PART TWO: GLORY

My Name Is Jonas

The temperature fell down close to freezing that night. The next morning we woke to frost. Everything was wet and icy. We had a long hike ahead of us, but we got another late start waiting for the sun to dry our tents and gear. We finally hit the trail, and began a long, steady climb towards Jonas Pass. The campsite wasn’t far below tree line, so it wasn’t long before views began to open up in every direction. The best vistas were to the north, behind us. I used that as an excuse to take regular breaks during the ascent.

After a couple of miles the terrain steepened. We followed the trail across a scree slope to a prominent notch in the ridge above. The notch is called Jonas Shoulder. At the top, we were greeted with a spectacular view. The ridge fell away steeply below us, down into a deep green valley. Directly across from us was a wall of stunning peaks and glaciers, and the cliffs were dotted with alpine lakes. Even by normal Canadian Rockies standards, the view was spectacular.

The local guys we’d met the evening before were there. This was a bit of a surprise, since we’d left camp ahead of them. They had taken a short cut from the campsite, heading directly up to the trail. We had stopped briefly at Poboktan Creek before beginning the ascent, and apparently they had stayed just far enough ahead of us that we hadn’t seen them. We chatted for a few minutes, before they headed out. They were on a layover day, and were taking the opportunity to do some off-trail exploring. They planned to follow the ridgeline south from Jonas Shoulder towards a nearby peak. They had heard that it was possible to see Brazeau Lake from its summit. That sounded like a lot of fun, but we had a long way to go.

After a lengthy break we descended gradually into the valley below. We left the land of rocks and scree behind, but even at the lowest point we were well above tree line. We strolled through meadows and willows, walking through the shadows of the cliffs immediately to the west. We climbed gently, towards Jonas Pass at the crest of the valley. Uninterrupted views continued along here, though the best vistas were once again behind us.

The Peanut Butter Incident (2)

We stopped for lunch a bit before Jonas Pass. We found a group of boulders scattered among the willows to sit on. I made my usual bear shit sandwich with tortillas, runny organic peanut butter, and strawberry jam. Afterwards we packed up and resumed the gradual climb to Jonas Pass. The next morning, while I was packing up after breakfast, I couldn’t find the jar of peanut butter. Apparently I left it in the willows where we had lunch. This was bad on a couple of levels. First, I felt guilty about littering, even if it was accidental. Also, I was beginning to run low on food. I usually pack too much, but on this trip I was focused on minimizing my pack weight. For the last 3 days, lunch would consist of broken tortillas and jam, along with a handful of snacks.

The final stretch of trail leading to Jonas Pass was delightful. We passed some lovely alpine tarns, and spotted several marmots. We also saw quite a few antlers. This area is known for its caribou herds, but we weren’t lucky enough to see any.

We crested the pass and began a long descent to the Brazeau River. The scenery was pleasant along this stretch, but not comparable to what we’d seen earlier. The hike was a bit tedious, as there were lots of PUDS (pointless ups and downs) and 4 or 5 incredibly slippery creek crossings. We managed to rock hop all of them, and I stayed dry even though I fell on my ass in the middle of one of them. I landed on a rock, which really wasn’t any better than falling in the creek.

We reached the Brazeau River and the Four Point Campground at 7pm. Our permit required us to camp at Boulder Creek, which is 2 miles farther upstream. Four Point is nicer, and Dave was inclined to stop there. However, Four Point was pretty busy, and stopping early would mean adding 2 miles to the next day’s hike. I wasn’t sure how long it would take us to get over Cataract Pass. We decided to push on. After all, we still had more than 2 hours of daylight to work with.

Boulder Creek was busy, too. In fact, there were more people there than the 5 official campsites could accommodate. Fortunately, the “extra” people had pitched their tents between the tent sites and the cooking area, leaving two tent sites free. Apparently starting our trip in nasty weather had granted us an unusual amount of solitude in a popular area. Now that the weather had improved, the crowds had caught up to us.

