Wedge Mountain In a Day

Finally a successful ascent

June 23, 2023

Twice I have failed to climb Wedge. The first was admittedly a mild effort with no real expectation or planning. The second was a more serious attempt thwarted by poor weather and even worse visibility. My trip report detailing the second attempt emphasized safety but played up a manufactured sense of recklessness for humour. Having now ascended Wedge solo, I will avoid leaning into the lighthearted joke about safety in fear of it straying too close to reality for my mother to bear. Any activity in the mountains, especially alone, carries serious risks that one must understand and weigh.

Wedge Mountain is the tallest peak in the Garibaldi range. It towers 2,895m tall with an impressive prominence of 2,249m; 22^nd most prominent in Canada. Having almost never failed a trip objective, two unsuccessful attempts at Wedge weighed heavily on my mind. This time however, rather than lugging overnight gear up to Wedgemount lake, I wanted to do it in a day. With the poor compatibility of mine and Caleb’s schedule, and with Amanda living in Calgary, I was left with few options as to who was crazy enough to agree to such a plan. While not a particularly lengthy journey, you gain nearly 2,500m in elevation with half of it being on glacier, snowy arete, and steep exposed terrain. As a meticulous trip planner and astoundingly cautious person, I took this all in and weighed my options carefully. I then decided to go solo.

Following a bit of cloudy weather, the forecast predicted clear skies for Thursday night through to about 2pm on the Friday where there was a risk of thunderstorms. I would want to be up early anyways to ensure a more solid snowpack, so I decided to go ahead. I worked Thursday and was also scheduled for Saturday so I would have little time to recover. In light of this, I returned home after work and tried unsuccessfully to catch a few hours of sleep.

After ensuring my InReach was functional and detailing my plans with Caleb (safety first), he wished me luck and I departed Vancouver just before 1am. With a large coffee worth of caffeine running through my veins and the Pretenders blasting through the speakers, I sped down a completely empty sea to sky. Finally, after years of driving up and down that scenic road, I wasn’t coaxed into slowing down at Lions Bay by the threat of hidden police. Soon I was past Whistler and at the trailhead parking lot. I double checked I had the essentials and at 3:15am I headed off alone into the dark forest.

I was expecting to be a little spooked, but it turned out that hiking alone at night in the forest didn’t bother me. Not that it felt normal, but it was a pleasant and almost meditative experience. At around 4:30 it was bright enough to go without the headlamp and by the time I reached the emergency shelter by the lake, the sky was turning all shades of pastel blue and yellow and orange. It was 5:15 and I was ahead of my planned 2.5 hours to the lake. Before me my entire route was laid out. The glacier, the gully, the arete, and the snow climb. It was a long way to go. Exchanging a couple words with folks crawling out of their tent, I learned that I would be the only one on the mountain. Truly a solo trip.

I took a brief water break and proceeded along Wedgemount Lake towards the glacier. The sun struck Wedge falling across the snow and rock with a brilliant soft orange patterned in a perfect orderly randomness. A sight even the most faithful cameras or imaginative of memories could not replicate. The nature of the light continued to change into a bright neon yellow then a harsh white as the sun rose higher highlighting more and more of my route. I was me against the vast terrain ahead.

Suddenly I felt an all too familiar feeling. The onset of cramping quads. Before the glacier, I forced myself into a 10 minute break to eat and drink. I questioned whether I could complete the climb. Donning my crampons and gripping my ice axe, I ventured out onto the snow covered ice. Since my first visit to the glacier in 2020, it has receded considerably. Perhaps soon there will be no glacier travel needed for Wedge Mountain.

