Taiya Peak, Skagway Ranges, British Columbia, Canada (7-30-23)

Days 8 & 9 of Lupe’s 2nd Summer of 2023 Dingo Vacation to Canada & Alaska!

7-30-29, 7:30 AM, 59ºF, S Klondike Hwy No. 2, 4.5 miles S of Canadian Customs –

Not too bad, but it’s kind of smoky.  Are we still going to do this, SPHP?

Disappointing, I know, Loopster.  Really wish we had a super clear day for Taiya Peak (6,844 ft.), but it’s been on your list of possibilities for years.  How many more chances are we ever going to get at it this far from home?

So, it’s a go, SPHP?

Might be now or never, Loop, so yes.  Onward!  Puppy, ho!

Her lofty objective already in sight, Lupe crossed the highway near the Summit Creek sign, then headed N across a rumpled region of bedrock, low bushes, scattered stunted evergreens, and tundra.

Taiya Peak (Center) from S Klondike Hwy No. 2. Photo looks NW.

Progress was excellent on this relatively easy terrain.  Within just a few minutes, the American Dingo reached a small tarn.

See those 2 mountains we’re heading for, Looper?

Of course.  What about them?  We don’t have to go clear over there do we?

Heavens no!  We only need to get up onto that lower ridge in front of them, Loopster, before turning toward Taiya Peak.  However, that mountain on the L is Peak 1769m, and the one on the R is Fraser Peak (5,978 ft.).

Oh, I remember Fraser Peak, SPHP!  The views were spectacular!  That’s where we first got a good look at Taiya Peak, isn’t it?

That’s right, Loop.  I knew you’d remember.

Peak 1769m (L) and Fraser Peak (R) from the first tarn. Photo looks NNW.

After passing the tarn, Lupe found her way over to Summit Creek’s rocky exposed floodplain.  The trek N along the E side of the beautiful stream was easy and fun, but didn’t last long.  The stream soon meandered over to the E side of the channel, forcing the Carolina Dog up onto a parallel wall of rock 20 feet higher.

Lupe was once again up on the tundra traveling over rumpled terrain when Summit Creek suddenly made a sharp turn NW away from the wall of rock, causing a search for a way to scramble back down next to the creek.  Another short trek on the floodplain ensued before the stream forced Lupe back up onto an 8 foot high bank.

On the rock wall overlooking Summit Creek. Peak 1769m (L), Fraser Peak (R of Center). Photo looks NNW.
Below the wall where Summit Creek turned NW. Photo looks SSE.
Following Summit Creek. Taiya Peak (L), Peak 1769m (R). Photo looks NW.
Taiya Peak (Center) and Summit Creek from a particularly pretty spot. Photo looks NW.

Up on the bank, a level plain completely overgrown with willows waist to chest high on SPHP extended a good 250 meters N.  Lupe couldn’t see a thing as she followed SPHP bushwhacking slowly through the willow thicket by whatever route seemed easiest.  The situation didn’t improve much upon reaching a dense forest of evergreens on higher ground.

Heading NW toward the big ridge leading to Taiya Peak, Lupe managed to get high enough to break out of the trees onto a tundra slope, which made progress much easier.  However, the tundra quickly led up to the top of a hill with a cliff edge and a big tarn below it blocking any further progress W.

Blocked by a cliff and a tarn. Fraser Peak (L of Center). Photo looks N.
Taiya Peak (L) from the same spot. Ridge Lupe needed to get to (R). Photo looks NW.

Down and around, SPHP?

No other choice, Loopster.

The hill Lupe was on wasn’t that big, so it didn’t take long to retreat NE down into a little valley, then climb up onto a reasonably flat stretch of tundra.  However, quite a bit of forest was still ahead on the lower slopes of the ridge Lupe was trying to get to, and the terrain was fairly rugged with sudden drops and near vertical climbs.

Staying on tundra whenever possible, Lupe had to venture quite a long way N before turning WNW seemed feasible.  Even then, progress was often extremely slow trying to force a way up some of the steep, densely forested slopes.  However, Lupe finally managed to get up above most of the trees to a flat spot with a view looking back toward Summit Lake near S Klondike Hwy No. 2.

On a nice stretch of tundra. Fraser Peak (L). Photo looks N.
Above the worst of the forest looking back at Summit Lake. Photo looks S.

Amazing territory was now ahead.  As the remaining trees thinned out, Lupe easily avoided them.  Climbing WNW, Lupe explored a maze of bedrock benches, ramps, small streams, and hidden tarns.  For a long way, it was possible to look back and still see the RAV4 as a bright blue dot parked in front of Summit Lake down by S. Klondike Hwy No. 2.

The higher the American Dingo went, the rockier the world became.

Exploring rugged territory near treeline. Peak 1769m (L of Center), Fraser Peak (R). Photo looks NNW.
One of the larger tarns (R). Fraser Peak (L). Photo looks N.
Entering the world of rock. Photo looks WNW.

7-30-23, 9:16 AM – Although the angle of incline was diminishing, Lupe never seemed to get to the top of the ridge she was climbing.  However, upon reaching a giant boulder sitting on the bedrock that dominated the landscape, the top of Taiya Peak was back in view for the first time in a while now.

