MOUNT ROBSON PROVINCIAL PARK, “BERG LAKE TRAILS”, BRITISH COLUMBIA.

From “A Summer of Adventures, Love and Photographic Journey (Episode 10B)

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Already a half-marathon under belt, while wearing 35 lbs backpacks, and we had gain over 750 meters of elevation. Only seven hours into the day, incommensurable beauties awaiting our arrival were at their respective rendezvous points, time was of the essence and, to what extent yet, we couldn’t have known…

On this stretch of hiking, we decided to travel light, very light. Alleviating this second part of the day by leaving behind the great majority of our gear was needed. Just past two in the afternoon, our stomachs were still digesting the sturdy lunch we had engulfed after setting up our tent under a light drizzle but our minds were still moving upward… The goal we had now set for ourselves was to go see the sunset from the vintage point of the alpine. No trees to block our sight on possibly one of the most majestic views in the Rockies, if the clouds and the mountain gods allowed us to see it: Mount Robson and its entourage in its monumentally expansive surroundings.

Between the main hut and our campsite flowed the bottom end of “Toboggan Falls”. Apparently, a very memorable trail ran along its side. On paper, the trek by itself is apparently a 2 hour hike, if one is to return to the same campsite via the same trail… A fairly steep and slightly wet start presented us a well featured waterfall that had branded its passage in a spectacular fashion: Deep grooves were casted in the granitic rock making long s-shapes where, every so often, a pool halted the ever rushing stream sending spirals and free falling waters splashing, riding the luge course walls at full speed plunging into pools. Finding its way out of the maelstrom was dealt with in the wink of an eye.

The single-track singing lane offered deep throbbing beating grooves and high swoosh and swashing sounds coming from depths sometimes plunging over ten feet. A trail was apparently weaving its way up in the forest a few meters to our right, but I couldn’t resist the appeal of the singing waters. Like an ever present painter, the waterfall made its mark on the oblique stratum of white, grey and black granite slabs. Hadn’t it been for the rain and the cool breeze, it might have been more difficult to keep going but the thought of reaching the little forested area up above called us upward ever strongly.

Two-thirds of the way up Toboggan Falls, the waters abruptly came as one forming the strong stream that carved the ages down below. Above, the flat slanted slab was covered with multiple small rivulets and two main channels on the polar opposite sides of the falls. The rain was slowing down and a rainbow hung above us. Car size boulders were strewed on the top’s edge. The main boulder standing in the middle of it all had a young man, newly acquainted earlier that day during the climb up to Berg Lake, sitting calmly, meditating while facing Mt. Robson’s Emperor’s face.

A quick nod to each other, a momentous acknowledgment of the rainbow’s presence and the magnificence of this pristine ambiance and we resumed our course. A certain distance from here, there was apparently a cave which we both endeavoured to discover. The sun started to peek out without shyness brightening the watery ornaments dangling at the end of every bushes leaves and evergreen’s needles, evanescing droplets in timelessness. Somehow, my legs were finding their second wind. We quickly made our way up to the alpine and, as the dissipating vegetation flowed by, we entered a world of dark beige and light dusty orange rock. Though our pace wasn’t quickening, a feeling of acceleration and exhilaration persisted. Our goal was approaching.

(Halfway between the top of “Tobaggan Falls” and “The Cave”, Sylvain is trudging and gladly dripping sweats and rain. The quick showers from earlier left us with the gift of cooling moisture, birds chirping away and, by now, a breathtaking view of the surroundings.)

Form melted into space. Our minds sharpened darted here and there amid our panting filled with “Cave” expectancy.

Hardly stopping to discuss the matter, we finally came to a full pause when Sylvain discovered the hidden entrance. A quick gulp on our water bottles, a snack, and off we were again. In this field of coarse orange-beige granitic sand, of dust and broken boulders, we traversed upward all the way over to the entrance of the cave.

The air was thin, still and warm. Drastic changes in rock colours and shapes created a surreal landscape around us. To my surprise, my dear brother Sylvain warmly invited me to enter the cave first. I still wonder if it was because we were in grizzly country and he wanted to play it safe or simply because he knew how keen I was about caving!?! We might never know…

(Though our guidebook indicates a 45 minutes trek from the junction of the route we’re on with the Hargreaves Lake/Mumm Basin Route, after about 30 minutes of intense hiking, we finally arrived upon the mysterious cave. What may lurk in there?)

(So far, Eric is getting the thumbs up or was it a bewildered silent gesture as Sylvain wondered whether it was O.K. to be in there or not?!?)

The one and a half meter gap quickly heightened to about 2.2 meters. A quick slope for about two meters flattened to a rocky slanted floor where multiple rocks had broken off the main colourful walls while the ceilings filled was glistening with droplets. Judging by the display found around me, this underground chamber had seen moonlights by the multitude over the eons.

As tons upon tons of granite laid above my energized yet semi-beaten body, I ventured inside, deeper and deeper into its entrails. The warm air of the entrance quickly became frigid. Advancing further and further, I tested the sound travel-time to figure out how far this cave was going and whether or not I still was alone in there. No sounds of any nature came back my way… This gave my leniency to move forward a much fuller calm. I progressed slowly. Constantly on a slant, almost every step was slippery, wet and wobbly. I cautiously moved onward into the abyss.

