Canadian Alpine Journal/Volume 1/Number 1/The Climb of Crow's Nest Mountain

by P. D. McTavish

THE CLIMB OF CROW'S NEST MOUNTAIN

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By P. D. McTavish

The discoverer of Crow's Nest^[1] pass is Mr. Michael Phillips, now of Elko, B.C. In the early sixties he came as a Hudson's Bay Company's employee to Fort Sheppard, and subsequently went to Wild Horse, near the present town of Fort Steele, when that place was in the midst of its gold excitement. In the latter sixties he spent his time trapping along Morrisey and Michel creeks, and it was while thus employed that he discovered the pass. Standing at its summit, he looked out across the quiet, forest-clad valley, which lay so calmly beneath him, the whole presenting the appearance of a great basin. Mr. Phillips thought it resembled a huge crow's nest, and in speaking of the pass thereafter, he referred to it as the "Crow's Nest" pass. It is quite natural that the mountain of striking appearance that stood near by should receive the same name.

Like the sacred Fuji Yama of Japan, Crow's Nest mountain rises abruptly out of the earth, with no other mountains within miles. In fact, so striking is this that the Peigan Indians had a beautiful legend as to its origin. According to this legend, the Great Spirit, with his daughter, the Spirit of Water, was walking near where the mountain now stands, when the Spirit of Fire saw them, and at once became enamored of the fair maiden and determined to capture her. But the Great Spirit divined his intention, and caused the fair Spirit of Water to descend into the bowels of the earth. Thus eluded and disappointed, the Spirit of Fire be

Photo, H. W. Dubois, Philadelphia	Copyright, 1903
MOUNT ASSINIBOINE

CROW'S NEST MOUNTAIN

came enraged, descended after the maiden, and in his fury caused such terrible internal havoc that the Great Spirit commanded him to come forth out of the earth. In obedience to the command, the Spirit of Fire came forth, raising his head and shoulders above the earth, thus forming the mountain! "Now stand thou there forever," commanded the Great Spirit. The fair Spirit of Water then descended into the earth and subdued the flames caused by the enraged Spirit of Fire. Since when all has been peaceful. This beautiful legend serves to prove to us that even the aborigines of our country recognized the singular, isolated appearance of this grand old mountain. The gentle forest-clad slopes lead up on all sides to the timber line, at an altitude of about 7000 feet, and from here a perpendicular band about 500 feet in height encircles the entire mountain, after which there is a succession of steep, rocky slopes and perpendicular faces until it finally terminates in a huge symmetrical dome. From the Crow's Nest branch of the Canadian Pacific railway, the mountain looks truly majestic, and often I had cast longing eyes upon it, wondering if it were possible for amateurs to successfully make the ascent. True, Mr. Tom Wilson, the well-known mountaineer of Banff, accompanied by two Swiss guides, had reached the top; but the difficulties they had encountered did not tend much to encourage the novice. My friend, Mr. Keith Whimster, and I talked the matter over, and it was finally arranged that we should make the attempt. Mr. George Harrower of Lethbridge and Mr. L. Stauffer of Frank made up the remainder of the party.

On August 19th, 1905, we met at Coleman, the Canadian Pacific railway station nearest the mountain, and all necessary arrangements were made for the climb on the morrow. At two o'clock a.m. we were aroused from our peaceful slumbers. There was hurried and muffled tramping of big boots along the hallways, and finally an attack upon the dining-room, where a breakfast awaited us. When we had eaten to repletion (we had a long day ahead of us), we adjusted our packs, and by three o'clock were in our saddles and off.

It was a glorious night, with moon and stars shining brightly. As we galloped along the Old Man river, now skirting a hill with the stream far below, now rushing along by its margin, now plunging into the darkness of a dense copse of timber, or halting to splash through a little rippling brook, it was truly grand. After going five miles west, we turned due north and bore directly upon the object of our attack, which could just be discerned through the dim light of earliest dawn. How defiantly it seemed to smile, towering some 6000 feet above us, and how we wondered what the day would bring forth. Would we really reach the top, or was inglorious defeat, with its attendant chaffing from our incredulous friends, awaiting us? On our right the Livingstone range rose to a height of 8000 to 9000 feet, and when the first rays of the rising sun peeped timidly over its serrated summit, mingling with the silvery light of the waning moon, the transition from night to day was beautiful. We enjoyed some fine effects in white and black; each clump of trees and valley appearing perfectly black, whilst the dim light of dawn revealed the whiteness of the surrounding snow-capped mountains.

The ride along the winding trail was most enjoyable, and led us finally to a deserted lumber camp, beautifully located in a little glade. It was now 4:30 o'clock, and from this close range, looking through the tree tops, Crow's Nest mountain appeared really grand, but alarmingly defiant. We dismounted, tethered our horses, relieved ourselves of every pound of superfluous dunnage, arranged our packs firmly and comfortably,

Photo, Prest Co.