By the giant boulder. Taiya Peak (R). Photo looks WNW.

Continuing gradually higher beyond this boulder, more of Taiya Peak kept coming into sight.  Lupe crossed many long gashes in the bedrock oriented perpendicular to her route, descending into each one before having to regain all her lost elevation and more climbing out again.  Sometimes small streams were in these gashes, or even a bit of snow.

To the SW, the sharp pinnacle of Feather Peak (5,889 ft.) came into view with Mount Cleveland (6,362 ft.), Mount Carmack (6,808 ft.) and many other peaks grouped beyond it.  Much closer, Peak 6053, which Lupe had climbed nearly 5 years ago, appeared toward the WSW.

More of Taiya Peak (R) comes into view. Peak 6053 (L). Photo looks W.
Mount Carmack (Center) in the distance. Feather Peak (R), Mount Cleveland (far R). Photo looks SW.
Crossing one of the many gashes. Photo looks SW.

The scenery was incredible and exploring this amazing territory was enormous fun.  Fortunately, the Luck of the Dingo was excellent.  Lupe usually reached the gashes she came to near breaks in the cliff walls along each side, which made it relatively easy to scramble down into them and back out again.

Closing in on Taiya Peak, the gashes increased in size.  Near the end, the Carolina Dog came to 3 gashes that were particularly big, with lines of cliffs along their borders ranging from 20 to 50 feet high.  One of these gashes was much wider than any of the others and full of vegetation.

Closing in on Taiya Peak (R). Peak 6053 (L). Photo looks W.
Above one of the gashes. Peak 1769m (L), Fraser Peak (R of Center). Photo looks N.
Feather Peak (L) and Peak 6053 (R) from the edge of another gash. Photo looks SW.
Down in one of the deepest gashes. Photo looks NNE.
Climbing back out. Photo looks N.
Taiya Peak (Center) dead ahead. Photo looks WNW.
Exploring the widest gash. Fraser Peak (L of Center) in the distance. Photo looks NNE.

Near the base of Taiya Peak, the roar of water could be heard ahead.  Lupe soon reached the edge of a final gash containing a much larger stream than any other the others she’d come to tumbling steeply down this narrow ravine.

Along the edge of the final gash. Feather Peak (R), Mount Cleveland (R edge). Photo looks S.

Crossing the stream and its powerful flow in this deep ravine appeared treacherous.  Happily, the upper end of the gash was only a little farther upstream.  Turning N, Lupe went far enough to get above the spot where the stream plunged into the gash in a line of waterfalls along the W edge.

Above this spot the gap was non-existent and the stream was shallow, all spread out in a beautiful green oasis of tundra and wildflowers.  Off in the distance to the NW, a long waterfall cascaded off a ridge into a wide bowl still hidden above.

Taiya Peak from the shallow stream above the last gash. Photo looks WNW.
The upstream view toward the hidden bowl. Photo looks NNW.

Wouldn’t it be fun to explore upstream all the way to that big waterfall, SPHP?  We could even climb that ridge and see what’s beyond it, too!

Yes, of course!  That would be fantastic, Loop, but I’m afraid we can’t do that, if we ever intend to make it to the top of Taiya Peak.

After a short, wistful break by the lovely stream spent contemplating that enticing bowl to the NW, Lupe waded across.  The American Dingo then followed the stream back down to the waterfalls where it plunged into the gap.  There she turned WSW, abandoning this beautiful region to start up the rocky slopes forming the base of Taiya Peak.

Starting up Taiya Peak. Photo looks W.

As the terrain steadily steepened, SPHP frequently paused to gasp for air.  At first, Lupe still came to spots with a fair amount of greenery where she could relax on the soft vegetation while SPHP took short breathers.  However, these patches of tundra became increasingly rare.

The mountain soon became quite an aggressive climb.  The American Dingo scrambled up steep walls of talus.  Fortunately, they often led to much flatter benches where usually another stretch of somewhat easier terrain existed above before an assault on the next wall would have to begin.  As she gained elevation, Lupe’s winding WSW course gradually turned NW.

Having read online that it was important to stay S of an E ridge, which seemed poorly defined in the field, SPHP encouraged the Carolina Dog to take advantage of every opportunity to angle SW, but the terrain rarely cooperated.

Taking a break right before the climb steepened significantly. Feather Peak (L), Mount Cleveland (Center), Peak 6053 (R). Photo looks SW.
Heading up a steep talus slope. Photo looks NW.
On easier terrain again. Photo looks SW.
Another wall of talus ahead. Photo looks WNW.
Pausing on another patch of tundra. Photo looks NNE.

The benches and ledges Lupe reached were becoming narrower and less frequent.  SPHP’s progress on the steep talus was painfully slow.  The talus walls extended higher and higher, becoming so steep that whether or not this ascent could possibly be successful was continually in doubt.

Ever fewer and more difficult routes kept appearing above.  Although Lupe displayed great scrambling ability, she began coming to places where SPHP had to give her a boost.  Tiring, longer rest breaks were in order every time the American Dingo managed to reach one of the wider, safer ledges.

Relaxing on one of the larger benches. Mount Carmack & Feather Peak (L), Mount Cleveland (L of Center), Peak 6053 (Center). Photo looks SW.

