Roko Koell held my life in his hands.
Clutching one end of the climbing rope that ran through the carabiner on my own safety harness, the Austrian-born Canadian mountain guide issued last-minute instructions on how to do something I’ve never done: rappel down the face of a 120-foot vertical cliff.
“Valk to ze edge of ze cliff,” Koell shouted, his heavy Austrian accent echoing between mountain peaks.
A moving speck amid the massive Purcell Mountains, I crept toward the edge of the cliff. But I refused to look down. Gone was the helicopter that had dropped us off at 7,000 feet atop the Syphax Glacier. Gone was the comfort of the Bobbie Burns Lodge. All that remained was me, Koell, two female hikers, and the challenging trek through the snow-crusted mountains that surrounded us.
“OK, turn around,” Koell said. “Lean backvard and valk vertically down ze cliff face.”
Gripping the rope with both hands, trembling in a pair of borrowed climbing boots, I turned my back to the precarious cliff. I heard my heart beating in my ears. Felt a sudden need to urinate.
“It is better to die on your feet zan to live on your knees,” Koell shouted.
With these words of encouragement, I took a deep breath and threw myself over the edge . …
Expert guides
More than 25 years ago, the folks at Canadian Mountain Holidays combined hiking boots and helicopters to create “heli-hiking” – a uniquely exciting wilderness experience. Each morning during summer months, CMH guests are flown by helicopter from one of five remote lodges in British Columbia to high-altitude starting points in the Purcell, Selkirk, Columbia and Cariboo mountain ranges. Led by expert guides like Koell – a former coach of the Austrian National Alpine Ski Team – guests are divided into groups based on desire and hiking ability.
Some groups walk leisurely along the shore of a glacial lake and enjoy a lunchtime picnic in a flowering meadow. Others hike up snowpacked slopes to cross ancient glaciers. Those in search of an adrenaline rush can climb summits, rappel down vertical cliff faces and inch along rocky walls during a mountaineering trek.
At the end of each day, heli-hikers are plucked from the mountains by a 12-seater Bell 212 helicopter. They’re flown back to the lodge for a sauna or a well-earned massage, before sitting down to a gourmet dinner prepared by a CMH chef.
Fly, then hike
Without the helicopter, this hiking experience would be impossible for greenhorns like me. Within 15 minutes of boarding the chopper at the Bobbie Burns Lodge, my group was airlifted 7,000 feet to the Syphax Glacier. (An expert climber might need an entire day to reach such a remote area; a novice would be a fool to make the attempt.)
Through the helicopter windows I saw snowcapped mountains that fanned out in every direction for as far as the eye could see. Glaciers spread beneath us like massive lemon-gelato spills.
When our chopper touched down, the four of us leapt to the ground and knelt together in a heli-huddle, shielding our faces from swirling snow kicked up by the thwacking main rotor.
For an urbanite like me who has never slept outside in a tent – let alone attempted a technical climb – the rest of the day was an eye-opening thrill. We hiked east along a snowpacked ridge. Trudged uphill through steep snow. Climbed up an almost vertical rock face, using ledges and a few pre-inserted handholds.
Mountain motivation
Along the way, Koell prodded us with inspirational Roko-
isms. “Pain is only veakness leaving the body,” he said after I whined about a foot blister. When I cried out breathlessly and asked, “How much farther to the summit?” the 6-foot-
5-inch mountain man seemed to chuckle. “Ze grass is greener on ze other side of ze road, but it still has to be mowed.”
When we reached the 9,500-foot summit of Mount Syphax, I felt as if I had conquered Mount Everest. A light fog rolled in, drawing a translucent curtain across a kingdom of snow-dusted spires that stretched to the horizon.
After descending Mount Syphax came the scariest part: rappelling down the 120-foot vertical cliff face.
Refusing to “live on my knees” as Koell had warned, I grabbed hold of the climbing rope, leapt backward from the edge of the cliff, and walked down the vertical face like a Navy SEAL who had consumed too many drinks.
Eager to conquer a bigger challenge, I decided right then and there to sign up for one of the heli-skiing packages offered by CMH each winter. With heli-skiing, experienced skiers are flown by helicopter to an otherwise inaccessible mountain perch. From there they leap onto fresh powder, skiing down virgin slopes like madmen and madwomen.
I quickly trashed my heli-skiing plans after remembering one important detail: I don’t know how to ski.
Elliott Hester is the author of “Plane Insanity.” Write him at megoglobal@hotmail.com, or visit elliotthester.com.
The details
Canadian Mountain Holidays offers all-inclusive “heli-hiking” packages during summer months and “heli-skiing” packages in winter. Contact CMH at P.O. Box 1660, 217 Bear St., Banff, Alberta T1L 1J6, Canada; 800-661-0252 or 403-762-7100; e-mail: info@cmhinc.com; canadianmountainholidays.com.
For information, contact the Banff-Lake Louise Tourism office, P.O. Box 1298, Banff, Alberta T1L 1B3, Canada; 403-762-8421; e-mail: info@BanffLakeLouise.com; banfflakelouise.com.
