face from the summit of Cleft Peak My last night in the Southern Alps treated me to something special. I was nestled into my sleeping bag, eyes darting up to the sky, staring at a miraculous set of stars. Over the last two years here I have done close to one-hundred trips in the mountains. Many of those trips were spent with a night out, and in many cases, multiple nights out. Why was it then that the best night of stars I have ever seen were on this night? The final night? Half of me was beyond grateful, the other half wishing I had someone to share it with. Unfortunately, that has been the theme throughout my time in New Zealand. I hosted a final friends gathering the night prior to connect with the people who meant the most to me. In the peak of the night, I took a moment to look around. What struck me was that not a single person there was a climbing partner. In many ways, many of the relationships I felt that I had poured so much energy and time with had not come to their potential. The upper Rees Valley. Mount Clarke is at center left. I reflected on this under the stars, and realized that in my effort in the search for reliable climbing partners, it was not all for nothing. There was real potential with Rob, and I'm grateful that my best trips here were with him. I tried to sleep unsuccessfully. Now my mind was racing and I wanted it to be early enough so I could start making coffee and make my ascent of Cleft Peak. But it was only two in the morning... -- The previous day had been brilliant. My friend Tim let me borrow his Suzuki Jimny and I drove up the Rees Valley 4wd track, crossing rivers all along the way. I made quick work up to Shelter Rock Hut, taking only two hours, and continued up the valley where I dumped my gear for camp that night. Looking up at Cunningham, I wondered how steep the couloir would get. The Southwest Couloir on Mount Cunningham. I launched uphill, energized by great weather and the call of the Kea. As I got higher, the couloir was as tame as it gets, and light spikes and hiking poles are all that is needed (at this time of the year). That said, there is other danger here. As I climbed higher, a burst of rock fall dislodged from above and crashed into the couloir. Topping out, the view from the summit was powerful. Three-hundred-and-sixty degree views in all directions. Everything from Aspiring, The Snowdrift Range, The Barrier Range, Earnslaw, and beyond. I sat in silence for a few moments enjoying the spectacular scenery - the best of the trip. The body makes the call and it wanted to move, and a few minutes later I was off, bounding downhill straight for camp and a hot dinner The remote Snowdrift Range from the summit of Mount Cunningham -- At somewhere around five in the morning I was too restless and wanted to go, so I slowly started to boil water. Hot coffee and breakfast started up my engine, and about an hour later I left camp. I started back down the Rees Valley until crossing a stream and choosing a spur that headed up towards Point 1992. The terrain here for the first four hundred meters is thick tussock country. Breaking free from the tussock, I climbed scree slopes until around the 1800 meter mark where it became quite loose. Ideally, stay on the southern side of Point 1992 as the northern end is steeper, with huge, unstable blocks of rock. I topped out along the ridge where I was greeted by the early morning sun and easily sidled under Point 1992 on the southern end. Then I headed straight for Cleft Peak. It's best to stay about fifty or so meters off of the ridgeline as you approach the final summit slopes for easiest travel. Finally under the West Face, I was excited for the exposed scramble to the top. The guidebook mentions the grade is around rock 10, and unprotectable. In my experience, this was dead on. The crack provides solid, enjoyable climbing with great exposure. In many ways, this reminded me of the final summit climb to the summit of Mount Avalanche along the West Ridge. At the summit, the views towards Lake Lochnagar are brilliant. And of course, looking towards Headlong Peak and the remote Snowy Creek. I snapped a few photos and decided to keep moving. The wind was up and and there was enough chill in the air to keep me moving. I carefully down-climbed the slab, meticulous with every movement. On my descent, I decided to explore the route at the northern end of Point 1992. I would advise against this due to the nature of the rock, unless it was fully snow covered. Back down in the valley, I took a final electrifying cold plunge in the Rees River, savoring the short lived pain that ran down to my bones. Looking around at so many peaks climbed, I was so grateful to these peaks. -- Even though I am leaving, New Zealand feels like a second home to me. Over the last twelve years I have spent three and a half of them here - all of them well enjoyed. There is so much I could write, but most of it has been said before on this blog. The Southern Alps are a powerful range. Remote, wild, majestic. I am very grateful to the people who made it special and the experiences I've been able to have. For now, I'm heading back to the Tetons where world class alpine rock and ski mountaineering await. Happy days...

Date:  February 5, 2026 Location: San Juan Mountains, Eureka, Colorado, USA Team:  Steven Van Sickle Field Notes: This is a fantastic climb. Two steep pitches with bolted anchors. Descent is via two full rappels with a 70m rope. The second pitch of Tempered By Fire After Second Gully, I was curious to see what Steven had planned next. He was keen on climbing Goldrush, but another party was already on it, so we continued walking up the road. He decided we should climb Tempered by Fire  — two pitches of beautifully steep ice. As we approached, I felt that familiar edge of anxiety. The kind that shows up when you step just beyond your comfort zone — but are still in control. The space where growth lives. The first pitch of Tempered By Fire All of the leading I had done so far had felt solid. This season alone, I’d put in close to sixty pitches in the Ice Park, received tons of feedback and mentorship, and really focused on technique. I feel really good on ice. I love the movement — the swing of the tools, the precision of technique, reading the ice. When I’m on ice, everything clicks. But this would be my steepest lead yet. I looked over at Steven. “Dude — you’ve been climbing so well. You’ve got this. There is no way I would let you lead this if I felt there was even the slightest chance you’d fall.” That was all I needed to hear. I looked up at the climb, visualized my moves, visualized my gear placements, identified the rests, and then set off with absolute focus. I love observing what happens mentally on lead. Negative thoughts enter the mind. But those thoughts aren’t you. The game is not to engage with them — it’s to stay laser-focused on the task at hand. At some point, the thoughts disappeared entirely, and I was immersed in the simple act of moving upward on a cold blue ribbon of ice. I final cruxy move over a bulge and I arrived at the top of the pitch with a huge smile on my face. Humans grow when challenged, and in that challenge, we learn so much about ourselves. I was beyond stoked. The second pitch of Tempered By Fire I brought Steven up, and we swapped leads for the second pitch. Pitch two was a thick curtain of steep blue ice — absolutely beautiful. I watched the master at work, methodically picking his way upward, and soon enough he was tugging on the rope, signaling me to climb. Two rappels later, we were back at our packs. This was some of the best ice I’ve climbed and it was made even better by great company. I will surely be back in the Eureka zone. Happy days...

Date:  February 5, 2026 Location: San Juan Mountains, Eureka, Colorado, USA Team:  Steven Van Sickle Field Notes: The classic WI3 route of the area. A standard ice rack and a 60/70m rope will do. The anchors are bolted, and descent is via a walk-off to the climber's right down a snow-filled gully. Second Gully Although it’s been a warm season in Ouray and the Ice Park is having one of its worst seasons ever, the backcountry ice in the area has been on point. In fact, Eureka has been having a great season. I’d been wanting to get down to this zone ever since I discovered how good the ice climbing is around Ouray. Looking across the valley. The famous Stairway to Heaven on the left. Being relatively new to leading on ice, I was looking for routes that would allow me to build skills and confidence. Steven suggested we climb Second Gully and Tempered by Fire. When we pulled into the parking lot, there were only a few cars there. We got straight to it and headed toward Second Gully, as it’s one of the more popular lines. We racked up, tied in, and I started off on lead. In fact, I lead the whole climb as Steven was stoked for me to get as much lead volume as possible. Second Gully is your classic stepped, moderate gully with a few body-length steeper sections. I found it quite straightforward, and Steven practically ice-skated up behind me. That’s not to say it wasn’t fun — it absolutely was. It was exactly the confidence-inspiring climb I was looking for. And as a bonus, the ice was absolutely bomber. Steven said it was some of the fattest he has ever seen for that climb. I really enjoy multi-pitch climbing and the efficiency that comes with it. Steven’s résumé is pretty much insane, and I was able to learn a lot just by climbing alongside him. I always appreciate being around climbers who’ve been in the game for a long time and still carry genuine stoke. At the top, we descended via an easy snow-filled gully with just one slightly awkward move. Before we knew it, we were back in the sun, scoping out our next line for the day. Happy days...

Date:  February 1, 2026 Location: San Juan Mountains, Red Mountain Pass, Ouray, Colorado, USA Team:  Adam Sapers Field Notes: From Red Mountain Pass, many options exist for a low-angled approach to the summit. Looking up towards the summit of Telluride Peak and its Southwest Face. After our full day in the Ice Park and our multi-pitch adventure on Dexter Creek Slabs, Adam was ready to trade ice tools for skis. A lingering persistent slab problem and thin San Juan snowpack limited our options for bigger, steeper objectives, so Adam found some safer alternatives. One of those ideas was Telluride Peak, which would allow us to easily manage terrain, and then ski some north-facing terrain at lower elevations to avoid the avalanche problems. The morning was cold and clear at Red Mountain Pass and we were treated to a spectacular sunrise. One of the things I missed so much about the States is skinning through a snow-covered forest. In New Zealand, you are walking on a dirt track with your skis on your back, up a couple thousand feet to reach the snow. A very different experience. In the basins east of Trico Peak As we skinned higher, we left the shelter of the trees and were soon skinning in base layers. The San Juans are an interesting mountain range. There is a ton of epic ski terrain. I was also blown away at how remote and quiet the range is. The downside, however, is that it usually has a thin snowpack and deals with arguably the worst snowpack in the country. Long periods of high-pressure create facets, which create a weak layer. Ultimately, it snows on top of that weak layer. It stays cold and the weak layer is buried deep in the snowpack, creating a dangerous persistent slab problem. I’ve had two experiences in my life that have altered the way I think about dealing with that specific avalanche problem. One of those experiences was my friend who died in this exact mountain range. The other experience is another very good friend who triggered a D3 avalanche and miraculously survived. After those experiences, one of my rules is that I do not ski on a slope that has a persistent-slab problem - full stop. It’s virtually impossible to test, and even if you do, there is spatial variability. We continued upwards, admiring the terrain, future casting adventures, and feeling the effects of the altitude. Ultimately, we climbed up to the summit where more terrain opened up. This place has some seriously awesome terrain. What was not so awesome was the skiing. My worst nightmare - breakable crust. Adam, five months off a torn ACL and being an expert skier, skied gracefully. I, on the other hand, fell, tumbled, twirled, and whatever crazy body motions you could imagine, down. I can’t say skied down, because that wouldn’t accurate. There was a moment we found a short, north-facing run lower down for a few turns that made for some nice skiing, which was a highlight. Back at the road, we hitchhiked back to our car, unbelievably from a guy that was going in the other direction, and called it a day. Three full days with Sapers ice climbing and backcountry skiing made up for lost time, and I can’t wait for more adventures together in the future. Happy days...

Date:  January 31, 2026 Location: Ouray, Colorado, USA Team:  Adam Sapers Field Notes: A 70m rope will allow most parties to complete this in 2 pitches. The first pitch is WI3/4 that tops out on a low-angle ramp. Belay here or at tree anchors to the right. The second pitch climbs the lower-angled ice until a final 20 feet of WI4 ice. The belay anchor is on a tree to the climber's left. We chose to rappel the route. Alternatively, there is a walk off to the climber's left of the route. Dexter Creek Slabs. The first pitch is in the upper middle of the photo - the flow in the shade. The last time I got to play in the mountains with Sapers feels like a lifetime ago. But when we reconnected in Ouray, it felt like only a week had passed. Deanna asked me if it felt like we had changed much since we’d last seen each other. My answer? Not really. We’re both still optimizing our lives for adventure and time in the mountains. Of course, we’ve grown in many ways. But at our core, we’re the same. If anything, internal obstacles have been removed, which has only brought us closer to who we’ve always been. Sapers is a shredder on skis, but Ouray is the capital of ice climbing, and I really wanted to get him out on some ice while he was here. The first pitch on Dexter Creek Slabs. We climbed the thick part of the flow in the middle. The day before our climb, we spent time at the Ouray Ice Park dialing in technique and having fun. Dexter Creek Slabs is only a five-minute drive from the Airbnb, goes at around WI3/4, and seemed like the perfect multi-pitch climb to do together. We started at sunrise and bootpacked through knee-deep snow to reach the base. Standing below the first pitch, it looked steeper than I’d expected — which was perfect. A solid step up from some of the other routes I’d been climbing. We roped up, and I led out on the first pitch. To my delight, the ice was hero — super sticky, one swing sticks. I moved methodically, placing screws every few body lengths, settling into rhythm. At the top of the first pitch, I used the tree anchors to belay, located to the climber’s right. Up came Sapers, and we transitioned to the second pitch. The weather was perfect. We didn’t even need belay jackets. I was also surprised to see no other parties on the route — just the two of us on this beautiful blue ribbon of ice. I climbed the lower-angle section of the second pitch until things steepened about twenty feet below the top-out. It was steeper than the first pitch, so I placed a screw while at a comfortable stance and took a moment to assess. Once I visualized the moves, I committed. Deliberate. Methodical. Staying in flow. Place a high tool. Walk the feet up. Repeat. At the top, I built an anchor off a tree and brought Sapers up. We were stoked — our first ice climb together! A new experience added to a long history of shared adventure. From there, we rappelled the route and were soon back on solid ground. Rappelling Dexter Creek Slabs Not long after that, we were back home, where Deanna had made fresh soup. Happy days...