After gaining many hundreds of feet, Lupe came to a talus slope that wasn’t as steep.  Climbing NW, she reached a long snowbank she was able to follow WSW.  Above it, another steep talus slope finally led to a big level bench of gritty tan soil.  Taking another break here, the views were tremendous.

Looking E, Summit Lake was in sight down in the Tormented Valley.  Lupe could see Summit Creek flowing into it, and the mighty range of unfamiliar mountains E of the valley.  Looking SW, Lupe was already clearly higher than both Feather Peak (5,889 ft.) and Peak 6053.

Approaching the long snowbank (L) Lupe was able to follow WSW. Photo looks NW.
On another steep talus climb. Photo looks WNW.
N half of Summit Lake from the gritty tan bench. Summit Creek (R). Photo looks ESE.
Resting on the last big ledge. Mount Carmack (far L), Mount Cleveland (L), Peak 6053 (Center). Photo looks SW.

Wow, what a climb!  Can’t go on like this much longer, can it, SPHP?

No, it can’t.  According to the topo map, it ought to be getting noticeably easier any time now, Loopster.  Not sure how accurate our GPS track is, but it says we’re already at 6,275 feet.  If true, that puts us within less than 600 feet of the summit elevation-wise.

Continuing on, Lupe skirted WSW along the base of the 20 foot wall next to the ledge before reaching a place where she could climb above it.  60 feet higher, a magnificent sight appeared.  To the NW, a long talus slope stretched toward what appeared to be Taiya Peak’s summit.

It was a moment of great joy.

Hah!  Got’er made, Looper!  We’re going to make it!

Taiya Peak (Center) from 6,333 feet. Photo looks NW.

Still a trudge, but the angle of ascent was much easier now.  While SPHP hoped nothing too funky laid beyond what could be seen of the summit region, Lupe steadily closed the gap, alternately trotting over patches of the gritty tan soil or rock-hopping her way higher.

Closing in on the summit. Photo looks NW.

7-30-23, 3:46 PM, 68ºF, Taiya Peak (6,844 feet) – 50 feet from the SE end of a 200 foot long summit ridge, Lupe stood next to a cairn by the true summit with a grin on her face.  Beyond her, the sky was disappointingly gray with smoke bad enough to seriously mar the views, but it could have been worse.

Almost due S, Mount Carmack (6,808 ft.), Feather Peak (5,889 ft.), and Mount Cleveland (6,362 ft.) were all still readily discernable despite the smoke.  It was incredible to think that Lupe was now higher than all of them.  Felt even stranger looking down on Peak 6053 less than 2 miles SW, a magnificent peak in its own right practically on the border with Alaska, where the Carolina Dog had stood proudly nearly 5 years ago, gazing up at mighty Taiya Peak.

By the Taiya Peak summit cairn. Mount Carmack (L), Mount Cleveland (L of Center), Peak 6053 (Center). Photo looks SW.

As cherished as those views were, and as splendid as the sights were in all directions, in truth, it was the views to the W that had inspired this entire journey.  Beyond the unseen depths of the giant Taiya River valley, where prospectors had once struggled against forbidding elements up the famous Chilkoot Trail from Dyea to the Yukon gold fields, a sea of glacier-clad peaks extended beyond vision.

Alaska!  Forbidding, vast, remote, and frigidly white as in one’s wildest dreams.  No one had ever stood on most of those unnamed peaks.  It was like looking 20,000 years back into an ancient, long forgotten ice age.

Alaska from Taiya Peak. Photo looks W.

SPHP seized the American Dingo’s outstretched paw, and shook it most enthusiastically.

Congratulations, Lupe!  12.5 years old, and you made it all this way!  I can’t believe it.  I never thought we’d see this scene again, sweet puppy.

What?  Of course, I made it!  A remark like that is going to cost you every chocolate coconut bar in that pack, SPHP.

This was, in fact, the 4th time the Carolina Dog had seen this stunning view into Alaska, each time from a different vantage point.  Lupe had first gazed up at Mount Hoffman (6,079 ft.) from a ridge at the far W end of the International Falls Trail in 2017.  The very next day she saw Peak 8239, the Skagway High Point, from Fraser Peak, and then again from Peak 6053 a year later.

However, Lupe had never enjoyed this scene from a perch as lofty as the one she now had on Taiya Peak before.  Only the wretched smoke and weariness dampened the soaring mood of the occasion.  Conditions were otherwise perfect – an incredible 68ºF with a lazy 5 mph SW breeze.

Peak 6053 (far L) and Mount Hoffman (R) both in the foreground. Peak 8239 (far R). Photo looks SW.
Taiya Peak’s NW ridge (R) in the foreground. Photo looks NW.
Mount Hoffman (R of Center) in the foreground. Peak 8239 (R). Photo looks WSW.

No vegetation at all existed up here, so Lupe had no comfortable spot to rest.  However, immediately N of the cairn, the rock it sat on had a flat spot big enough to accommodate her.  After an initial look at the views, SPHP used a jacket, a pullover, and another layer of clothing to make a bed for her there.

Resting next to the summit cairn (R). Photo looks ESE.
The Tormented Valley (Center) 4,000 feet below from Taiya Peak. Photo looks ESE.

