AdventureTaco - turbodb's build and adventures

Absolutely amazing content, as usual. Thank you for taking the time to put it all together, I live vicariously through you when I read your posts (and I read all of them!)

 

Run for the Border - M&M #1
Part of the Me and Mike Climb into the Kootenays (Aug 2022) trip.

Ever since my very first trip - The De-Tour - with the guys from TacomaWorld, we've tried to get together every year for a week or two in order to explore some amazing place and enjoy time around the campfire together. I was lucky back then that Monte @Blackdawg organized the trip in a public thread, and invited anyone who could, to join. This year, after privately planning trips for five years, we tried it again - organizing a trip to the Kootenays in southeast British Columbia, Canada - with the hopes that we could meet some cool new folks and get shown around by someone we all wanted to meet - (Canada) Mike @POSTacoMike.

It'd be a little more involved since we'd be crossing borders, but with the hopes of exploring several trails deep into - and up - the Koots, there was plenty to be excited about.

As always, as blast-off approached, folks hoped to attend dropped off the list, casualties of the hustle and bustle we all know from work and life. Even Canada Mike had to bow out. Still, Monte, Mike @Digiratus, and I were all lined up.

Then, just a couple days before departure, Monte had to bail. It was a bummer, but it's also just life. And with that, it was just Me and Mike.

After meeting up just south of the US-Canada border the night before, we covered the last few miles to Nelway just before 10:00am. We'd filled out our ArriveCAN applications, ensured that we had our necessary paperwork, and prepped ourselves for the onslaught of questions.

Mike wasn't interrogated for too long before being allowed through.​

In the end, it was one of the easiest border crossings we'd ever experienced. I'd been concerned because only a week earlier I'd discovered that my passport was expired. Luckily, I was able to use my (also-expired-but-still-active-due-to-COVID) NEXUS card to get across the border. Mike - his identification situation more organized than mine - used an enhanced driver's license.

From Nelway, we spent a couple hours ticking off kilometers on BC-6 and BC-3A as we headed north towards a special place. We'd been turned onto Rady Creek by (Canada) Mike the year before, and I'd even had a chance to make a run up to check it out, since it was scheduled to be deactivated (closed). Our fingers crossed that we'd find it open, we still had a couple more hours of driving as we pulled into Kaslo, where I suggested to Mike that we make a quick run up Mt. Buchanan to get our first views and consume our first lunch.

We'd been driving along the shores of Kootenay Lake for a while before we reached Kaslo.​

Many - if not all - of the trails I've run in Canada start in the trees. This builds anticipation, and as the trees thin, the views have yet to disappoint.​

Behind us at first, glimpses of the snow-spotted Kootenays - here, Whitewater Mountain (2768 M) - began to appear.​

Distant views weren't all that we enjoyed on the way up. At these elevations, late spring was still in the air, and wildflowers were in full swing. Bright colors contrasted with deep green, and we soaked it all in.

Orange dandelion flowers. I've seen these once before, on our Dead Ends trip.​

Always nice to see tiger lilies. With the ground still damp from snow melt, they seemed to be everywhere in the mountains here.​

Vast swathes of purple penstemon lined the road.​

Climbing ever higher on our way to the summit, we eventually reached the tree line. As we did, we got a great view of the Briggs Creek Fire to the west - a fire that'd started just a few days before our trip and was sending smoke southeast across Kootenay Lake.

Towering giants strained to reach the frame of our cameras.​

We were lucky that there weren't many fires this year, and that the wind was blowing in a beneficial direction in relation to the areas we'd planned to explore!​

Made it to the top!​

Already there was more smoke over Kootenay Lake than there had been just a couple hours earlier.​

Perched atop Mt. Buchanan, a decommissioned fire lookout was fully furnished, and several picnic areas were decorated with signage, welcoming visitors to this spectacular place surrounded by mountains and lakes. As Mike got set up for lunch, I spent a bit of time poking around the lookout, marveling at how fantastic it must have been to score this location each summer when it was active.

Nicely appointed, the lookout still appeared livable. No discernable vandalism to a place like this was so different than what we seem to encounter on our side of the border.​

Someone's getting ready for lunch with a view!​

Looking north and from left to right - Whitewater Mountain (2768 M), snow-covered Mt. Brennan (2902 M), and the flat-toped Mt. Jardine (2442 M).​

I only hung out at the lookout for ten minutes or so before descending the thirty feet - sorry, ten meters - or so to the picnic area that Mike had designated for our use. With the sun blazing down and temperatures in the mid 80s °F (I don't do °C ), we made quick work of eating - both of us enjoying the warmth, but also ready for the shade of our truck cabs.

