SNOWSHOE NORTH GHOST

January 9, 2005

"I'm getting lazy," I think as I hit the snooze button one more time. It's 6:30 Sunday morning and I'm supposed to be up and at them already. I have a list of excuses, sore muscles, late night, -30C temperatures, but probably the biggest one is that, "No one else is going, so I can go whenever."

The original plan had a few people interested, but between injuries, illness and just plain bad roads, the group had been whittled down to me. It'd be good to take fewer breaks and to practice trekking at a faster gait, but it's a little tougher to get moving this early.

At least the preparation was quick. I had everything loaded and was on the road in 45 minutes. Once past Cochrane, I didn't see another soul until the drive home. The roads got progressively worse the further out ot town I got and I worried about the consequences if the truck got stuck or wouldn't start. What else is to be expected in January on a Forestry Trunk road? "What are the chances of that happening!?"

The first challenge was going to be finding the 'start line'. Ok, it wasn't that hard in the end, but mentally placing a detailed topo map on a generic road map seemed fraught with pitfalls while I was doing it. Nonetheless, I found the spot and parked the truck. The sun was bright in a crystal clear sky. Perhaps that's why it felt warmer than in town.

I noted the time as I struck westward. A prominent hill to my right ensured that I was starting at the right spot as I shooshed through the fresh snowfall from last night. The trail had some recent traffic in the form of snowmobile and truck traffic so my pace was reasonably quick.

The first cutline presented itself right away. "What a bomber of a trail?" I thought as I ground my way to the top of the hill. I looked over my shoulder a few times. I love the look of cutlines in the distance as they undulate straight as a ruler, unaffected by the ups and downs that they have to travel. Crazy! I crested the hill into the sunshine and light, crystalline, fresh powder. The depth wasn't deep enoughto prevent a few rock grinds (I hate the sound of metal on stone!) while I launched down the slope.

The intersecting trails were all well travelled and easy to see. Combined with very few unmarked trails, the first part of the trek was a snap to navigate. It was more entertaining to look at the vehicle tracks as they went back and forth, turned around and even went down this steep embankment. "I wonder what that guy was thinking at the time!!?"

It was at that point when I came around a spur of a hill and looked west. In the distance stood the peaks near Devil's Gap. They were absolutely astounding. The clear air allowed me to see all the fault lines and cracks in the cliff faces even though they were some 20 km away. "Man I wish I had a camera!"

I found the first 'CP' in about 1:20. It was tough to keep a pace of 6 kph and I was only able to do it because of the recent vehicle traffic. As I trekked north through a small pass, the tracks became more and more filled in, so naturally, I slowed somewhat. I reached the top of the pass and looked to my left. "It's not that steep on the map!" I thought as I looked at this trail. Ok, it was only 50 vertical meters, but from my vantage point, it looked straight up. "I guess I should've taken that trail further west." Serves me right for taking the route that looked the shortest.

Huffing and puffing, with the crampons of my snowshoes being worked to their limit, I clambered up the slope. It eventually got so steep and slippery, that I was using my hands to dig through the snow to grab onto rocks under the surface. "Didn't I say there weren't any slopes steep enough to avalanche." Ok, it was steep enough, but there wasn't much for snow.

I got to the top and had to take a break. I had popped the effort-o-meter with that climb and now I was damp. I downed a snack and surveyed ahead and behind. The original plan was to hit CP2 and come back down this slope to save some distance. However, it was clear that I was not going to make it down that slope without damaging something. Ahead, the cutline was untracked except for the occasional bunny tracks. The snow was deep due to the catching effect of the trees. Besides the climb, the next bit of trail was the slowest yet. Thankfully it was only a half mile before I passed by the next intersecting cutline.

This cutline was one of the potential outs I had identified. I peered over the edge and found that initially, it was as steep as the previous climb, but it eased up quickly, so I put this descent in the maybe pile and kept heading west. The trails along the ridge had been travelled by ATV recently, so shoeing it wasn't too bad. There were also a number of convenient detours off the cutline to avoid drainage debris.

I reached CP2 almost 3 hrs after leaving the truck. I had been able to generate enough heat to clear out some of the dampness (gotta love quick dry!), but I still had a hankering for something hot to drink. "Ah, time for hot chocolate." I rummaged through my bag. "Hmm" And then again. "Dammit, it's still on the kitchen counter, isn't it?" Grumbling, I packed up the contents, dusted off my pack and headed north feeling somewhat cheated.

The cutline eventually intersected a drainage plain. I had been examining the trails I had spotted on the map using my new found measure for steepness on this map and had realized that the trail on the north side was cut into a really steep embankment. Steep climb or break trail on drainage plain. "It'll take about the same time." "But what if there's vehicle tracks on the trail?" "Just pick one!" "Ok, drainage plain it is"

About halfway to where the plains caught up with the trail, I found some snowmobile tracks. Before long, I was on the last straighaway east back to the truck. Ah, that's why it was colder in town, the wind was from the east. The last 45 minutes of trekking were uphill and against the wind in three feet of fresh snow at -25C. Ha ha, I'm going to use that one when I get older. Ok, it wasn't that bad, but it was a lot colder than heading out.

The last little bit of the trek was over ground I had been on earlier in the day. I could've sworn that they were fresh truck tracks. I looked closer... Yup, they are new. Maybe I should've driven closer to that first cutline and saved a km or two. Nah, that's just lazy-talk.

Once I was back at truck, it took me a few minutes to bust through the frozen globs of ice on the snowshoe buckles, but I managed to get them off and plunk myself in the truck. Four hours, 30 minutes for about 20 km. I guess that last bit was tougher going than I had thought. I drove back shivering even though I had the heat going full blast. Eventually, I warmed up and felt that satisfying glow on the cheeks from a day out in the wild. "I wonder if anyone will be jealous if I tell them how it was?"