Single tear for Ontario | Bow Valley Crag & Canyon
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It’s been a long year and we’re all itching to shed the masks and hit the road, or jump on a plane for anywhere not in North America. Luckily, those of us in the Bow Valley have mountains, rivers and crags to play on, most being world-class destinations. This past week alone, I rock climbed at a sunny sector, ice climbed on a north face, paddled a river and skied on sunny resort slopes with thousands of people. Shoulder season rocks.
Like many people in the Bow Valley, I’m from Ontario, born in Scarborough and raised just north of there. I grew up in a melting pot of urban sprawl on the doorstep of Canada’s biggest city, but only an hour away from the dense boreal forest where cottage country exists. Weekends were spent waterskiing, fishing and hiking, while weekdays centered around metropolitan life, busy highways and packed pubs.
Posted:
February 14, 2021
“Perceptions,” by Gerry Warner
Time is running out.
Running out on what, you say? Something you’ve probably never thought about or only thought about very fleetingly when you were camping in the backcountry, hiking up Lakit Lookout or maybe even climbing Mt. Fisher. Or you could just be strolling up to Windy Bluff in the Community Forest or the Eager Hills in spring when the Balsam Root Sunflowers spread out around you like an endless yellow tapestry.
You take in a deep breath of that clean Kootenay air and look around and view one of the most impressive vistas in the world. The jagged Rockies to the east, the slightly less jagged Purcell Range to the west and far to the north you might even get a glimpse of the famed Bugaboo Range that Conrad Kain first climbed or maybe even the craggy pyramid of Mt. Assiniboine thrusting up in the north-east, the highest peak in the southern Rockies.
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And Then We Were Twelve
Barry Blanchard
[Illustration] Andreas Schmidt
STREAMERS OF CIRRUS CLOUD picketed the sky like a fence made of bones. I worried that by day s end the dark underbellies of storm clouds might sink onto the summit of Yexyexescen (Mt. Robson). By tomorrow, the sharp contrast of black rock and white ice could vanish under new snowfall, and a murky smoke of clouds could dull the midday summer air. For now, the sun still shone, and Troy Kirwan and I were working hard to shepherd our three clients Todd, Doug and Larry over the ridgeline that connected Resplendent Mountain to Yexyexescen. At 10,100 feet, they had big smiles and big packs. It was Tuesday, August 21, 1990, and we were two days and seventeen miles out from the trailhead. Rust- and slate-colored rock ground under our crampons. The Robson Glacier flowed northeast like a massive boulevard riven by crevasses. To the southwest, an unnamed creek glinted 5,
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