Tenacity Peak
Canadian Rockies
I’ve worked a few jobs while backpacking, one of which resulted in me finding myself spending my summer months in a remote area of the Canadian Rockies. I lived just over an hour south of the beautiful mountain town of Jasper, with my work giving me a chance to save up for travelling and serving as a base from which I could explorer the peaks and valleys of the Rockies! The remote location where I lived is frequented by thousands of visitors in the summer months, but is closed in the winter due to the brutal conditions.
I was provided with on-site staff accommodation. From my bedroom window, a mountain peak loomed, a mountain which was said to have never been climbed!
I have always liked the idea of doing things which few others have done, to have the chance to do something which nobody has done before was even more appealing! Some of my favourite travel adventures have been in the less-travelled parts of the world, be it the Australian outback, the snowy peaks of Tasmania or the Mongolian Steppe. The mountain I was looking at was not only believed to have been unclimbed but also unnamed. To further add to its allure, it also has an incredible shape to it with an eye-catching and huge sweeping curve when viewed from my home.
Many of the mountain peaks in the immediate area had names; it felt a shame that such a beautiful, iconic mountain, especially one seen by so many, did not have a name and a story behind it to match the other peaks in the area.
I started researching the peak and found some references to informal names for it: ‘Nigel 2’ and ‘Nigel SW3’. These unofficial, informal names were used, given the peak’s close proximity to its neighbour and far more famous summit, Nigel Peak. Nigel Peak had been named after an explorer and mountaineer who had named many of the local peaks. Being from the UK, we Brits typically give names to mountains in a similar fashion only for ‘satellite peaks’: peaks which can be accessed relatively easily from the main summit. The peak I intended to climb, however, could not be summited from the direction of Nigel Peak, making it well and truly its own peak. The mountain was also notable enough to be the dividing summit between Banff and Jasper National Parks. By my logic, if a mountain peak is sufficiently notable to serve as a boundary such as this then it definitely deserves a name! My justification for this is reaffirmed by that fact that a similar-sized peak on the opposite side of the Icefield Parkway (which is the main highway through this part of the Rockies) has, in my opion, a less distinctive appearence than this peak but has been named ‘Boundary Peak’ given that it also serves as the boundary between Banff and Jasper National Parks.
It was my second season of work at that location in the Rockies. I had arrived late the previous season and had fallen in love with the place. After working elsewhere in the Rockies for the winter, I had gladly returned for another summer of work and, more importantly, adventure! The accommodation isn’t glamorous but it does the job. When I arrived, I was given a twin room which I had to myself. Most people shared a room and that was the accepted norm, however, as I arrived mid-season to an empty room, and after spending just over a week by myself, I had hoped I might keep it that way! One afternoon, I got an email informing me that I would be having a roommate called Barney. Given his name, I assumed (sorry to all barneys out there) that I may be sharing with a middle-aged man. It was to my surprise that the next day, my female colleagues and friends were itching with excitement and enquiries about the hot new lad who had moved into my room. When I got home from work this handsome devil himself had moved in and he introduced himself as Barney. A nice, outdoorsy Brit in his early 20’s who knew how to climb and loved mountaineering. We got on like a house on fire and enjoyed many adventures together, scrambling across mountain ridges, wading through rivers and being boys in the wild. When our first season ended and everyone dispersed for the winter, we spent some time together in the Rockies before he and his new girlfriend (yes, one of the lucky ladies at my work managed to tie down this eligible bachelor) and they moved to Vancouver Island on Canada’s west coast.
When the next Spring rolled around, both Barney and I returned to our former life in the remote Rockies with more plans for bigger adventures than before! We knew and trusted each other and also had gained local experience, particularly for the incredibly loose limestone in the area. The rock was so loose that small rocks would easily be dislodged when pressure was applied ot them and even massive boulders could come loose as you step onto them. This was particularly evident on one of our spontaneous hikes up Nigel Ridge, a very infrequently travelled route where a narrow ridge had sheer drops to either side and what was there went bouncing down the mountain. The fear and adrenaline was amazing though and the views weren’t half bad either! Most of our adventures were not on maintained trails and many involved us climbing the surrounding mountains. Many of the peaks in the area involve climbing up scree slopes to reach the summit. Scree slopes are made up of smaller rocks which are loose and give way between your feet as you climb up. This can be exhausting and infuriating at times, especially if you have a heavy backpack as you often slide back, losing half of your stride in each attempt to climb higher. On the flip side, they can be amazing to descend. If you get the right size of small rock, you can almost ski down them, placing your feet in a rhythm and stride that means you can descend incredibly rapidly without too much strain on your knees in an almost gliding motion. It’s fast and great fun! We had experience with scree slopes from our separate adventures in the UK before we met, so we covered good ground on our bigger days out and had a blast doing it!