Had we arrived a little later, this would have been a great spot to call home for the night.​

I wasn't sure what this was at first - and then it hit me: hangglider launch! What a nice one.​

Over the next few days, we'd be exploring these Kootenays to the east.​

We wrapped up lunch a little before 2:00pm and Mike took the lead as we started back down the mountain. We'd flip-flop in this fashion several times over the next several days, each of us getting spurts of dust-free driving in the front and no-rush photography in the rear. It really was a pleasant balance that was struck.

One last shot before diving into the trees.​

Down we go.​

North of Kaslo, the BC-31 highway transitions from pavement to gravel. I love this section of road - so different than what I'm used to in the lower 48 - a high-speed dirt highway that continues north all the way past Trout Lake and nearly to Galena Bay. Mike seemed to enjoy it too, as we made a few stops along the way to admire the scenery from the road.

Racing along, happy to be off pavement.​

Still early in the trip, both Mike and the Redhead were still looking pretty clean.​

The southern end of Trout Lake, we crossed a bridge at the head of Mobbs Creek.​

It wouldn't be long now. Just a few miles away, the Rady Creek Forest Service Road would lead us through the trees and to elevations higher than those we'd experienced at lunch atop Mt. Buchanan. It was a place that Mike had anticipated for more than a year, and one that I couldn't wait to show him.

That is, assuming the deactivation sign - warning that the trail was to be made inaccessible - was incorrect. There was only one way to find out, and that was to give it a go!

Fingers crossed that no progress had been made on the deactivation since my last visit!​

 

Haven't had a chance to read through your thread, but man...what great photos and breath taking views, indeed!!

 

Sometimes my wife yells at me for spending too much time on my phone. 99% of the time it’s because I’m reading through the trip reports and photos in this thread. I just say shhhh it’s important

 

Thanks to both of ya! I have to say, I'm impressed every time I end up in Canada. Even though it seems like a pain to find places to go (there just a lot less "out there" to research before leaving), I feel like it's hard to find a bad view.

 

Yeah it’s definitely a path less traveled!

We are headed to Montana in the spring (from the US east coast). I was just looking at the map and I see that your most recent destination is only about 6 hours from where we’ll be staying. Now I just have to convince the wife to add a lengthy detour haha.

That scenery looks too beautiful to pass up when we’ll be so close relative to how far it is from home.

 

I’m in the Kootenays right now, camped outside Fernie. Seems harder to find “Crown Land” for dispersed camping than I expected but the Provincial Parks are inexpensive and the ones we’ve stayed at have great camping and singletrack MTB trails right from camp. Plus all the lakes … where I live in coastal California there is no fresh water. And then there are the views. Since you’re a PNW guy I hope you had a chance to see the Columbia headwaters at Canal Flats.

 

Rady's Still Runnable - M&M #2
Part of the Me and Mike Climb into the Kootenays (Aug 2022) trip.

It was nearly 4:00pm when we turned onto the Rady Creek Forest Service Road and popped out of our trucks to air down our tires. I'd thoroughly enjoyed this trail when I'd rushed to Canada nearly a year earlier - worried that it was about to be deactivated (closed) forever - and from our conversations prior to departure, I knew that Mike @Digiratus was really looking forward to seeing this place as well.

I didn't choose the best spot to air down - I was both blocking the trail and in the sun! ​

As with our run up Mt. Buchanan, our journey began with a series of switchbacks that worked their way up the steep slopes, trees and shrubs crowding road. It was narrow - even for a couple of 1st gen Tacoma's - but nothing that was going to keep us out; these pinstripes wouldn't be the first that our trucks have seen!

By the time we were done, both Mike and I had to readjust our CB antennas, which had taken a beating.​

As our elevation increased, peek-a-boo views began to appear to the north...​

...and to the west.​

Two thousand feet of elevation gain later, we came upon the infamous deactivation sign. Still posted with the original date, it'll be interesting to see what ultimately ends up happening with this area, and whether the petition that was signed by nearly 10,000 people has any effect on the outcome.