Date:  January 23, 2026 Location: Camp Bird, Ouray, Colorado, USA Team:  Michael Young Field Notes: A 70m rope is sufficient and there are bolted anchors at the top. The climbers left flow is steeper at WI4/5, while the right flow goes around WI3. Popular. Senators Gulch Although I've spent the majority of my life living in the United States, it wasn't until I came back for a visit after living in New Zealand for the last three years to remember how absolutely epic the climbing is here. This route is a mere ten-minute walk from the parking lot on Camp Bird Road. Although popular, Mike and I were the only people on the route. It was a perfect winter morning. There were light snow flurries in the air and the temperature was somewhere around twenty degrees. Senators Gulch has a few options. The right side flow goes somewhere around WI3 where the left side has much steeper options. I decided to lead out on the right flow so we could set up a top rope anchor to climb the left flows. It's been a warm spring for Colorado, and the right flow was a bit thin in places, but otherwise the climbing was straightforward and fun. Happy days...

Date: March 20, 2025 Location: Harris Mountains, West Matukituki, Mount Aspiring National Park, Otago, New Zealand Team: Alex Catalfamo Field Notes: The North East ridge of Tyndall is accessed by climbing the Cascade Saddle route from Aspiring Hut. At the top of the climb, head South towards along the easy ridge towards the summit. Sidle below Point 2380 and aim directly for the North East ridge. Scramble loose rock to the summit. There are excellent campsites with reliable water sources along the ridge. Mount Tyndall Route Topo We are approaching the end of the season now. Colder morning temperatures, leaves beginning to change colors, and broken glaciers are a signal of the outgoing tide. It has been one hell of a season and I'm so grateful for all of the amazing trips that have happened throughout spring, summer, and autumn. With so many peaks climbed, it's funny the list grows bigger of new summits to explore. The last time I was up the West Matukituki was in January climbing Bevan and Joffre. As I biked out of the valley on that trip I thought it would be my last trip up the Matuki this season. However, as Alex and I brainstormed ideas I thought it would be a good idea to take him up Tyndall. Henry and I had gotten skunked on this peak last season because of a pour route choice and we ran out of time. Naturally, I wanted to repent and clear myself of all sins and find enlightenment atop the nearly 2,500-meter-tall peak. Alex climbing towards Cascade Saddle So there we were, biking up the valley hoping we wouldn't have another mechanical issue like on Earnslaw. As we were nearing Aspiring Hut, I hit a rock and my left hand slipped off the handlebar and my right hand squeezed the front brake. Bad combo. I go directly over the front of my bike. In mid-air, I remembered a time when I was 13 when I went over the handlebars, landed on my shoulder, and broke my collarbone. So I decided not to let my shoulder take the impact. Instead, I just sprawled out and ate dirt. My bike flipped into the bush. Other than my knee getting a pretty good thrashing I was okay. This was the closest call I've had all season. I'll take it. It's always the moment when you mentally switch off. At Aspiring Hut we stopped for breakfast and watched four Keas absolutely maul our bikes. I had a foreboding of bad things to come at the end of our day. As if it was going to make a difference, we threw a bunch of sticks on our bikes. Mount Tyndall from Cascade Saddle Light packs and full hearts we started up the Cascade Saddle track. I don't care how fit you are, this track is freaking steep. Long story short, we got to the top in two hours and twenty minutes and enjoyed a break. There was no wind and no clouds. The sun was oppressively hot and I felt like we were in Afghanistan. We took the ridge heading South and got our first view of Tyndall. Snow melt from the glacier above provided pure drinking water and we gladly rehydrated. At the toe of the glacier I laughed at myself for the route Henry and I took last time. This thing was a mess! I will say, however, that a fresh covering of snow from a few days prior made it look like a snowfield. Either way, I took us directly under Point 2380 and we walked at the edge of the Isobel Glacier. We started up the North East Ridge, climbing about twenty meters below the actual ridge line. Just below the summit, we climbed up a ramp, joined the ridge, and made the final moves to the summit. I looked down at my watch: four hours and thirty minutes from Aspiring Hut. We fist bumped - stoked on the feeling of fluid movement in the mountains. The summit view from Tyndall is actually incredible. The Harris Mountains, Richardson's, the Main Divide, Fiordland, Aspiring, and even Cook was visible in the distance. What a place to be. After our summit break, we scampered back down the ridge to Cascade Saddle and eventually back to Aspiring Hut. We wondered about the state of our bikes. Other than my seat being completely mauled, it seemed we were good. I got on my bike. Alex got on his bike. Alex started to pedal. Then his chain got completely jammed. Jammed so badly that Alex considered walking out. We spent fifteen minutes trying to un-jam the chain while getting savagely attacked by sandflies. At a breaking point, Alex walks into the hut and asks for help. A girl tells him, my boyfriend is good with bikes. I'll get him. Meanwhile I'm trying to undo the chain. Then this couple walks out and the guy goes, oh wow, your chain is jammed. Hmm, I don't know how to get it out. I didn't bring any tools. I'm realizing in the moment that this guy doesn't have the heart to help. He was probably sitting inside next to a fire writing poetry and drinking herbal tea. Meanwhile, I'm on the front lines battling sandflies while Alex is, quote, "ready to carry the bike out the West Matukituki." It felt like Black Hawk Down. It was do or die. Then I look at the bike guy and say, do you want to try and undo it? His response was (and no I am not kidding), oh no, sorry, I don't have any soap to wash my hands. I don't have any soap to wash my hands! I don't have any soap to wash my hands! This is the state of men in the world today! Herbal tea and hand soap. Then Alex comes up and grabs the bike like he's trying to strangle it and rips the chain free. His biceps flex in the evening light. I tilt my head back and howl like a wolf. We are free. The couple runs back inside to their books and tea while we fly out the West Matukituki - blood pumping and brains steaming. Happy days...

Date: July 1-2, 2023 Location: Peter Lougheed Provincial Park, Kananaskis, Alberta, Canada Total Trip Distance: 13.7 mi / 22 km Total Elevation Gain : 4,800 ft / 1,463 m Trip Duration: 2 days Team: With Alex Catalfamo Field Notes: This trip is easily completed in a day. We wanted to break up the long drive and had a strong desire to camp in the alpine. The tarns we camped at were magical. The ascent is straightforward and helmets are not required. The only difficulty is the steep, loose scree on the final 1,000 ft. The summit view was spectacular and there is plenty of water on route. Rating: Class 2 Download GPX File Google Maps Location Mount James Walker Route Map As summer started to take hold, Alex and I began to explore deeper into the Canadian Rockies. This wound up being one of our favorite trips of summer. The approach was beautiful and took only a few hours to get to camp. Our camp-spot located at the tarns in the alpine valley below the summit remains one of the best camping spots of summer. The climb to the summit the following morning was spectacular. We woke up at sunrise and found ourselves above the clouds. There have been a few memorable Canadian summits from this summer... namely, Mount Daly, Mount Niles, and Mount Nelson. However, this one may have topped the lot for me. The clarity in the sky was perfect, we were above the clouds, and were completely engulfed by jagged peaks. Enjoy the photos below and happy days...

Date: October 4, 2023 Location: Adirondack State Park, New York, USA Total Trip Distance: 8.33 mi / 13.40 km Total Elevation Gain : 2,800 ft / 853 m Trip Duration: 4 hours 45 min Team: John Kellogg Field Notes: Once above treeline, the mile and a half long ridge to the true summit of Jay Mountain has some of the most expansive views in all of the Adirondacks. There is no water en route. Rating: Class 1 Download GPX File Google Maps Location Jay Mountain Route Map Fall in the Adirondacks might be here on paper but it sure as hell didn't feel like it. The forecast was calling for temperatures in the 80's and it was early October. After doing the Dix Range last week combined with John not being as avid a hiker as I, we opted to do a half day trip with Jay Mountain. I first came across Jay after doing a gravel ride around the entire mountain last fall which was spectacular. I made a note to come back and climb to the top of the peak. We arrived at the trailhead around 8:30 in the morning after John had consumed enough caffeine to stop the heart of a lion. It had the opposite effect and we set a quick pace to the summit. I also knew that his wife had made chocolate chip cookies and they were sitting in the back of the car for when we get got back. We reached the first viewpoint in a little over an hour and snapped a few photographs. From here the ridge really opens up and there are views of the entire Great Range. The mountains of New York are interesting. It seems as if 99% of the mountain is treed, except for the occasional lookout along the way, with the summits being bare (if the elevation is high enough). Such a contrast to other mountain ranges of the world where you get a ton of views on the way up. This is what makes this area unique and the summits more rewarding. However, Jay is different. It reminds me a lot of hiking Giant Mountain from Chapel Pond. Views almost the entire way. The fall colors were in effect and it seemed like we were more than halfway to peak foliage. The Great Range from Jay The true summit of Jay was not as spectacular as sections of the ridge, but nonetheless it was nice to be on top with a good mate. John and I have been friends since 4 years old. He's my longest and closest friend...not many can say that and I am indeed fortunate. For the last few years we've made it a point (or I've convinced him) to get up to the 'Daks for a good hike. This one turned out to be a classic. Special moments...the views, the weather, fall foliage, uncrowded trails, sandwiches post hike, and a cold swim at Split Rock. As I sat in the cold water the golden sun streamed through the trees. The waterfall crashed down over the rocks. No one else was around. I got a little misty eyed and savored the moment because you wonder how many more of these moments exist in life... Happy days...

Date: September 27, 2023 Location: Adirondack State Park, High Peaks Region, New York, USA Total Trip Distance: 17.48 mi / 28 km Total Elevation Gain : 5,400 ft / 1,646 m Trip Duration: 10.5 hours Team: Solo Field Notes: The Dix Range is an Adirondack classic. 5 summits, rough terrain, and a long day out. There wasn't any water up on the ridge, but plenty in the valley below. I could see this being hellish in the spring and/or after a rainy period. I started with Macomb first. The parking at Elk Lake only has spots for 20 cars and apparently fills up by 4 am in summer. Rating: Class 1 Download GPX File Google Maps Location Dix Range Route Map The Dix Range is a trip I've wanted to do for quite awhile. I grew up in Albany, New York and the Adirondacks have been fundamental in developing my passion for the outdoors. Most of my early years in the hills were spent hiking in the Daks. Beautiful Adirondacks While I am home visiting family for a few weeks before I fly to New Zealand, my dad let me borrow his truck and I made my way north on a Tuesday. I had a solid weather forecast and fall was knocking on the door. I pulled into the trailhead at Elk Lake Lodge at 8 am and started up. I wasn't feeling 100%. For the last three days I was battling a runny nose and low energy. The four day trip in the Pasayten was just a week ago and in that time I've traveled all the way back from Canada, to Seattle, to New York. I figured I needed to get the blood pumping and this day would surely do the trick. I told myself I wanted to do this day in eight hours (haha) and set a strong all day pace. At just over two hours I was on top of Macomb and had knocked out a little over 2k of vert. I had a homemade breakfast burrito with bacon and eggs and kept moving towards South Dix. As I was going down to the col I remembered how heinous the terrain is in the Adirondacks. Here is my perspective on Adirondack terrain: I've traveled all over the world for the last 10 years. If you look at my interactive map of trips I've been in Idaho, Wyoming, Canada, New Zealand, California, Tasmania, etc. To be fair, this isn't "everywhere", nor is that a goal, but I've been to quite a few places. In my opinion, nowhere in the world has rougher trails than the Adirondacks. I'm not talking about scrambling or mountaineering, just purely trails. It's bloody rough out here. I quickly climbed up South Dix and kept moving towards Grace. There is a one mile stretch between the two peaks and in another twenty five minutes I stood on my third peak. At this point it had been three and a half hours and I had a realization... this was going to be a very long day! I did a quick downward dog and got back into flow, if you could call it that. After retracing my steps back to South Dix I cut right and began the ridge to Hough and Dix. This was my favorite part of the day as the views are unique and open up along the ridge. Just below Hough I met another hiker (only the second the entire day) where I found out the peak is pronounced "Huff." I was now enlightened and scrambled to the top of my fourth peak of the day. I enjoyed a quick snack and kept moving. Of course the trail dropped down another 400 feet and I began the final 1,000 foot climb to the top of Dix. I set a casual pace and went up. At the top of the Beck-horn the views were my favorite of the trip. I could see the entire Great Range, Giant, Rocky Peak Ridge, the Santanoni Range, the Southern Adirondacks, Whiteface, and many more. Holy cripe. And to have it all alone was a treat. At this point it was 6.5 hours on the move. I knew that the way out was going to be a complete slog, so I took a solid rest and refueled. Ahead of me lay a 2,600 foot descent to the valley floor, followed by another 4 miles. This was going to suck, no doubt about it. Fast forward and I was at the valley bottom. It sucked worse than I thought. I took another break as my legs were feeling pretty cooked at this point. I kept walking and ran into the beautiful Lillian Brook. Cold water! I got completely naked and submerged my legs and feet into the icy magic. Feeling recharged I walked the final 4-ish miles back to the car, ending the day just on the stroke of 10.5 hours. This was the longest day I've had in the mountains in a long time. The thing about the Adirondacks is that for many of the peaks, there can be quite a long approach. Definitely a contrast to many of the trips I did in Canada this summer. All in all, a classic day out in the Daks. Happy days...