Barney had returned with me and we took about the task of planning an expedition to the summit of this, as yet unclimbed, mountain peak. Confident, competent, in good shape and a top guy and a great friend, Barney was an ideal companion for the expedition!
In online research, I had found a blog by a hiker who had reached the ridge of the peak already. He described reaching a gap at the top of the ridge, on the far side of which was a short but vertical rock climb to the summit, which he was unable to climb. With this in mind, Barney and I expected to face this obstacle and chose to leave our climbing equipment behind at our staff camp to climb up to this spot and research if reaching the peak was possible. We planned a route up from Nigel Pass, a beautiful scenic pass located to the south of the mountain. We would follow this route for a short while before turning off and following a small river, Hilda Creek, to the north-west. From here, it involved ‘bushwacking’ (not following a defined trail and struggling through and over vegetation) before then turning north and then north-west up a smaller tributary. FOllowing this it was a scree slope up ot the ridge. After a short hike along the ridge we should reach the gap described in the aforementioned blog. On 6th June, 2025, we borrowed a friend’s car and set off on our adventure.
Barney and I setting out on our first trip to the mountain. Me (left), Barney (right).
We travelled light without any climbing equipment to get a feel for the later ‘real’ attempt. The other hiker’s blog had a GPS tracker log, which I downloaded that morning and which showed a potential shortcut. We decided to change our plan and park north of Nigel’s Pass and follow the start of the alternative route and cross the river where there was no bridge. When we arrived, we saw a river in full force with no way across. I can only surmise that the other hiker crossed the river at that location when it was frozen over, as a result, my hope for a shortcut added some extra distance to our hike as we aimed for our previously planned approach and walked on towards Nigel Pass and the bridge crossing.
Following this, it was a lot of smooth sailing; we bushwacked up the rivers as planned. I carried only one bottle of water and used my LifeStraw (water filter) to drink directly from the rivers on the way up, saving weight. We decided to change our plan slightly as we climbed higher along the tributary river. The snow ahead was thick on the ground around the unnamed creek we were following, so we chose to take a steeper line towards the ridge sooner, avoiding the deeper snow. We hiked up the scree, which was hard work as always. As we reached the higher sections, we navigated rock outcrops and patches of snow and ice. In our haste to gain ground quickly, we took a more adventurous route with cliffs we had to traverse and scramble. At one point, after crossing a small meltwater waterfall, we dropped our bags to rest and enjoy the view of mountain peaks, lakes and glaciers.
Image 1: Unnamed tributary river to Hilda Creek.
Image 2: Me having a final drink from the river using my Lifestraw filter before we started up the scree slope.
As we rested, we heard the rumbling sound of what sounded like an avalanche; they are common in the area and especially at that time of year when the snows were melting quickly, they were a normality. We couldn’t see it, but we weren’t taking any chances. We moved our bags underneath a small cliff and pushed our bodies into the rock in the hopes that if an avalanche was coming down the mountain, it may jump right over us, akin to standing behind a waterfall. Luckily, we saw no sign of an avalanche and moved on, reaching the ridge.
A beautiful rock window on the mountain ridge which looks over neighbouring Nigel Peak
What a ridge it was! The approach to the ridge from the south-west, from where we had come, was steep, but the further side was either more so…a sheer drop to the valley below! I enjoyed the beautiful view of Nigel Pass with greenery leading away into the distance and flanked by snowy mountain peaks.