A GENDARME ON CROW'S NEST MOUNTAIN

and at five o'clock started off into the woods by a path which led towards the mountain. After about two miles' travelling we left the path and blazed a trail of our own, which necessarily hampered our speed, so that it was after eight o'clock before we emerged above the timber line. A long slope of loose rock led up to a perpendicular wall several hundred feet high, and as we looked at it, we decided that we had met our Waterloo: Realizing the impossibility of making an ascent here (on the west side of the mountain), we travelled about a mile to the left, during which time we gradually worked to the top of the sloping stretch of loose rock. This brought us to the northwest corner, where a very interesting needle of rock engaged our attention for a short time. On our left was a bare, steep face of rock some 400 feet high, that led up to a crevice, which in turn led to the top of the face. This seemed our only possible chance of getting up, and we believed that once this face had been negotiated, the rest of the climb would be compaartively easy. The climbing was very difficult, but extremely interesting. When we had reached a point about 300 feet high, we found it impossible to proceed further, as the rock arched outwards, baffling all attempts at ascent. We then led off some 40 feet to the left along a very narrow ledge of rock, in the forlorn hope of finding a way up to the coveted crevice, but this ledge terminated abruptly, and we found ourselves gazing into a sort of semi-circular amphitheatre some 500 feet in depth. Not caring to risk climbing over such a place as this, we were reluctantly forced to the conclusion that we must retreat, and so the descent began. This climb, however, was extremely interesting, and we found our rope a very useful part of our equipment.

Near where we descended, was a great crevice, leading up about 400 feet, and resembling the space left in a whole cheese when a thin wedge-like piece has been removed. We grasped at this as a sort of last straw, entered it, and began a scrutinizing examination of the walls on either side. At length we detected a small ledge which led up a short way to a little dome of rock, beyond which we could not see. But we had hopes, and indulging temporarily in the pleasures of hope, we contented ourselves for a sufficient length of time to dispose of a few sandwiches, which, needless to say, we enjoyed immensely, as it was now nearing ten o'clock, and we had breakfasted shortly after two. The recollection of that lunch always provokes a smile. We sat in a row, on a ledge of cold, damp rock, a dejected quartette, with our feet dangling over a perpendicular drop, beneath which was a small glacier; the water dripped about us and pebbles of various sizes hurled themselves from the heights above; a cold, chilling wind whistled up through the sunless canyon as we sat shivering there; while we were still feeling chagrined over our recent defeat. It was a disconsolate meal, but in memory lives as a most pleasant and amusing incident.

Having temporarily satisfied the cravings of the inner man, who, by the way, demands considerable attention when one is mountain climbing, we eagerly proceeded upwards to ascertain what awaited us beyond that obtruding dome. With some difficulty we surmounted this, and found ourselves at the base of a beautifully straight, but very perpendicular, chimney, about six feet in width and two hundred feet high. This offered possibilities, so we immediately proceeded to climb to its top. Arriving there, a short shaly slope led to a similar chimney, up which we climbed. We now found ourselves at the top of that first circular band which begirts the mountain, and felt that victory was within our grasp. For some time we encountered a series of steep, rocky slopes and perpendicular faces, which led to a long slope of about 1000 feet, after

CLIMBING PRECIPICES ON CROW'S NEST MOUNTAIN

which the climbing again became fairly difficult, but for only a short time, as we had reached the final dome, and at 12:15 o'clock we stood upon the summit, a most jubilant party. Here we found the cairn of rock left by Mr. Wilson's party, but being very amateurish, we failed to examine the glass jar in its centre, which Mr. Wilson subsequently informed me was there, and which contained the names of the former party. The remnants of an old flag we captured as our lawful booty, and carried off as a souvenir, leaving in its stead a new one, floating upon the cairn of rock which we erected beside the other.

We then sat down to enjoy the magnificence of the panorama stretching before us in all directions. Standing isolated in the midst of a beautiful valley, many miles from any other mountain, the view from Crow's Nest mountain is truly grand. At our feet lay the town of Coleman, whose houses seemed mere packing-boxes, while the emerald hues of Crow's Nest lake sparkled resplendently in the sunlight. To the east was the stately Livingstone range, and through its gaps the prairie, vast and illimitable, stretched away as far as the eye could see. To the south, the "Big Chief," a bold peak standing near the International Boundary line, could be seen, while westward rose majestically th triple peaks near Fernie, known as the Sphynxes, but more commonly called the Three Sisters. The snow-capped peaks and glaciers to the north looked most resplendent, and seemed to continue on and on until finally they merged with sky and beautiful cumulus clouds into one glorious and indescribable blending of beauty. The sun shone brightly and the day was calm and still, with no sound whatever to bespeak the presence of any living thing, and as we sat there silently enjoying the grandeur of it all, even a whisper seemed a sacrilegious disturbance of the utter silence that was everywhere about us. At last it was time to go, as we had many miles to travel through the woods, and darkness is not slow in settling there. So after taking many pictures, we gave one last look at the magnificent surroundings, and the descent was commenced. It was now 14 o'clock, just twelve hours from the time our dreams had been disturbed. We reached the old camp at 17:30 o'clock, had a light lunch, saddled our horses, and rode home through the calm of the summer evening's twilight. Arriving there about 20:30 o'clock, we found that our cairn had been espied by means of a telescope, so that even those of our acquaintances, who smiled incredulously at our attempting the ascent, were forced, though not reluctantly, to forego the pleasure of friendly banter, which we feared when starting in the morning. To any desiring a pleasant trip and a delightful, interesting and remunerative climb, I can heartily recommend the ascent of Crow's Nest mountain.

1. Now written "Crowsnest" by a ruling of the Geographic Board of Canada.