Date: September 16-19, 2023 Location: Pasayten Wilderness, Washington State, USA Total Trip Distance: 31.42 mi / 50.56 km Total Elevation Gain : 9,814 ft / 2,991 m Trip Duration: 4 Days Team: With Alex Catalfamo Field Notes: An incredible 4-day trip over remote, rugged terrain that includes a 6 mile long alpine ridge connecting two summits with a class 3 scramble. Osceola peak makes a worthy objective as well with absolutely stunning views over the Pasayten Wilderness. Water is abundant (except on the ridge lines) and the camp spots quiet and undisturbed. The Pasayten is a place I hope to revisit in the future. Rating: Class 2 / 3 Download GPX File Google Maps Location Wildcat, Rolo, Osceola, Old Trail Peak Route Map On Friday we left for the open road and left behind a special three month stint in Fernie, British Columbia. This summer had been a classic. I got to live with one of my closest friends, we didn't kill each other, and we went on tons of incredible trips in the Canadian Rockies. All of this was just training in my mind as my ultimate goal is to be back in the Southern Alps of New Zealand. To be honest, it's been hard to be present this summer...even with all the incredible trips. The stronger I felt, the more excited I became to return to New Zealand in October. As we drove back to Seattle to return our rental car we had one final destination: The Pasayten. The Pasayten Wilderness from Mount Rolo The Pasayten Wilderness is a 531,000 acre wilderness zone that has more than 150 peaks above 7,500 feet in elevation. The area is a habitat for deer, moose, mountain goats, bighorn sheep, the gray wolf, and is home to the largest population of lynx in the Lower 48. This is my type of trip. Off the beaten path. Remote. Quiet. We drove up the road to the "famous" Slate Pass and were surprised to see a lot of cars. There were a shit ton of cars actually. We quickly packed up our belongings and got started. It was two in the afternoon and the temperature was in the mid 60's. We had a near perfect weather forecast for the next four days. It felt like we could do no wrong this summer. Alex descending Slate Pass From Slate Pass we descended down to the Middle Fork of the Pasayten River and then headed north up Robinson's Creek. After 5 miles or so, we turned right and made the ascent up to Furguson Lake. When we arrived at the lake, the sun was setting and the temperature was dropping off. I knew it was now or never so I jumped into the lake. Cold magic. We set up our sleeping arrangements for the night, collected firewood, and got a fire going. We hung out by the fire accompanied by the wind, trees, and last light hitting the western slopes of Wildcat Mountain. You could feel it - this was going to be a spectacular trip. By nine I was completely fried and went to go to bed. As I was drifting off I heard pounding on the ground near me and I shot up out of bed... "HOLY SHIT!" I scrambled to get my headlamp and turn it on. I flashed it in all directions while Alex was asking me what the hell was going on. It was a deer. Jesus. The deer scampered off into the woods. Fifteen minutes later the pounding came back and on went the headlamp. The deer again. This scenario repeated itself (and no, I'm not kidding) until three in the morning. This deer would come right into our camp. I'm not sure if this was where it feeds, or sleeps, or both...but it would not leave us alone. Alex was particularly bothered. We woke up to cloudy skies on day two. As we had breakfast I realized it was wildfire smoke. I think we were a bit downcast because we thought we had left that behind in Canada. As we worked up the climbers right ridge of Wildcat and got above treeline, the sky was blanketed in smoke. There was still a view and we made our way to the summit. We both agreed that "it is what it is" and vowed to make the best of it. Alex on the summit of Wildcat Mountain The summit of Wildcat has some amazing views, even though visibility was clearly limited. We looked north in anticipation at the alpine ridge that awaited us. We made our way off of the summit and took on the ridge. Almost immediately we were met by loose, crumbly rock combined with loose terrain. I hoped this wouldn't be the theme for the day. It turned out that the majority of the ridge was nice going. Most of the ridge was nothing more than a class 2 scramble with some sections of class 3 that I will describe later on. An added bonus was that the more time we spent on the ridge, the more the weather cleared. A few hours later we had perfect visibility and could see the glaciers in the Northern Cascades. Just in time for the summit of Rolo. We easily bypassed a tricky section and made our way up the south ridge of Rolo. The summit was spectacular. Just a few hours ago we woke up in wildfire smoke and now we stood alone atop a 7,800 foot peak in perfect conditions. This area was magic and I was drooling just thinking of the backcountry ski potential out here. Mountains surrounded us in all directions. After a nice break on the summit we decided to head down to camp at Lake Doris. The crux of this entire route is coming down the North Ridge of Rolo. There were some very steep and exposed sections where a fall would not be a good idea. This is where the route becomes class 3. However, navigation is easy and we just stayed on the North Ridge. Anytime it got beyond class 3, we simply found easier terrain to bypass it. Six hours on the move with overnight packs on loose rock and scree had me looking forward to getting to camp. Just before we hit the seventh hour, we arrived at the stunning Lake Doris. The larches were starting to turn a golden color, the lake was crystal clear, and there wasn't a soul in sight. You could tell fall was knocking on the door waiting to be let in. We set up camp so we had a view of the surrounding peaks - Osceola, Largo, Blackcap, and the stunning Monument Peak. Alex got to work with the fire and I soaked my legs in the lake. Dinner was a steaming hot red curry with chicken. The fire crackled, the wind blew, and the earth turned. All was well with the world. My body baked in the glory of rest from a day spent working in the hills and my belly was full. There is not much else a man needs. Camp, night two The tarp tent flapped noisily as it was battered by strong winds. At least I had slept for a solid five to six hours. Little did I know Alex hadn't slept a wink. It was 3 am and I willed myself back to sleep for a few hours. Eventually we got up, quickly packed up camp, stashed our gear, and headed for Osceola Peak. From camp, there is a loose trail that sidles along the slopes of Osceola. At the bottom of a forested gully there is a small cairn and a path that leads up towards the peak. Take this as it travels diagonally right up the mountain. Once above treeline travel remains straightforward as we angled directly at the face of the mountain. Incredible morning light Above the forest, the views were nothing short of spectacular. The clouds mixed with the early morning light and blue skies. A photographers dream. The higher we climbed, the more inspiring it became. The view of Lake Doris and Mount Rolo was just freaking awesome. As we crested the ridge, we reached the false summit. Five more minutes had us standing on the true summit with a 360 degree view, all alone. It's hard to describe the feelings and sights of being on a remote peak with such spectacular views, so I'll include a bunch of photos below. But this is one of my favorite summits of summer. The stunning summit of Osceola Peak We stayed on the summit for awhile. If it wasn't for the cold wind I would've built a shelter up there and never left. Coming back down to earth is always the hardest part. Alex led the way down and I soon followed. Travel is fastest by sticking close to the skiers right ridge. Our ascent route up Osceola from Lake Doris At camp we packed up our things and made a warm breakfast. To my dismay, an animal had chewed through my folding cup and put my morning coffee in jeopardy. For those that love coffee, this is a serious problem. However, I found a solution (addicts always get their fix). The morning was really opening up now. The weather was perfect for hiking. We left Lake Doris and made the descent past Freds Lake to the valley bottom until we met Robinson's Creek. We then traveled south back towards Slate Pass. After close to eight hours on the move we set up camp at the Middle Fork of the Pasayten River and enjoyed one last fire. The trip had been a wild success. The night was our coldest yet. After another night of poor sleep, Alex got up and made a fire at 4 am. I was out of my sleeping bag by 5 to sit by the fire and made a quick breakfast. I was sad to go and didn't want to leave the wilderness. It had been a perfect trip. Under the glow of dawn, we worked up towards Slate Pass. We considered bagging Haystack Mountain or Slate Peak, but it was lightly snowing and the views obstructed. I passed on the invitation. As we got near the top of the pass it really opened up and again, the lighting was amazing. At the top I suggested we bag Old Trail Peak. Alex needed no convincing and we left our bags at the car. It took about thirty minutes or so to stand atop the peak. The last thirty feet or so is a class 3 scramble. The views at the top were great and a fitting way to end a sensational trip. Happy days...

