Deer Pass to Mount Sheba: 5.5 km, +315 m, -280 m, 3 h 54 m
Mount Sheba ascent: 2.5 km, +300 m, -300 m, 2 h 20 m
I spent a fitful night tossing and turning, trying to filter out the sound of the wind buffeting the tent. Occasional calm spells lulled me back to sleep but it wasn’t long before the wind picked up again. The moon disappeared during the night and in the early hours of the morning I was brought round by an odd sound, a kind of fizzing noise against the head of the tent. It sounded more solid that rain – perhaps it was sleet or snow – but it didn’t last and I unzipped the fly the peek outside, expecting to get a face-full. I saw only clouds and patches of blue sky and wondered if that was the last of the weather. Sleep overcame me again and I dozed for another couple of hours when another shower passed over. This time I could definitely tell it was snow pellets, and I looked out into the vestibule to see some little white dots bouncing on the ground. The shower was short-lived and I crawled out of the tent to be greeted by a cold wind, and a mix of stormy grey clouds and blue sky. Thankfully, the clouds remained high above the ridge where we were camped and I hoped they’d stay that way for the day’s hiking. Morning light illuminated the distant mountain peaks and the expanse of broad-leaved willowherb by the creek I’d found last night – a beautiful sight!
We started packing up as another snow shower passed over and we remarked that we’d now encountered snow on all three of our trips to these mountains! A break in the showers gave us enough time to eat breakfast in the sun, taking advantage of what little shelter there was from the biting wind. In the valley to the south, we caught sight of the Tyax Air floatplane heading for Warner Lake, no doubt dropping off the first batch of mountain bikers for the day. As we packed up after breakfast, another snow squall passed over and, after a brief discussion, we opted to retreat to our tents for an hour and see how the weather was doing then. I checked the forecast on the InReach which confidently informed us that we could expect a mix of sun and cloud and – most importantly – no rain. That didn’t seem realistic given we were sheltering from a snowy shower but maybe it would be close enough?
By the time our hour was up, the weather had actually improved, at least at the pass. The clouds were still clear of the ridge ahead of us and we decided that the visibility would probably remain good enough to take that high route today. We were really happy about that and we finished packing away our tents and stuffing everything into our backpacks, even as another cold snow shower passed over us. We chatted briefly with the hunter couple as we set off, and were informed that he had chased off a grizzly bear up on the ridge behind our tents at dusk last night. Well, thanks for telling us. Personally, I would have liked to have seen the bear. We bade our farewells for now and set off in the direction of Mount Sheba.
There was no path to follow and we simply began the climb away from the pass, aiming vaguely towards the ridge above. We crossed tundra meadows full of tiny flowers – four-part gentian, cinquefoil, stonecrop, and alpine forget-me-nots – before traversing a scree slope and angling back to take the easiest line. Our packs felt heavy as we hauled ourselves uphill and we were glad to level off below the craggy peak to the east of Deer Pass, picking up a faint trail that led us over meadows and scree. The twin summits of Mount Sheba appeared in the distance and I revelled in the anticipation of camping below them tonight. We were really looking forward to hiking the ridge ahead of us!
The wind was fierce and would be our ever-present companion throughout the day. It hit us with full force as we gained the ridge top causing us to fight to catch our breath. I lifted my hands up to let my hiking poles dangle from my wrists and was amazed to see my poles pushed sideways by the wind, leaning at a crazy angle. Every step was a struggle but how could we complain given the views all around? To our left (north) were the red peaks above the Tyaughton Creek valley and beyond, while to our right were the grey ridges and peaks of the Gun Creek drainage. Such spectacular scenery and colours.
Behind us was a view of a different kind: a large grey cloud looked to be heading our way, threatening to douse us and steal our views, but fortune was on our side and it passed west of us leaving us in welcome bright sunshine that lit up the colours of the landscape. We sought shelter off the north side of the ridge to rest and devour a snack, finding some cold hard rocks to sit on while overlooking the panoramic scene before us encompassing the ochre peaks above Tyaughton Creek.
The next section was possibly my favourite part of our entire route – hiking on an easy open ridge top with magnificent expansive views to either side with the most incredible-looking mountain getting closer with every step. Okay, I wouldn’t have minded it the wind had dropped, even just a bit, but at least it wasn’t raining. Behind us we could see Warner Lake again and caught our first glimpses of turquoise Trigger Lake down in the valley below. The view really encapsulated the South Chilcotins for me: vast meadows and slopes plunging all the way to the valley floor, endless ridges, and glaciated peaks, even the occasional lake. Just beautiful.
