© International Media Group
By Ellen Barone
Teetering on a rocky ledge atop a 9,000-foot mountain, the only way down was to rappel a sheer, granite rock face. Above loomed the jagged peak we had just traversed, below - nothing. My knees shook, my heart hammered in my chest, my mouth went dry. With a death grip on the rope, I imagined all kinds of catastrophes, but I was exhilarated. I felt more alive than I had in years.
A momentary smile crept across my face as I recalled an entry I'd read in the climber's log at the summit: "I'm worrying how I'm going to get off this mountain. But then again, I'm wondering how the heck I got up here." I'd made it to the top, no small accomplishment, I told myself. Certainly I could make it down.
"Lean back, way back," encouraged guide Tom Raudaschl, a capable Austrian with a cheerful demeanor. I tried to do as Tom said, but instinct told me to lean forward. Finally, I leaned back and edged my way over the precipice. With the patience of a professional, Tom talked me through it: "There you go. Feel how tight the rope is when you lean back? Now just walk down the wall; you got it, that's it, piece a' cake." Minutes later, safely and solidly on the ground, my smile was wide and genuine. I'd done it!
Soon a welcoming whop, whop, whop signaled the arrival of our ride home: a roomy, twin-engine Bell 212 helicopter. Home was Bobbie Burns Lodge, a Tyrolean-style retreat amid the wild and jagged peaks of British Columbia's Purcell Mountains.
Why was I dangling off mountains and being whisked by helicopter back to a luxurious lodge? Because, that's heli-hiking (helicopter-assisted hiking): Canadian Mountain Holidays (CMH) style.
Like many CMH vacationers, I'd never imagined I would, or could, climb a mountain. Turning intimidating concepts into inspiring life-enhancing adventures, however, is what Austrian immigrant Hans Gmoser, CMH's founder, has been doing since 1965 when he started ferrying skiers by helicopter into the remote mountains of British Columbia.
It was late July, the middle of the hiking season, prime time for wildflowers and sunshine. I was part of 35 enthusiastic vacationers booked into Bobbie Burns Lodge, one of five self-sufficient, eco-sensitive lodges run by CMH. Each lodge has almost 400 square miles of wilderness to call its own. That's a lot of alpine splendor - serrated ridges, turquoise lakes, flowery meadows, and blue-tinged glaciers - for, at most, 44 guests.
I hadn't come to Canada for a hard-core, thrill-seeking adventure. Instead, I'd been seduced by the unique combination of High Country wilderness, professional guides and, of course, the ease of access that helicopter-assisted hiking offered.
It was only yesterday morning that I'd first scrambled aboard the helicopter at the CMH helipad (near Golden) after a scenic two-and-a-half-hour drive from Banff. The ten-minute flight to the lodge provided a thrilling, IMAX view of snow-capped peaks, evergreen forests, glistening snowfields, and wildflower-filled valleys sandwiched between rocky ridges. By comparison, it would have taken two full days of hard walking to cover the same distance.
Later that afternoon, after a gourmet lunch, the helicopter set us down for our first hike in the Purcell Mountains' puff region, a primeval landscape formed by eons of glacial action and the slow-motion collision of tectonic plates.
There were 12 of us: an affable group of Americans ranging in age from 13 to 60. Our guide, Thierry Cardon, a fit 54-year-old native of Chamonix, France and a 30-year CMH veteran, led us across a topography of metamorphic and granite rock, shallow water sandstone, glacial streams and shattered shale that chimed like breaking glass under our footsteps. More than two hours had passed when Thierry sensed we'd had enough and radioed our chariot for a pick up. Within minutes, the Bell 212 roared into view from the green valley below, kicking up wind and debris as it landed. A half-hour later I was simmering in the lodge's Jacuzzi.
I was joined by Carol, Kathy, Hiba, and Patricia, a spirited gaggle of middle-aged, walking-club friends from Ohio (amicably dubbed the "Buckeye Babes" by Larry, Bob and Burt, a rowdy trio of 60-something pals). Vacationing together for the first time, the women had piled into a rental car in Calgary and spent the previous week touring Banff and Lake Louise. "Isn't the helicopter ride a blast," Carol said. "I was little afraid it would be scary, but once I got past my initial misgivings, it was awesome!" said Kathy.
In my younger years, I was willing to strap on a 40-pound backpack and stagger through the long-approach hike necessary to experience the solitude, freedom and timeless beauty of the untamed High Country. These days, although the longing for remote landscapes and wide-open spaces is still powerful - perhaps even more acute thanks to the usual entrapments of maturity (marriage, career, mortgage) and modernity (phone, fax, computer, traffic) - I'm no longer loath to take the rough out of roughing it.
CMH lodges do just that. They were designed to blend harmoniously with their environment while at the same time being comfortable and luxurious.