I also got an amazing side-view of one of a mountaineer’s biggest fears, a cornice… Cornices are formed by snow being blown a sharp edge. The snow binds together, appearing solid from above; however, in reality, it hides a sheer drop below. There are many cases where mountaineers have walked on cornices, believing they are walking on snow with solid rock below, only for it to collapse and take the mountaineer down with it. Cornices can be massive, overhanging by several meters. I took a picture of this one (see photo), although without someone in the photo for scale, it’s hard to get a feel for the size of it and there are many larger ones around too!
We explored the ridge as far as was practical to the south-east, away from the direction of the summit. In doing so, it gave us glorious views to the south down the Icefields Parkway, the main arterial route through the Canadian Rockies from Banff to Jasper, two iconic mountain towns. After enjoying the well-earned view, we turned about and headed towards the summit.
As we approached the summit, we found ‘the gap’ which we had expected, given the heads up from the other mountaineer’s blog. On the near side of it was a small cairn (pile of rocks showing that others, albeit not many by the size of it, had reached that point. The location on the near side of the gap, which was slightly lower than the true summit, was likely evidence that others had not attempted the climb up the far side of the gap.
Small cairn on the accessible side of the gap just before the summit. Me (left), Barney (Right).
We studied the far side of the gap from the near side and by taking the relatively easy scramble down to its base. The only way to the summit was up… It was around 8m (26 feet) of vertical climb. The climb didn’t appear overly difficult from a perspective of climbing skill, although there were some issues:
- This wasn’t a great place to fall. It was an incredibly remote location, at the top of a 3,000-meter (9,850 feet) peak. The climb must be started from a small rock ledge with vertical and near-vertical drops to either side. If you fell the 8m (26 feet) drop without a rope, you would likely miss the small ledge and bounce down most of the mountain before you stopped. Not a great prospect.
- The area was categorised by incredibly loose limestone, even large pieces break off with ease, meaning you can’t trust any hold fully and doing so could result in disaster.
- We hadn’t brought our climbing equipment. I had a good amount of climbing gear back in the UK, but in Canada, I had only bought the basics with limited equipment for climbing outdoors. Even if I were to have equipment, there were only a small number of places suitable to put protective equipment to make the climb safe.
We inspected the climb and made an assessment of what equipment we may need for a separate summit-attempt mission before headed back down the mountain. I couldn’t resist testing out the bottom of the route climbing a few feet off the ground to test the rock before downclimbing. As with much of the local limestone, it was loose in parts and the opportunities to place protection were almost zero; protection being the small cracks in rock where you could place metal pieces of climbing equipment to act as an anchor and make us somewhat safe, although given how lose the rock is this also isn’t always perfect.
Me testing out the bottom of the climb to get a feel for the route
We took a more direct route down, the way we had originally intended to come up. Scree slopes are a pain to climb; the loose rock moves under your feet and drains your strength; going down, however, is another story. We skied and surfed our way down the mountainside, laughing as we enjoyed the elevator-like effect of small stones giving way beneath our feet. Areas of larger rocks would not give way as easily, so we zigzagged this way and that, aiming for the best terrain. As the screeslope began to level out, we came across an epic rock formation which I call ‘The Trident’; a huge rock formation with three rocky piers extending outwards. The place would have made for a great album cover photo! Not only were there three awesome rock spurs with sheer drops to each side of them, but the view also overlooked and aligned in a perfectly straight line with Boundary Lake and Mt. Athabasca beyond. Boundary Lake is a beautiful blue glacier lake with a stunning and blue akin to that of other famous lakes in the area, such as Moraine Lake and Lake Louise. These lakes and many others get their vivid blue colour from rock flour, a fine rock sediment which is washed down with glacial meltwater. Mount Athabasca is also a classic mountaineering peak in the area. It is capped in snow and ice year-round, with the north-face glacier also visible from my staff accommodation and which I climbed several weeks later.
Looking back towards the ridge and summit from the scree slope. You can see the gap just right of the far left of the ridge.
‘The Trident’ rock formation, which had epic views towards Boundary Lake and Mount Athabasca. The Icefield Parkway can also be seen to the right of the photo. Barney can be seen standing in the centre.