Finding the end of it, Sylvain came down to join me while I slowly came back and, from here, we officially started our decent toward Mumm Basin, just around the bend of the ridge we were following on our way up. Reaching the tip of the ridge, the steeper slopes offered a view of absolute magnificence.

The zoom on the estuary of a young Robson River emptying itself into Berg Lake defies the imagination. The vibrancy of the sunlight was reaching its apex. Amid an angled field of humongous jumbled rock plates planted sideways and laid as if wanting to climb over each other in a frantic rush down toward the lake and beyond. Every angles were portrayed. Phantasmagorical forms and hues accompanied by the vastness of the area rose sensations of disorientation swelling to the surface of my mind. It was surreal!

Walking on a knee-friendly flat trail offered a good relief and expecting at least the remaining of the walk to be pretty straight forward, we enjoyed breathtaking views. In this golden-light hour, the aura of the place was old, strong and serene. Like small packs of animals meandering by, clouds were making their way by in small groups without intimidation of any kind while the sharp 8-minute old beams of our sun traversed the horizons enhancing contrasts and colours. The ghostly shadows of clouds roamed along their counterparts while mountainous giants were rising.

Joy had long overcame the thought of nightfall… We were following Mumm Basin Route, a trail starting at our campsite for which the guidebook gives half a day to travel as I can see now, but didn’t know then. After coming around the first ridge and delving deeper and deeper into the basin, I realized that time was becoming crucial and started to accelerate the pace. No trail leading down toward the valley was in sight yet.

Cairns varying from about half a meter to a meter and a half indicated our path as we walked along pristine grizzly country. Constantly in our minds, every senses awakened in the spirit of survival, this time of the day sees the change of shifts between diurnal beings and the nocturnal ones… Almost halfway up a mountain the size of Everest, the kingdom of our Canadian Emperor may not be the most hospitable one in these lands where humans are more visitors than permanent residents.

Passing corner after corner, our tired smiles were still discernible. How couldn’t we!?! What a day it had been so far. Aware of our situation, we kept on pressing on hoping for a sign of the trail angling down once and for all. Now well in the footsteps of mounting shadows, I didn’t stop much and increased the pace a bit more while keeping in mind the necessity to stay close to each other. After having travelled three long ridges, we arrived at an impasse: A precipice a few hundred meters stopped us right in our track!

Half a step away from the gap, we stepped on the edge and howled at the top of our lungs. In front of us, Jasper National Park laid its immensity and massive body. Deep valleys crowded by seemingly immutable mountains hung in time like colossal waves drawing the eyes, compelling our soul.

From here on, the contrasts were only going to fade as dusk was finally taking over. I evaluated the time for our decent to be around 40 minutes, just enough time to get back down to the valley floor and, maybe, even take a few more shots from this perspective in the last light of this unforgettable day.

Leaving the full alpine environment left me with less and less opportunity for photography and gladly took a break from even keeping it in the forefront of my mind, fully soaking in the views broad tastes in this full moon eve.

On our way down, I often thought about those two chaps who were setting up for a summit bid that tonight… Though Sylvain and I were definitely feeling the effects of our marathon day, their visit to higher realms had to be much more taxing than ours. While taking a quick water break, I tried to find them in my objective, zooming in as far as I could. Knowing the main routes taken by mountaineers on this legendary climb, I scoped the best camping spots hoping to catch a glimpse of their tent, in vain. Deep in my heart, I knew they had the perfect day to summit and sent prayers to the spirits of the place for their success and safe return.

Within a few minutes back on the valley floor, we came across Robson Pass Campsite where many were wondering where we had came from and, most importantly, where we were going. Baffled, the campers questioned us as we recounted our meeting with the cave and the experience walking into the sunset from up above on the ridge. Quickly continuing, a few more glimpses came through offering two last photographs: The one up above, with a reflection of Berg Glacier in the waters of a young Robson River and, in the second one, below, its glacier hides in pink hues far across the river, behind the trees. Hard to believe this smooth running shallow river grow to become the mighty roaring Emperor Falls only a few more kilometres west…

Upon arriving at the rangers cabin a little later, we went and sat down in the company of three other hikers we had had the grace of meeting earlier and with whom we somehow had an unusually intimate connection. They could hardly believe we had kept on going after setting up camp in the afternoon to travel the ridges and all the way back down to this point. We laughed and laughed sharing stories after stories for a solid half hour before bidding each other farewell.

Our tent where our sleeping bags were impatiently awaiting our arrival had a very strong pull on us at this point, but it is the shouting of our stomachs that really took us over. Emptying our reserves as much as we could, considering we still had to have enough foods for the return day, we respectively engulfed our decent fill. Since Sylvain, still had an even greater day ahead of him the following day and sufficiently rationed ourselves. He was planning on hiking a spectacular trail: “Snowbird Pass Route”, some 22 km-return of challenging hiking from our camp, if he was to stop there…

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This was one of the most epic day of my life, one I will never forget and probably die with convincing me to come back for! In the next adventure, I am bringing you down the same path I came up. The difference is the light was absolutely fantastic, the warmth and glory of the scenery in full extravaganza and all the time in the world to take pictures, film and explore. Two short clips have already been prepared for our regal viewing to exemplify the majesty of this encounter with the monarch of the Canadian Rockies, Mount Robson.

Till next time, keep your smile, take good care, thrive on and namaste :)