In early July of 1978, I had made a four-day trip into the mountains along the divide between the Tretheway Creek and Bremner Creek drainages near Harrison Lake in southwestern British Columbia. The climbing had been rewarding for as long as it had lasted, but I’d been chased out of the high country by bad weather. While there, though, I’d had a lot of time to eyeball the peaks on the west side of Tretheway Creek, and a mighty fine-looking bunch they were. No sooner had I arrived back home on the 9th than I started making plans to return.
A mere twelve days later, an opportunity arose to go back in, and I took it. Very early on the morning of the 21st, a Friday, a friend dropped me off at the Riv-Tow dock at the village of Harrison Hot Springs. I paid the $6.00 fee and hopped on the supply boat Redonda, piloted by the legendary Ed Reid. Five hours later, he had dropped me off at the dock at the old Maple Bay logging camp on the west side of Harrison Lake, and by the time I shouldered my backpack it was 12:15 PM.
Harrison Lake sits at a mere 50 or so feet above sea level, and by the time I had walked up the main west-side logging road to 450 feet, it felt very hot. I rested for a bit in the shade, and even though I was feeling the heat, the clear-blue sky was a good omen for the climbing to come. By the time I reached the Coon Creek crossing at 700 feet, it was 2:00 PM. I kept hoping that someone would come driving by and give me a lift, saving me a lot of time and effort. Carrying on to the bridge over Tretheway Creek, I rested for a while, then my luck changed. At 4:30, two people came by, on their way north to Spring Creek – it was the first vehicle I had seen all day. This area is so remote that few travel the roads. Those kind folks must have taken pity on me, because they agreed to give me a ride up the old logging road that switch-backed north up the hill from near the Tretheway Creek crossing. It was my lucky day, because they drove me all the way up to 1,850′ elevation. At that point, the road was getting too rough for their liking, so they called it quits. No matter, I was really grateful for their help. Down the road they went, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
As I started out once again, plodding up the old road, it was so hot I felt sick. I tried to pace myself, and bit by bit I climbed higher, finally reaching the top of the highest road at 3,900 feet – it was 7:10 PM. What to do next? I made my way over to a nearby creek, drank my fill of the cold, clear water and filled my bottles. It was too late and I was too tired to go any farther tonight. I picked a good spot right at the edge of the logged area, hard by the forest, and set up for the night. The bugs – unbelievable! Oh, for some wind to keep them away! I could tell it was going to be a hot, stuffy night inside that bag and wished I were in a tent. Fortunately, I had plenty of Cutter’s insect repellent, which did help. By 8:00 PM, I was inside my bag, but I knew it was going to be one hot, stuffy night. That was my first Gore-Tex bivi bag, and it was pretty basic. You just zipped it up around your head – there was no mosquito netting, so you couldn’t see out – it felt pretty claustrophobic.
Day 2, Saturday
Throughout the night, I could hear the mosquitos buzzing close to my face on the other side of my bivi bag. It wasn’t the best sleep I’d ever had, so I finally gave up at around 5:00 AM – I got up, quickly packed and started moving. My thinking was to just get away from the bugs by climbing above them, so by 6:10 I had climbed to the summit of Peak 5,400′. I built a cairn and filled out a register, then quickly left, putting a few thousand mosquitos behind me. Down to a saddle at 5,100 feet I went, then continued up to Point 5900 and then finally over to Peak 6,000′. It was now 8:45 AM. There were still a lot of mosquitos there, the ones determined enough to get my blood that they’d followed me up. Nevertheless, I relaxed, ate some food, left a register and enjoyed the view. It’d been a busy day already, having climbed 2,600 vertical feet with a full pack. I’m not complaining – there’s a real sense of freedom, to be completely self-contained with everything on your back, moving wherever you please and at your own pace.
Eventually, I moved on, heading southwest and reaching the summit of Peak 6,100′ by 10:45 AM. Once again, there was no sign of any previous visit. More than just racking up a bunch of peaks, I was really enjoying every minute of this. The views were spectacular, and all of my travel was through beautiful alpine country. The clear blue sky didn’t hurt either – unlike my trip two weeks earlier, I had perfect visibility. I felt I could concentrate on the climbing without worrying about the weather.
The southwest ridge was my descent route from Peak 6,100′, and it took me down to an exquisite little alpine lake at 5,500 feet. It was about 600 feet long and still half-frozen, even in late July. It was a good spot to leave my pack, and I then climbed up to Peak 5,800′ just to its north. There, at noon, I left a register on its brushy summit. There was a good view over to the next part of my route, to Peak 6,500′, but it looked a long way off. Its north ridge looked decent, but I was more concerned about traversing its northern outlier of 5,600′. Oh well, no point worrying about it until I was over there. I went back down to the lake, rested for a bit and ate some food.