Date: September 9-10, 2023 Location: Purcell Mountains, British Columbia, Canada Total Trip Distance: 10.36 mi / 16.67 km Total Elevation Gain : 6,400 ft / 1,951 m Trip Duration: Day 1: 2 hours 17 min | Day 2: 6 hours 55 min Team: With Alex Catalfamo Field Notes: We did this trip with a fast and light bivy about 1,000 meters below the summit. However, most will do this in one long day. This is a very steep mountain. However, if one pays attention to route-finding it is nothing more than class 3 scrambling. If you find yourself on class 4 terrain you're off route. There is plenty of water on the ascent until the actual climb begins on the southwest face. Rating: Class 3 Download GPX File Google Maps Location Mount Nelson Route Map Last Minute Decisions It's funny that one of the best trips of summer almost didn't happen. This was our final weekend in Canada. Alex and I are heading back home to a wedding and then I'm going to move to New Zealand in October. So with one last weekend, we wanted to continue our flow of great trips. We talked about what we wanted to do this weekend and I was in favor of an overnight trip because the weather was perfect. Alex had talked about doing Nelson all summer, but this is really a day trip. I figured we were going to do a traverse of Warrior and Cordonnier in Peter Lougheed National Park, but Alex wanted to go somewhere different. The plan was then to drive up to Glacier National Park and climb Mount Afton. It looks to be a spectacular climb but is also a day trip. When I woke up in the morning I thought, "why the fuck are we driving 5 hours to do a day trip?" There is no right or wrong here - it's all personal preference. Alex and I have different goals and motivations in the mountains. We all do. For me personally, the last thing I want to do is work all week and be gifted a near perfect weather forecast, only to drive five hours to a place to do a day trip when there is so much to do with a significantly shorter drive. This would mean we would spend more time driving than hiking. I figured I would just suck it up and go with it as Alex wanted to go to a place we've never been before leaving Canada. Again - different goals and motivations. Two hours into the drive with three more hours to go I was thinking what a mistake this was going to be and wanted to get out of the car. Then something magical happened. We were nearing Invermere I looked to my left and saw a massive, stunning, beautiful peak. Immediately I thought, "that's Mount Nelson." I checked my GPS and sure enough it was. I looked at Alex and suggested we should climb that instead. About a minute or two of back and forth he made a u-turn. He didn't need convincing anyways. We were going to climb Nelson, I was going to avoid driving another three hours, and Alex was going to summit the peak he desired most. Happy. Days. Beautiful Purcells A Very Steep Approach After our low clearance, 2wd car bottomed out on Delphine Creek Road we reached the trailhead. My energy was back and I was psyched to head up the mountain. I was a bit nervous I'll admit. From the road, Nelson is a beast. I had read a few trip reports and others have made it out to be a "no fall extreme exposure" type of climb. After a quick stretch, we packed up our things and got moving. I was experimenting this weekend with a fast and light approach. I was able to fit all of my gear into a Black Diamond Speed 22 liter pack (and I didn't have to cram anything in). The more and more I am in the mountains, the less I want to carry things around. I have a very minimalist mindset and want to be light on my feet. The beauty of this trip was getting to bring the tarp instead of a tent. Once we left our car, the trail starts by crossing over a creek and then turning immediately to the climbers right. If the trail isn't obvious, there is a cairn and orange flagging tape. From here, the trail is relentlessly up for about 650 meters. I'm not kidding, this is the steepest trail I've ever been on in my life. We did 650 meters in one hour and we were not moving fast by any means. On our way up we passed two different groups - a couple and a solo dude. Neither had summited as both had issues with route finding. Before doing the trip, Alex and I had both looked at the description and reviews of Mount Nelson on the All Trails app. Personally, I try to avoid using that app for beta on climbs / scrambles. The reason is because the majority of the people using that app have very limited experience in the mountains and will provide information that is either not useful or can hinder a trip. Scrambling is not hiking just like alpine climbing is not scrambling. Neither is "superior" but requires a different level of fitness, skills, and experience. All Trails is a hiking app, after all. On one review of Nelson in the All Trails app, a person wrote "fears like I've never experienced." This is written by a person who most likely did their first ever scramble on Nelson (nothing wrong with that). As I'll write later on, this is nothing more than a class 3 scramble. This is not to be judgemental but rather to aid in better trip planning (which is why I don't use All Trails for these types of trips). Better trip planning results in more summits, less headaches, less danger, and less time off route - all of which leads to a better experience. This is something I really value after spending a lot of my early years missing out on summits because of poor trip planning. Again - to each their own. The mountains began to show themselves After the first 650 meters, the trail mellows and finds its way into a basin. We broke out of the trees and got a view of Mount Nelson in the distance. It is indeed a steep mountain. We kept climbing up, following a stream on our right. After climbing 1,000 meters from the valley floor, we eyed the last patch of green in the valley and made camp. Alex breaking treeline. Nelson back right. The night was simply perfect. There was almost no wind, there were no bugs, and the temp really cooled off. We didn't even pitch the tarp and opted to sleep under the stars. We had our first fire of the whole summer in a protected cove of some rocks and watched the stars slowly come out overhead. It was probably the best night of the whole summer and I went to bed thanking God for the gift of being alive. After counting five shooting stars I tried my best to fall asleep. Mount Nelson "Hahahahaha." It was 4 am and I was wondering why Alex was laughing just like he was wondering why I was moving around at 4 am. It was cold. When I walked near his bag he broke out in laughter and said that he hadn't slept all night. Neither had I. We've been cursed this summer with very poor sleep in the hills. Oh well! We were absolutely stoked to go up Nelson. I grabbed the fuel can and made a coffee. I sat in my sleeping bag, laid back against a patch of grass, and drank a delicious hot coffee under a blanket of stars. You wonder in these moments if you're dreaming. Alex then had the idea of the summer and relight the fire from last night. So here we are at 4:30 in the morning under the silence of a looming dawn and a looming Mount Nelson. Perfection. I almost enjoy these moments more than the summits. Once we had enough light to move without headlamps we made our way towards Nelson. As we neared the foot of the southwest face Alex commented, "most mountains get less steep the closer you get, Nelson seems to get steeper the closer you get." This seemed to be the case. At the bottom of the face I thought I had scoped a good line to the summit block. There is an obvious gully / rock ramp that leads through the cliff bands. At the top of the gully it meets a wall. From here, go climbers right to bypass this wall and climb above it. Then sidle back climbers left onto the face where unimpeded travel meets the summit block. From there, we would make a decision on how to reach the top. Our route up the SW Face of Mount Nelson We took this proposed route and began our climb. Indeed it was steep, but never more than class 3 scrambling. I only used my hands for balance, but not for climbing. At the top of the gully, we sidled climbers right and got onto the face. From here it was a straight grind to reach the summit block. The view behind us towards Sultana Peak was amazing. At the top of the face we reached the summit block. There was a big cairn that someone had marked with a piece of flagging tape indicating the route. The route goes up to the climbers left through an obvious gap in the face. I looked at Alex - "take us to the summit bro." You could tell how fired up he was to be here. He had wanted to bag Nelson all summer and here we were just fifty meters from the top! Alex on the summit of Mount Nelson Alex charged up the easy class 3 slopes and yelled down for me to come next. Once past this obstacle, the climb goes up easy ledges to reach the summit ridge. Alex cheered out as he spotted the cross on the summit. I snapped a photo of him alone on the peak and then went to join him. Mount Nelson, 9 am, all alone in the Purcells. Magic. Descent This peak made for my 19th Canadian summit this summer. For Alex, number 20. Before we came out here I didn't think that we would have had so many amazing trips. It seems like everything fell into place. Nelson was just another domino to fall. Perfect weather, perfect camp spot, no issues with route finding, and a good slog. We snapped our final photos and made the decision to walk the 2,000 meters back down to the car. An epic end to summer - the summit of Mount Nelson We practiced good mountain sense by not descending on top of each other for the descent. When coming off the face, one has to take care here. The rockfall danger here is no joke. It seems like the Canadian Rockies are one massive pile of loose rocks. Both of our new shoes are literally falling apart after five or six weeks of scrambling out here. The terrain is super rough. I'll spare the details, but I was relieved to get off the face as its rough going. We got to the bottom and I stripped down to just shorts for the walk out. We rock hopped our way back to camp and threw our things into our bags. The final jaunt back to the car was one thing - steep. My quads were annihilated on the final 650 meter descent to the car. Holy shit! This was so steep - did I say that enough? At the car we had one last objective - a cold plunge. If anyone actually reads this blog besides my mom, you know I love cold water. So we found a pullout and laid down into the frigid Toby Creek, ending an epic final trip of glorious Canadian summer peak bagging. Happy days...

Date: June 28, 2023 Location: Fernie, British Columbia, Canada Total Trip Distance: 7.5 mi / 12.07 km Total Elevation Gain : 2,069 ft / 631 m Trip Duration: 3 hr 15 min Team: Solo Field Notes: This trail felt like it was meant more for biking than hiking. A short and easy hike to a nice viewpoint above the town of Mount Fernie. Rating: Class 1 Download GPX File Google Maps Location Castle Mountain Route Map Authors Note: While there are plenty of great hikes to do in Fernie, the trail up Castle Mountain felt like it was meant more for mountain biking than hiking. Most of the trail is on biking paths. The views from the summit are very nice with nice views of many great trips in the Fernie area: True Mount Fernie, Mount Fernie Ridge, Mount Proctor, Three Sisters, Mount Hosmer, Polar Peak, and more. If you're looking for a more detailed trip report of Castle Mountain, this blog has a nice write up. The view from Castle Mountain

Date: August 27, 2023 Location: Waterton Lakes National Park, Alberta, Canada Total Trip Distance: 18.34 mi / 29.51 km Total Elevation Gain : 6,127 ft / 1,868 m Trip Duration: 2 days Team: With Alex Catalfamo Field Notes: The Alderson / Carthew Lakes area makes for great camping with a short approach. From there, the mountains above area easily accessible being no more than a simple hike. We carried almost no water as there is plenty of water the entire route. This area is quite unique and the views spectacular. Rating: Class 1 Download GPX File Google Maps Location Mount Alderson Mount Carthew Route Map Approach to Carthew Lakes With only two weekends left before Alex and I call it an end to an epic Canadian summer of peak-bagging, we decided to head down south one last time. Our objective was a set of peaks off of the well-known Carthew Alderson trail. We had been in this area before, having done Forum Peak and Akamina Ridge. However, there was a decent amount of smoke that weekend and we wondered what this zone would be like in clear weather. We arrived at the Cameron Falls trailhead on a beautiful Saturday afternoon. We knew the approach would be relatively quick so we got a late afternoon start. I was pretty surprised by the amount of visitors and tourists in the area. With that said, Waterton is beautiful and we were just another two digits adding to the crowd. As we traveled west towards our camp for the night, I couldn't help but think about how epic it would be to do the Great Divide Trail. A few of the trips we've done this summer have been on sections of the trail. The whole 1,123 kilometers seems to pass through jaw dropping sections of the Canadian Rockies. The trail slowly climbed in elevation and I'm glad we aren't allergic to pollen because it was virtually snowing. The wind was pretty strong and it blew the powdery grains everywhere. It made for a beautiful look as the sun shined down from the peaks above. We climbed higher and the trail weaved through poplar and coniferous forest. At every creek crossing I bent down and drank from natures faucet. It was a beautiful approach. Nearing two hours without a break, we stopped at the campsite for Alderson Lake and ate a snack. We were another 300 meters in elevation to camp. Forty-five windy minutes later and we found ourselves staring at the white capped Carthew Lakes. It was definitely a gem of an area. We made our way down towards the trees at the edge of the lake and found a relatively sheltered camp for the night. Arriving at Carthew Lakes We relaxed as the sun warmed the tent, eventually losing height before dipping below the horizon. This in turn dialed down the wind a few notches and we enjoyed a perfect sunset. We slept without a rain fly and the tent door fully open. I gazed up at the stars until I fell asleep. Sunset at Carthew Lakes Mount Alderson Alex and I haven't slept great this summer in the mountains. I woke up at 1am ready to rock and roll. We had a plan to be up on Alderson for sunrise. With six hours to go, I wrestled myself back to "sleep" - although I wouldn't actually call it that. At 4 am I asked Alex when was sunrise. He said about 6:45 and then I passed out deeply for the next two hours. At six I got up, made a coffee, and we were on our way. Alderson is a quick and easy climb from Carthew Lakes. We went to the western end of the first lake, took a left, and went straight up the face that meets the ridge. There is a trail the entire way. As we made our way up the peak, the sunrise was incredible. There wasn't a soul around and the sky was smoke free. The higher we climbed the better the views became. The early morning sun produced an incredible golden light that light up Buchanan Ridge. About an hour and a half later, we stood alone on Mount Alderson. My favorite view was looking east towards Bertha Lake. I hid behind the summit cairn to block the wind while Alex enjoyed the views. There was a layer between the clouds where the golden light of morning was breaking through. Behind us, the massive peaks of Glacier National Park in Montana towered in the distance. Twenty minutes later we turned our attention to the next objective of the day. Sunrise over Bertha Lake and Mount Richards Mount Carthew We left the summit and took the entire ridge back down to the col between Carthew and Alderson. From the col we made our way up Carthew. This views from here were spectacular. The ridge of Mount Alderson had a reddish color to it, the sky was a mixture of sunlight and dark clouds, and the lakes below added their own unique color to the scene. As the trail worked across the face it finally met the summit ridge. The wind was blowing hard from the West, so once we gained the ridge we got blasted again. Mount Alderson and Carthew Lakes from Mount Carthew A false summit or two later and we were on the top. I tapped the summit with my one remaining hiking pole (the other one had snapped earlier) and made my way a few meters back down the ridge to take shelter from the wind. I sat alone and ate some food while taking in the views to the east. Alex was off scouting out a potential route to Buchanan Ridge. This trip had blown me away. I knew the views would be good - but this was spectacular. There seemed to be so much variety in the mountains, the colors, the sub-alpine from the alpine. Being such a busy trail, we hadn't even seen anyone yet and we were close to four hours into the day. Mount Alderson is stunning from this angle The views from Carthew were our favorite. Unfortunately, one can't live on a summit so we made our way back down to camp. Reversing our steps opened up even more incredible vantage points that we hadn't noticed on the way up. The beautiful Mount Carthew Within an hour or so we were back at camp. Going simple and light on this trip, it took us five minutes to pack up camp. The sun began to finally break through the clouds allowing us to strip down to our base layers. We turned our backs on Carthew Lakes and made the two hour non-stop hike back to the csar and ended a fantastic two day, two peak trip. Happy days... Mount Carthew