That evening at dinner we met a young couple from Australia. They were on an extended working vacation. They were staying in Jasper for a year or so, working at a hotel and spending their free days hiking and backpacking (and skiing, come winter). I was impressed. Careers are overrated. Why not live while you are young?

We went to bed shortly after dark, exhausted from a long day on the trail. It was a little warmer that night, though that may have had more to do with being at a lower elevation.

Alone

We got on the trail at 9am the next day, which was pretty good for us. Most of the campground was still sleeping, which made me feel better – even if they were all college kids. We crossed a footbridge over the river, which was much lower than it had been a few days earlier. When we crossed it then, it had been a raging torrent. Now it was placid and rocky. It’s amazing how quickly the personality of a river can change!

We hiked upstream, below high peaks, through meadows and scattered forest. We reached the base of the waterfall, and began a stout climb above a narrow gorge. Part of the way up I found the overlook I’d noted a few days earlier. Now it offered a spectacular view down the Brazeau valley. If I ever dayhike to Nigel Pass, I’ll remember to extend the hike and cross the river just to revisit this breathtaking spot.

It was another glorious day, our third in a row after two days of rain and snow. I left the overlook and followed the trail through a boulder garden high above the Brazeau River gorge. Nigel Pass was directly across me, and there was a spectacular view of peaks and glaciers immediately beyond. The view was so incredible, I almost failed to notice a herd of elk grazing in a meadow near the pass. Needless to say, I spent a few minutes taking photos there. My lens wasn’t long enough to really capture the elk, but the overall vista with the elk in the foreground was compelling.

We reached the river ford and the trail to Nigel Pass. Crossing wouldn’t have been hard – in fact, the water was so low we probably could have rock hopped. Still, there was no good reason to return to Nigel Pass, since we’d been treated to the same views along the ridge above the gorge. Dave’s car was 5 miles down that trail, but our adventure was just beginning. We were leaving the standard route behind, going “off-trail” into the headwaters of the Brazeau River. We planned to cross Cataract Pass, and descend Cataract Creek in the White Goat Wilderness. If all went according to plan, we’d reach the Cline River, which we would follow upstream to Pinto Lake. From there we’d pick up a trail to Sunset Pass on the boundary of Banff National Park. From the pass, a simple 4 mile hike would deliver us to my car.

We really had no idea how this would go. Although the route was “off-trail”, it is a segment of the unofficial Great Divide route. The Great Divide is a continuation of the Continental Divide Trail, which runs from the Mexican border through New Mexico, Colorado, Wyoming, Idaho, and Montana. It ends at Waterton Lake on the border of Glacier National Park (US) and Waterton Lakes National Park. The Great Divide picks up there, continuing north to Banff, Kootenay, Yoho, and Jasper National Parks. Part of the Great Divide follows official trails, but other sections, like the one over Cataract Pass, are officially off-trail. Still, we were pretty sure that the route sees enough traffic to create something of a beaten path. If it went badly, we could easily retreat to Nigel Pass and Dave’s car. Well, unless it went badly long after we descended from Cataract Pass. Somewhere along the way we’d hit the point of no return.

From the ford, we continued upstream without crossing the river. There was an obvious trail upstream from the ford, and the hiking was easy. The river was gorgeous, with deep pools of milky blue water full of glacial sediment. The surrounding peaks were even more scenic. We had climbed above tree line shortly after leaving camp that morning, and wouldn’t see forest again until that evening, or the next morning.

The easy hiking was interrupted briefly by a difficult stretch of boulders. We scrambled through a maze, but managed to avoid the worst of it by scrambling between a cliff and the river’s edge. We actually ran into the couple from Australia here. They had dayhiked up to the alpine lakes below Cataract Pass, and were on their way back to camp. Little did we know that it would be the last people we would see for more than 48 hours.