"We're hugely respectful of the wilderness; we hike on hardy, sustainable routes such as rocky ridges or dry meadows, and keep close track of wildlife, scheduling flights to avoid disturbing them," CMH President Walter Bruns told me, "but we don't believe it should be reserved for a few hardy backpackers. We built self-sufficient lodges designed to minimize energy consumption and waste," he continued. "Each lodge practices composting and recycling, in addition to utilizing low-flow showerheads and toilets, and energy-efficient light bulbs."
I was amazed at the comfort of the accommodations, the sophistication of the cuisine, and the friendliness of the staff. Best of all, however, I didn't need to be an athlete to enjoy it. "The ability level we cater to is broad," says Jane Cubbon, CMH's marketing director. "All you really need is a workable pair of feet and the thirst for soul-expanding adventure. We're not taskmasters; our guests hike as much or as little as they wish."
I knew that CMH offered the opportunity to explore the remote, untrammeled High Country. I also knew that heli-hiking would engage my senses and expand my limits within a landscape one might have thought had altogether vanished under the pressure of progress and the modern world.
What I hadn't realized was that facing my fears and challenging my physical abilities would be so much fun. It was good, old-fashioned, alpine abundance - offered up with a healthy dose of post-adventure pampering - that made my first heli-hiking adventure so beguiling.
Each day, divided by ability (or how much energy we wanted to expend), the helicopter deposited us in new regions to explore: different route, different geology, different guide, same splendid panorama. Selecting from a menu of easy, moderate or strenuous routes, our days were spent scrambling up rock staircases, navigating crusty ice fields, ambling across alpine meadows, and sliding on our bums down snowy slopes.
We roamed glaciers, climbed ridges, and learned how to "sure foot" through shale or "toe kick" our way up snow banks. We trained our eyes to recognize the wildflowers that liberally sprinkled the valleys: western anemone, fireweed, Indian paintbrush, columbine, ragwort, arnica and fleabane.
Back at the lodge each evening, exhilarated and tired, we'd swap stories about our day; recalling humorous anecdotes, proud accomplishments, or scenic grandeur. It was during one of those languorous evenings spent at the bar, chatting in the hot tub, or lingering at the dinner table after a delicious meal, that I realized that hiking was only part of the enjoyment; the other part was the camaraderie. Experience deepens when shared.
Shared terror forms its own peculiar connection. Nothing brings a group together like knowing that if you lose your footing or a handhold everyone goes SPLAT. Mountaineering bonds both physically and mentally. Tied together for safety, my teammates consisted of CMH guide Tom; myself; Scott, a 40-something entrepreneur and Mustang car racer from Michigan; 17-year-old Jimmy, who was traveling with his Aunt as a high school graduation present; and Tanya, a 39-year-old marketing executive from Manhattan.
Scaling 9,450-foot Mount Syphax definitely required teamwork. At one stage, unable to see below while descending a sheer wall, I nearly panicked (okay, I did panic) when I couldn't find a firm foothold. Hanging from my fingertips for what seemed like an eternity, I knew I couldn't hold on for long. Jimmy saved the day, as he calmly talked me through it: "There, feel that little ledge; no, just a little lower. Okay, you got it. Now, move your right hand down next." In another instance, Scott unbelayed (unfastened) Tanya from a fixed anchor when she said, "I can't do it. My hand is shaking too much." That night, we arrived back at the lodge, tattered and tired; yet exhilarated and forever changed.
When to Go: Early June through mid-September. CMH heli-hiking trips last from three to seven nights.
Where to Stay: Any of CMHÕs five fly-in lodges in the Purcell, Cariboo and Selkirk mountains of eastern British Columbia. Each lodge is about two hours west of Banff or Jasper in western Alberta.
How Much? Prices range from $1,692 Canadian ($1,316 US at the time of writing) per person for 3 nights during the value season (early June or mid September) to $3,761 (approx. $2,926 US) per person for a peak-season, 7-night, lodge-to-lodge adventure.
What's Included: Prices include all meals, snacks, non-alcoholic beverages and wine with dinner, expert guides, helicopter transport, climbing and mountaineering instruction, hiking gear, and accommodations, plus ground transportation from Calgary, Banff or Jasper. For an additional cost, pre- and post-trip accommodation and activities can be customized to suit your needs.
What to Bring: You don't need to bring any special hiking equipment (the lodges provide leather boots, parkas, rain gear, packs and water bottles). Plan to layer your clothing to allow for temperature variations and make sure your packing list includes fleece, wool socks, sunglasses, sunscreen, insect repellent, a bathing suit for the hot tub, and lots of film. Dress is informal in the lodge. Laundry facilities are available at each lodge.
How to Get There: Fly to Alberta's Calgary International Airport.
What's Special: Themed programs include photography workshops, lodge-to-lodge hikes, family adventure trips, and culinary classes.
For Reservations and Information: Canadian Mountain Holidays: (800-661-0252; http://www.cmhhike.com).
Ellen Barone is
a full-time freelance travel writer and
photographer based in rural New Mexico. Her work appears in a wide
variety of
regional, national and international publications. For more information
visit
her web site at http://ellenbarone.com.
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