After our stop at The Trident, we proceeded back the way we had come, returning to our accommodation. We found several trees had fallen over the river, which we used like bridges to cross Hilda Creek and shave some time off our return journey, making it back in good time. It had been an incredible day out and I was hooked on the idea of reaching the peak. Barney was less incentivised than I was, partly due to the danger of the final rock climb to the summit and because he had reached the nearby ridge, which offered similar views to the nearby summit. I was hungry for the summit however, and the dream of doing what had not been done before.
Within the next few days, I had ordered more climbing equipment and, for the first time, a GPS tracker with a built-in altimeter in order to accurately record the location and precise height of the summit. I hoped that this would help with making my case to name the peak and the safety it offered was an added bonus. For anyone interested in buying a GPS tracker, feel free to check out my thoughts on them in my blog post, link below.
I have always been a climber. Many Brits follow football, taking after their father’s teams and having a passion for it. My dad is a climber, though and I picked up a love and enthusiasm for the sport, one for which I will forever be grateful. This also means I couldn’t tell you the first thing about football, although my country’s culture means I have to often talk the talk as best I can so that I am not ousted from society.
Barney had come into climbing more recently by way of bouldering and gaining experience with ropes later. Bouldering is low-level climbing with mats below to fall onto instead of climbing higher, which requires ropes to make it safe. Bouldering is good fun and very accessible for new climbers, as you don’t need a partner to hold ropes for you or much training, so if anyone is reading this who wants to get into climbing, that’s the best way! Barney is stronger than me and he typically outclimbs me, especially on overhanging routes, which require more upper body strength. At the time, I would potentially outclimb him on routes which aren’t as overhanging, although when I recently saw him back in the UK, he’s definitely giving me a run for my money in that area now too! Barney has a good head for heights and balance, but my greater experience of climbing outdoors meant I was slightly happier to take a few more risks in terms of exposure.
Barney and I had lived and worked together the previous season and spent much of the winter together. As we returned to live and work for another summer close to the mountain we were joined by, coincidentally, another Brit who wanted to climb. Let me introduce you to Tobias!
Tobias at Tangle Falls, Canadian Rockies at the top of his first lead climb
Tobias was 19 at the time, wise beyond his years and an experienced gymnast. His time as a gymnast had resulted in him having excellent balance and being incredibly strong. These are the perfect building blocks for being an excellent climber. He is also the sort of guy who is good at every sport you put in front of him: diving, paddleboarding, running, you name it. I took Tobias climbing at one of the nearby crags after work and he loved it. He was a natural and was desperate to learn more. Shortly afterwards, we had gone to the small work gym where I taught Tobias how to set up a ‘lead climb’, the task of climbing a route from the bottom up with the rope trailing below you.
Lead climbing isn’t for the faint-hearted. You need to clip in the rope as you climb and, upon reaching the top, secure it before descending. As you bring the rope up from below you, this means you can climb anywhere and it gives you great freedom. The downside is that if you fall, you fall the distance back to your last piece of ‘protection’. Protection is the term climbers use for any ‘gear’ (equipment) they place into rock to act like an anchor in the hopes it stops them from hitting the deck (ground) below. Protection can be sturdy bolts drilled into rock in some frequently climbed areas; however, on most occasions, particularly on mountain summits, a metal piece of equipment or sometimes a sling is used. Even with protection, you will typically fall some distance. If you fall, you will fall down to the last piece of protection which you have placed and then continue falling past it by the same distance you had climbed past it, since you have been pulling up rope behind you when you take the fall. You will also fall a little further than this, as climbing ropes are designed to stretch when loaded to soften falls and make stops less abrupt and dangerous. Risks get more severe should a climber’s protection fail, which can happen due ot user error, rock breaking off when loaded by the protection and often just by having limited or no choice to place any gear. If there are no cracks, you can typically place no gear, meaning that you are at risk of taking a nasty fall. Small and shallow cracks often mean that gear placements are far from ideal, with equipment coming loose, especially when loaded with the weight of a climber falling on it. Sometimes the weight of a climber can cause several pieces of poor protection to fall in succession, given the high fall loads applied, which again can make for a nasty outcome. As well as hitting the ground, climbers can also be injured by hitting ledges during their fall or sometimes by swinging on the rope as they fall, resulting in them crashing into the rockface.