Date: August 6, 2023 Location: Akamina-Kishinena Provincial Park, British Columbia, Canada Total Trip Distance: 13.84 mi / 22.25 km Total Elevation Gain : 3,961 ft / 1,207 m Trip Duration: 6 hours 45 min Team: With Alex Catalfamo Field Notes: The trail is straightforward and easy to follow for the entire hike except when turning left to bag Forum Peak. No route finding required, just take the easiest path towards the peak on a broad ridge. There are two places for water: a stream before reaching Forum Lake on the approach, and the second stream before reaching Wall Lake on the way out. There is apparently a scramble up Forum Peak which we didn't know about until after our trip was complete. Rating: Class 1 Download GPX File Google Maps Location Forum Peak and Akamina Ridge Route Map Approach Via Forum Lake It was a smokey drive as we made our way east towards Pincher Creek until eventually turning south towards the Waterton Lakes area. We'd never been in this area before and with plenty of smoke in the forecast we went with an option lower on our list of objectives. That being said, this trip didn't disappoint by any means. We started our hike at the Akamina Pass trailhead . The beginning was a gradual incline through some beautiful fireweed - a flower that grows after a wildfire. We passed by a group of bikers that were getting their ass kicked by the incline. It seemed like this was their once-a-year hangout as a friend group and someone had the bright idea of slogging uphill on a bike. Alex and Forum Lake We made a left near the Akamina Creek Campground and climbed higher as the trail went towards Forum Lake. We kept leapfrogging a couple who stopped every five minutes or so for a photo. It became irritating so I eventually just stopped for a long water break. A few minutes later we reached Forum Lake and made our way up the ridge towards Akamina Ridge. Akamina Ridge Forum Peak & Akamina Ridge I didn't realize until after the trip that there is a scramble up the northeast ridge of Forum Peak. So instead we climbed the ridge between Forum and Wall lake on a hiking trail. Then we turned left and made the short walk over to Forum Peak. It seems there are two summits separated by only a few minutes walk so we tagged both as their is a cairn on each. It was still pretty smokey but the views were still great. I would be pretty excited to see this place in clear weather ( and we eventually did ). From the summit of Forum Peak we had some awesome views towards Mount Custer in Montana. We decided to keep moving and retracted our steps back to Akamina Ridge. This was the best part of the day for us - high up on a ridge, all alone, with solid views in all directions. The color of the rock is pretty amazing as well. Patches of red, yellow, brown, orange and even shades of green create a unique color palette. We stopped at the summit of Akamina Ridge for a nice break. We kept imagining what it would be like to look straight into the heart of Glacier National Park in Montana. You can tell there are some big peaks out there. When we felt ready, we continued on. There was a final section of ridge that was just stunning. Alex and Akamina Ridge The trail dipped down to the skiers right before eventually meeting Wall Lake. We filled up our water at a creek, stripped down to our boxers, and went for a swim in Wall Lake. Magical. After a good ten minutes we put on our clothes and decided it was time to go home. It had been a much better day than expected. We were treated to an amazing final section of fireweed. The pictures don't do it justice. The contrast between the purple flower, green grass, and brown trees was mesmerizing. Back at the car there was one last objective. It was time for ice cream. Happy days...

Date: August 27, 2023 Location: Peter Lougheed Provincial Park, Kananaskis, Alberta, Canada Total Trip Distance: 12.31 mi / 19.81 km Total Elevation Gain : 3,939 ft / 1200 m Trip Duration: 8 hours 9 min Team: With Alex Catalfamo Field Notes: This is a great scramble! Although airy and exposed at times, the climb up the ridge is straightforward. Hard sections of the ridge can typically be bypassed on the face. The descent gully down the face is fast and highly recommended. Water can be found when crossing the Elbow River. Rating: Class 3 Download GPX File Google Maps Location Tombstone Mountain South Route Map Approach Via Elbow Lake Alex and I were fired up on the idea of back-to-back scrambles this weekend, rather than doing an overnighter. With clear skies in Fernie, we scrambled up to the true summit of Ghostrider Mountain on Saturday. When Sunday gave us another descent forecast, we made the drive up north to give Tombstone Mountain South an ascent. I had originally come across this peak by way of the Explor8tion blog - which is absolutely fantastic if you're looking for scrambles in the Canadian Rockies. We decided on a later start as I had a feeling this scramble wouldn't take much longer than eight hours round trip. So we loaded up and left Fernie around 8:30 am to make the three hour drive up north. After a quick stretch we left the trailhead around 11:45 am and made our way to Elbow Lake. This area is a gem and Elbow Lake seems like a nice place to camp if you have a family (FYI - I don't think it's a quiet campground by any means as I heard children crying and it seemed very busy). Elpoca Mountain As we passed Elbow Lake, I took the view in of Elpoca Mountain. From my perspective it seemed massive and the summit so far away. Were we really climbing just 100 meters less than that today? Perspective is everything and from a distance the ridge on Tombstone looked very steep. Was it really just class 3 scrambling? As we got closer to our objective, we made a slight left to go directly towards Tombstone. We crossed the Elbow River and tried to follow a rough path that goes towards the base of the climb. We kept losing it, but didn't care much as it was easy terrain to navigate and we were very close anyways. I've written about this before, but Gaia GPS is simply amazing. I wonder - how often do you really need a paper map now? A sign of the times. The bushwack above the Piper Pass trail to meet the ridge We popped out of the woods, met with the Piper Pass trail momentarily, and then began our assault uphill. And the assault did not stop for the next 1,100 meters. Sensing we were going to have a nice march in the sun, Alex had the awareness to take a water break in the last chance for shade before we really started climbing. We made a prediction of reaching the summit in 2 hours. Tombstone Mountain Via the South Ridge As we made our way up the ridge, we ran into our first obstacle that looked like a gendarme - a rock pinnacle blocking our route. As we climbed higher it was easily bypassed on the climbers right. The climb is very straightforward and if one has any descent route finding skills there shouldn't be any major issues. Unreal views of Rae Lake and Mount Rae We worked our way up the ridge, enjoying the consistent cool breeze. Any exposed or tricky parts of the ridge were easily bypassed by simply sidling onto the face. I couldn't help but keep looking back and taking photos of Alex. The scenery was just freaking awesome. I felt super energized and strong and was loving this climb. One thing that surprised me was that this scramble wasn't a total scree bash. There were definitely moments of loose rock and scree, but I found the climb to be quite enjoyable. From here we sidled across the face and went up on the climbers left of the brown / gold rock About 250 meters below the summit the ridge becomes much trickier and exposed. We decided to sidle climbers left onto the face, bypassing this section of ridge, and eventually climbing straight up the face. From here we were just 50 meters or so to the summit. A short and scenic ridge walk, a final move and we found ourselves atop the peak all by ourselves. What a moment. One thing to note is that this is not the main summit of Tombstone Mountain. We were a bit fooled by the maps, but the main summit (Tombstone Mountain North) is actually just north and you can look directly at it. It is a beautiful peak that seems to demand a high level of technical skill. What we climbed today is actually 60 meters or so smaller and is referred to as Tombstone Mountain South. Regardless, it's a great prize for anyone who makes the top. The summit of Tombstone South. Tombstone North is the dominant peak. Descent We enjoyed sandwiches, chocolate and a meat stick while soaking in the views. For sure one of my favorite trips of summer. The views are expansive in all directions. Canada sure has some damn good scrambles. After thirty minutes or so on the peak, we reluctantly decided to head down. As we were coming off the summit, I looked straight down the face. It seemed to be a very fast descent with epic scree-skiing potential. I thought I could see the valley bottom which means it wouldn't cliff out (I didn't know that this is the descent route in the Kane scrambles guide). It took Alex and I about two seconds to say "lets go for it." Scree-skiing down the face of Tombstone South An hour later we were at the valley floor. One hour. The scree-skiing as almost as good as being on skis. Not really, but it was probably the best descent I've ever had off of a mountain without being on skis. One important note about the descent is to traverse skiers right as you near the big waterfall / chasm (so it is on your left for the descent). We emptied our shoes of scree for the last time and met up with the Piper Pass trail. We followed this for a bit until we found the turn off back towards Elbow Lake. Just before meeting up with the main trail we took a cold plunge in the Elbow River. Unreal. As we neared the lake, something magical happened. The golden hour appeared. The mountains were cloaked in that beautiful summer golden glow. Silence fell. No one was on the trails. The temperature dropped. An owl called out in the fading light. Tears filled my eyes. This is why. Only in the nature are things are what they are. And only here can one find the absolute truth. Happy days... Golden Hour at the Elbow River. Simply magic.

Date: August 26, 2023 Location: Fernie, British Columbia, Canada Total Trip Distance: 5.74 mi / 9.23 km Total Elevation Gain : 3,312 ft / 1,009 m Trip Duration: 4 hours 24 min Team: With Alex Catalfamo Field Notes: Maybe the most accessible scramble in the Fernie area as 99% of this trip is on trail. Although the scrambling is only a short section before reaching the true summit, do not be fooled - it's a solid 40 feet / 12 meters of no-fall class 4 scrambling. A fall here would be catastrophic and the climbing at times is vertical. You could argue the crux is easy class 5. There was still a small stream running at 5,800 feet / 1,767 meters in late August on a low snow year. Rating: Class 4 Download GPX File Google Maps Location Ghostrider Mountain Route Map Approach The Ghostrider Mountain scramble is one of the most popular in the Fernie area. With that being said, when most people think of going up Ghostrider, it is typically via the hike that stops at the false summit. The true summit is about 30 meters higher and is a class 4 / class 5 scramble depending on who you ask. The trail is accessed via Hartley Lake Road that is a bit rough for our low clearance 2wd car, but is totally manageable if you go slow. Being that we've been down this road two times before to do Mount Hosmer and Three Sisters we were at the trailhead in no time. We were surprised to see the small lot almost full! The trail up to Ghostrider is extremely efficient and we found ourselves at the false summit in 1 hour and 45 minutes. Once you break treeline the scenery becomes beautiful with expansive views of Mount Proctor, Three Sisters , Mount Bisaro, and more. As we reached the final ridge connecting to the false summit, you get an amazing view of Mount Hosmer (which is an awesome scramble). Ghostrider Scramble Once at the false summit we eyed up our objective. Not going to lie, I was a bit taken back. There was a near vertical crack and exposed climbing that led up for about 12 meters. The two other people at the false summit eyed us as we put on helmets - "you guys are going up that?" At this point I was in the mindset to just go look at it first and make a decision. We climbed up and around a few short but exposed pinnacles before reaching the base of the crack. Alex climbing across the pinnacles Alex and Mount Hosmer behind As we looked up at the crux I said "holy shit." This was way steeper than I was expecting. Not only steep, it was quite a long section. My heart was pounding. I figured I would work up the first 4 meters and see how I felt. From what I saw, I felt confident in the holds that I could spot from ground level and if there was any issue I could down climb. I took a minute or two visualizing the route and moves. For the sake of this post, let's call this class 4. I think it's really easy to say "it's only class 4." But with that said, there is almost no difference between class 4 and easy class 5. The difference is typically subjective and in the mind. Here's the catch - if you fall on class 4 you're either dead or really badly fucked up. I fell from about 6 meters and shattered my heel bone that took 7 years of obsession and dedication to get to the point where I can even write trip reports again. So don't make mental mistakes. I called down to Alex - "you absolutely can not fall on this." That was more of a note to myself than anything. As I climbed above the crux I worked my way right (barely) to a narrow ledge. From there, I waited for Alex to come up. I was super impressed. He was climbing really well. He looked strong and confident. I think climbing Mount Tekarra solo in icy / snowy conditions gave his mountain confidence a bump. As he reached the ledge I climbed up to the summit. Shortly thereafter, Alex arrived. On the summit of Ghostrider We gave a high-five and took in the views. Honestly, I couldn't enjoy it! I was absolutely nervous about the down climb. Like I said, the steepness and length caught me way off guard. I realized my mind was on a mission to produce fear, so I took control of my breath and quickly visualized successfully down climbing the route. I looked at Alex and said " let's get out of here." He was 100% on the same page and started the down climb first. As mentioned earlier, Alex was looking great today and was at the bottom in no time - "Safe!" Now it was my turn. With heart pounding, I locked into the moment. I down climbed the rock leading to the ledge, worked my way left, and made a move to place my left leg on the opposite side of the crack. From there, I worked my way down to the base. Alex and I both breathed a sigh of relief. Now the endorphins surged. From there we climbed back across the pinnacles and sat on the false summit where we could truly enjoy a well-deserved break and food. If one does go up this route, there is a rappel ring right off the summit to avoid the exposed down climb. We enjoyed our lunch, the clear air, and the company of two other hikers on the summit. Happy days...

Date: June 20 & July 5, 2023 Location: Fernie, British Columbia, Canada Total Trip Distance: 5.95 mi / 9.58 km Total Elevation Gain : 3,100 ft / 945 m Trip Duration: 3 hours 30 min Team: With Alex Catalfamo Field Notes: A short and steep hike to a viewpoint on the ridge of Mount Fernie. One could climb higher and explore further along the ridge which turns into a scramble. Makes for a great half-day training hike. Rating: Class 1 Download GPX File Google Maps Location Mount Fernie Ridge Route Map Mount Fernie Ridge Hike Note: This trail is not to be confused with the true summit of Mount Fernie, where a detailed trip report can be found here. On the Fernie tourism website, they have a guide to hiking Mount Fernie where they describe the hike ending at the summit. Once we actually completed this hike, we realized this is indeed not the summit. Rather, the hike just ends at a viewpoint along the ridge. That hike is described below. However, if you are looking to reach the true summit of Mount Fernie (which is a fun scramble), click here. This trail makes for a great half-day training hike, so Alex and I decided to get this one in before we started work around noon. The trailhead is just a convenient two minute drive from our house. The trailhead parking is at the end of a col de sac and starts up a gravel road. We walked for a few minutes until turning left where a big sign indicates the start of the hike. The trail is very efficient and straight up. We've actually done this hike two different times, and the first time caught me by surprise...it's actually quite steep! Like I said, excellent training hike. The trail eventually pops out of the woods after about 2,000 feet and crosses some avalanche chutes before reaching the bench. The views are very nice if you climb either left or right once reaching the ridge. I'd recommend exploring farther along the Mount Fernie Ridge (heading in the direction of Island Lake Lodge) for excellent views of the true Mount Fernie, Mount Proctor, Three Sisters, and the Lizard Range. Happy days...