Lupe got her half-melted chocolate coconut bar reward, splitting it with SPHP.  She then got to lick off the soft chocolate sticking to the wrapper, which she did with great enthusiasm, followed by plenty of water for all, and Taste of the Wild for Lupe.  Satisfied, the Carolina Dog put her head down on SPHP’s jacket and snoozed.

For a while, SPHP gazed alone upon the splendors in all directions, but after a short nap, Lupe was awake, too, although not at all inclined to move from her comfy spot.  SPHP sat next to her, stroking Lupe’s soft fur, and praising her for coming all this way.

7-30-23, 4:40 PM, Taiya Peak – 

Your traditional summit hour is almost over, Looper.

We can’t leave yet, SPHP!  Let’s have a more thorough look around first!

Fully intend to, Loop.  We’re certainly in no rush to leave this awesome peak.  Other than the dang smoke, it couldn’t be a more perfect day.

Finally getting up after this assurance, Lupe was ready for a leisurely summit tour.  She began by making the 50 foot stroll over to the SW end of the summit ridge.  At this end, the ridge was only about 15 feet wide, and the large rocks were encased in black lichens.

Naturally, the best views of the Feather Peak group and Peak 6053 were from here.  Lupe also peered down on a glacier covering a significant portion of the region between Peak 6053 and Taiya Peak.

Mount Carmack (L of Center), Mount Cleveland (R of Center), Peak 6053 (far R). Photo looks SSW.
Glacier between Peak 6053 and Taiya Peak (foreground). Mount Hoffman (Center), Peak 8239 (R of Center). Photo looks W.

Next, returning to the cairn, Lupe had a look at Summit Lake.  If she’d had a pair of Dingo binoculars, she might have seen the RAV4 parked down along S Klondike Hwy No. 2.

Summit Lake (Center & R) from Taiya Peak. Photo looks ESE.

The summit ridge extended another 150 feet NE from the cairn.  The ridge broadened out to 50 feet wide in this direction, and consisted of much lighter-colored scree bearing few of the black lichens.

Going out close to the far end, Peak 1769m, Fraser Peak (5,978 ft.), and Log Cabin Mountain (5,633 ft.) were all lined up to the NE.  Part of Bryant Lake was in sight next to Fraser Peak, and in the distance, both the N end of Lindeman Lake and S end of Bennett Lake were in view.

NE end of the summit ridge (Center). Fraser Peak (R) in foreground. Tormented Valley (far R). Photo looks NE.
Lindeman Lake & Bennet Lake (L) in the distance, Bryant Lake (Center). Peak 1769m, Fraser Peak, & Log Cabin Mountain lined up at (R). Photo looks NE.

From this end of the summit ridge, it was also possible to look down on the large glacier clinging to the N side of Taiya Peak.  While most of the glistening white snow and ice appeared soft and gently rounded, several large crevasses were in sight, too.

Taiya Peak’s N side glacier (foreground). Photo looks NW.
Lower end of the N glacier. Photo looks NNW with help from the telephoto lens.

Lupe occasionally returned briefly to her comfortable perch by the cairn as SPHP repeatedly wandered back and forth along the entire length of the summit ridge trying to take it all in, but usually she went right along with SPHP, staring out at the same incredible views.

Mount Carmack (Center), Mount Cleveland (R). Photos looks SSW with help from the telephoto lens.
Taiya Peak’s NW ridge (Center, foreground). Photo looks NW.
Mount Hoffman (L of Center, foreground), Peak 8239 (R of Center). Photo looks W.

7-30-23, 5:29 PM, Taiya Peak (6,844 ft.) –  Alas, most of a second hour had already flown!  1.75 hours after arriving, Lupe stood next to the cairn for the last time, her front paws resting on the highest naturally placed rock.

At the true summit. Photo looks N.

Before entirely abandoning the summit region, Lupe returned to the SW end of the summit ridge one last time.  A bit below it, she found a perch where that glorious view W into glacier-clad Alaska beckoned beyond.

Alaska from Taiya Peak. Photo looks W.

Looks like the mountains go on forever, doesn’t it, SPHP?

Yes, it does, sweet puppy!  If only we could, too.

The magnificent fleeting moment passed.  It was a long way back.  The incredible, cherished scene vanished as soon as Lupe left her perch to head back down the mountain.

Starting the descent. Photo looks SE.

The iPhone battery was down to 22% by the time the Carolina Dog left the summit region, so SPHP had to use it sparingly during the return.  Never a good scrambler, it took SPHP hours to carefully pick a way down the mountain’s steep talus.  Lupe was forever waiting.  She headed down staying farther S than during her ascent, but with no discernable benefit.

For a long way, a gigantic boulder cracked in half was visible far below.  Even SPHP finally got down pretty close to it before turning NE to head for the large beautiful stream.  Water supplies had run out on the way down the mountain, and the sun had set by the time Lupe reached the stream again.  She drank deeply from it, and from every trickle and tarn thereafter.

Twilight lingered.  In fading light on easier terrain again, SPHP hurried on.  Weary, Lupe wanted to be done, and many short breaks were taken on a bit of soft tundra here or there.  Although also exhausted, SPHP kept urging the American Dingo on, wanting to take as much advantage of what fading light there was as possible.

