On another trip, with Colin Belton we were finishing the trip with Job Pass. We camped near a few miles from the base of the pass on the Brazeau side. We’d gone to bed under clear skies.

In the morning there was some frost, a quarter inch of ice in the water buckets, and heavy overcast. Colin didn’t like the looks of the clouds, so we didn’t dawdle, but got going with dispatch.

No mater what you do, climbing the back side of Job Pass is a workout. At it’s best it’s steep, rocky, with countless switchbacks.

Halfway up it started to rain. The trail turned to mud, which made the climb even more difficult.

At the top of the pass we could see white peaks on either side, about 200 meters above us. As we started down, the much more gradual slope on the Coral Creek side, the snowline kept pace. We were in icewater rain, but only a bit higher it was cold enough to stick as snow.

Colin told me to camp at the first decent spot with good wood. We were already down to clumps of trees here and there. Tree line was another hour’s walk.

The snowline continued to stalk us as we descended. I checked out a couple of spots, but there wasn’t enough wood, nor good trees for tarping. We went on.

At 3:30 we found a spot. Normally when we hit camp, it’s firewood first. This time it was tarps first. Colin and I wanted them up before the snow hit. So we told them to set up their tarps, but to leave their sleeping bags in their packs.

It was snowing before the boys were finished with tarps. Snowline had caught up. We were inside a Christmas card, the world was filled with big flakes of wet snow.

Firewood came in. Lots of it. And we built a good hot drying fire in addition to the cooking fire. While no one got really dry, everyone was warm and merely damp.

One boy was trying to dry his socks. “Give it up. Until it stops snowing you won’t get it dry enough to be anything but cold and wet in the morning.” Ever the optimist, or rebelious enough not to listen to me, he carried on.

By morning we had about 3 inches on the ground. Mornings with snow are always slow. Many shoes are wet and frozen, mittens are wet and frozen from the day before. Tarps are stiff, and had snow frozen to them. Much beating to get them reasonably ice free and folded small. Snow drifts make wet sleeping bags.

It didn’t help that it was still snowing as we got up. Finally on the trail at 10 a.m. and for the next three hours we were walking through a winter wonderland, as more snow kept falling in big flakes. Around 1 it slowed down and stopped and to the west the sky got brighter. That evening we camped below snow line, and were merely wet.

Headwaters Pass is in the Rocky Clearwater Provincial Recreation Area. The name is apt. The main pass runs parallel to the Eastern Front. The west side of the actual pass is a rock wall another 2000 feet higher. The east side is lower with frequent gaps. Several creeks start in these gaps. Hummingbird, Canary are two names that spring to mind.

I was brigade leader, doing my check trip under Keith McKay. Paul Nordahl was my 2/i.c. We were coming at it from the Clearwater side. The previous day, on the Clearwater was steady rain.

Newboy trips in the mountains are notorious for the rain. Usually not very hard, but steady. Steady enough to turn a trail into mud soup. And cold! Colder than a Banker’s heart, with a temperature that is just above freezing.

Breaks tend to be short. You are warm enough walking, but never really dry. So as soon as you stop, you start to chill.

We camped along the Clearwater a couple miles from the start of the pass. That morning we got going as usual. The rain had stopped in the evening, and we were mostly dry. Not feet of course, but the rest of us was at worst, slightly damp.

The morning dawned with light cloud — thin enough that the sun cast a shadow. Got underway, with newboys overdressed as they always do first thing, walked 15 minutes, and stopped to adjust clothing. The seniors went through the line making sure that the kids actually put stuff IN their packs instead of tying it on outside where wet bushes would get it soaked.

Water stop at the base of the climb.

By the river we’d been walking mostly on gravel flats, with light clumps of bush. As we started up, the woods closed in. It was a south exposure so we still had bits of sun. And the climb had us huffing and puffing.

Twenty minutes up, a pause while more jackets came off.

At the end of an hour we ran into patches of snow. Another hour, and the snow cover was continous. Near the top we came across a small stream. I knew that water in the pass itself would be present, but unpredictable in location. We stopped for a quick lunch of granola and cheese. Feet got cold quickly, as shoes and socks were saturated with melted snow. We got underway.

At the top of the slope the trees stopped. The length of the pass itself was covered in scrub birch and willow — pucky brush — about waist high, and loaded with snow. On the ground the snow was 6 inches deep more or less. Deeper in the ruts of the trail, less so on the clearings between shrubs. The seniors and larger kids took the front end of the trail, getting soaked below the waist with the snow and water on the brush.

The trail is a horse trail — sunk nearly a foot below the surrounding soil. Snow melt and the churning of the front 20 pairs of feet turned it into slipperly slop. Falls were frequent. Badly packed packs fell apart. Stop, retie. In some cases clevis pins fell off. Stop. Who has the repair kit. Replace the pin.

Under normal conditions the length of the pass would take about 3 hours. We weren’t moving that well. I figured 5 hours. That meant 5 o’clock by the time we started down the other side.

It was 3 o’clock now. The sun was just over the wall to our west. Soon the pass would be in shadow, and in effect it would instantly be 10 degrees colder.

I looked at the map. Consulted with Paul. Coming up was a notch in the east wall, a tributary to I think Hummingbird. If we took that, we could bushwhack down to tree line. Probably in under 45 minutes. Ahead it would be two hours to the end of the pass, an another half hour down to treeline. Worse: The slope down was the north end of the pass. We’d be camping in the snow.

“How soon do we need to decide?”

“Probably about 20 minutes.”

“Take it. I’ll blow a whistle if I change my mind.”

I waited and watched the kids as they went by. Looking at their eyes. Listening to their chatter. The front half was still pretty good. Walking well. either chatty, or strong. The back half was a different matter. Walking was clumsier. No chatter or only complaining. I’m sure I heard some sniffling. Going over the rest of the pass was a bad idea. No wood here. The side canyon was the right choice.

Now I was at the back end of the line. I think it was Kevin McAsh at the back, along with Keith. Brought them both up to speed.

Then started to work my way to the front again.

This is always tough in brush. The trail is barely one person wide so you have to crash through the brush at a run to pass anyone. But doing this means crashing through snow covered branches. Chilly.

By the time I’d worked up to the front, Paul had come to the creek that started down the tributary. The initial path wasn’t bad, actually easier than the trail had been. The creek was about 4 feet wide, but it wandered back and forth on a 10 wide path of gravel. Bet it was interesting in spring. We could walk on the gravel, and take kind of a skip to cross the creek when it swung to the side we were walking. It seemed to do this about every 20 meters.

We we reached the edge of the valley, however the nature of the creek changed. The tributary valley was steep, so the creek was now only a few inches wide, and leapt and churned down a cleft in the rocks. No good place to walk.

So we walked along the the grassy slopes above the creek bed, weaving amoung the shrubs. Snow on grass was slippery. I know I fell several times, sliding down the hill a few meters on the slushy grass.

The back end of the line was way back. It didn’t matter. The path we were making was obvious.

As we descended, the snow quickly got shallower. Paul’s estimate of 45 minutes to tree line was spot on. And by that time there was little snow.

“First flat spot near the creek.” We were already in shadow from the western range.

“Yeah. Right.” Flat did not look like it was in the cards.

Fifteen minutes later we settled for semi-flat or at least not steep. In the open there was still a bit of snow. Under the trees the ground was bare, but still damp. The seniors started on wood while the kids started on their shelters. We showed them how to use a big log at their feet to keep from sliding out during the night.

Two hours later kids were full of hot food, hot chocolate, and if not dry, were at least semi-dry, and warm. Sleeping bags came out and were dried or at least warmed up by the fire.