Hike? Me? I'll Just Wait Here...or not

As we make our way into the lodge, I note the steep mountains surrounding us.  This is truly beautiful.  The lodge is deluxe, and around us --rocks, trees, glaciers in the distance.  I know I've said this before, but the feeling never goes away: when I leave 'civilization' behind and see natural formations millions---billions--of years old, I am in awe.  The natural beauty, the immensity of it, puts my tiny place in the vast scheme of things into perspective.

After settling in, we’re head out for our first hike.  We will go by helicopter in groups we choose based on our estimates of ability.  I humbly flash back to my preparation:  

 I could walk for miles.  Flat, sea-level miles.  Occasionally I shook things up by walking hills.  There’s a park nearby with a gorgeous view of the Boston Skyline.  It’s about 370 feet above sea level.  I walked that (she said proudly).

I look at peaks surrounding the lodge and wisely choose a beginner-level group.  We go out to the helicopter.   We form a circle, throw valuables in the circle to protect them from the rotor wind, and huddle....

helihuddle 1

As we’re helicoptering to the first trailhead, I flash back to the catalogue showing a photo of a helihiking trip:  

...a group of smiling people in a meadow of wildflowers,  mountains in the distance, gently rolling hills in the forefront.  Yeah, I can do this.

The helicopter descends to a craggy area that looks sorta like this:

me?  hike here?

um...  This is not what I was expecting.  This does not look like the gently rolling meadows I saw on-line.  The terrain looks forbidding and frightening and steep.  I will tell Ernst, our guide.  “Ernst,” I say,  “This is not what I was expecting,” I say.  “I pictured meadows.  Gently rolling meadows.  I think I’ll just wait here for the helicopter.”

Ernst absorbs my comment, and replies,  ‘You can vait here, but de helicopter doss not come here.”

Plan B.  I hike. And I will stay very close to Ernst. I try to hide my anxiety.

Great news!

Ernst had eyeballed the ominous-looking skies (that photo above has some serious looking clouds)  and thinks a thunderstorm is coming.  Bad idea to be out on the mountains during a thunderstorm.  Ernst uses his walkie-talkie to radio the pilot that he must pick us up to return to the lodge.  I try to hide my relief.  I know it's only temporary, but I will have a chance to summon up my courage. We return to the lodge and await the passing of the storm.  I think positive happy thoughts and prepare to give it another go.

I’m still nervous in the helicopter, but not as nervous as I was.  We take off, we fly about 7 minutes, we land, we exit,  helicopter-huddle, wait for the the pilot's departure. Then we’re off.  

Our first hike is across Encore Ridge, parallel to the Canoe River that flows from Canoe Glacier. In the distance, Mount Robson.

Encore Ridge: parallel to the Canoe River that flows from Canoe Glacier. In the distance, Mount Robson.

As my group starts across the ridge,  I stand back to photograph.    The ridge looks narrow.  The drop looks seriously steep.  But then I look out at summer’s snow-capped peaks in the distance, at the craggy domain stretching out before me.  This sweeping expanse of mountain-tops is breathtaking.  I am in a place where the only humans I see are those traveling with me.  I have never  been anywhere like this, and I have never felt this exhilarated. 

Yes, I can do this.  

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My heli-hiking experience was with Canadian Mountain Holidays, who continue to offer heli-hiking and hell-skiing adventures.  Visit http://www.canadianmountainholidays.com for more information.