Mount Loomis attempt

Mount Loomis attempt

GR468932 (one of two highpoints in between Loomis and Odlum):

Mountain height:           2,544 (8,344 ft)
Elevation gain:               780 m
Ascent time:                  6:15
Descent time                 4:55

Scrambling with Mark.

By a long country kilometre, our best failure to date.

Our objective was either Mount Odlum or Mount Loomis , depending on which peak presented itself as the easiest or most interesting ascent. Of course, this was dependent on being able to hike the 8 km approach trail, in very wintery conditions and then gaining one of several cols between the two peaks. We didn’t have a specific route in mind and hoped that one would reveal itself when we were closer to the peaks.

I severely underestimated the time and energy required to negotiate Odlum Creek Trail. An hour into the snowy hike, we had hiked a mere 1.5 km, instead of the 4 km I had set as a goal. We were able to make up a little time on the straight cutline heading towards Odlum Pond, however, the deep snow made travel slow and strenuous – hard to believe we had actually brought our bikes along us, in hopes of cycling the trail – yet another egregious???? error on my part.

In Gillean Daffern’s Kananaskis Country Trail Guide, Vol. 2, the author warns of the tedious and unscenic nature of the Odlum Creek Tail, and Gillean couldn’t be more right. The lacks of views and interesting scenery were especially frustrating, given the clear skies above us. 3.5 hours into the trip, we were finally at a point where we could start the ascent. I had spent most of those 3 and a half hours cursing myself for picking such an unrealistic objective and wasting a great weather day, hiking along a boring cutline, surrounded by view-blocking trees. As we made our way towards a col between Loomis and one of the two highpoints between Loomis and Odlum, the views did improve (east towards the Highwood Range), however, pessimism about reaching the summit of either peak, set in and we downgraded our objective to the highpoint immediately north of Loomis. At least we would get to see what was on the other side of the Continental Divide.

Again, ascending the snow-covered terrain was energy-draining and time-consuming. The snow, that had been ankle to mid-calf deep on the trail, was knee to mid-thigh deep on the ascent slope below the col. Higher up, the snow also became hard and icy and the grade of the slope increased significantly, and so out came the crampons, ice axes, harnesses, and a short rope.

Approaching the col, we were now hit with the dismal realization that the upper 50 or so metres were near vertical and beyond our capabilities. We decided to veer to the right and try to gain the east ridge of the highpoint and make an attempt from there. This turned out to be the best decision of the day and would soon make up, in spades, for all the bad choices we thought we had previously made.

Gaining the ridge and the ridge itself were definitely the crux of the trip. The grade was quite steep in places and the footings in the snow, precarious at times. Without crampons, we would have had to retreat. About 5 minutes from the top, we looked over to the west, between a gap in the two highpoints, and noticed something a little unusual: there appeared to be an enormous glacier separating the Continental Divide mountains with those immediately to the west. Of course, no such glacier exists. It took me a minute to realize that valley, between the two mountain ranges, was draped with a tremendous blanket of low-lying clouds. This seemed to motivate us considerably and we scrambled to the top, to an absolutely spell-binding view of clouds and innumerable peaks, protruding from the blanket of white. The cloud lay about 100 vertical metres below us and extended up and down the valley, as far as one could see. Looking down on it was reminiscent of being in an aeroplane at 20,000 feet or something that you might expect to see while ascending an 11,000er. We certainly didn’t expect to see a meteorological phenomenon of this magnitude at a lowly elevation of 2,544 metres (8,344 feet). The experience was every bit the equal of the stunning view of Mount Assiniboine, seen from our ascent of Eon Mountain , this past summer.

We stayed at the top for a solid hour, marveling in this most unique panorama. The views of Loomis to the south and the second highpoint, connecting to Odlum, were also spectacular, as was the Highwood Range to the east. Sir Douglas, Joffre, and Abruzzi dominated to the cloud-filled west. As the sun descended below the horizon, more visually stunning scenes were revealed. At a very late 4:15 pm, we unfortunately had to leave. With an hour and a quarter of decent daylight left, we would be doing the majority of the descent by headlamp, though most it on a good trail, as opposed to the nasty bushwhacking epics of recent, Dungarvan, Glendowan, and Head.

Just when we thought we had seen the most breath-taking panoramas of our 4-year mountain history, another suddenly appeared. In the waning daylight, the sky to the east slowly changed to some wicked shades of pink and orange, as the light of the setting sun reflected off large bands of cirrus clouds. Mark commented that it looked like a scene from Mars, not Earth. The remainder of the descent was long, but simple mindless walking, as we followed our tracks in the snow all the way back to the car.

By far, one of the most visually incredible and rewarding days we’ve encountered.