It never got completely dark.  A glow was always visible in the N.  Even so, the flashlight eventually had to come out.  Lupe’s ascent route had been fairly efficient, and every time SPHP checked the iPhone, she was never far from her GPS track, yet nothing looked familiar in the gloom.  Every minor high point revealed only another steep, black drop ahead.

The Carolina Dog kept reaching the biggest gashes at bad spots, forcing searches for practical routes down into them and back out again.  Lupe seemed forced into one boulder field after another.

Fortunately, the night was extraordinarily mild.  Eventually fog could be seen drifting N from White Pass, a gray ghost spreading gradually across the dark land.

The first trees appeared roughly 2 km from S Klondike Hwy No. 2.  Lupe had been desperately begging SPHP to stop.  Dreading the dense forest and willows that lay ahead in the night, SPHP finally relented.

Finding a soft patch of tundra, SPHP shared a chocolate mint Cliff bar with Lupe, last of the supplies other than a few peanuts.  Layering up, SPHP then wrapped a jacket around the grateful American Dingo, and pulled her close.  Lupe immediately put her head down and closed her eyes.  It was 1:00 AM.

7-31-23, 4:30 AM, 3,300 feet – Really wasn’t all that cold out, but SPHP’s teeth chattered nevertheless.

Loopster, can you move?  My left arm’s numb under you.

Seems a little lighter out, SPHP.  I’m feeling better.  Want to keep going?

SPHP turned on the flashlight.

Criminy!  We’re in the fog, Loop.  Can’t see much of anything, but maybe we should go?  Might start to rain.

As it turned out, Lupe really wasn’t that close to the forest yet, and still had a fair amount of elevation to lose.  Progress continued to be slow, but was better than last night.  Eventually it was light enough to turn off the flashlight, and possible to see some distance through the fog.

Greatly revived by her 3.5 hour snooze, Lupe no longer complained, but led the way.  Staying farther N than during her ascent as she headed E, the Carolina Dog managed to avoid most of the steep descent through dense forest.  She had to go down some equally steep boulder fields, but that was actually easier.

Upon reaching the forest and turning S, Lupe enjoyed considerable luck on this route, usually finding open lanes of grass and tundra through the evergreens, while passing tarns she’d never seen before along the way.

The American Dingo eventually came to the willows where Summit Creek could be heard rushing downstream ahead.  Even here Lupe led the way, bounding through the jungle without being able to see a thing.  Only the quivering of the willows she disturbed revealed her location.

Soon the roar coming from Summit Creek indicated that it wasn’t much farther.  SPHP yelled.

Careful, Loopster!  The bank is a vertical drop!

It was, too.  SPHP caught up with Lupe again among the willows along the edge.  Summit Creek was right there, hugging this bank, an 8-10 foot vertical drop from the willow thicket that extended right to the brink.

Perhaps as eager to get to the RAV4 as SPHP was, the Carolina Dog took off again, forging ahead, charging blindly this way and that through the endless willows.  Soon she was racing straight for Summit Creek again.  SPHP yelled twice.

Loop!  Stop!  STOP!  You’ll fall in!

A moment later, a splash.

OMG!  Loopster!

Summit Creek was deep where Lupe fell, the current swift and icy cold.  From the edge of the willows, SPHP looked anxiously downstream.  Suddenly, well ahead, there was Lupe, shaking herself off on exposed streambed where Summit Creek had veered away from the near bank.  She appeared to be fine.

Hurrying as much as possible, SPHP surged through the willows, losing sight of the American Dingo in the process.

Loop!  Loop!

Minutes ticked away.  Nothing.  SPHP kept going, calling her name.  No sign of her the next time SPHP caught a glimpse of the streambed.  Where was she?

Suddenly, here came Lupe, charging straight toward SPHP from behind.  Soaking wet from head to tail, she’d been searching for SPHP, too.

Oh, Lupe, don’t scare me like that!  Are you OK?  Did you get hurt?

Cold and sopping wet, but thankfully, no damage done.

7-31-23, 6:47 AM, 55ºF, S. Klondike Hwy No. 2 – Less than 15 minutes later, Lupe’s grand and glorious Taiya Peak adventure was over, more than 23 hours after it had begun.  Lupe leapt up onto her pink blanket in the RAV4 and began vigorously licking herself dry, while SPHP wearily stashed the gear.  It was still foggy and cool out, and no one was around.  For 45 minutes, the highway was deserted.  Not a single vehicle went by.

A couple of semis finally whizzed past just before SPHP pulled the RAV4 onto the highway, heading N.  By then Lupe had eaten and was ready to snooze.  Driving barepaw with the heater on high to dry out soaking wet boots and socks on the floorboard, SPHP downed a strawberry Equate, feeling surprisingly alert.

7-31-23, 9:37 AM – That feeling of alertness didn’t last long.  Shortly after passing Carcross, a tremendous all-pervasive drowsiness set in.  Pulling into the Robinson Roadhouse rest area near Mount Lorne, SPHP joined Lupe in her slumber.

A few hours later, Lupe was on her way again.

Taiya Peak was awesome, SPHP!  What’s next?  You won’t hurt my feelings if it’s something a little less ambitious.