This is where the road starts to get steep and a little loose as the switchbacks abandon their leisurely back and forth across the mountain, anxious - like us - to get to the top!​

For anyone interested, I suppose it can't hurt to give Mike Ferguson a call, to help keep Rady open.​

Pushing the trucks into 4Lo, we climbed another 2,200 feet before reaching the first dramatic overlook of the alpine wonderland above the tree line. This wasn't the place where we'd end up for the night - the views there would be even better - but this was the first spot where I'd been wowed, and I wanted Mike to experience the same on his first visit.

This wouldn't be a bad spot to camp... if there weren't several better spots just a little further up the trail!​

The views up here seem to go on forever.​

Roads wind through the bowl and climb to the ridge, all waiting to be explored.​

In the near distance, a hint of what's to come. #excited​

As with many trails that usher adventurers high into the mountains, this one splits off in several directions. Originally carrying prospectors to various dig sites, the roads slowly transition to two-track and eventually single-track as they wind their way through meadows towards destinations long forgotten. If cabins or other significant structures once existed - where stories of gold and soon-to-be-riches were told - they are gone without a trace. Today, campfire rings serve a similar purpose, though the stories are of adventure and exploration.

And so, for an hour, we hopped from ring to ring, admiring the views that those who'd come before us deemed worthy of extended enjoyment.

Meandering through a meadow.​

Navigating a narrow shelf road.​

Lounging at a lake.​

Surging up the switchbacks.​

Through all of these places, I wondered if Mike would find one particularly to his liking. Part of me hoped he would - as it would mean camping somewhere different than I'd camped before. Part of me hoped that he wouldn't - as it would mean getting to camp in one of the most beautiful places I've experienced, again.

We have arrived.​

After a short discussion - where I'm sure Mike picked up on my desire to pull my front tires to the edge of the ridge before unfolding my tent - it was agreed: this would be our spot for the night; the same spot I'd chosen the last time I'd been through.

With 14" of careful rock stacking, the Tacoma was still not at all level. I didn't care, I was camping on the edge.​

As the sun crept toward the horizon, a golden glow enveloped the landscape.​

With his tent deployed on a significantly flatter area just a bit further from the edge, and with a burn ban in effect for the entire province, Mike broke out the propane fire pit as I made and consumed my usual dinner - tacorittoes - before donning some protection from the blood-sucking-vampires that were swarming around my person.

This would become a familiar scene over the remainder of the trip.​

As the sun set, the moon climbed into the sky.​

I never tire of these views.​

As the light waned, found myself curious about the Diode Dynamics SS5 Pro LEDs that I'd installed earlier in the year. In fact, it was deja-vu all over again - you see, the last time I'd visited I'd been excited about the SS3 Pro fog lights I'd just put on the Tacoma.

Even with a significant amount of light still in the sky, things were looking promising for the SS5s.​

I knew the SS5s would illuminate the hillside better than my Hella 700s had, but I wasn't prepared for how laser-focused the beam would be!​

We couldn't stay up around the campfire forever - though this was most definitely our latest night to bed - so after a little more than four hours of chatting and enjoying each other's company, we bid the other good night just after 11:00pm.

No shortage of stars way up at 7429.1 feet in the middle of the Kootenays.​

The Following Morning...

I knew my attempt at leveling the Tacoma the previous evening was not the greatest, but I didn't realize just how bad it was until I tossed and turned all night. Waking up in a corner of my tent more than once due to the incline, I was both happy - and groggy - when daylight broke, and it was time to climb down the ladder.

Truck looks pretty level. Isn't.​

With the sun now shining out of the east, the mountains that had been in silhouette the previous evening, gleamed.​

It was still early, so I wandered around the hillsides for an hour or so until I heard Mike prepping his first cup of morning coffee. Like me, the natives were scurrying about, checking out anything that'd changed while they'd slept, and enjoying the warmth of the morning sun. I must say, they are lucky to call this wonderland home.

This marmot poked his head up just a few minutes after I started my walk. He'd follow me - always keeping a safe distance - for much of the morning.​

Maybe I should take a cue from Mike's decision to camp on flatter ground - even if it is a little further from the edge... Nah!​

I thought this lichen was really interesting because it all seemed to be outlined in black. Perhaps the edges die back each winter?​

I'll never get tired of this view.​

Eventually, around 8:00am - as I heard Mike up and about - I made my way back to camp, my marmot buddy still in tow. I don't know if he has gotten treats from other campers, if he was just curious, or if I already smelled like marmot after a couple nights on the trail, but whatever the reason, I shooed him away. Getting too friendly with humans never seems to end well for the wildlife.