The job of the belayer (the person holding the rope for the climber) is also not without its dangers. As they typically stand below the climber, they can be victims of rocks falling on them, which can be dislodged by the climber and this is a big issue in the Canadian Rockies, where the limestone is incredibly loose.
Tobias is a fast learner and a it wasn’t long before we went climbing at a nearby waterfall for his first ever lead climb. I was sure to take him on a route which had bolts pre-placed in the rock, making it far easier for his first time. I ran up to check his technique at the top of the route once he was finished, before he lowered down and was able to take the photo you can see of him. The view you see was to our left and to our right was a beautiful waterfall, not a bad place to climb at all! I chose the route thinking it looked easy enough, but I realised when climbing the route after him that it was far more strenuous and exposed that I had expected, so I take my hat off to him! Despite this, he wasn’t phased at all.
By the time Barney and I aimed to climb our mountain goal, Tobias had sufficient experience to come with us as the third member of the team. Having an extra man made us safer and meant we could use Tobias’ big muscles to help us share the weight of our climbing equipment! Not to mention that he’s great company.
My new climbing equipment had arrived, the weather was looking good, the team was assembled and we all had a day off work together: June 26th 2025. We set the date and it was go time!
Barney, Tobias and I set off early, driving the short drive to Nigel Pass and parking up. We organised the gear and set off down the pass, crossing the river and then continuing towards the summit on our original planned route following Hilda Creek before turning north up the unnamed stream. There was far less snow near the top of the unnamed creek than on our previous expedition 20 days prior, so this time we headed straight towards The Trident and then headed up from there towards the gap.
Hiking up towards the scree slope. Barney (left), Tobias (right)
Photo towards neighbouring Nigel Peak
The scree slope had been hard going on our previous trip, but now we had far more equipment. We had packed extra clothing, water, food and of course, the rope and climbing equipment too. The extra equipment weighed us down and made the scree slope much more challenging. We knew that we could be in the gap at the top of the ridge for some time while we belayed (held the ropes) for other climbers, set the route and placed protective equipment. The gap being what it is could easily turn it into a wind tunnel, making our bodies and hands freezing cold, not ideal when you are holding ropes and someone’s life depends on it! You need ot have all the hand strength and dexterity that you can get! Luckily for us, the weather was perfect and we rested on the ridge, having lunch and catching our breath before heading into the gap.
A view towards the mountain summit. You can see the gap to climb on the right side of the photo.
I had taken photos of the gap on my previous trip, including one with me experimenting on the bottom of the climb, so I had a good idea of its height and which route to climb from musing over it. My main concerns were the loose rock, which made the risk of taking an unexpected fall greater and also increased the risk of knocking rocks onto the belayer below. Protection, or lack of it, was also an issue. The route has only a small crack near the base with no possibility of protecting the whole route. The bottom of the climb went well, the rock was largely solid, although by the time I climbed to the middle section, it was very loose in places, with seemingly good holds wobbling and breaking off. By the time I was halfway up the route, I had outclimbed my protection, with the length of rope trailing from my back to my protection being greater than the distance from the protection to the ground. There were also no further opportunities to place any other protection before I completed the route. At this point, I had two choices: I could attempt a difficult down-climb and give up or push on and take the risk. If i were to climb it I and fall I would hit the deck and it wouldn’t be pretty. I felt confident, however and the weather was great. I was also determined, and I hadn’t come all this way to stop this close to the summit, so I decided to take the risk and push on. It was now or never!
Just after making the decision and beginning my climb higher, light snow began to fall all around me, which, combined with the view and adrenaline, made for an incredibly serene moment. I hadn’t seen falling snow for some weeks and despite not being a superstitious person, the beauty of the moment made me feel like the next few seconds would be significant, either because I would fall and this was some premonition or because it was a gift to help me savour the moment and the reward of my perseverance. As with many people and omens, I convinced myself it was the better of the two scenarios and continued on.
Me approaching the top of the climb
The climb to the top wasn’t overly difficult in terms of climbing skill; however, rocks were falling off regularly. I tried to test every hand and foothold as well as I could, but many fell away like old plaster from an ageing ceiling. I took it slow, concerned that a hold would break off or worse, that I would knock a large rock on Barney who was belaying me below.