Date: August 18 - 20, 2023 Location: Jasper National Park, Alberta, Canada Total Trip Distance: 26.88 mi / 43.25 km Total Elevation Gain : 7,356 ft / 2,242 m Trip Duration: 3 days Team: With Alex Catalfamo Field Notes: Excelsior Mountain is a straightforward scramble with little exposure and steepness. As indicted in the trip notes below, make sure to take the climbers left ridge to the col between Excelsior and Centre to avoid a horrible boulder field. I bailed 1,000 feet below the summit of Tekarra the following morning as I woke up with flu-like conditions. Rating: Excelsior, Class 2 Download GPX File Google Maps Location Smoke, Rain, and Snow A few weeks ago Alex had come up with the idea of going to Jasper. Personally, I did not want to drive seven hours one-way when we have such fantastic mountains within a three hour radius. However, I was easily convinced by a waitress at a Mexican restaurant one night. Secondly, the Icefield Parkway is apparently a classic drive. Being in Canada for just the summer we had to commit (or really, I had to commit). Alex had come up with this trip and wanted to bag a few peaks off of the Skyline trail. We took three days off of work, woke up early on Friday, and made the seven hour drive north. The forecast wasn't incredibly inspiring. The smoke from the wildfires was particularly bad and the forecast for our hike in was calling for heavy snow and rain. By the time we had driven an hour from Fernie, we were socked in with heavy smoke for the next four hours. We couldn't even see the mountains in front of us. What was once heavy smoke turned into heavy rain. We drove the entire Icefield Parkway in torrential freezing rain. Seven hours later we were in Jasper and the sky looked to be clearing. We started hiking on the Skyline Trail that heads up to Signal Mountain. This is probably the easiest 3,000 feet you could even climb in your life. The grade is so casual I could've done 10,000. As we neared the junction to go towards Tekarra camp, the rain started coming down. Then the rain turned to snow. Then the snow really started coming down. You gotta love the mountains. We arrived at Tekarra camp with only one other person there and a couple inches of snow on the ground. We were pretty cold, camp, and set up camp quickly. I love the feeling of eating a hot meal in your sleeping bad while watching steam fill the tent, blood pushing through your body to get warm. Excelsior Mountain The good thing about the cold weather is we slept like dogs. I think we got about seven hours each so we were thrilled. There was quite a bit of heavy fog / cloud in the valley so we took our time having breakfast, stretched out, and even did some Wim Hof in the tent. By 9 am we decided to make a move. As soon as we departed the skies cleared. We followed the Skyline trail until you reach a patch of trees just before reaching the ridge of Centre Mountain that meets the trail. We took a left here and entered the basin between Excelsior and Centre. From here, it is important to work climbers left and gain the ridge made of alpine scrub / rock rather than the massive boulder field on the climbers right hand side. This should be extremely obvious. At first, we didn't go climbers left hard enough and were messing around on the boulders. I had us drop down a bit and gain the opposite ridge on the climbers left. What a difference! Smooth, easy travel led us to the col between Excelsior and Centre. Our route up Excelsior Mountain From the col, the climbing is never more than class 2 scrambling. We brought helmets and I felt it wasn't really necessary, but to each there own. There is an obvious ledge (as seen in the photo) that we easily bypassed by sidling left underneath it. Once passed this obvious ledge, we climbed straight up to gain the summit ridge. Our only difficulty was the 2 inches of fresh snow on top of loose rocks, so care was to be taken. Soon enough we were standing on the summit with clouds obscuring many of the surrounding peaks. At the col, Centre Mountain behind One could imagine the views would be quite special on a clear day. We hung out for a bit, enjoyed the silence, snapped obligatory summit photos, and made our way back to camp. Coming down off Excelsior Mount Tekarra We arrived back at camp at 2:30 and casually took an hour to pack things up. We had eyed a tarn on the map about 1,500 feet below Tekarra and decided to move camp for an easier summit day. It took about an hour to reach this "high camp" from Tekarra camp. I'm glad we made the move, it was beautiful and very peaceful. As we arrived at camp, I found myself feeling run down and unwell. I figured it was the shitty food I had been eating for the last two days. So what did I do? I ate two packages of some ramen noodle type of thing, stretched out, and went to bed. I fell asleep rather quickly but woke up at 1:30 in the morning with my heart pounding and my body feeling very tired. It felt as if I was coming down with the flu. I attempted to calm my mind, focus on my breathing, and get back to sleep. By 5:30 it was time to get up as we had a mountain to summit and a seven hour drive ahead of us. I felt extremely run down and had no energy. Fuck. It was the first time I was "sick" in three years. I figured I'd still give it a go and see what happened once I started moving. There was no improvement. I felt nauseous, weak, and dizzy. 1,000 feet from the summit and an icy, snow covered scree gully ahead of us and I decided this was my finish line. I was also slowing Alex down and knew he wanted to bag this peak. I told him I'd wait for him in camp. Personally, I have no issue turning around in the mountains. Of course I want the summit, but bad things happen in the mountains when one doesn't pay attention. The mountain gives signs, the body gives signs, and one's intuition gives signs. Today, the mountain conditions were shit for scrambling. Icy, steep, snow covered gully. I watched as Alex climbed and knocked off rocks that screamed down below where I would've been climbing. Safer for him to be solo. My body hurt. It was tired and needed rest. My intuition spoke clearly - this isn't your day. I've made a lot of mistakes in the mountain and have gotten away unscathed (except that one time I shattered my foot falling 20 feet - that fucked me up). Also, I love climbing mountains...but I've learned my happiness doesn't depend on it. I'm at peace with not summiting every mountain I try to climb. Some people are okay with that internally, some are not. There is no right or wrong - only consequences. I made my way back down to camp and went back to bed. It felt nice to layer Alex's bag on top of mine and feel the tent warm up with the rising sun. Unfortunately, wildfire smoke was coming back with a vengeance. Alex said it totally obscured the summit view. By 10 Alex was back at camp. I had a coffee, we quickly packed camp and made the 4 hour non-stop walk out to the car. Not going to lie - I felt like shit. The drive home was not fun and I almost puked. Oddly enough, I woke up the next morning after sleeping ten and a half hours and felt amazing. Life is a complete mystery. Happy days...

Date: June 24, 2023 Location: Fernie, British Columbia, Canada Total Trip Distance: 8.53 mi / 13.73 km Total Elevation Gain : 4,188 ft / 1,277 m Trip Duration: 6 hours Team: With Alex Catalfamo Field Notes: This is one of my favorite off-trail hikes / scrambles in the Fernie area. Accessible from town and a very efficient route to the summit. The only difficulty is the summit ridge, which is straightforward and easy off-trail hiking / scrambling. A helmet is not required. There is no water on route. Rating: Class 2 Download GPX File Google Maps Location Mount Hosmer Route Map Approach Alex and I arrived in town about a week before we did this trip and we were frothing to get up high. I had spent the last six months in Hawaii working with the most incredible healer and friend, Jack Fonderwhite. He was helping to get my body back to climbing mountains after a seven year recovery process from a big injury, but that's a story for another day. Point is - I hadn't been in big mountains in a long time. Probably somewhere close to three years. We did a warm up on Mount Fernie Ridge on Wednesday and decided on Hosmer for the weekend. Hartley Lake Road isn't great but it's manageable with a low clearance, 2wd car. We went slow and found our way around the potholes. About a twenty minute drive from town and we were the only car at the parking lot. With the sun heating up early, we wasted no time and started up. Views towards Mount Proctor and Three Sisters The trail is efficient. We went straight up with views of Proctor and Three Sisters gradually becoming better and better. The higher we climbed, the higher my spirit rose. It felt great to be back in the mountains. At the col just below Ghostrider Mountain the views really open up from a ledge. It was cool to see the accessibility of mountain trips in Fernie. Right from town you have a lot of great day trips and we felt as if we made the right choice for this to be our base camp for summer. Alex reaching the col below Ghostrider Mountain Mount Hosmer From the col below Ghostrider one needs to pay attention to route-finding to make the correct left hand turn for Hosmer. I use the Gaia app for navigation in the mountains and it has never let me down (I also have a Garmin inReach but only use this for emergency). The route map photo at the top of the page is the exact route we took, so look for a very faint herd path to your left by a grassy area. As you follow this rough path, it diverts into the woods. The trail becomes marked by orange flagging tape. The faint trail to the left leads towards Hosmer We followed this trail and the flagging tape until it became harder to follow as we entered the basin. From here, we bushwhacked straight up the basin through the woods and travel was simple. Eventually, we made a left to begin climbing up to meet the summit ridge of Mount Hosmer. The photo below is the ascent route of Mount Hosmer taken from Ghostrider Mountain. Mount Hosmer Ascent Route We took the left turn slightly early and it became pretty steep with loose rocks. Not a big deal, but I'd recommend using the route map photo above which shows the easiest travel to meet the summit ridge (this is what we took on the descent). Travel in the basin until you have a clear view of the climb above and simply pick the easiest route of ascent. Climbing above the basin below Once on the summit ridge, navigation is extremely straightforward. We followed the summit ridge, becoming airy at times, up and over a false summit. This is where it became really fun. The ridge narrows and provides incredible 360 degree views. The ridge is never more than a class 2 scramble - which is off trail, but climbing with your hands. There are steep drop offs on each side which gives it kind of a "lofty" feeling. When we reached the summit, Alex congratulated with me with two simple but powerful words - "welcome back." I thought I'd become very sentimental and emotional to finally stand on a relatively big mountain again, but rather I didn't feel much. It was just good to be back. Finish lines are an illusion and when one reaches any summit, the view is of other summits. It never ends. We signed the summit register, snapped photos, took off our shoes and chilled. It was a perfect day to be in the mountains. When we were ready we made the descent back to the car, taking the same route. Of course, the day ended with a cold soak in the Elk River and plenty of delicious Indian food. Happy days...

Date: August 12, 2023 Location: Fernie, British Columbia, Canada Total Trip Distance: 5.52 mi / 8.88 km Total Elevation Gain : 2,092 ft / 638 m Trip Duration: 2 hours 48 min Team: With Alex Catalfamo Field Notes: A straightforward loop from Island Lake Lodge with beautiful views of the Lizard Range and the northern Ranges. Makes for a great training hike or short day hike. Rating: Class 1 Download GPX File Google Maps Location Mount Baldy Route Map Mount Baldy Loop Alex and I decided to take it easier on Saturday as we wanted to save Sunday for an ascent of the true Mount Fernie . Being that we had never been to Island Lake Lodge, we figured it was a good day to go check it out. We made the twenty or so minute drive from our house in Fernie to the end of the road where the lodge sits. Once at the parking lot, there are hiking trails in all directions. Our route started directly from the parking lot. It was another gorgeous day for hiking, weather in the mid seventies and some clouds to add context to the skies. We set a casual pace and were on the summit in about eighty minutes or so. I thought the views would be blocked by trees, but as you can see from the photos, the views were actually stunning. Pano from the first view point There are two view points on the trail. The first is when you reach the ridge there is a picnic table. You can see the actual summit from here, just another hundred feet higher. We walked up to the summit to check it out, but found the views better from the bench. Either way, not a major difference. I will admit, part of the reason I wanted to head up Baldy was to scope out our potential scramble route up True Mount Fernie for tomorrow... This was a super enjoyable day and the views were better than I had originally thought. Definitely a worthwhile short day hike or a good training day for some vert. Happy days...