We’re on our way to Whitehorse, Loop.  We can pick up supplies, fuel up, then hang out there the rest of the day.  Tomorrow, we’ll head N to the Dempster Highway, and start the journey to Tuktoyaktuk.

Tuktoyaktuk, Land of the Pingos, on the Arctic Ocean, SPHP?

Yup.  And you can bet on plenty of adventures along the way, Sweet Puppy!

And so it was.  After getting to Whitehorse, Lupe hung out in the RAV4 while SPHP ran around doing the supplies thing, then joined her in long naps after sharing a roasted chicken.  The day’s activities ended with an evening stroll along the fabled Yukon River, and the promise of more terrific adventures ahead.

However, what those adventures might consist of was far from certain.  On the way into town, a lighted sign over the Alaska Highway had warned of wildfires and road closures along the Dempster Highway.

Evening along the Yukon River in Whitehorse.
On Taiya Peak, Skagway Ranges, British Columbia, Canada (7-30-23)
Lupe’s Taiya Peak GPS Track (Ascent).

Links:

Next Adventure                  Prior Adventure

Lupe’s Scrollable GPS Track

On and Off the International Falls Trail to Peak 6053, British Columbia, Canada (9-11-18)

Fraser Peak, British Columbia, Canada (8-9-17)

International Falls, Canada to Alaska (8-8-17)

Want more Lupe adventures?  Choose from Lupe’s Summer of 2023 Dingo Vacations to Colorado, New Mexico, Canada & Alaska Adventure Index, Dingo Vacations Adventure Index or Master Adventure Index.  Or subscribe free to new Lupe adventures.

Telkwa Microwave Mountain, Hazelton Mountains, British Columbia, Canada (7-27-23)

Day 5 of Lupe’s 2nd Summer of 2023 Dingo Vacation to Canada & Alaska!

7:58 AM, Aveling Coal Mine Road, SW of Telkwa – Immediately after crossing the bridge over the Telkwa River, sure enough, there was a side road off to the R.  Without driving down it, SPHP parked the RAV4.

C’mon, Loopster!  Let’s check this out.  John Stolk says there are some nice campsites down along the river.  Maybe we’ll stay here tonight?

Oh, I hope so, SPHP!  The Telkwa River is gorgeous!

Telkwa River from the Aveling Coal Mine Road bridge. Photo looks WSW.

Stolk was right – the primitive campsites along the N side of the river were secluded and very scenic.  Returning to the RAV4 after a photo from the bridge, the drive along Aveling Coal Mine Road continued.  Telkwa Microwave Mountain (6,333 ft.) was way out in the boonies.  Even with Stolk’s directions, which were pretty good, it wasn’t always immediately clear where to go.

5 miles past the bridge, a security guard in a white pickup was stationed at the start of Road No. 116, a R turn marked with a bright yellow sign.  SPHP inquired.  No, this wasn’t it.  Microwave Road, also a R turn, was another 3 km, maybe more, according to the guard.

Less than 2 miles beyond Road No. 116, Aveling Coal Mine Road forked at a large flat spot where it would have been easy to turn around.  The road curving to the R as it started uphill almost had to be Microwave Road.  John Stolk’s 7.5 mile estimate to the microwave tower on this sometimes bumpy, narrow affair was good.

At the start of Microwave Road.
Parked near the microwave tower. Photo looks NW.

10:05 AM, 51ºF, parked 100 feet from the microwave tower

Gah!  The mosquitoes are terrible, Looper!  Stay inside while I get ready.  Where the heck did I put the Deet?

Finally remembering where it was after practically tearing the RAV4 apart, SPHP slathered 100% Deet on.  Nasty stuff, but the mosquitoes hated it.  Before long, the pack was ready.

Alrighty, Loop.  Show time!  Onward!  Puppy, ho!

Going 150 meters back down the spur that led to the tower, a muddy side road headed off into the forest.

Is this the way, SPHP?

Yeah.  Supposed to go nearly all the way to Telkwa Microwave Mountain, too, Looper.  Should be a long, but relatively easy romp, if we don’t get rained out.  According to the topo map, none of it’s all that steep.

At the start of the side road leading to Telkwa Microwave Mountain. Photo looks N.

Lupe was happy following the old jeep trail beneath a gray sky.  The cool, humid air felt like rain.  Marching straight through a series of big mud puddles, the American Dingo often paused for a drink of mineral water.  Although many of these puddles covered the entire road, SPHP had no difficulty getting around them.

Everything was green and lush.  The forest looked extremely healthy.  As long as Lupe kept going, mosquitoes really weren’t much of a problem for her.  Climbing gradually, the road dipped twice, then began a steeper climb which soon leveled out at a fork.  The branch to the L appeared to head right into a swamp.

Approaching one of the dips. Photo looks N.
The swamp route.

Naturally, the road to the R seemed the obvious choice.  A short, initially steep, trudge on this road got Lupe to a plateau of stunted evergreens mixed in with some open ground.  From here, the microwave tower was once again in view again back to the S.  Near a lone patch of blue sky to the W, high mountains with snow and even glaciers were in sight on the horizon, their summits hidden in the clouds.

Everywhere else, the sky remained an unbroken gray.