Mr. Marmot was still shedding his winter coat.​

It didn't take long to stow away camp, and soon we set out to explore the last half mile of trail that we'd opted to leave unexplored when we showed up the previous afternoon. It was a good thing too, since I think we passed a few camp sites that Mike may have lobbied for had he seen them earlier!

Away we go, Mike leading the way.​

It'd mean staying for a full day, but eventually I hope to hike to the top.​

Looking across Trout Lake to (I think) Mt. Hadow.​

Picking our way through wildflowers.​

Eventually, we reached the end - for us - of the road. Here, the two-track changed to single-track, and only dirt bikes and hikers could continue on. Perhaps in the future - when I return to hike some of the surrounding peaks, I can see where that trail leads as well. For now, though, it was time to turn around and get on our way down; we had a full day ahead of us, even if it was extremely pleasant where we were.

Headed down off the mountain, a Radiant Red Tacoma sure does stand out.​

Clear blue skies contrasted wonderfully with the snow-capped peaks.​

We stopped several times on our way down to soak in views that may not be so easily accessible in the future.

I'd missed this camp site-with-a-view on our way up. An option for next time!​

...Perhaps a little close to the road in the event anyone else showed up.​

Sometimes it's best to put the camera down and just enjoy the view.​

Eventually - we weren't setting any land speed records in our descent - we neared the tree line. Below us, the last grassy valleys gave way to woods. Snow melt filling the lowest of the lakes before rushing down the mountain in a series of creeks that would terminate at Trout Lake.

Alpine awesomeness.​

Final views as we head into the trees.​

The tree-tunnel portion of the trail was as boring as always, though it requires a bit of attention - given the crowding of willows into the road - to keep the truck centered as one bombs down the trail. Luckily we didn't encounter any oncoming traffic, though as I reached the bottom - a few minutes before Mike - there was a white 5th gen 4Runner airing down for the ascent.

​

@aldventures heading up the trail.​

Waving as I got out of the Tacoma, he came over to ask about conditions. "They were great," I related, "and you'll be the only one up there after my buddy gets down." As I said it, I noticed his eyes go to my license plate cover and a smile light up his face. Turns out that my trip report from last year - which he'd been reading as early as that morning - was one of the things that brought him to this trail! What a small world we live in!

A few minutes later, Mike pulled up behind me and we bid farewell and good luck as we set about filling our tires with air. The rest of the day would be on pavement or well-graded gravel as we made our way north to Revelstoke and Rogers Pass before heading south towards Radium Hot Springs and the area where we'd spend the bulk of our time.

​

Even though Mike's Dual ARB compressor sounds like it is on its last legs, it still fills tires a lot faster than my single CKMA12.​

It'd been a fantastic start, but looking back now, the best was - by far - yet to come!

 

As always, stunning views. Great reports.

 

We’re back in the US today and had more issues coming back … though probably our fault for not being up to speed on the ag regulations. Our van (yeah, not the Taco) got a thorough inspection after we answered that we had food. Three Canadian eggs, an avocado from Peru, a bunch of tomatoes and bag of oranges from Mexico - all purchased at supermarkets in BC) - and a sealed bag of rice from TJ’s in California, we’re all confiscated. The American Customs guy probably had a nice huevos con arroz and guacamole when he got off work, though he told us it would all be destroyed. He did let us eat an orange each while he finished searching, but made sure to take the peels. Oh well, just doing his job

 

Hallowed Ground - M&M #4
Part of the Me and Mike Climb into the Kootenays (Aug 2022) trip.

Even before we entered Canada, I knew that our run on "the glacier trail" was going to be a highlight. This was a trail that Mike @Digiratus added to our itinerary, having discovered - and run - it several years earlier with Monte @Blackdog and Ben @m3bassman. There was more that made this a special place, but I'm already getting ahead of myself.

First, we had to get there.

As with many of the routes so far, this one started in a valley, granite peaks soaring high above.​

Horsethief Creek wasn't bursting at its seams, but there was no shortage of water, either.​

With Mike in the lead, the first 25 miles of trail were nothing to write home about. As we had in the morning - and twice the day before - we followed the creek as it slowly climbed along the valley floor. Trees lined much of the road, and though I'd hoped we would find a spot similar to the alpine vistas of Rady Creek - or even Leadqueen Mountain - to camp, I found myself wondering if we'd once again find ourselves tucked into the trees with distant views of the glacier above.