Once we passed the boulders the hiking eased again. At a bend in the river we continued ahead up a gully, but even this wasn’t particularly difficult. The views behind us were spectacular, and the peaks and glaciers ahead beckoned us on. Dave encountered some ptarmigans along here, but I missed them since I was a bit behind. A bit later, we climbed up some talus to a hillside above a vast floodplain. The river stretched below us, braided through a broad valley interspersed with gravel bars. There was a small tarn below us, too, and a couple of ducks were playing in it. We stopped there for lunch, fueling up for the grueling climb ahead.

We continued upstream, reaching the foot of the first lake a bit later. The lake was a cloudy green, again from the glacial sediment. It’s interesting how many different colors show up in the water here. While we were there, the river ranged from milky blue to nearly white, while the lakes were green. Of course, the colors can change with the weather and the seasons. An increase in rain or even snow melt will dilute the lakes and rivers, reducing the amount of glacial sediment.

We started our climb towards the pass shortly before reaching the lake. We were thrilled to see that there was something of a beaten path in the scree-covered hillside. That was reassuring. The hillside looked very steep on the map, and it didn’t look much better in person. Still, it was clearly doable. I was actually more concerned about the descent on the far side. The map showed it being significantly steeper, and I’d read that snow often lingers on that side of the pass until late summer.

The climb was strenuous, but the views got better with every step. The vista behind us had been spectacular all day, and it grew more and more impressive with every step. The lake grew more scenic as we climbed, and then a second lake came into view. A third, higher lake appeared shortly before we reached the pass. And the entire area was guarded by a ring of sheer peaks adorned with glaciers. The mountain directly across from us featured an impressive glacier with two holes – exposing bare cliff – that looked like eyes. It seemed like that mountain was watching us as we climbed towards the pass.

We found an impressive snow field and a summit register at the pass. We took a well-deserved break there, before beginning the descent. We were pleased to find a beaten path continuing through the scree in that direction. It was marked sporadically with cairns, too.

It led us to the top of a steep snowfield. It looked dicey, but the surrounding scree slopes were even steeper. We decided to descend through the snow. Fortunately it was soft due to the warm, sunny day. We took it slow, and reached the bottom without incident. From there, the rest of the descent to Cataract Creek was easy. We found a braided section of stream, where we were able to cross without getting our feet wet. Then we headed downstream through hummocky meadows in search of a campsite. The ground here was really lumpy, and we wanted to get down to tree line so that we would have a place to hang our food. Neither of us had wanted to carry a 2 ½ pound bear canister for the one night that we would be camping at a site without bear poles.

We reached tree line and the thickest tangle of scraggly trees I’ve ever seen. The forest was completely impenetrable. Fortunately the stream bank was open, and Dave thought he spotted a likely spot to camp a short distance downstream. We headed that way, and found a reasonably flat spot above the creek. There was an old fire ring here, too. We set up camp there, and spent the rest of the evening enjoying the sunshine and the scenery. Just upstream, two forks of the stream came together, and each had small waterfalls. A couple of miles downstream, a spectacular waterfall leapt out of a hanging canyon to plunge down into the valley. I guess there is a reason why it is called Cataract Canyon.

Finding a tree that was adequate to hang our food was a major undertaking. Walking into the forest was impossible, so we were limited to the trees growing along the perimeter. We eventually found one that was marginally adequate. It didn’t have limbs, so it offered no protection from black bears, since they can climb trees. None of the trees around us had limbs though, so that was a chance we would have to take.

I slept well that night after a long, tough day of hiking. The next day promised more adventure. We had to descend the length of the Cataract Valley. There is no official trail, but information we had found suggested that there was something of a beaten path most of the way. Once down at the Cline River, we would have to ford Cataract Creek and Huntington Creek to reach Pinto Lake.

Continue reading about our backpacking trip as Dave and I hike down the Cataract Creek valley and on to the Cline River, Pinto Lake, and Sunset Pass.

Back to the Canadian Rockies

Back to Hiking and Backpacking Trip Reports

Home

Please remember to Leave No Trace!