At one point I found myself on a part of the route with only one way up. I had to push all my body weight up on my right leg. Although not a difficult feat in itself, the likely consequences of the loose foothold giving way under my weight were high, after which I would have a very rapid, very unpleasant descent to the ground below. I didn’t realise I was saying it out loud at the time but Tobias later told me heard me repeating the words “please hold” as I slowly pushed my body upwards. Very luckily for me, the foothold held and I was very close to the top of the climb. I navigated the last few moves and swung my leg over the top of the thin wall I had been climbing up, akin to straddling a horse. I noticed the drop on the far side of the thin rock wall I was perched on was even more unpleasant than that on the side I had climbed up and I rested, catching my breath (from the fear more than the exertion) and took in my surroundings.
Straddling the rock I had climbed. My right leg hung back over the drop I had climbed up and my left leg, shown in the photo, shows the drop on the other side of the climb with Boundary Lake beyond.
Snowflakes were falling and the cold stung my exposed cheeks and bare hands. Tobias and Barney cheered me on from below, elated that we had got up the climb and, more than anything, that I had not taken a tumble. I, however, didn’t cheer; I was staring straight ahead at the rock in front of me, looking down at a very rusted, very manmade climbing aid called a ‘piton’ which was hammered into a crack in the rock right in front of me…
Pitons have been used by climbers for over 100 years. They are small pieces of metal akin to a stake which climbers hammer into cracks in the rock to serve as protection. As I stared at the rusted piton, I noticed another, more modern one alongside it. Both were placed to be used for abseiling off so that climbers could be lowered down to the base of the climb.
After a few moments of shock, given my mixed feelings from the elation of making the climb successfully, to seconds later finding out that I was not the pioneer I thought I was. I had suspected that someone may have climbed the peak before me. The peak is visible from a busy highway, as well as being close to my work and a mountaineering hut. I had hoped that the mountain, being just over 3,000m (9,850 feet) , may be unclimbed. Some larger peaks like the nearby Mount Athabasca, 10 minutes drive away is the largest in the area at 3,491 m (11,453 ft) and is an aspirational summit for many mountaineers. Other mountains in the area were smaller and more accessible, with no climbing experience or equipment being required. I had hoped that maybe this peak may slip through the gaps, being too small for hardy mountaineers to aspire to and too difficult for hikers and inexperienced climbers to achieve. Once I had got over the disappointment of finding the pitons, I proceeded to place my own anchor to abseil down.
I had placed one anchor and chose to also clip into the more recent, unrusted piton as a backup for the way down. As I was lowered down, I suddenly found myself heading down faster than I should have been. The piton I had clipped into as a backup and which was above my anchor had come out and I was hurtling towards the rocky ledge below. My belayer, Barney, was luckily on the ball, locking the belay device and catching my fall. Luckily, my anchor had held firm and saved me, although the distance from my anchor to the piton made my fall significant. I was lowered the short distance to the ground and caught up with Barney and Tobias.
I discussed the climb with them, along with what I saw of the route beyond it to the summit, which appeared to be a short scramble over loose rock with some steep drops to navigate. The day was getting on and I think my sketchy unprotected climb and recent fall was enough excitement for my friends and although both did sections of the climb, they chose not to complete it. As I had placed a further anchor at the top of the route (one which I now trusted greatly, having just taken a fall on it), I re-climbed the route again with the added safety of my rope secured to the top of the route. Once again, I straddled the rock at the top, untying the rope before the short, exposed scramble to the summit.
The scramble to the summit was somewhat unnerving. There was a second, smaller gap between the top of the climb and the flatter section of the mountain around the summit. Wedged in the top of the gap was a large boulder covered in large slate-like pieces of very loose rock. As I attempted to scramble up and then across it, the loose rock came bouncing off in all directions, cascading down the mountain. My friends later told me they could hear the rocks pouring off in droves and were terrified in case I were to come down with one. I knew when doing the sramble that it be hard to come back down, but having come this far, I wasn’t going to give up. I got past it and decided to worry about the awkward process of downclimbing it when I got back. Following the short scramble, the mountain opened up into a wide, safe area with beautiful panoramic views and an incredible view of nearby Nigel Peak, which was hidden from view on the other side of the gap.