We clambered over a rocky outcrop on the ridge crest to be greeted by an absolutely stunning in-your-face view of the sheer north face of Mount Sheba, a glacier still clinging to the lower flanks and spilling into talus in the bowl beyond, a couple of meltwater tarns stained green with rock flour. We took a few minutes to savour this view (despite the wind) and Colleen reminisced on a trip where her group had circumnavigated the peak, which looked more than a little daunting from this angle.
The beautiful ridge lured us onwards and we were compelled to walk over the amazingly easy terrain, constantly looking around in all directions to take in the views again and again. Spotlights of sunshine lit up the landscape around us while a few errant snow showers still threatened to catch us out. Not that we cared with such amazing views. Alas, the ridge came to an abrupt end and we followed the map’s suggestion of descending to pick up a trail that skirted a precipitous outcrop. Colleen and Stephen fancied a different approach, however, and opted to keep going – their ability to negotiate steep scree and talus exceeded ours and we were happy to take the easier route.
We picked up the faintest of trails and traversed the steep slopes below the outcrop, crossing a couple of tricky, deeply-incised gullies that reminded us of our exploration of the Paradise Creek area the year before. The trail disappeared at one point among a field of broken white rocks and here we decided to stop and have lunch while waited for the other two to rejoin the trail. We spotted them high on the slopes as they made their way down, also pausing to have a quick lunch break en route. The craggy slopes and spires above us were really impressive!
We had cooled off while resting and continued our journey towards our home for the night to warm up again. The wind just never stopped, stripping away any warmth we had generated. Stephen and Colleen eventually caught up with us as we ascended to a shoulder where we caught our first view of the tarn below Mount Sheba. It was bigger than we expected, and really not far away either so it didn’t take long to descend off the shoulder to its shores. There was plenty of space to put up a tent but there was absolutely no shelter from the brutal wind. Previous hikers had built small stone walls to provide a modicum of shelter, and we decided to camp near one such miniature wall at the eastern end of the tarn. Stephen had found a nice spot among the rocks high above the tarn with a great view to the east overlooking the tarn and the mountains beyond – a lovely sight to wake up to, for sure!
Colleen joined us and we pitched our tents below a rock pile, taking advantage of the existing walls to try and create a small wind break. The wind seemed even stronger now – if that were possible – but we managed to set up our tents with no problems and we dove inside to give our ears some peace. Oh, that was bliss! We spent a few minutes sorting out our sleeping arrangements before re-emerging to filter some water and to discuss options for the rest of the day.
Well, there was only one option, really, and that was to get to the summit(s) of Mount Sheba! We still had several hours of daylight, and the weather was fine – indeed we had been blessed by a double rainbow at our chosen spot for, well, you know, that business. Talk about a loo with a view!
We picked up the trail leading up away from the tarn where we soon crested a shoulder that offered a lovely view over the tarn behind us. Within a few steps, however, the trail promptly disappeared in a sea of unsteady boulders, despite the optimism of the map which claimed the existence of a clear path. We had no choice but to pick our way across, side-hilling the eastern slopes of Mount Sheba until we could turn left and climb steeply up to the edge of the ridge line, avoiding a treacherously steep snow patch. On the bright side, the ridge was broad with amazing views – our route for tomorrow looked like it would be exceptional hiking. Movement caught my eye and I spotted a tiny bird perched on one of the larger rocks – my best guess is a grey-crowned rosy finch, which we’ve seen in the mountains before. They’re very skittish so it’s hard to get close enough to get a good photo.
It was a slow plod but we made it to the edge of the ridge where its northern face dropped .away precipitously. We could see the north side of the mountain too, cliffs that plummeted vertically from its twin summits down to the remains of a once mighty glacier. To say it looked intimidating was an understatement. The way ahead led us up more steep boulders, but a trail appeared as we levelled off to begin contouring the steep slopes. Although my anxiety remained high in this steep terrain, the trail provided some reassurance and I focused on where to put my feet, forcing myself to stop if I wanted to take in the incredible view rather than risk a fall.
