Skyline Solo
Down to Gehenna or up to the Throne, He travels the fastest who travels alone.
Rudyard Kipling
On account of a slow economy compounded by a pandemic, my work is a touch slow. So, from time to time my boss will tell me not to come in for a few days. On a Wednesday evening leading up to one of these impromptu 4 day weekends, I decided I wanted to do a hike. As luck would have it, I was able to book 2 nights on the Skyline trail in Jasper, a hike that usually books up months in advance. I guess there’s a lot of cancellations these days with a pandemic and closed borders. I booked the sites and started packing. I had to be in Jasper, at the Signal Mountain trailhead, by 9 am the following morning to drop my car off at the end of the hike and catch the shuttle to the trail-head. I went to bed and set my alarm for 3:45 AM.
My alarm screamed me awake and the day began. I loaded up the car and hit the road. There’s certainly something enjoyable about driving around in the wee hours of the morning, the world seems empty and peaceful. I arrived at the pickup spot an hour early. I had given myself extra time for the construction; turns out it wasn’t an issue. So I sat in my car and read my book. I also chatted briefly with a couple doing the same trail but they were hitchhiking instead of catching the bus, something I don’t have the guts for.
The bus arrived and I was one of only two passengers. An hour later I was dropped off at the southern trailhead, near Maligne Lake, and started walking. The first few hours of the trail was just a walk through the trees in the rain, truly nothing exciting. It started spitting light rain almost immediately after I started walking. Luckily I kinda saw it coming so I already had my rain gear on.
Pro tip: Put rain gear on immediately if you experience any rain. Otherwise, you risk going from “it’s not raining hard enough to bother putting my rain gear on” to “I’m so soaked there’s no point”
Eventually, I started to gain elevation and broke into some mountain meadows, the views were good, but the rain was getting heavier and patchier. Early in the afternoon, I hit my campsite, Snowbowl. The rain stopped long enough to set up my tent and add a tarp for extra wind protection. Then I and my rain-soaked clothes laid down in the tent. Laying out in waterlogged gear in a tent on wet ground is a chilly affair, that I assure you. Luckily my down jacket in my pack stayed dry and it fits under my raincoat. Side note – always make sure your gear is compatible, there will be times when you have to use it all at once.
After a few hours of laying around, dozing, and listening to podcasts, I decided to try and make some food. I wasn’t feeling too hungry, or particularly well, as I was sleep-deprived and cold. The rain had stopped, but it was still a thin layer of overcast. I decided to make some mac and cheese and see if I could force some down on principal. Never skip meals on a hike.
I let the noodles sit in the pot in cold water for about 10 minutes to let them soften before boiling, this saves fuel. As I was boiling the water, my stove began to sputter and die out, was I out of fuel? My guts gripped with terror at the thought of eating cold chicken and rice for dinner the following day. I grabbed the IsoPro bottle and gave it a shake, there was fuel in there. A hard twist of the stove and it was right as rain, guess I just didn’t put it on tight enough. Macaroni complete, I took 1 bite and suddenly realized I was ravenously hungry. I ate the entire pot, about as fast as I could. A cup of tea for dessert and I was in bed.
I read my book for a bit, then the exhaustion took over. I woke up around 2 am to the sound of the wind flapping my tarp against my tent. At first, it sounded like an animal walking around my tent. After about 5 minutes of careful listening, I decided it was either the wind or a bear standing completely motionless and breathing silently. Either way, I was going back to sleep.
I slept in until about 8. I waited a bit to see if the sun would come out and dry the tent, however it soon became clear it would not. I packed up, brushed my teeth, and started walking. It didn’t take long for me to start hitting some serious snow patches and mountain views. A fellow hiker would later tell me “the park office said this is the most snow they’ve had in July in 20 years.”
After some amazing snow-dotted mountain meadows, I found myself above the treeline, walking the side-hill of a rocky valley. The wind and rain were coming and going. When the wind blew, it carried the cold with it. I came upon a good sitting rock just as the wind briefly calmed. I knew a hard and sketchy summit was coming so I took this chance to have my breakfast. I had what I usually have when out hiking: cereal.
The recipe is simple: dehydrated milk, granola, and freeze-dried fruit, then just add water when you’re feeling hungry. Usually, I make my own at home before the hike but this time I brought some Mountain House brand version, it was quite good.