Small summit cairn with the rusted tin and jar inside
Summit selfie with Nigel Peak in the background
At the summit, I found another, very small cairn and inside it a rusted can from which I could see a glass jar poking out at one end. At this point, almost all of my frustration as to not being the first to reach the summit evaporated, and I knew I had found a geocache! Geocaches, also known as ‘summit logs’ or ‘summit registers’, are left at mountain summits with notes written by those who have come before. I was conscious that my friends couldn’t hear me or see me and that they would be worried I may have taken a tumble, so I chose not to stay at the summit for too long. I did treat myself though, by sitting down next to the cairn, overlooking Boundary Lake and Mount Athabasca. I opened the jar and was delighted to see no significant deterioration of the paper notes within. I eagerly pulled out the paper. I chose not to read all of the messages without my friends being there, as I wanted to share the information together since I couldn’t have made it without them; however, I couldn’t resist reading the first entry.
Summit note
The first entry read:
“June 30 1966. Up the canyon from the boundary line to the south ridge.
Ted Van Dyke & Hans Furher”
I quickly scribbled my own message before returning the paper to the jar. My note read:
“Sketchy climb but I feel good for doing it. Well done to all for getting here! Thanks to Barney and Tobias who helped me get here and waited below.”
I was elated to find the notes of others who had been before, including how many there were to make it to such a remote and difficult-to-access part of the world. I resealed the jar and headed back.
The most challenging and unnerving part of the day was the scramble back to the top of the climb. Downclimbing is always awkward, but the sheer volume of loose rock made it incredibly unnerving. I called down to my friends to let them know I was en route back down and of how poor the conditions were, should I take a surprise fall. I was confident in my surefootedness, but as I climbed down, I couldn’t easily see where I was placing my feet and everywhere they seemed to land on rock, as soon as weight was put on it, the rocks would fall away in an instant, offering no solid ground to take my weight on. Very slowly, and very carefully by trial and error, I managed to get back to the top of the climb. I tied onto my rope and was lowered back down to the base of the gap. Not only was the rock incredibly loose, but also adding to the inconvenience and danger. The sharp rock caused the rope to drag and also made me nervous that it may be cut completely, sending me plummeting to the bottom of the mountain, however, this time without the rope to save me. Luckily, despite the rope dragging, I managed to touch down at the base of the gap.
After a brief moment of celebration with my friends, we packed up and headed onto the ridge to enjoy the moment properly. The gap was small with large drops to either side and also having lingered there for some time, it was nice to get back to safer ground. We collapsed on the ridge at the top of the non-summit side of the gap from where we had come. We ate, drank and I told the short part of the adventure they hadn’t seen to the summit. I then opened my phone to read the summit register note aloud for them to hear.
All in all, the note showed that only nine people had ever reached the summit, including me. Five people in three expeditions had all climbed the mountain in June and July of 1966. Hans Fuhrer even climbed the mountain twice: once with a friend and then again with his wife. In 1982, Peter Amann had submitted the peak and made a comment similar to my remark, that he had left his friend below at the bottom of the gap. Another couple had submitted in 2020 and then it was me. Since 1966, only three groups and four people (including myself) had reached the summit of the mountain. It was a great feeling and we were all elated! Although Barney and Tobias hadn’t reached the summit, I couldn’t have done it without them and it was heartwarming to see how happy they were for me to reach the summit. It was an amazing experience, but as always, it’s having great company which often makes an adventure even more special.
I later learned more about Hans Fuhrer and Peter Amann who are both extremely experienced mountain guides and local legends. I even read a book about the latter, which was a great read, as well as several articles about Hans Fuhrer. I was lucky enough to even have some online communication with them both after the climb and Hans told me about how, when he descended the route he had lowered himself back to the ledge while, like me, experiencing significant rope drag as it moved over the sharp rock on the way down. Once back on the ground, he had pulled on the rope to get it back and it was cut clean in two, luckily, once he was back on the ground! I was grateful that I had also been lowered safely down without the rope coming in two mid-descent!