We had back-tracked to the point where we were almost above our camping spot – we could see our tents far below – and came to a beaten zigzagging trail in the scree that enticed us up towards the peaks of Mount Sheba. Having gained a little more confidence on the rocks, it didn’t take us long to reach the saddle between the summits and the stunning view to the north. I keep going on about the views, but they really were just so expansive. Awesome in the true sense of the word. We peered over the edge at the stomach-clenching drop down – yikes! Having made it this far – which was our first goal as we didn’t set our expectations on actually reaching the summits – we looked at the way up and decided that, yes, it looked manageable.
It takes me a bit of time to get comfortable on steep terrain – I always say that it takes exposure to exposure to get comfortable with it – and the climb to this point had settled my nerves to the point where I barely hesitated starting up to the eastern summit, picking my way over mostly stable talus and rocks to reach the very tip of the mountain. Again, I had no expectations of making it to the top, reassessing the route and my security at each step, and being prepared to turn back at any point. It’s like breaking a complex problem into bite-sized pieces – each step seemed fine, and the accumulation of all those steps meant that I found myself standing on perhaps the smallest summit I’ve ever reached, the ground falling away steeply all around me – and most steeply of all only a metre or two to the north. I felt absolutely elated, and tried not to let my head spin as I looked down.
Stephen had followed me while Maria and Colleen headed for the west peak. Colleen reached her comfort limit and found a rock to sit on while Maria finished the climb to reach an equally tiny summit with an equally terrifying drop off one side. (The drops in the other directions were merely mildly terrifying.) It was fun to watch Maria make her way up and celebrate her summit with a triumphant wave. It was quite a surreal moment for a non-mountaineer like me, to be able to reach such a dramatic (if non-technical) summit with relatively little effort. And to add the cherry on top (although maybe we were the cherries?), the sun came out and bathed the landscape in beautiful golden afternoon light while the wind (thankfully!) had dropped completely. It was truly a magical experience.
Having bagged one summit each, we had to swap and climb the other as well. I watch Maria head up the other peak, snapping a few photos as she went, trying to create a sense of place with the images. (I’m not sure it worked.) I followed Stephen up to the west summit and sent another InReach message (one from each peak). In the afternoon light, the east summit looked the more impressive of the two, but that could have been due to the light.
It was so hard to leave but we all reconvened at the saddle where there were high-fives all round followed by a celebratory Mars bar. I don’t remember who said it, but I heard the words “I feel lucky to be here with the three of you”, and they really struck home. Yes, we felt extremely fortunate to be there in our little group. Those are the moments to cherish on these trips.
We began our descent – Colleen suggested we try going straight down. My skeptical eyes widened at this prospect but by now I felt more confident on the terrain and we thought why not? And it worked: we were able to boot ski down on easy scree, rarely feeling like we were dropping too steeply, and were back at the tents within half an hour. Looking back up it seemed impossible that we had descended that slope as it appeared almost vertical. Our photos don’t help with that either: almost every view of Mount Sheba makes the south face look too steep to descend. I’m left scratching my head at how we did it. But it was so worth it!
The sun was dipping closer to the horizon and the temperature was dropping quickly – after all, we were camping at over 2300 m (7500 feet), which is about as high as we’ve ever camped. We collected our food and cooking gear and walked to the western end of the tarn, sheltered from the reinvigorated wind, and relished the thought of hot food and drinks. We chatted and marvelled at the epic day we’d just had. An amazing half-day backpack along an open ridge with views for miles finished off with a couple of hours visiting a truly spectacular mountain summit. Though windy and often chilly, the weather had been kind, the rain and snow had missed us, and the sun bathed us in warmth on Mount Sheba. We watched the pair of hunters reach the summit and follow our lead to descend on the scree, and they joined us as we were tucking in to our food.
Finally it was time for bed as it approached hiker midnight (aka sunset). We crawled into our respective tents to warm up, though I stayed up for a while longer to watch the almost full-moon rise over the mountain ranges to the east. Only when I was too cold to stay outside did I venture back to the tent, where my warm sleeping bag awaited. Crawling inside felt so, so good and we settled down for a quiet, calm night. We stepped outside for one last comfort break to see moonlit clouds and light snow streaking across our headlamp beams. But sleep beckoned, and we soaked up the warmth of our tiny, portable homes.
That was, without doubt, one of the most spectacular days of hiking we’ve ever had, despite the intense wind, and we couldn’t wait to do more tomorrow. Wow!
Being. Outdoors. 