Crossing to the NNE end of this gently rolling plateau, after going around a curve, 3 high ridges were in view off to the NW.  Two of them had been visible from back at the microwave tower, but the middle one had not.

Crossing the rolling plateau. Photo looks N.
First view of Telkwa Microwave Mountain (Center), Peak 5980 (R).

Which one is Telkwa Microwave Mountain, SPHP?

Not entirely certain, Loop.  The center one, I think.

It’s a long way off, SPHP.  Good thing this isn’t very rugged territory.

The road went W from here.  Following it, a yellow cabin with a green roof and a vehicle parked nearby promptly appeared directly ahead.

Approaching the cabin. Photo looks W.

Someone’s in there, SPHP!  I see movement by a window.

Yup.  I saw someone, too, Looper.  This must be the local ski club hut that John Stolk referred to, except that he said it was up a short spur to the R from the way he went.  Not sure how we got off track.

Maybe Stolk took the swamp route, SPHP?

That would explain it.  You’re probably right, Loop.  Must have been a lot drier when John was here, if he went that way.  If so, we ought to run into his route again somewhere not too far beyond the cabin.  We’re going to have to go right past it, in any case.  Act casual, and don’t bark if anyone comes out to ask what we’re doing here.

Whoever was in there apparently didn’t notice the Carolina Dog trot on by.  No one appeared.  Immediately beyond the hut, the road descended NW into an enormous parklike region.  Stands of healthy spruce stood among fields of wildflowers and tundra.  Various small tarns decorated the landscape.

View ahead from close to the ski club hut. Telkwa Microwave Mountain (Center), Peak 5980 (R). Photo looks NW.

Near the bottom of the hill, Lupe rejoined what must have been the road from the swamp route.  A few drops of rain had fallen.  Forewarned, SPHP paused to don the red rain jacket.  Following the jeep trail N from this junction, Lupe crossed a broad flat region before the road turned W.  A climb into thicker forest ensued as a steady light rain began to fall.

The mud puppy in one of the many large puddles along the way. Photo looks NNW.
Passing a tarn. Photo looks ENE.
A damp climb. Photo looks W.

The road leveled out again on another small plateau, then curved rather steeply down into a densely forested saddle.  Near the low point, a huge, black turd was right in the middle of the road.

Bear scat, SPHP!

Looks mighty fresh, too, Loop.  You’ve been kinda quiet.  Bark a little now and then, would you, please?

Oh, I don’t know.  No squirrels here, and the mist doesn’t really make me feel like barking.

You’ll feel like it when this monstrous bear shows up!  I’m sort of hoping to avoid all that kind of excitement.

The road turned NW again as it resumed a long climb with minor dips along the way.  Lupe made great progress.  As she gained elevation, the forest thinned out, becoming stunted again as it gave way to tundra.

After reaching 5,200 feet, the American Dingo came to a long stretch where a series of dips between minor climbs resulted in little, if any, net elevation gain.  One of the big ridges Lupe had seen from near the ski club hut was in sight almost straight ahead, its summit now hidden in the clouds.

Entering the flatter, more open country at 5,200+ feet. Photo looks WNW.
Approaching one of the minor, gradual dips. Photo looks WNW.
Near a very small tarn. Photo looks NNE.

12:08 PM – At one of the last high points in the 5,200+ foot region, Lupe was ready for a break.  This was a particularly scenic spot.  Clusters of pink wildflowers bloomed on the side of this little hill, and several tarns were visible in a shallow valley to the SW.

Unfortunately, while sharing a chocolate coconut bar, the quiet, general sullenness of the day turned to a deeper gloom.  Fog swept in.  Lupe’s world shrank to a only a few hundred feet, dimly seen, in all directions.  Light rain continued to fall.  It had been raining for quite a while now.

View from the break spot. Photo looks SW.

Well, shucks, Loopster.  This is gorgeous territory, but doesn’t look like we’re going to get to see much of it today.  You’re all wet.  Are you cold?

I’m fine, but is it still a long way to Telkwa Microwave Mountain, SPHP?

Sort of.  A few miles yet to the summit.  We’re more than halfway there.

Hoping for the best, despite the disappointing weather, the American Dingo resumed her trek.  Lupe soon came to a junction with another road coming up from the S.  Turning N here, she started seeing bigger tarns.  One of them was so full of water that it extended right over the road, spilling into a small stream.  SPHP searched 50 feet downstream before finding a soggy spot narrow enough to leap over.

By the overflowing tarn.

Climbing again as the road wound N, before too long, an unexpected and welcome development occurred.  The fog was lifting!  Coming around a curve, a wide valley was in sight.  Ahead, a gradually descending stretch of road crossed this valley before climbing back into the fog.

The fog lifts, revealing the big ridge (L) Lupe had seen before, as well as the shallow valley (R). Photo looks NW.

What’s that black dot in the distance, SPHP?  Do you see it?

You mean the black dot on the road, Loop?  I do see it.

Close to the road, but not quite on it, SPHP.  Maybe that’s the bear!

Could be.  Doesn’t seem to be moving, though.  There’s another possibility.  John Stolk mentions a unique large standing rock where he left the ATV track to head more directly for the Telkwa Microwave Mountain summit.  That black dot might easily be his rock.