After a couple of celebratory photos we descended down, stopping briefly at The Trident on the way. Upon arriving back at our nearby staff accommodation, we were greeted by many of our friends who congratulated us, which was heartwarming and which made the whole experience even more special and memorable.
Summit ridge photo. Tobias (left), Barney (centre), me (right).
Summit ridge selfie. Me(left), Tobias (centre), Barney (right).
Descending down the scree slope with Nigel Peak in the background. Barney (left), Tobias (right).
It was an incredible day and a great mountain. It’s a mountain which deserves a name. I have proposed the name ‘Tenacity Peak’ to the Canadian authorities who undertake the process of naming landmarks. The process is ongoing, so I’m curious to see what comes of it, but here’s to hoping that the incredible mountain gets a name and the recognition it deserves.
The route to the summit has it all: valleys, rivers, trees, geological features, screen slopes, an incredible ridge, the gap and of course the climb to the summit. It’s a fun, varied adventure and I hope that many more take the effort to explore the mountain, even if that means heading to the ridge and skipping out on the summit and the rock climb; it still makes for a phenomenal day out.
Thank you for reading this article. If you would like to find out more about the mountain naming process, feel free to read on. If not, thank you again and happy travels!
Andy Argo
Looking south down the Icefields Parkway from the ridge.
Naming the peak
Location: 52.222404, -117.136430
Elevation: 3,023m
Barney and I wanted for the mountain peak to have a name and to have something original so that it wasn’t confused with other peaks. I proposed that we name the mountain after our mothers initially. Upon reaching the summit, several local newspapers wrote about the mountain which received interest as I expressed how I would like to see the mountain named. As far as I was aware teh mountain was unnamed and unclimed so I thought I’d name it after my parents.
The story made it into some local papers and one of the journalists I spoke to was able to shed light on Hans Fuhrer and Peter Amann, two of the other mountaineers to reach the summit. The journalist informed me that these mountaineers were professional guides and legends in the local area. The journalist also informed me that he had even written a book about Peter Amann and his exploits, which he let me borrow and which was a fascinating read!
I was ecstatic to hear the incredible stories of these mountaineers and was even more so when I heard from both of them as a result of the media attention. Peter Amann had commented on Facebook in response to the article, congratulating the achievement and informing me that there was another note in the summit jar from an even earlier expedition. He had taken the note for safekeeping as it was badly degraded, but told me that six mountaineers had reached the sumit in the late 1930’s and also sent me a photograph of an old guide book which I was unaware of, which detailed the expedition. He informed me that these mountaineers had proposed the name ‘Tenacity Peak’.
Hans Furher also reached out to me by email via a journalist at another newspaper, which had published the story and we sent several emails back and forth. He also confirmed seeing the note from the 1930’s and gave me some great anecdotes from his climbs up the mountain and his considerable time spent in the local area. He mentioned that he had used parts of the very same rope which had been cut in two on the way down that mountain the previous week to hang his tomato plants up in the garden! He also gave me great anecdotes from his time working in the area including a time when an accident at work in the 1960’s on one of the nearby glaciers frequented by tourists where an employed was injured by machinery and he had to assist holding his leg while an on-glacier amputation was performed then and there by a junior doctor who was on the tour – thankful with air ambulances nowadays things are a lot safer!
As the original mountaineers to summit the peak proposed the name Tenacity Peak it feels appropriate to me. I love the name and as far as my research goes, I can’t see any other peaks with the name, so that will avoid confusion. Fingers crossed that the name is adopted, but I’d be happy with the peak having any name. I am aware that the naming process can take up to two years for naming landmarks in Canadian National Parks and that people including indigenous groups are consulted in the process. This part of the Rockies hasn’t ever been occupied all year round as it’s too inhospitable with native people passing through the area for travel and trade in the warmer months. Although I love the mountain and see it every day when I am there in the summer from my window, there are larger and more distinctive peaks in the area which would serve as more notable reference points for navigation purposes. Therefore, I presume the ingenious people haven’t named the peak, but you never know! It will be interesting to see what comes out of the naming process.
Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed this blog and if you would like to donate, I would greatly appreciate it. You can donate on my Support Me page (link below).
Happy Travels!
Andy Argo
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Title image: View of Tenacity Peak from the north with its iconic curved shape.