Jen and I drove north to go climb Athabasca, but it was not to be. The weather moved in before we arrived and it would be a few days until it cleared, so we snapped a couple photos and turned around to drive right back where we had come from. On our days of down time we did some standard touristy stuff like hike to a few lakes and waterfalls. We also climbed a couple rock routes. The first was a very easy nine-pitch route on Mt Cory. If the rock had been steeper, it would have been Spanish limestone.
The next day we vacillated a bit about the weather until deciding to go and climb a rock route next to Takakkaw Falls before things fully crapped out. Unlike the route on Mt Cory, this thing was terrible rock (but still good by Rockies standards as I understand). We got about seven or so pitches up the very traversing route and had a decision to make. The weather was looking pretty nasty, and there was a party descending from above us, which meant that we were getting buckets of rocks dumped on our heads every few minutes. Between those two we decided to pull the plug. In one of the best moments of validation I’ve had after bailing off something, the rain started the very second that our rope hit the round after we pulled it from the last rappel. Basking in the knowledge that I had chosen wisely, I didn’t mind getting wet on the hike back to the car.
That night we drove in an absolute downpour until reaching the Rampart Creek Hostel where we shared the last remaining twin bed and were happy for it. Then we spent a lazy day driving the hour or so north back up to the Columbia Icefield where we found a campsite, ate dinner, packed, and set the alarm for 3:00. The next day would be Jen’s first alpine climb.