Date: August 13, 2023 Location: Fernie, British Columbia, Canada Total Trip Distance: 10.88 mi / 17.5 km Total Elevation Gain : 4,160 ft / 1,268 m Trip Duration: 6 hours 40 min Team: With Alex Catalfamo Field Notes: It seems it is up for debate whether this is the true summit of Mount Fernie. Many maps have the summit on a smaller peak on the ridge, google maps/earth have the summit at the tallest peak on the ridge. This route takes one to the tallest peak and it is a worthy objective with steep, easy class 2 scrambling. There is no water on route. Large parties may want helmets. Rating: Class 2 Download GPX File Google Maps Location True Mount Fernie Route Photo The True Summit of Mount Fernie Whether or not this is the actual summit remains a mystery. After hiking the Mount Fernie Ridge trail multiple times this summer, Alex and I began to talk about where the true summit actually is. The town tourism website of Fernie shares the details of the hike that "leads to the summit," but in fact is only a hike to a viewpoint on a ridge. I remember one instance where we hiked to this viewpoint and met some locals. When we asked them where the true summit was they looked at us as if we were speaking a foreign language. Continuing with our research, the maps indicate the summit is further along the ridge, requiring an additional scramble (as you can see on the route photo above). However, when searching on google earth, the summit is actually located at the highest point on the ridge (typical of summits), which is where we climbed to. We decided that we would climb to the true summit, regardless of what the maps say, and reach the highest point on the ridge. Independent of what is actually the true summit, we didn't care. We found the tallest peak to be beautiful and figured not many make the trip. Approach This is the second day in a row we found ourselves back at Island Lake Lodge having hiked Mount Baldy the day prior. No doubt this is a great zone and one can only imagine the ski potential here in winter. We started down the road for a bit and then turned left onto the Tamarack trail. I always love the wooded approach before going to climb a peak. Even better was that it was old growth forest - simply magical. The trail began to make it's way up out of the valley at a very gradual pace. Before we knew it, we had easily ascended 1,900 feet and were at the top of the ridge. To our left was the Tamarack summit viewpoint (which we would save for the end of the day), while the trail turned into the Heiko / Mountain Lakes trail. We had some water and continued on. Within another fifteen minutes of walking we got a view of our objective for the day. True Mount Fernie is a beautiful peak and we were excited to make the ascent. The forecast for the day was supposed to be hot, but the temperature was quite nice and we appreciated that. We continued on until we reached the scree gully that I had marked as our ascent route for the climb. It took us two hours to reach this point from the parking lot. Ascent of True Mount Fernie We had a quick bite to eat and assessed our route. There was a bit of unknown. The scree gully climbs straight up and then turns to the climbers right, going out of sight. Just a minute before reaching this spot on the trail, another potential ascent route gets cliffed out. I wasn't overly concerned because if we really needed to, we could retrace our steps on the trail and bush bash to meet the summit ridge. We figured we would be okay and made our way straight up the gully. After a couple hundred feet of climbing, the gully wraps the climbers right. I got a view of what lay ahead and we were golden. At this point, there are two options to reach the second, main scree gully that will take you to the summit ridge. Option one is to stay in the gully and keep climbing another fifty feet or so (gets slightly steeper here). Option two is take a hard climbers right into the brush where you will meet the main gully. Option two made for better travel so we did this. Once in the main gully we powered straight up. It's a classic, steep scree gully. Here, larger parties may want a helmet purely because of other climbers kicking rocks down from above. We climbed in the gully until the final two hundred feet or so, where the gully moves ever so slightly to the climbers left. We avoided this and moved climbers right, finding easier travel through the brush. Once at the col leading to the summit ridge, we took a breath and enjoyed the surroundings. There were excellent views in all directions. We high-fived and were fired up to be here. The final four-hundred feet to the summit was straightforward with a short section of ridge climbing. It's a very short section of ridge with big drop offs on either side - a fall here would be very bad. With that said, it's nothing more than a walk. Summit ridge, True Mount Fernie We wondered if there would be a summit register and / or a cairn on top. Believe it or not - there was both. Funny enough there was only one entry in the summit register - signed just two weeks ago! The entry said something to the effect of, "no matter what the maps say, this is it, the highest point." On the summit of True Mount Fernie The views from the summit were simply awesome. Three Sisters, Proctor, Hosmer, the Crowsnest Range, Fisher Peak, The Lizard Range, it was all there. While Alex signed the summit register I ate a PBJ and took in the views. My favorite peaks have always been the obscure ones. I'm not sure why, maybe it's just an extra feeling of adventure or the unknown. I also love scouting out a peak and using my route finding skills to find the best way to the summit. Once we had our fill at the top, we made our way back down using the same route. The scree gully was particularly shitty, but fortunately one makes quick work of it. On our way back to the trailhead we were both feeling great, so we climbed the short two-hundred feet to the Tamarack summit. We watched as a fire unfolded in Sparwood, the smoke traveling over the Lizard Range. The day ended with a burger, fries, and our ritual plunge in the Elk River. Happy days...

Date: August 9, 2023 Location: Fernie, British Columbia, Canada Total Trip Distance: 10.16 mi / 16.35 km Total Elevation Gain : 3,725 ft / 1,135 m Trip Duration: 4 hours 40 min Team: Solo Field Notes: Parking is in the lot right at the base of Fernie Alpine Resort. There are many trails to reach the ridge walk - the simplest being via Summer Road as many of the trails are for mountain bikers. Rating: Class 1 GPX File Google Maps Location Polar Peak Route Map Approach Via Summer Road I was fired up on getting a mid-week hike in as I only did one trip the previous week. British Columbia has been raging with wildfires and experiencing a drought, so I was grateful to wake up to slightly clearer skies. I wanted to go for a solid hike and decided on Polar Peak at Fernie Alpine Resort. The hike is split into two sections. First, the approach via "Summer Road" follows a gravel road. I wish I had my gravel bike! Second, summer road connects with the Polar Peak Ridge Walk trail. This is actually a hiking trail that follows a ridge for close to 2 miles, eventually topping out at the summit. Nice conditions in the morning I made my way up Summer Road, occasionally veering off to go on some of the mountain bike trails. The day I was there I saw zero people. It was actually kind of eerie. Seriously - no one was there. I think I saw two staff the entire day. With that said, the mountain bike trails were downhill trails and they were actually very steep. In hindsight, I think it's better to just stay on Summer Road. If there were bikers I think it'd be quite annoying to stop for a hiker. The day was cooler than normal with rain in the forecast and a slight breeze, which made hiking very pleasant. Soon enough I had reached the end of Summer Road where it meets Lost Boys Cafe. I took the Lost Boys trail where it meets the Polar Peak Ridge Walk. Polar Peak Ridge Walk This is where the actual hiking started and the beauty caught me by surprise. I followed the ridge for nearly two miles with amazing views of the Lizard Range. Storm clouds rolled in, the wind picked up, and rain started coming down. I took a break under a tree, ate a cliff bar, and listened to the silence. The sound of wind coming through the trees is haunting. It's one of those sounds that taps into something very animal, almost spiritual. Something impossible to explain in words. Ridge on Polar Peak I continued to follow the ridge. There isn't much of a trail, instead, rocks have been sprayed red to indicate the way forward. The ridge rolls up and down with the occasional rock hop. At one point, the ridge drops off where one needs to do some light scrambling. The resort actually has cables installed here. This seems overkill, but to each their own. As I reached the final 200 feet to the summit, the rain began to pick up. I hadn't stopped for more than 5 minutes the whole day and was looking forward to taking a break at the summit. However, when I reached the peak the rain really started coming down. I wasn't thrown off in the slightest. We needed rain so bad you could hear the plants just begging for it. I sat down for two minutes in the pouring rain and then decided to head down. I actually didn't bring my hardshell. I usually just take my Patagonia Houdini wind jacket unless there is definite precipitation in the forecast. Today actually had definite precipitation in the forecast, but I still didn't bring my hardshell. You can lead a horse to water but can't make it drink. Oh well. The skies started unloading as I made my way off the summit. Soon I was completely drenched. Either way it made no difference. In two hours time I would be soaking in a hot bath in a warm house. So I made the five mile walk out non-stop back to the car. As I write this the day after, the skies have cleared up dramatically. The rain was much needed. Happy days...

Date: July 8-9, 2023 Location: Bugaboo Provincial Park, British Columbia, Canada Total Trip Distance: 12.4 mi / 20 km Total Elevation Gain : 4,810 ft / 1,466 m Trip Duration: 2 days Team: With Alex Catalfamo Field Notes: While not difficult in terms of elevation gain / miles that is spread out over two days, the terrain makes up for it. Eastpost Spire is an easy and straightforward class 3 scramble with one exposed move (some would rate this a class 4 move), but our route to the pass above Cobalt Lake was nothing but rock and boulder hopping mixed in with loose rock. Rating: Class 3 GPX File Google Maps Location Bugaboos Route Map. Approach in light purple. Eastpost Spire in red. Cobalt Lake Pass in dark purple. Road Conditions and Chicken Wire I have long dreamed of going to the Bugaboos. Ever since I saw photos of the incredible glaciated granite spires in the Canadian Wilderness I knew I had to go. The Bugaboos are almost other-worldly. They sit deep in the northern Purcell Range and are vastly different to the surrounding mountains. It's almost as if someone planted a group of glaciated granite spires directly in this wilderness. When we saw them for the first time I couldn't help but yell out. They are bloody inspiring. As with most things these days, when something gets hyped up a lot it seems to not fully meet expectation. Such was the road conditions leading to the trailhead and the chicken wire fence to prevent porcupines from eating your brake lines. This summer, Alex and I rented a low clearance 2wd car. When I read trip reports on getting to Bugaboo Provincial Park, most people said the road was not suitable for a low clearance car. We had no issue. In fact, we actually thought it was good. There is a section in the very beginning that is not great and I would say to go slow. But other than that, it was perfectly fine. Secondly, the chicken wire. There is apparently a history of porcupines eating the brake lines on cars in the Bugaboos. If this is true, that would suck. Big time. I bought into the fear and was a bit anxious but, as I read online, there was plenty of chicken wire that is provided at the trailhead to wrap your car. When we showed up, there was none. Apparently the park service got rid of at all. The majority of the cars didn't have any protection so we said our usual, "fuck it - everything is always fine" and got underway. Approach To Applebee Dome Campground The sun was hot and I was grateful we weren't carrying ice axes, crampons, a full climbing rack, two sixty meter ropes, and seven days of food. This seemed to be the standard of the climbers we saw on our trip. Heavy packs and getting after epic routes. Our plan was the opposite - hike in light, scramble up a peak or two, and call it a mission. The forecast for the upcoming days was calling for rain and we were there for the two sunny days. We bid our brake lines good luck and made our way to Applebee Dome campground, sitting roughly 3,100 feet above the parking lot. The approach was uneventful but beautiful. The trail wasn't shy of going straight up. About 2,200 feet above the valley floor we reached Kain hut and paid for our stay. From there, we reached camp three hours from the car park. We checked out a variety of different spots to pitch the tent and eventually landed on one we were stoked on. I've gotta say, they aren't messing around with this alpine camp. There were boxes to store food and gear, places to hang your things away from rodents, access to glacial fed water... I can understand why climbers lug 7 days worth of food up here. This place is epic. A climbers mecca. I will return here one day for bigger climbs. Camp Alex and I set up camp, cooked dinner, took photographs, and chatted with an Alaskan climber with an eccentric personality. Right above camp sat our objective for tomorrow. I read there was a "4th / 5th class move with a lot of exposure" and I was wondering how it would turn out. Eastpost Spire We woke up early to see the alpenglow hitting the granite spires. A sign of a good day ahead. From camp, there are two obvious access gullies to Eastpost spire. If one goes climbers left, it will become technical. We went climbers right (see route map). Alpenglow on Snowpatch Spire Once you reach this col, the climb begins by ascending the obvious ridge sticking mainly to the climbers left of the ridge. The climb was very straightforward with basic scrambling. At times there is exposure but the rock is excellent with many easy handholds. The route was also heavily cairned which made navigation simple. Just below the summit we reached the crux. Many trip reports will describe this move as class 4, some even low class 5. Personally, I'm not sure nor do I care that much to discern between class 4 or easy class 5. At this point it becomes very subjective and if you fall on either you're in big trouble. I started up the crux and the climbing was very simple. The rock quality is excellent and there are many spots for hands and feet. To be honest, I didn't even know it was the crux until I was standing on the summit just a few minutes later! If you asked my opinion - this was class 3 scrambling because you could down climb the crux facing outward (away from the mountain) and it never became even close to vertical which is typical when you enter class 4 terrain. On the summit of Eastpost Spire I called down to Alex to start up and he made easy work of it. Now we were both on the summit admiring the granite spires. It took us maybe 45-minutes or so to reach the summit from camp. We started our descent going one at a time. The down climb presented no major difficulties and we were past the crux heading back to the col. The summit of Eastpost Spire Cobalt Lake Pass Once we had made it back to the col we decided to drop down off the backside and head towards the pass that overlooks Cobalt Lake. I would argue this section was harder than the Eastpost spire crux. It was extremely steep with very loose rock. A fall here would be very bad. I went first, kicking off huge rocks. I had a brief "oh shit" moment where I was thinking about turning around, but eventually found a way down. Alex came down next, hating it just as much (authors note: I've left this section off of the GPX track and route map. It is not recommended). Once out of this scree gully we made our way down to a basin by sliding and post holing through snow. From here we rock hopped for the next 3-4 hours going to the pass and back under a scorching sun. There isn't too much to report here - the terrain was awful and the view wasn't one to dream about. We made our way back to camp by heading up the col between Eastpost and Crescent Spire (different col - see route map). Here are hard efforts were rewarded - the view was simply spectacular. We had a view right above the glacial fed lakes staring at the incredible Bugaboo and Snowpatch Spire. It is one of the most amazing views I've seen in a long time. Howser Spire towered in the distance like the Lord of the high peaks. Epic Bugaboos This view felt like the moment of the trip. The moment of a long drive, a hot sun, and two days hard days all coming together to give you that drip of reward. The drip that keeps one coming back to the mountains over and over in hopes to quench the thirst. From here, we made our way back to camp. We packed our things and made the walk out, being sure to take an ice cold dip in one of the glacial fed pools just below Conrad Kain Hut. Happy days... Authors note: our car was fine. Everything is always fine.

