Tumbler Ridge offers a rugged beauty that is not only captivating but alluring. No matter how often you traverse its landscape, you’re met with a different perspective, whether it’s the diverse wildlife, the ever-changing weather, or a new-to-you mountain range.
Being bored is simply not an option here. From the countless trails, back roads, to the vast wilderness that is still yet to be explored. The latter is what my last trip was all about: exploring where few or maybe no one has stepped foot, with no trail other than that of game, and taking the route you’ve made on Google Earth and applying it in real time.
Old Google Earth is a blessing and a curse. Many a time that mouse has given me too much confidence: “That’s doable, for surrrrre,” only to be cliffed out and nearly have to call SAR to be rescued. Yes, this has happened more than once, and as recently as my last solo trip.
The plan: Weaver, Limestone, and Bulley Glaciers in one go, consisting of a helicopter and side-by-side (SxS) drop-off. The goal: collect water from each, right at the headwaters.
The reason?
Ah. There’s the rub. To be honest, it was supposed to be a surprise trip for my girlfriend. She’s particularly fond of glaciers and travels days and days to get close to them, only to have to share them with plenty of other people. She’s also not fond of our area, and I was always wanting to show her the beauty of the region. Possibly she would come around to the idea of calling Tumbler Ridge home.
What better way than to take her to not one, but three glaciers, and all just a few hours from the house! Not only that, no people, no crowds, let alone a trail. And could you imagine this? A proposal of sorts! This woman would surely say yes sitting upon a remote glacier!
Ha! One could dream.
Instead, shortly before the trip was to start, she chose a life path without me, and what was to be a tandem trip of fervor was now one of solitude.
This, as you might expect, delayed the trip, and instead of heading out at the end of August, as planned, I finally made it out at the end of September. That will be fine, right? The weather will hold up; still got plenty of time before the snow hits!
Insert another ha! You’ll notice a trend here. I’m wrong. A lot.
The forecast looked grim, and even the helicopter service asked if I wanted to cancel. I replied to the email: “One thing I learned about the backcountry. There’s never a perfect time, but it’s ALWAYS a good time.”
I had no idea what I was in for.
Although this trip was to be done with a partner, I equally love solo adventures. I was giddy with excitement. There’s something that can’t be explained whilst navigating the backcountry with oneself. The humbleness, the gratitude, the serenity.
But most of all, the fear.
I remember the first time solo backpacking in Ontario and not sleeping more than an hour or two. Imagination running frenziedly.
Senses heightened. More so than any hallucinogenics. Supersonic ears capturing every sound that so accurately depicted a bear coming to devour me. To think, grizzly populations in Ontario are zero, but they were sure as heckola making a ruckus outside my tent. Who knew squirrels were so noisy? You’d think the little buggers would be a lot quieter, being so low on the food chain.
With every adventure completed, the fear subsided. Even after some unnerving grizzly encounters, you become closer with nature with every pitched tent.
Fear keeps you honest. To say I don’t fear the wilderness is malarkey! But these days, it is a healthy fear. That cliff doesn’t need climbing, that river doesn’t need crossing, and that bear cub? Doesn’t need petting.
You learn to hone your fear and use it as a tool. Hmmmm…. there’s plenty of bear scat here, oh, and look at all of these yummy huckleberries!
Maybe we don’t set up camp here tonight, no matter the views in the morning.
It’s been quite a few years now that I no longer fear the sleep. I’ve heard the comment of, “you were out like a light” more than once at breakfast. Truth is, fear changes with age and I’m old. I’m also just exhausted. That and earplugs work wonders!
Sleeping is a vital aspect of having a stellar trip or a downright exhausting one. Having something that comforts your mind and body is hard to put a price tag on.
This trip, however, had its own plans. Six days in total with five of them hiking.
A total of two hours of direct sunlight. You read that right.
From gale-force winds, snowstorms, rain, hail, you name it, Mother Nature was throwing it at me all the while laughing her ass off. I often think of her as a comedian. A rather good one.
She did allow for a couple hours of solace. The third morning sunrise was out of this world. I’m an early riser and I believe my conscience wants me to wake up and see that rise. Thankful for this for the blessings of many beautiful sunrises has occurred over the years. This one was no different and held my breath. The only thing missing in that moment was pouring the coffee for two.
Some firsts occurred on this trip.
The last night was so windy that I slept with boulders inside and on the fly of the tent. That same night I was blessed with a torrential downpour that had me setting the tent up in it. I slept with everything inside the tent: food and all! Completely soaked with the exception of one pair of dry base layers. I’d saved them, and I nearly cried putting them on. I would’ve actually cried, but I was out of tears.
Settle down, they weren’t ALL due to my new single status.
Earlier that day, I had made a cliff descent that was the most terrifying thing I’ve ever endured. I made an error on my route; ol’ Google Earth fooled me into thinking there was a saddle that I could traverse. That saddle turned out to be a no-go cliff. My new reroute was admittedly not much better but “doable.” Yeah, maybe with climbing gear and without a 50-pound pack on your back. Oh, and throw a little rain and gale-force winds in there, will ya?
It. Was. Brutal.
At the halfway point, I’m hanging on to this ledge with 30 feet still to go, and I totally froze. I’ve never been paralyzed with fear before. It ain’t cool, yo. Rain in my eyes, loose rock under my feet, exhausted (I’d already summited a mountain that day and clocked almost eight kms of hell), I was frozen in place. I wanted to take my pack off, but if I did and couldn’t make the descent, I’d freeze to death that night without any gear. Then I remembered, just how do you take a pack off while clinging to a wall with all your might?
For the first time in my life, I gave myself a pep talk. It may or may not have had some cuss words, but it went along the lines of “you got this, @#$ *^&%##@. Just like in the movies.
Another first… I prayed. Legit prayed. Having been a believer of the ol’ Big Bang and growing up in an agnostic household, religion never had any spatial place within me.
But boy, did I pray.
I obviously worked for I made it.
I’m writing this because Trent reached out to me and asked if I could share my trip in his paper. I asked in what context are you seeking? The safety aspect, the terrain, the sights side of things? He said sure, but that he prefers the human side of things, the “I did this to ease my broken soul.”
I laughed right out loud! He didn’t see any of what’s been written coming. You got it, Trent. A man with a broken heart gets dropped off by a chopper miles into the remote wilderness and finds the creator while hanging off a cliff! Bwahaha! You can’t make this stuff up!
Oh ya, cliff.
When I got to the bottom of the cliff, I collapsed. My legs truly gave out. I had expended more energy than ever before in such a short time. The fear didn’t help either.
As I crumpled down, I cried. I mean, I bawled my eyes out.
It was the best damn cry I’ve ever had, and anyone who knows me knows I cry a lot. They were tears of elation. The sense of relief was immense. I was so thankful, and I thanked the creator. I’m new to this whole religion thing, so bear with me. No, I’m not going to start to go to church, settle your tatas. But I do believe. I mean, when and how did an atom grow a conscience? I read that recently. Profound.
The beauty that was bestowed upon me over those five days: the glaciers, mountains, lakes, rivers, and wildlife. The help on that cliff. We’re not in this alone. We can’t be. I’m glad.
There was plenty else that happened like sleeping inside a glacier, etc. Yes, in. But you’ll just have to wait for the short documentary that’s being put together by a friend using all the stuff I filmed on the trip. I’m sure there’s some of you out there that would take solace in seeing me bawl after the cliff but too bad for you! I didn’t get any of that, I was too busy hanging on for dear life.
Besides, it was most likely just the rain in my eyes.
Above photo: Ryan on a glacier in a blizzard. Ryan Lamming photo.