Even if we camped in the trees, it wasn't as though the distant views were anything to scoff at.​

Slowly, we climbed higher, a glacier eventually coming into view.​

Still far from any snow or ice, we had less than a mile of trail remaining when I rounded a bend to find Mike out of his truck and inspecting a bridge. Looking through my windshield, I immediately assumed that we would be turning around - the entire bridge, but especially the second half, was in very rough shape.

Jokingly, I teased Mike about being hesitant to take the Redhead across.

Safety ..first? Or "out the window?"​

"Oh, we're going across," he smiled, "I just wanted a spotter."

I didn't say it, but as I carefully picked my way across on foot, I thought back to our time together on the Grand Bench near Lake Powell. I believe the reaction I had - to an admittedly riskier operation, especially given my lack of experience at the time - was, "Seriously?"

Guiding each other across, I could swear I heard Mike let out his own, "Seriously?!" when I stopped directing him left, right, or forward, and had him stop in this position. ​

Whereas we'd climbed slowly before crossing the creek, the grade of the trail increased dramatically on the far side. Flipping the truck from 2WD into 4-Lo, Mike continued to lead the way as we left the trees below and worked our way into the rocks and snow.

Now we're getting somewhere.​

We weren't even there yet, but I couldn't believe the amazing little cabin nestled into the bowl below the glaciers.​

Out of the truck several times as we climbed the last 1500' of trail, I quickly fell behind. Of course - remembering his first time up the mountain - Mike was understanding, and I found him waiting once again at the last obstacle between us and the end of the trail.

One last river - if it could be called that at this elevation - to cross.​

No problem for the Redhead.​

My turn.​

Didn't even get the sliders wet (this time).​

Even across the creek there was much to see, so our tortoise-and-hare game continued, Mike as close as he could get to the glacier before I could even pull myself away from the cute little cabin.

I could see that the road continued, but a large snowdrift rendered it impassable.​

Eventually, I found myself parked as high as I could get, right there next to Mike.​

It was here - looking out over the surrounding landscape - that Mike spoke just two words: "Hallowed ground." Not sure what he was referring to, I think I sort of tilted my head and did my best impression of the people's eyebrow (which is to say, no impression at all beyond a weird contortion of my face).

Luckily, Mike picked up on my confusion. "This spot - right here where we are parked - is where Ben proposed to Kirsten," he said. A big grin spread across my face, and over the next hour, I asked way too many questions about the lead-up-to and execution-of the proposal. Suffice it to say, I could totally see why this would be a great spot for such an event, and knowing that I could see the place where it all went down made this place all the more awesome.

Looking out over Hallowed Ground.​

Even having run a trail before lunch in order to eat up some daylight hours, it wasn't yet 4:00pm but there was no way I was leaving this place before morning. Earlier in the day, Mike had briefly mentioned that we might head back down to find camp in the trees, but with temperatures in the mid-70s °F, and the views of the glaciers all around us, even he was content to find a spot - a little closer to the edge for me, and a little further for him - to call home for the rest of the day.

I suppose this spot will do. Oh, how we suffer.​

Surrounded by stunning views.​

Mr. Ground Squirrel (Golden-Mantled) seemed happy to share his domain with us... or perhaps his excitement was in hopes of a treat.​

Once we had the tents set up, it was time to do a bit of exploring, some relaxing, and eventually a bit of eating. Exploring - at least for me, for now - was limited to the immediate area around camp, starting with the cabin. I couldn't believe the condition of this place. Obviously many years old - it'd been here for a decade or more - its joints were still tight and there was no sign of rodents having made their way in. The windows - all glass - were in great shape, and provisions lined the walls and shelves. Surely, it is a welcome shelter in the dead of winter, should one find themselves in the vicinity.

Stunning on the outside.​

Clean and cozy within.​

Relaxing took the form it always does on trips like this - sitting around in our camp chairs, chatting about this and that - and on returning from the cabin, Mike and I gazed up at the glaciers, marveling at their size, Mike pointing out the path that "the kids" had taken - a bit further up the road from the place Ben had proposed - to get up onto one of the glaciers itself.

A fir "flower." I don't actually know what this is, but a lot of the fir trees had them at the tips of their branches.​

As we chatted, the already cloudy skies began to darken. Not much, but enough that Mike mentioned that it "felt" like rain, and I decided it was time to make dinner "just in case."