Date: July 30, 2023 Location: Fernie, British Columbia, Canada Total Trip Distance: 13.29 mi / 21.38 km Total Elevation Gain : 4,700 ft / 1,433 m Trip Duration: 7 hours 11 min Team: With Alex Catalfamo Field Notes: A straightforward hiking loop to one of Fernie's most popular summits. Recommended to go counterclockwise. No water on route until Fairy Creek Falls in valley bottom. Rating: Class 1 Download GPX File Google Map Location Mount Proctor Route Photo Mount Proctor Loop Trail After Alex and I did a 3-day trip in Yoho National Park the previous weekend, I wasn't feeling as inspired to do something big again. I took a rest day on Saturday while Alex scrambled up Crowsnest Mountain. We were both keen to do some hiking, rather than scrambling, so we decided on the Mount Proctor Loop - just a two minute drive from our house. We drove over to the trailhead at Fairy Creek Falls where there is an easy to follow and well maintained trail up Mount Proctor. There are two ways to go up Mount Proctor, either clockwise or counterclockwise. We decided on the later and I'm glad we did. The trail is straightforward. Follow the signs for Mount Proctor the entire way. In the beginning, there is a mix of mountain bike trails as you ascend, but we just simply followed the signs for Mount Proctor. Fairy Creek Falls trailhead The trail switchbacks up through the forest until eventually meeting a ridgeline with a bench. The trail was straight up the entire way, without much of a break. The trail is quite efficient - we climbed 4,500 feet in about 5 miles. Gratefully, it's not a punishing 4,500 feet. It's relatively gradual the entire way as the elevation is spread out over the 5 miles. Once we met the bench, we followed the trail along the ridgeline before it drops down into the forest one last time. From there, we met the summit ridge and climbed the final 1,000 feet to the summit. It took us exactly 3 hours and 9 minutes to reach the summit from the trailhead with only about 5-7 minutes or so of water breaks. Lizard Range, summit Mt Proctor There were solid views from the summit and we met two friendly Japanese women who were stoked to be up there. We had a quick PBJ and didn't hang around too long. There were flies everywhere. We snapped a few quick photos and began our descent. The trail loops and drops down into a basin under the looming Three Sisters. On the map, there is an alpine tarn that I was hoping to take a quick dip in but it was completely dried up. In fact, there is no water on this entire route until you reach Fairy Creek Falls at the end. I wish I had brought a bit more than 2 liters of water. I drink like a camel but it was also very hot with a descent amount of elevation gain. The descent to the valley floor was relentless. Straight down for 4,000 feet in the baking hot sun. I am very glad we did not go this direction because the cold plunge we took in Fairy Creek Falls to end the day was spiritual. Alex and I absolutely love cold water. We take cold showers and plunge into the Elk River daily. Fairy Creek Falls was cold and the feeling was amazing. I'm addicted. Hiking out past Fairy Creek Falls We chugged a liter or two of water (yes, chugged) and walked the final 20 minutes back to our car under an encroaching thunderstorm. All in all - a solid day. This is a very nice loop trail that makes for great training for bigger days. Happy days...

Date: July 16, 2023 Location: Fernie, British Columbia, Canada Total Trip Distance: 15.5 mi / 25 km Total Elevation Gain : 4,590 ft / 1400 m Trip Duration: 8 hours 40 min Team: With Alex Catalfamo Field Notes: We found a pullout to park our low clearance 2wd car just past Hartley Lake. Plenty of water on the approach. Didn't see anyone on the Old Trail (the route we took) so might be a good option if one is looking for solitude. Rating: Class 1 Download GPX File Google Maps Location Three Sisters Route Map Approach Via Old Trail Three Sisters is a striking mountain that looms above the town of Fernie in British Columbia. When Alex and I first arrived in town, we knew it had to be climbed. It stands at 9,150 feet in elevation and dominates the landscape. With Saturday being completely smoked out due to wildfires, we woke up Sunday to clearer skies and decided to have a go for the summit. There are many different routes to this mountain but we decided on going via the Old Trail just past Hartley Lake. This road was a bit rough for our low-clearance 2wd car, but we went slow and made it to the trailhead just fine. We found a small little pullout for parking just past the turnoff to Hartley Lake. The trail started off on a 4wd track for a few miles before eventually turning into trail that ended by a meadow. From there it climbs very steeply up out of the valley to the treeline on the slopes of Three Sisters. At this point we realized it was going to be a long day. The trail was quite rocky and the sun was very strong. The Old Trail - Three Sisters On our map (as you can see in the photo of the route), there seems to be a shortcut to the col between Bisaro S4 and Three Sisters, but we didn't find it. We continued following a rough trail and cairns that linked up with the Mountain Lakes / Heiko trail. This took us to the col. We assessed the straightforward route up Three Sisters, drank some water, ate a quick snack, and began the final 1,600 foot climb to the summit. Mountain Lakes / Heiko trail Three Sisters Summit The climb from the col is vert straightforward. It climbs at a moderate pace and there was only one time where I had to use my hands. It's a hiking trail, not a scramble. There were a few moments where I was feeling quite over it, mostly due to the heat and that my left calf was cramping up. Once on the summit, those feelings vanished. The views from the summit of Three Sisters are magical. There are views in all directions. One is able to see the True Mount Fernie , Mount Proctor , the Crowsnest Range, he Lizard Range, Top Of The World Provincial Park, The Purcell Mountains, and more. Mount Bisaro was the crown jewel of the views - it is massive. With heavy wildfire smoke just 24-hours earlier, we were very grateful to have clearer skies to take in the views. It felt like a rite of passage to climb this peak while living in Fernie for the summer. The Lizard Range, British Columbia We signed the summit register, took a few photos and began the long descent back to the parking lot. We took the exact route the way we came, following the Mountain Lakes / Heiko trail and then making a right back to the Old Trail. It would be one of the hottest days of summer. We felt it so we ended the day with our ritual cold plunge in the Elk River and promptly ordered from our favorite restaurant in town. Happy days...

Date: July 21 - 23, 2023 Location: Yoho National Park, British Columbia, Canada Total Trip Distance: 23.89 mi / 38.44 km Total Elevation Gain : 8,063 ft / 2457 m Trip Duration: 3 Days Team: With Alex Catalfamo Field Notes: This trip can be completed in 2 days, but we opted for 3 to have a slightly less aggressive pace and to spend more time in the mountains. While none of the scrambling is overly difficult, the terrain on Daly is very loose and steep so I would strongly recommend a helmet. There is plenty of water where we camped. There was also water flowing just past the Niles glacier before the ascent up Daly. Rating: Class 3 Download GPX File Google Maps Location Mount Daly and Mount Niles Route Map Niles Meadows via Sherbrooke Lake After tossing around a variety of different ideas for a 3-day weekend, Alex and I finally settled on a trip to Yoho National Park. This was our first time in this park and it did not disappoint. With a perfect forecast, we made the three and a half hour drive from Fernie. We arrived at the trailhead, had a quick PBJ, strapped on our packs and began the 6-7 mile approach to Niles Meadows. The approach is easy with a defined trail the entire way. You steadily climb a few hundred feet on the way to Sherbrooke Lake. From there, the trail continues on the hikers right of the lake. I couldn't resist a quick swim in the beautiful water. From there the trail meanders through meadows, steadily climbing through forest. No need to carry much water as you are never far from it during the entire approach. Approaching Niles Meadows At last we reached Niles Meadows where we were greeted with a beautiful view of Mount Niles. It was wet in the meadows so we decided to expend the extra energy and climb another 500 feet. I'm glad we did. The views were amazing, it made the climbs shorter, there were (slightly) less bugs, and we had water in abundance. Climbing above Niles Meadows to camp We set up camp, cooked an entire box of pasta, and hunkered down for the night. As the sun set, we were treated to an incredible thunderstorm that passed directly overhead. Mount Daly There are some days where the numbers don't tell the full story. While only 7 miles and 3,200 feet from our camp, Daly was a pig. We crawled out of our sleeping bags around 5:30 after sleeping for maybe an hour or two. The sunrise was beautiful and I soaked it in while drinking a hot coffee. By seven we were ascending the ridge above camp. From there, we crossed the basin between Niles and Daly. The terrain here was okay and we made decent time. We decided to avoid the glacier as we didn't have spikes. I don't think there would have been any difference in time savings either. Climbing above camp in the basin below. Mount Ogden behind. After crossing the basin, we climbed up to reach a col between a small cone summit and the slopes of Mount Daly. What took place for the next two hours was endless scree grinding and loose rock hopping. It was some of the worst terrain I've ever been on. Maybe I just haven't spent enough time in the Canadian Rockies. The terrain was quite loose and very steep - I'm glad we wore helmets. In reading route descriptions prior to the trip, there was mention of a "class 4 scrambling crux" when one reaches an obvious rock band after climbing above the small summit cone. The rock band is obvious, but we decided to sidle to the climbers right and found very easy slopes we could simply walk up, although still very steep and loose. Once passed the "crux", we climbed another 800 feet where we reached the false summit. Some maps may mark this as the official summit, however, the summit register is on the other peak a mere fifteen minutes away. To me, it is well worth it to climb the ridge between the two summits. It's airy and has an exposed move or two that adds some flair to the trip. The climbing is easy. In my opinion, this was the "crux," although it's nothing more than exposed scrambling with perfect rock. Alex reaching the false summit of Mount Daly The views from the true summit are spectacular with mountains in all directions. It is definitely a remote peak - there were on average five to six successful summit parties (that signed the register) per year. 2021 only saw four. In 2023, we were the third. We felt extremely lucky to stand on this massive peak. An exposed ridge on Mount Daly with the true summit behind. After snapping some photos and signing the register, we made the climb back down to camp. I found the descent to be quite frustrating. You couldn't trust a single step. It felt like every rock would shift or move under my feet which resulted in a slip or two. Secondly, the sole of my right boot was getting torn off and Alex's shoes were getting holes in them. The Canadian Rockies were eating our footwear alive this summer. This doesn't do it justice - the terrain was steep and loose. Care had to be taken on the descent as rocks would release and create hazard for the climber below. We decided to fan out and take our time. Incredibly, we saw a party of two climbing Daly as we descended. They were quite keen, deciding to do it in a day. Our last difficulty was descending the scree back down to the col between the cone shaped summit and Daly. We did of a combination of down climbing and sliding, roughing our hands in the process. Eventually we made it back down to the basin and and hustled back to camp where we soaked in the ice cold tarn near camp. Mount Niles I was thrilled to get close to six hours of sleep. By four in the morning I was out drinking coffee under the last of the dying stars. The weather was perfect. By 5:30 we had left camp and were headed towards Mount Niles. The route is easy to follow and within fifteen minutes we found ourselves at the base of the climb. Ascending a steep loose scree gully on Mount Niles We ascended the obvious scree gully for about 500 feet and then climbed up to the right to gain a ridge. From here, we ascended steep but easy slopes to the summit. There was a rough path the entire way and navigation was easy. As we ascended, alpenglow baked the mountain tops. Reddish-purple light gradually morphed into golden light and our souls did the same. Is there anything more pure than standing on a summit of a lofty peak with a good mate at sunrise? The views from the summit were spectacular. Climbing Mount Niles at sunrise. Sherbrooke Lake and Mount Victoria behind. The climb from camp was short and steep. We reached the summit in one hour and thirty minutes and the descent took roughly forty-five minutes. Under a barrage of black flies, we quickly packed camp and made the three hour walk out back to the trailhead. Happy days...