THE following account of the first ascent of one of the peaks of the Purcell Range, in the Canadian Rockies, has been taken from a letter from N..M. P. Reilly, a former President of the (Cambridge) club.
It should perhaps be explained that the Purcell Range lies just to the west of the main range of the Rockies near the United States border, and south of the main line of the Canadian Pacific Railway through Banff: from here the party of four drove 109 miles to Wilmer, and 24 miles beyond up a side valley, "Toby Creek," to the end of the road, beyond which it was necessary to pack stores. Of the drive little is said, as nothing could be seen at a distance of more than two or three miles, owing to the smoke-haze from forest fires. After several days packing stores (and various adventures) the party decided to attack Coppercrown, "a fine-looking peak of 10,218 feet which had never been ascended... Fifty miles to the south the country has only been seen by prospectors and the odd trapper, has never been photographed and is still unvisited by mountaineers. Of course from the mountaineering standpoint the range is not difficult, the highest peaks are only 11,000 feet odd, and none of them seems to present great difficulty; the difficulties are more in approach than in anything else."
"Thursday, August 20th Left most of our dunnage on the camp site on Toby Creek trail and packed food, blankets and tent up a prospector’s trail which runs about four miles up Coppercrown Creek, but rises right up the side of the valley to 7,600 feet... I was ready for lunch at 6.15 p.m. Things looked bad from a point of view of climbing the mountain; it was still 2½ miles away, and though the rough map showed a straight mountain side, there appeared to be ridges. After tea Mac went back for his boots while I climbed to a peak of 8,600 feet, 2,000 feet above the camp, to reconnoitre. It was impossible to reach Coppercrown by contour- in along the mountain side; there were five ridges between the camp and the glacier on the west of Coppercrown; of these only one was shown on the map. The ridges of the mountain were steep and guarded with gendarmes, but the way of attack seemed obvious – to take the glacier on its west flank and. work round behind the mountain where the general form seemed to point to an easy ridge, probably descending to a col. The only way to reach the mountain was to descend a gully 1,600 feet to Coppercrown Creek, follow the creek up to tree line near the snout of the glacier, camp, and climb the mountain from the camp."
"August 21st. After some consultation we decided to put my plans into action. Taking only two blankets, my very light ground-sheet and food for a day and a half, we descended to the creek, and worked up it, sometimes through the beautiful thick timber, a pleasant change after the burnt stuff we had been used to; sometimes in the bed of the stream, and sometimes through the fireweed which purples the mountain after a slide. It is probable that the creek has never been ascended before, though possibly some local hunter has been up. Coppercrown looked grand, completely blocking the head of the valley, stupendous cliffs swooping down to a hanging glacier, below which were more cliffs. At the head of the valley fine cliffs walled us in and over these the glacier streams fell in magnificent falls. Unfortunately smoke again obscured the views.
We climbed the moraine to tree-line, at about 7,200 feet, twenty minutes below the snout of the glacier. There we found a hollow which I levelled into a bed big enough for four. Mac cut balsam tree boughs and succeeded in making the softest bed of the trip. While the girls were making the 6re and cooking tea and tinned salmon I climbed to the glacier and across to its left bank. From here I could see the glacier sloping up to a col of about 9,200 feet, and the summit of Coppercrown appearing above a subsidiary peak. As I had expected, the summit ridge to the south was at an easy angle without gendarmes. It seemed obvious that we must ascend to the col, from which we could see our way clear to the summit. I returned to the camp, as it started to rain... After a supper of salmon and bannock we turned in at 7 p.m."
"August 22nd. I was glad when the alarm went at 3.30 a.m., being deucedly uncomfortable... it was 5.30 a.m. when we started. Lowering clouds were being driven across the sky by a strong west wind; white fleecy clouds were gathering in the valleys, a very bad sign, a few spots of rain fell, and the smoke gave everything a weird, portentous look. It seemed very doubtful if we could make the mountain before the weather broke, but the summits were dear. Mac kindly gave me the lead, and we set off at an easy pace up the moraine. On reaching the crevassed glacier we roped; but there were only two crevasses, and I had to cut no more than about twenty steps, so we reached the col quite easily. A small glacier lay zoo feet below us, and from it a snow slope swept up the north-west face of the mountain, very steep in appearance; but the west arete was a ’ cinch,’ disappointingly easy. We descended to the glacier and found that the snow slope was at an easy angle and presented the easiest means of approach. The snow was hard, but kicking steps was sufficient; I led up this until we reached the broken rocks above, and easy walking up these brought us to the summit, 10,218 feet, at 8.50 a.m."
It was very cold and snow was falling slightly, so we lost no time in building a cairn and leaving a record in a tin box.
If it had not been for the smoke the view would have been magnificent, as Coppercrown is the highest peak within about ten miles, and should command a view of the range for fifty miles either way. We saw some fine-looking peaks to the south, hitherto unclimbed but probably not much above 10,000 feet.
Well, that was my first " first ascent "– as a climb it was nothing, the difficulty lay in the approach and the reconnoit- ring, and that is where most of the satisfaction lay... But unexplored country has a fascination which makes up for the lack of technical difficulty in the climbing.
On the return we glissaded the snow, but it was too hard for a good glissade... We returned by the same route without incident but with great speed. We left the high camp at 1.30 p.m. and followed the creek down. It was an awful grind up to the trail, and the others headed for a little cabin at the bottom of the creek, while I sweated up 500 feet for the dunnage we had left at the first camp. Here snow was falling fast, and it seemed a desolate spot indeed, perched high up on the mountains. At the cabin we soon had a roaring fire in the store, changed our clothes, and after a supper of porridge, soup, beans and coffee, turned in.