Ominous skies approaching from the south.​

Rain moving into the valley.​

In the end, it rained - albeit on-and-off and mostly reasonably lightly - for a couple of hours. At times it was enough to send us looking for cover, eventually emerging to enjoy a few more minutes around the propane campfire. Somewhere during that time, the sun peeked through as it neared the horizon - low enough that its rays never touched the ground, but still bright enough that we were both sent scurrying for our cameras in order to capture the luminous light in the sky.

​

After a gray afternoon, which we expected to block any color at sunset, this was most unexpected!

A few minutes later, the colors changed dramatically. It would have been so interesting to see what was happening closer to the horizon.​

Neither one of us was going to miss this!​

I don't remember exactly what time we went to bed, but a few drops were still falling on the rain fly as I tried to keep my eyes open long enough to read a single chapter on my Kindle. With the temperature outside cooling down to the pleasant "1 comforter" range, glacial runoff cascading down the granite, and the soft pattering of the rain on the tent, I soon found myself enjoying the best night of sleep I'd have all trip.

I never did finish that chapter.

The Following Morning...

I knew I wanted to get up to one of the glaciers, so I was out of bed and on my way a little after 5:30am - just as the sun was rising on the horizon, but well before it crested the tall ridges of the bowl in which we were camped. While the clouds hadn't disappeared as I hoped - revealing a crisp, blue background behind the snow and ice - they did have a bit more texture than the evening before, adding enough visual interest that I was pleasantly surprised.

Heading up. Distances here are deceiving; I had nearly a mile - and 1000 vertical feet - to climb.​

Tucked up behind a couple of moraines - or perhaps what were once terminal moraines - I wondered if I'd find a cirque with a lake at its base. At the very least, I knew I'd be crossing a couple of major waterways cascading down the glacial till, and I'd worn my Muck boots to make traversal a breeze. Of course, they made the rest of the climb a bit of a slog, and I found myself wishing I'd also brought along my sneakers.

Dozens of these streams rushed down the mountain, feeding the rivers below.​

Interesting discoveries abounded as I slowly made my way up the mountainside. Even at this early hour it was already quite warm - in the lower 70s °F - each stop giving me an excuse to cool down and catch my breath just a little bit.

I'm not generally a fan of cairns, but I couldn't help but to admire this one - one of the most elaborate I've ever seen.​

Part way up - though not where I'd envisioned - a lake!​

Don't worry, I didn't bleed out. I thought the red staining on the snow was pollen - from wildflowers and perhaps the red modules we'd found at the tips of the fir branches - but it turns out to be produced by select types of green algae, including the species Chlamydomonas nivalis. Living in high-altitude snow fields around the world, the green algae produce a red pigment during the warm seasons.​

I've never seen so many varieties of Indian Paintbrush in such close proximity. Closer to camp, I'd also seen a deep purple, for a total of nine!​

Every now and then I'd turn around, camp getting smaller and smaller below.​

No one else awake yet. The power of 240mm zoom.​

I wouldn't call this a lake - yet - but I loved how the ice was visible underwater in this this crystal-clear, turquoise puddle.​

Eventually, I was within - what seemed at the time - to be spitting distance of the glacier. Here, the steel gray of the ice contrasted with the bright white of the snow and the earth tones of the rocks plucked from the mountains. I couldn't help but to admire the enormity of what I was looking at as I plotted my final approach to the glacier.

Amazement.​

A route in mind, I set up the camera to snap a couple photos a minute, and set out. Even now - more than an hour into my hike - I misjudged distances, and the trek to the glacier took more than 20 minutes.

And I'm off!​

I quickly discovered that my only hope of maintaining traction was to stay on the snow. Even the rocky area below me (in this photo) was impassable due to the slick ice underneath.​

Rocks, warmed by the sun, slowly sink into the ice. Still, resting only on the surface, they offer no traction at all.​

By the time I reached the glacier, I was nearly invisible in the frame.​

Reaching the glacier was fantastic. And terrifying. While I never felt as though I was going to fall into a crevasse, I did steer clear of a couple prominent ones along the edge of the ice. More sketchy was my insistence on getting out onto an exposed section of glacier - perhaps the slipperiest surface on which I've ever had the pleasure of crossing.