Pushing on, I dropped down to a pass at 5,000′, then continued, climbing up a long ridge. There was a series of bumps to cross, each one taking a bit of a toll, certainly harder with my full pack – thankfully the weather wasn’t an issue. The hours passed. By 3:00 PM, my feet were starting to feel sore. Nothing for it but to keep on moving. I noticed a few scattered fair-weather cumulus, and some high, thin cirrus moving in from the west – nothing to worry about yet. The closer I got, the better the prospects looked for that big peak I was approaching, the one that had concerned me earlier. Finally, I was there – it contoured at about 6,500 feet. It felt good to have arrived. It was 4:40 PM and, all things considered, I felt I had made pretty good time. It was easily the best peak of the trip so far, and what made it even better was that it looked like I could traverse it without much problem. I kicked back and relaxed. After eating something, I filled out a register, made a cairn for it and took in the view. This peak was un-named when I climbed it, but I see now on Google Maps that it is called “Tretheway NE2”.
The descent from this one turned out to be easy, down to a saddle with two tiny frozen tarns, then up and over a bump, and finally a last push up another 400 or so vertical feet to the top of what I called Peak 6,300′. After tagging the tricky summit, I dropped west and down to a saddle at just over 6,000′. This was a perfect spot to spend the night, so I dropped my pack – what a relief! I had been lugging that thing around all day, up and over peaks, and it felt so good to know I was finally done with it for the day.
Heading west upslope, I made quick time to my final summit of the day. This one looked every bit as high as the other 6,500-footer of a few hours earlier. In later years, there has been some question about when this one was first done, so let the record show that at 7:40 PM, on July 22, 1978 the first climber stood on the summit of Peak 6,500′. This peak too was un-named when I climbed it, but I now see that on Google Maps it is called “Tretheway Peak”.
It was a beautiful evening, and I enjoyed some of it up there, but after leaving a register, a quick ten minutes got me back down to my pack. What a day it had been! I had pushed myself awfully hard, but my feet were still holding up okay. I had bagged seven peaks, covered more than nine miles, climbed just over 7,000 vertical feet – sounds like a lot, but the reality is that it had taken fifteen hours of serious effort. Thankfully, the weather was perfect and all other conditions were ideal – no climbers were hurt in the climbing of these peaks. As I turned in for the night, even here at 6,000 feet there were plenty of mosquitoes. The whining of their evil little wings lulled me to sleep.
Day 3, Sunday
Up and moving by 6:00 AM, I dropped south and a bit west down to a frozen lake at 5,350′, then up to a ridge a bit higher at 5,500′. There, I left my pack and climbed up a lot of grungy rock on the east face of Peak 6,400′. The summit was a huge pile of shattered granitic blocks. It was now eight o’clock. Robertson Peak was only a mile and a half to the northwest, towering over everything – what a sight! Google Maps has given this peak a name, calling it “Tretheway SW1”. Somebody must have considered this area pretty important to have dropped names on a peak and two of its satellites where no prior names existed.
My idea for today was to climb three peaks and then make my way down to lower country and head back out to Harrison Lake, then try to get home. So, here was one of them done, and from its summit I dropped south to a saddle, where I left my pack. I’d decided I couldn’t stand the stink of my own body any longer, so I rinsed my shirt and armpits in a puddle. I climbed shirtless up a ridge which curved to the west and brought me to the second one of the day, Peak 6,200′. That was a big mistake – there must’ve been a hundred mosquitoes that seized the opportunity to suck my blood on the climb to the top. I put my wet shirt back on and headed down to where I’d left my pack.
Okay, one more to go. I descended in a southeasterly direction, passing around the south side of another lake. There, I left my pack, then climbed east up to a ridge. Once there, I followed it south, climbing up to reach the summit of Peak 5,800′. That’s it, all three were done and it was 9:45 AM. I left my final register of the trip, put it in a cairn, and headed back down to my pack. It was now 10:15 and I was ready to go home. All eleven of my peaks had been up in unspoiled alpine country, and I was pretty pleased at this point. Something told me, though, that the descent to the valley floor wouldn’t be much fun.
Away I went, dropping south from the lake. Things were going pretty well until I got tangled up in a maze of cliffs – try as I might, I couldn’t find a way down through them. This was still above treeline. I had no choice but to climb back up and outflank them, costing me an hour. At around 4,500′, a full 1,300′ below the lake I’d left earlier, I was then able to follow a better line and drop down into the bush. It was hot and messy, but could’ve been a lot worse. It took me an hour and a half to drop from 4,500′ all the way down to the creek in the valley bottom at 2,300′, where I hit the upper end of the old Tretheway Creek logging road near its 10-mile mark.
The road was familiar to me, having walked it both winter and summer in the previous 18 months, so I didn’t have any concerns there. I moved on, my mood no doubt enhanced by the fact that my feet felt like they’d been through the wringer – those steel-shanked leather boots were taking their toll. I stopped twice to soak my feet in the icy creek before I’d finished the ten miles and reached the main Harrison Lake road at 4:00 PM. All I had to do then was wait for someone to come by, heading my way. My luck held, and I was sleeping in my own bed back in Mission that night.
Looking back now on that trip, 36 years in the past, it still stands out as one of my most enjoyable. Twenty-eight miles on foot was a small price to pay to snag such a bunch of great peaks. It felt then, as it does today, that I was doing something special.
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