Mount Nestor

Mount Nestor - December 18, 2005

Mountain height:       2,975 m (9,758 ft)
Elevation gain:           1,250 m
Ascent time:              6:50
Descent time:            2:55

Mountaineering with Mark.

After four failed attempts of this, our most elusive summit, Mount Nestor finally granted us access to his summit – not without baring his teeth to remind us who’s boss, mind you!

We swore that we were done with winter attempts at Nestor, after the previous failure in March of this year, however, the phenomenal winter scenery and a healthy (?) dose of obsession, had us, yet again, crossing frozen Spray Lake towards the base of the mountain. With a perfect weather forecast and armed with an overabundance of climbing paraphernalia, we started up the alternate/alternate ascent route (west of Kane’s alternate descent route). The avalanche concern was too great for the other routes, though we would have liked to ascent via the more challenging and rewarding south ridge.

The slog to the false summit was a brutal physical assault that I’m more than glad that I will never have to repeat again. The previous day’s attempt of Silverhorn Mountain, about 4 hours of sleep, and deep snow was not a good recipe for a high-energy day and both Mark and I were sucking wind a short distance up the route. I considered turning around, but the magnificent scenery keeping us both going. Just before the first false summit we were rewarded with a stunning view of Old Goat Mountain, looking somewhat similar to the Kain face of Mount Robson. A second reward came minutes later in the form of a large and shapely cornice, lining the east face.

Now, only several vertical metres, but quite a few horizontal ones, from the summit, we were finally able to see in all directions and I would definitely place the panorama in the top 10 we’ve ever seen. Most notable were the striking forms of Eon, Aye, and Assiniboine to the west, and the sea of spectacular peaks surroundings Mount Sir Douglas to the south. Fully satiated, at this point, we agreed that we would take a quick look at the traverse to the true summit, but call it a day if it didn’t look easy. We had taken 6 hours to reach the false summit and it was now 3:15 pm (a reasonably late hour for the fourth shortest day of the year). Yet another headlamp descent was inevitable.

Our first problem was getting close enough to the edge of the mountain to see the notch that separated the first false summit from the second. There was no way to tell exactly where the mountain ended and the cornice began. Finally, the multiple kilos of climbing gear came into use and after setting up a good anchor, Mark belayed me, as I crawled out onto the cornice. It held (or there was, in fact, still some mountain underneath it) and I peered over the edge to assess the terrain. It didn’t look too bad, however the downclimb was plastered in deep snow, and once again, sported a significant cornice. Without a solid belay, descending this step and then climbing up the other side would have been suicidal and so I crawled back over to Mark, where we took out the full length of our 60 metre rope. I then descended, without incident, into the notch, placed some protection and started up the other side. This turned out to be the crux, as the terrain was fairly steep and I was right on the edge of the mountain, sometimes with one foot on solid rock and the other on snow, that may or may not have had rock underneath it. There were a couple of tense moments, but our belay system and protection were solid, giving me enough confidence to squirm my way up to the second false summit.

Unfortunately, the whole process had taken far more time than expected and belaying Mark over would have assuredly meant that we would still be on the summit when the sun set. We, therefore, agreed that I would quickly run over to the true summit, a few metres away, and Mark would stay at the false summit (only 2 vertical meters lower than the summit), and belay me back. We had run out of rope by then and so I unroped, gained the summit, let out a fairly loud holler of triumph, took a few photos and returned to the second false summit. In all, it had taken us a mere 31.5 hours of hiking, difficult scrambling, and mountaineering, in five attempts, to finally stand atop this mountain, and in stunning weather conditions, the summit could not have been sweeter.

Getting back to the first false summit was slow, but extreme caution was in order, on the uncertain terrain. At 4:10 pm, we started the descent, in the dying light. That waning light gave us some of the most rewarding views and colours of the day, as the snow turned various shades of pink and yellow and our shadows took on a blue tinge. We agreed, at that point, that our four previous failures were all for the best – none, with the possible exception of the first, would have yielded such stunning views on and all around the mountain – persistence does pay off!

The remainder of the descent was super fast, even though darkness prevented use of our Crazy Carpets. Though absolutely physically wiped-out when we finally reached the car, just before 7 pm, we were both elated at finally making the summit, and rated the trip as one of the best of the year.