I was glad for my Muck boots at this point, since the rubber soles are much softer and stickier than my sneakers - giving me enough traction to remain upright on the steely ice.​

The way I'd come. The exposure of ice in the foreground - perhaps 20 feet wide and 300 feet long - is what I'd just crossed.​

I'd touch the ice of the main face, but never walk on it. Too steep.​

I don't know if all glaciers are layered like this one, but it made for a very interesting texture.​

Wall of water.​

As I stood at the base of the ice wall, the sun finally poked over the ridge - it was time to start heading back towards camp. As always, the trip down would be quicker than the trip up - gravity assisting in the descent - but I still found myself stopping along the way to admire little treasures that I'd missed on my first pass.

Soaking in the view one last time.​

Nestled into the granite and quartz, these purple flowers were tiny and cute.​

The cirque in the lower left is where I'd expected to find a lake, but there was nothing.​

Glacial till was literally covered in a sea of wildflowers. Mostly, Indian Paintbrush.​

I got back to camp right around 8:30am, immediately apologizing to Mike for not taking my handheld ham radio. In fact, it hadn't even crossed my mind when I'd left - though I had grabbed my Garmin inReach Mini - and luckily Mike wasn't too worried by the time I got back (although I think if I'd been gone another hour, the situation may have been different).

At any rate, we set about our usual breaking of camp - each of us with our own routines that we have down to a science after hundreds of nights on the trail - and in less than 30 minutes we were ready to go. Mike was in the lead, as I snapped a few final photos of what is now one of the top 10 places I've ever had the opportunity to visit.

At the edge of amazing.​

Leading the way.​

Bringing up the rear.​

Crossing the creek.​

Back into the trees.​

Making our way down the mountain, I couldn't help but reflect on what a great place this had been. How, as we'd pushed our trucks up this same road just 18 hours earlier, I'd been worried that we'd be camped at a lower elevation, with nothing but tantalizing views of the glacier above. Instead - for me - it was the highlight of the trip, and I found myself frequently casting my gaze to my mirrors in the hopes of catching a final glimpse.

What a magical place.​

At the rate we're going, these glaciers won't be here much longer.​

Eventually, the trees closed in on the trail and the views were gone. Gravity pulling our Tacomas toward town, we'd make a quick run into Radium Hot Springs for fuel and a short burst of connectivity, before heading out on one final run into the mountains.

A trail that - for one of us - seemed vaguely familiar.

 

End of the Road - M&M #5
Part of the Me and Mike Climb into the Kootenays (Aug 2022) trip.

Having returned to Radium Hot Springs from our run up a glacier that was Hallowed Ground, Mike @Digiratus and I put a bit of fuel in our tanks. Prices had dropped 7 cents/liter in just two days, but I still used gas from my Scepter jerry cans, since I wanted to be sure to use up my cheaper "USA gasoline" before buying more than I needed in Canada, where prices were about $1.50 USD higher per gallon.

Filling our tanks didn't take long, and after a few more minutes of internet connectivity to ensure that everything was still OK on our home fronts, we opted for the paved route out of town - on BC-95, the Kootenay Highway - towards Invermere.

Our plan was to run up into the mountains to the town (?) of Panorama and the nearby Paradise Mine that I'd found as part of my route planning on Google Earth. At the time, I'd ended up mapping a route from Bruce Creek - that we'd explored the previous morning - up and over the ridge, but (Canada) Mike warned me that it wasn't a through road, so we decided not to try it when we'd passed it on our way to the old mining cabin.

Well, it turns out that we should have given it a shot because as soon as we reached the fork off of Toby Creek Road that went up to the mine, it turned out to be private land and a couple paramilitary looking guys came running out of Toby Creek Adventures to inform Mike that there was no way we were headed up that road. At least, not without booking an "ATV Adventure - a trip of a lifetime - starting at $259 apiece."

Luckily, our route continued up Toby Creek, where we were soon transitioning from pavement to gravel and enjoying some of the same views up steep canyon hillsides that we'd become accustomed to over the last several days.

Here we go again. (And that's a good thing.)​

Sharp-tailed grouse (Tympanuchus phasianellus).
​

It was mid-day at this point, and as I found a wide spot in the road with a view of the mountains, I suggested we pull over for lunch. We were - after all - in no rush.

The winding road we'd follow once our bellies stopped grumbling.​

For a couple of guys used to closing doors for photos, we were getting a little sloppy near the end of the trip.​

Lunch was a leisurely affair, high clouds, a nice breeze and some well-positioned trees providing much-appreciated shade on what had been a much-warmer-than-usual trip for us. Eventually though, all good things come to an end, and too soon we were headed further up the valley in search of the unknown - and a spot to camp for the evening.

