Goat Range Ski Traverse May 2022
As much as I tried spinning this trip as a resounding success, recalling our magical views and unexpected safari through old growth cedar, Digby reminded me that, not only did we not even come close to reaching the truck at the other end, but that referring to our last day as a ‘safari’ is a glamorous interpretation of the 14-hour slog we endured in the pouring rain. Thus, with much reluctance, I must declare our second attempt at the Goat Range Ski Traverse, which is proving to be a real thorn in my bumcheek, a failure. The good news is we get to come back next year for the third season in a row.
May 1st
We came up with the clever plan to drop the truck off at Cascade creek (our ending point) the night before starting the trek, sleep in the truck to get extra hours of sleep and to have an early start before snow stability declined. In classic maggot fashion, however, we didn’t end up leaving Nelson until 2200 and by the time we drove out it was past midnight. If anything, we lost an hour of sleep.
May 2nd
After some parking shenanigans in the morning, we started walking from Retallack at 0830. Following logging roads in the morning was quick moving. Once at the top of the road we figured it would be easy to follow the Whitewater creek hiking trail into the drainage but instead lost track of it immediately. Our route into Whitewater creek proved a bit convoluted and slower than we would’ve liked, maybe take a closer look at the lower road the comes further up the creek next time? We broke out of the trees and into the alpine drainage around 1130. From here the views were ravenous and the touring was strait forward up the valley. By 1230 it was 6C and wet slides were crashing down the steep walls of the drainage. All afternoon the eerie sound of avalanches boomed through the valley. We reached the tarn below Whitewater pass by 1500 and, knowing there was no wind forecasted overnight, we set camp at 2250m in the stunning alpine bowl below Whitewater peak.
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| Camp spot at the top of Whitewater creek. Maybe too much sunscreen, bud. |
May 3rd
Our 0400 alarm didn’t go off and we awoke naturally just before sunrise at 0530. Although we gave in and took a couple minutes to enjoy the sunrise, we couldn’t afford to lose time. Thus ensued a frantic clowning scramble to beat the sun that was threatening temperatures up to 10 or even 15 degrees that day. We made a record time camp break and an exhausting push down to Kane Creek and up Marten pass to reach the summit by 0900. It was here where we enjoyed our first proper meal of the day – two packages of vanilla sesame snaps.
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| Summit sesame snaps at Marten pass |
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| The descent from Marten pass |
Eventually we pushed on into the shady abyss of forest beneath that led to a heinous hour and half bushwack through the densest forest I’ve ever seen. We realized later, however, that this bushwack was entirely unnecessary, as we could have easily gone around it by first descending right to the base of Rossland creek instead of staying high. We might have benefitted from more route planning and less nutty occupations. The best route is to descend Keene creek right until you reach the confluence before ascending Rossland creek, although not easy walking, you’ll endure only a short, manageable bushwack as opposed to the atrocity that is trying to cut the corner into Rossland.
By 1450 we had crossed Rossland creek and broken out of the treeline into the bowl below Mt Cooper. We had originally planned to ascend to the tarn at 2300m on the north side of the drainage where we would spend the night but by that time the snow was wet and unstable, and the route up looked steeper and more exposed than we had expected. So, with lots of daylight left and no where to go, we sat down once again in the sun with Mt Cooper looming above us and tried to get some rest (a tall tale when you are jolted awake by the sound of careening wet avalanches every few minutes). After an hour and a half of laying in the sun, quiet and still, we were gifted with a rare sight – a wolverine appeared from the forest, and we watched in awe as it lumbered nonchalantly up the valley for a long while before disappearing into the alpine landscape. We followed the wolverine tracks up and set camp in a safe spot near the base of Mt Cooper. Just before turning in for the night, Digby was kind enough to remind me that wolverines, although small, have been known to take down full grown moose. Needless to say, It was restless night.
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| Wolverine tracks |
May 4th
I awoke at 0100 to the sound of pouring rain. The thermometer read +3C and I could hear rolling avalanches from the dark cliffs around us. Although we had forecasted 3-4 days of good weather and overnight freeze, it seemed the low-pressure system showed up early. By 0200 both Digby and I were awake and planning our escape route – It would be too dangerous to continue our proposed route with the wet, unstable snowpack. By 0500 we had settled on backtracking down Keene creek and following the Wilson creek drainage out to Roseberry. From the glimpse we had into the lower Keene drainage the day before, we were expecting snow coverage to be minimal and bushwacking to be maximal for the ~23km until reaching the Wilson Creek East FSR. We sent a few InReach messages, hoping to coordinate a pickup on the FSR and get an updated weather forecast, then tried to catch some extra Z’s before breaking camp at 0800. The last entry in my field book reads ‘0830 – hope we make it – HOORAH’.
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| Big cedar momma |
Instead of the wretched bushwack we were expecting, we were met with a day of full-on adventure skiing where the motto was ‘keep moving’ and the subtext was ‘this is actually quite fun’. We followed wolf tracks, crossed creeks, skirted across avalanche paths, admired enormous old growth cedar, scaled steep banks, sang sea shanties, and sailed our figurative ragtag pirate ship through the figurative Bermuda Triangle until we saw the light of day on the other side (that part is figurative too, we saw no daylight, it poured rain on us without pause until 1800). About 4 hours into the day was when we had to make our first knee-deep creek crossing, which we didn’t bother taking our ski boots off for. 10 hours and many more crossings after that we were still walking in the same water filled boots. With a cup half full (boot all the way full) kind of attitude, we both remarked how nice the cool water felt on our aching feet as we walked.
For those who might use this escape route in the future I’ll mention there is an old, overgrown hiking trail that winds up the valley called Wilson Creek Trail. Although it is irrelevant most of the time, there is a certain point (maybe a few km’s before you reach Burkitt creek) where its imperative you find the trail and follow it otherwise, you’ll be pushing through steep, dense forest and having a miserable time of it.
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| Crossing Burkitt creek |
Laughs, celebrations, and grumpy exhaustion remarks were in
order once we reached the FSR around 1800. The fate of our pickup remained
ambiguous, however, so we pressed on down the road, skipping as gleefully as
one can in their ski boots with welted and blistering feet. Three and a half
hours later our skipping had long since turned to stumbling and our gleefulness
morphed in to worry as we feared our picker uppers were lost. By no fault of
their own, my poor instructions had led them down Wilson Creek West instead of
East. Alas, at 2215 were we finally scooped up, crippled and cold, and having
completed all the Norwegian Duolingo lessons downloaded on Digby’s phone, just
a few km’s from Roseberry.
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