Breakfast done, it was time. I had to round Curator lake and climb up to The Notch. Circling by the lake was no issue, but the incline up to The Notch was, well, ugly. It started as steep switchback and quickly turned into a low visibility scramble over boulders. Because of the low clouds, seeing more than 30 feet seemed impossible. That said, all the snow cover made an accurate guess of distance impossible anyway. More than once I mistook a patch of snow below me for Curator lake.
There were times the closest hints of a trail were boot treads and the telltale holes from hiking poles digging in. The real terror was being on that steep, scree-covered bowl wall, and hitting a large snow patch with a split in the trail. I couldn’t see the end of the snow, one set of tracks went straight up like a snow ladder, and one went along the side of the wall. I was doing my best to avoid snow. There had been a few instances on less vertical terrain where running water had eroded the snow from underneath, causing me to break through, something I didn’t want to do at the angle or height.
Unfortunately, the trail I took, just led me to another vertical snow ladder. I climbed up it without much issue, but at the top of the snow patch there was no trail, just a few footprints, or rather, slid around stones from where people had stepped. Walking on the wet scree was very much like trying to climb a steep sandy hill, every step caused me to slide a foot down under my weight.
After a few meters of elevation gain, I found a slightly more solid footing. I was able to step from stone to stone, still sliding down the hill a bit, but this was still an improvement. After a few hundred yards, I hit another snow patch. In a brief break in the clouds, I could see that the patch took me over the edge of the bowl and the snow seemed far more level. I trudged over it, thankful to finally be able to walk upright.
The snow had led me right to the summit sign. I had made it to the highest point of the trail: The Notch. Visibility had gotten better, but still not enough to see anything of note. It was enough for me to see the next trail markers, though now I didn’t need them quite as much since the trail was a little more clearly packed down.
Not wasting much time in the wind and rain at the top, I carried on with the trail. I put my sunglasses on, pulled my scarf over my face, and pulled up my raincoat hood. The wind was cold, cutting, and cruel. I kept my head down and walked cairn to cairn. More than once I felt lost. The trail seemed to lead me the wrong direction. I didn’t trust my senses in those conditions. I just followed the trail, glad to see any form of marker when they appeared.
I remember walking a ridge-line and only briefly getting a glimpse between clouds at the lakes and trees below, with the low visibility I had no idea how high up I was. Eventually, I looked up and saw the silhouettes of hikers. I got close and said Hello. We chatted a bit and I mentioned that if it hadn’t been for their boot prints I may well have gotten lost. We hiked together for a bit, eventually losing some elevation and gaining a lot of visibility.
I guess this is the only proof I’ve been there
When my trail friends stopped for lunch, I kept going. I prefer to snack all day while I walk instead of stopping to eat lunch. Shortly after leaving their company, a series of steep switchbacks led me into a treed valley full of streams. A few of the streams had hard-packed snow acting as a bridge, something a man of my weight is always nervous about.
On the far end of the valley, I found my intended campsite, Tekarra. I arrived at 2 pm and it had just stopped raining and looked as though it may start again any second. I weighed the options and decided I didn’t want to sit in my tent in the rain waiting for it to be an appropriate time to cook dinner, then wait in my tent for an appropriate time to go to sleep. I opted to hike out to the end, an additional 14 km. The couple I had met the morning before, when I had parked my car, was at Tekarra having lunch. They were also hiking out that day.
Immediately after leaving the site, I had to cross a river with high water. I did my best to boulder hop, but my boots went from wet to soaked as a result.
The remaining trail was relatively uneventful, just a bush trail with some snow patches and parts of trail eroded from flowing water. At one point some trail-runners passed me and informed me there was only 10 km remaining. A few minutes later I ran into them again as they had stopped at the top of the fire road to strip off some layers before running it out. I had a sit myself and drank some water. The couple from the lot caught up to me.
We had a friendly chat with everyone, the runners were off, followed by myself. The couple stayed back to rest a bit. Shortly after my departure, they passed me with ease and a spring in their step. I felt rather worn out.
After what felt like a very long and painful walk I came across some hikers who informed me I was 4 km from the end. This news disappointing me because I thought I was seconds from the end. I shortly found a sign that confirmed they were correct.
After a walk that felt long enough to induce fears of purgatory, I finally rounded a corner and saw cars. As I walked into the lot, I saw the couple driving out. I got changed as fast as I could out of my wet hiking clothes. The mosquitoes were terrible, I got some bites in some places I would rather not mention.
I promptly drove into Jasper and bought supplies for the drive home: an iced chai latte from Bear Paw and a pizza from Northface Pizza. I also phoned Erin to let her know I had finished a day early and was headed home. I had hiked just over 30 km that day.
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