My fingers crossed, I hoped we'd find a trail away from the creek and up into the higher elevations again. My maps suggested it was a possibility...​

Eventually we came to the end of Toby Creek Road and opted for a spur that continued on - for another 20km or so - to a promisingly-named destination: Jumbo Pass. "Seems like that might be a good place to camp," I suggested over the radio, though I was keenly aware of my love of plunging cliffs and Mike's preference for gurgling streams in... flatter...settings. Regardless, it was a decision that couldn't be made now, and so we continued.

Waterfalls cascaded toward the road as we continued to climb.​

Fed by streams, rivers carried the meltwater down towards Toby Creek.​

Bridges. With all that water, there were lots of bridges.​

I'd ended up in the lead for much of this leg of our adventure, and after winding our way well beyond the end of the road shown on our GPS, I ran into what can only be described as the End of the Road.

If the sign wasn't warning enough, I easily high-centered on the berm; we were going no further.​

It wasn't always this way. In fact, there was a perfectly good bridge tucked into the willows along the side of the road (just out of the frame of my photo). It was as though a logging operation had planned to repair the washed-out bridge but hadn't ever gotten around to it. Or maybe they had, and once they were done, decided that it was better if these trails were reclaimed by mother nature.

Crossing the creek wouldn't have been hard, if only we could make it over the berm.​

A few minutes later, the rumble of Mike's supercharged V6 broke through the trees, and he pulled up behind me with a grin on his face. Turns out that for much of the trail he'd had a nagging feeling of deja-vu, and seeing this spot, it had hit him; he'd been here before - on the same trip where Ben proposed - exploring the roads in a similar fashion as we were today. "They were a lot less overgrown [back in 2016]."

With nowhere good to camp in the immediate area - we hadn't gained much elevation, didn't have great views, and were two hours further away from the highway for our trip home the next morning - we decided our best course of action would be to head back down towards Invermere and find somewhere along the Toby River to setup camp.

Back out we go.​

It was right around 5:00pm when rolled into a place right along the side of the creek that we'd call home for the night. It wasn't the most private, but the river generated a nice breeze, and it was fun to watch as folks from the resort at Panorama floated down in rafts, the gentle current an apparent highlight of their time at the resort!

Our final spot.​

The only problem was that as the sun dropped lower in the sky, the stoooopid, sucking, miniature vampires began to swarm. It was bad. For a while - especially since it was our last evening - I suffered through it. Eventually, I couldn't take it anymore, climbing into the protected confines of my tent.

Running scared.​

Luckily, that didn't mean the campfire was over. Mike simply moved it a little closer to my tailgate, and our conversation continued through the protective mesh of my rear window. It was unconventional but I appreciated it, enjoying the last few hours of conversation before we'd hit the road for the 12-hour trip home the following morning.

It had been rather unconventional as an annual trip goes - both in terms of length and number of trucks - but I have to say, this one had some highlights that wouldn't soon be forgotten, as Me and Mike Climbed into the Kootenays.

 

There were a few moments and sights that wont soon be forgotten.

 

Hopefully we can get together with "Mr. Bail at the Last Minute" for another trip this year. We do still have everything that got mapped for MT last year... just saying. And I want to hit Independence.

@Blackdawg

@Speedytech7 @drr @m3bassman

 

Ben doesn't have a rig that'll make it up Independence if the truck sells anyways. That big beast won't make it anymore. Not without sliders and winching probably. Idk if it has sliders??

But is open. magic city 4wd club just went there last weekend. About 30 places I want to check out west of there though. But not the best time of year now, getting cold at night and raining/snowing up high is starting a bit. Still not terrible. Not Mike approved weather

Hoping to do something still though. I need to do something..

 

This year? Not a chance on my end. I'll be using what weekends I have to relax along some Idaho rivers with a fishing pole in my hand.

 

It has "sliders", 33s, a 15k winch and LSD. But it's not a rock crawler but still capable.

 

Yeah, maybe too late for this year. Next, for sure. Maybe you can get down to the desert again? I know it's a long drive...but it may be the best option.

No Death Valley for you? Could be pretty cool to explore after all that rain/water. Once stuff re-opens.

 

I've drained my PTO buckets all the way down so I'm done for 2022. 2023 spring time I will have a few days starting out but nothing really on my radar. Hammers is always on the list in the spring but we will see.

 

I go where ever maybe. Pending house project stuff.