While solo glacier travel is far from ideal, I felt comfortable on this one. I was familiar with the glacier and deemed it safe enough. In fact, only a relatively small portion was on the glacier itself. Sticking to the far east side would eventually bring you past the edge of the ice. I hiked upwards, the snow in some places quite soft. Fortunately, those places were few. Most steps sank just the crampon spikes into the snow though, every once in a while, you would sink a few centimeters through the crust throwing off your balance. It was mildly annoying. Besides a set of lonely cougar tracks, no other footprint broke the clean snow. I was truly making my own way up. To my delight the cramps disappeared as I rose above the initial glacier incline to reveal the steep gully ahead. I was aiming for the NE arete route: the most aesthetic line on the mountain. I trundled upwards and came to the base of the steep gully I would need to ascend to gain the ridge. There was evidence of a minor wet sluff likely from the warm late afternoon sun a day or two earlier. Fortunately, with an icy wind the snow was quite firm and there was no risk. This would be one of the steepest sections of the route but with no exposure it was a straight forward slog uphill.

With the ridge gained, the view opened up all around and I could look down upon the massive Weart Glacier toward the east. Ahead of me, winding north, was the thin ridgeline and the impossibly steep looking snow climb that would lead me to the top. It was just a little way along this ridge where Amanda and I turned back two years ago due to near zero visibility. This time, there wasn’t a single cloud in the sky. Hiking the ridgeline was one of the most breathtaking moments I’ve had outdoors…both literally and figuratively. The alternation between knee deep postholing, solid icy snow, and careful navigation of exposed rocks was exhausting. As the grade began to increase towards the final push I was growing tired. Mountain goat tracks appeared in the snow weaving across and along the arete. I plodded alongside as they led me upward. The tracks disappeared as I reached the final push: The snow climb.

A band of snow curved left then straight up between loose and crumbly rock. It was very steep and while previous trip reports claimed 45 degrees it seemed closer to 55-60. On top of that the snow was very soft leading to a tedious and lengthy process of kicking each step several times to ensure a secure foothold. Driving the ice axe into the snow provided little more than balance and mental reassurance. It would have pulled in snow so soft. As I carefully cut my way left and upwards, I looked between my legs towards the long drop below. Slipping was definitely not an option.  While not technically difficult it was a slow process and after what felt like ages, I reached the summit ridge.  A gentle slope upwards provided a victory march towards Wedge peak.

Snowy peaks extended as far as the eye could see. Towards the south I could see Garibaldi, Castle Towers, The Tusk, the Tantalus Range, and to the north peaks I had probably heard of but can’t identify. It was 9:45 and I was up forty-five minutes after I had planned. I ate lunch and enjoyed the views. While beautiful, it occurred to me that most of the summit views look the same. It’s the route that changes every time, and what a route this was. I peered down upon the ridge, and I could spot my footprints snaking their way through the snow. The sun was getting hot and the snow softer so I packed up and began making my way down.

As was the journey upwards, the downclimb was equally tedious. I wished I had brought a rope to rappel it. Eventually I made it back to the ridge, but the careful concentration continued. The snow was extremely soft and had the unfortunate desire to slide. With each step, balls of snow rolled down the steep slopes on either side gathering size and momentum leaving a trail to remind me of the many possible paths off the arete I could take should I slip. Once I reached the end of the arete the downward journey became easier and in no time, I was back at the lake. Just around that time my left knee (i suspect the LCL) became quite painful, so I rested for a good half an hour and soaked in the achievement. Someone who had just done Weart kindly let me steal an Advil. I downed it with a gulp of lake water and began to pick my way down the seven kilometers of rocky and rooty trail back to the car. It was a pain to say the least. The balance between not wanting to injure myself further and wanting to get to the car was difficult to judge. It took an excruciating amount of time. 5:45 pm I was back at the car downing the rest of my water and a snack bar I had left in the car. Just enough energy to get to Whistler for a bite to eat.  

This was quite a trip, especially for the third hike of the season. As with many of my trips, I question whether I pushed myself too far in terms of fitness. It was certainly painful. While much of the uphill plodding fell firmly into the type 2 category of fun, the stunning scenery, the sense of isolation, and the cool exposed snow climb made it well worth it. Tomorrow I find out if the physio agrees.