Rylee, a friend and Moraine Lake’s source of infinite energy, had some unfinished business with a mountain he had tried to ascend a day earlier. He asked me to join his second attempt. “Sure, why not?”, was my answer, as I too, like the inquisitive Hobbit, thrive on a good adventure. To make our attempt more magical, we went for the sunset. It turned out to be the most gnarly hike I have done thus far.

The Dolomite peak is a jagged mountain with not one, but four individual peaks protruding towards the sky about a hundred meters above from what could be called a plateau of a mountain. The peaks are aptly numbered, one through four. The most obvious characteristic of the mountain, and the one that made this hike a bit sketchy, is the mountain’s persistent will to fall apart. Even seemingly solid pieces of the rock easily detach when you try to grab them. After a meter wide and a foot tall (I know I have been living in Canada a bit too long) piece of solid rock broke off under my feet — resulting in a not so gracious landing on my ass — I became respectful of the crumbling giant.

We started the hike at around seven in the evening. Through the forest; the narrow, steep pathway did not spare. My body had to kick in to top gear quickly. Luckily, after about 20 min, we hit flat terrain. We hiked next to a small river with a beautiful meadow, a perfect spot to see a bear or two. After crossing the river, we started biting into the mountain. There would be no rest until the summit. Up to the end of the tree line and onto a small grassy patch, perfectly suitable to take a minute’s rest and recuperate before the scree. The scree slope leads us to the base of four peaks. The sun is still above the horizon.

We have a guide book and maps on a phone, but we are not completely sure where to proceed. The cairns are rare and too far apart to reliably guide us. So we pick a peak (number 3) and decide to try our luck with finding a way to the top. We chose the gully that seems the most plausible and start our final approach. As we get higher and higher, the rocks become looser and looser. It is quite obvious that nobody has been hiking here in a while. At some point Rylee, the avantguard of our expedition, has to climb a small section. After a few moves, he is out of my view. After a bit of waiting, I prepare to follow, when all of a sudden, a bunch of rocks hurl down, hitting the exact spot where I was supposed to start my climb. This is why we use helmets, kids. Unhurt (scratches don’t count), we come to a point which is just about 5 meters away from the top. But the meters are vertical and there is no way around it. After some deliberation, I decide to climb it. A bit sketchy, but within my comfort zone. Ascending and looking over the top, I see a huge cairn on the next peak (peak 4) and realize we tried to summit the wrong one. Meanwhile, the day is leaning into the night.

Oh well, let’s try that one, I guess. Same procedure. Approach the peak, find the most navigable gully, and try again. Avoid starting rock slides and, at the end, find the most climbable section of the wall. Out of three gullies we checked, we chose the most plausible one and tried our luck. We are faced with a longer, but a bit less exposed, climb (about 10 meters). We finally reach the top. The night was there too. We quickly took some pictures and start thinking about our descent. Rylee quickly realised that the way we came up was not the intended one as there was another cairned pathway leading down. We decided to try our luck with the “marked” (nothing on this mountain was really marked) path and avoid down climbing, as even climbing up was precarious.

Slowly descending in the darkness quite prolonged our way, since we didn’t want to get stuck and risk back-tracking in the middle of the night. We employed a tactic of going to the edge of the cliff, lying on the ground and carefully looking over, trying to spot the best way down. After repeating this technique a couple of times, we arrived to the place where we could easily traverse back to the position we were at before we tried to ascent the top for the first time. It was a relief. We screed back down until we hit the small patch of grass and decided to drink our well deserved beers. While resting, we took a moment to appreciate the moonlit mountains around us. Soon after, we hit the tree line.

Playing some Iron Maiden on the speakers (not really exemplary behaviour) to celebrate finishing the hardest part of the hike quickly turned on us when I heard a rumbling in the trees nearby. Bear spray was out and unhinged before Maidens could play the first rif. Rylee followed suit. Luckily, there was nothing to spray but the fear of the dark. The rest of the way to the car park we relied on the more classical “Hey Bear!”, while having our sprays constantly in our hands.

#DoingSketchyThingsWithRylee