As Lupe got closer, it became clear that the black dot was not a bear, and actually well off the road.  It was unmistakably the rock Stolk must have been referring to.  No other rock remotely like it was anywhere around.

Approaching Stolk’s “unique standing rock” (Center). Photo looks NW.
Part of what must have been Stolk’s off-road route to the summit. Photo looks N.

That rock’s quite a landmark, SPHP.  Let’s go take a look at it.  It’s such a spiffy rock that we really ought to give it a name, too!

How about the Tablet of Doom, or Devil’s Thumb, Looper?

My, my!  A little rain and fog, and aren’t you the cheery one, SPHP?  How do you ever manage to complete any adventures at all?  How about calling it the Tablet of Hope?  After all, the fog is lifting.  Maybe the sun is going to come out?

It’s black, Loopster.  That’s why I suggested gloomy names.  Who knows what the weather will be like the next time someone sees it?  Tablet of Hope might not fit at all.

Oh, alright.  We could call it Stolk Rock.  John Stolk made it famous!

Not sure I’d call it famous, Loop, but yeah, he’s probably the first one in the history of the world to ever mention it on the internet.

At major tourist attraction Stolk Rock. Photo looks SE.

Stolk Rock was 6 feet thick, 17 feet high, and stood magnificently upright according to SPHP’s very precisely calibrated eye.  It’s color came from the black lichens adorning it.

From Stolk Rock, the road headed NW, climbing yet again.  Lupe stayed on it since the tundra was so wet.  However, she did not make it back up into the fog.  Tablet of Hope was a fitting name today!  The rain quit, and the sky brightened as the clouds continued to rise.

Tiny streams trickled down the sometimes mushy road.  Frequent small stream crossings were never more than a few inches deep.  Climbing out of the valley at an easy pace, the road turned N.  The Carolina Dog was well above treeline now.  Even the tundra was getting sparse.  The big mountains on the horizon remained hidden among the clouds, but nearby ridges were in view.  Lupe was already above most of them.

Climbing out of the Stolk Rock valley. Photo looks NNW.
On an almost level stretch. Photo looks N.
Starting to get some views. Photo looks NNW.

Eventually a scenic level stretch led to a view of a very deep valley to the NNW and the barren highlands of another mountain beyond.  Resuming its climb, the road turned NE.  Soon another tall, dark figure loomed in the distance ahead.

Look, SPHP!  It’s one of those giant bowling pins!

Oh, not too much farther now, Loopster!  That’s the summit tower.

Summit region (L). Giant bowling pin (L of Center). Photo looks NNE.

Beyond the tower lurked a couple of gnarly knobs that appeared to be higher.  After nearly 7 miles of easy terrain, SPHP immediately felt a pang of trepidation.  Could Lupe actually get to the true summit?  Stolk had mentioned those high points.  Supposedly no sweat.  Class 2 at most.

Continuing on, the summit region disappeared from view due to the lay of the land.  Lupe soon came to the edge of a big ravine cutting E/W clear across the mountain.  From here, the road vanished under a snowbank as it turned sharply WNW and descended to a tarn nestled in the ravine.  Reappearing from beneath the snow before it got there, after circling the tarn, it angled NE up the other side of the ravine.

Closer, and a little farther E, another snowbank filled the bottom of a higher part of the ravine.

Shoot, let’s skip the tarn and go that way, Looper.  Won’t have to lose as much elevation.

Glad to see the snow, Lupe had no objections either way.

Along the edge of the ravine. Tarn (R). Photo looks WNW.
Upper end of the ravine. Photo looks E.
Utilizing the snowbank. Photo looks ENE.

The snow was strong, holding even SPHP’s weight, which made crossing the ravine a cinch.  After reaching the upper rim of the far side, the rest was easy.  Lupe quickly reached the road again, which was fading, but went all the way to the bowling pin.  Or obelisk, as John Stolk called it.

N of the ravine, heading for the summit region. Photo looks NNE.
Nearly there! Photo looks N.
Approaching the obelisk. Photo looks N.

2:23 PM, 44ºF, Telkwa Microwave Mountain (6,333 ft.) – Beneath the gray sky, Lupe stood in a 10-15 mph SE breeze on a small, conical hill just E of the obelisk, wisps of fog sailing by as clouds scraped the summit.

On the hill near the obelisk, looking back the way Lupe came up. Photo looks SSW.

A pity we don’t have a clear day, Loop.  Hudson Bay Mountain is only 13 km NE.  I’m sure we must have seen Telkwa Microwave Mountain from there last year.  We ought to be seeing it, plus a line of glacier-clad peaks all along the W horizon, too.

Hudson Bay Mountain was spectacular, SPHP, even if we couldn’t get anywhere near the true summit.  You have to admit, though, we’re lucky to have any views at all today.  Be thankful!

Yes, I know it.  I am thankful, Loopster.  For a while there, I thought we’d be totally socked in up here.

Getting socked in was still a distinct possibility, and the American Dingo hadn’t reached the true summit yet.  The two gnarly knobs previously seen from afar were now back in sight again strung out along Telkwa Microwave Mountain’s N ridge.  The closest one appeared to be at least a little higher than the conical hill near the obelisk.

The drops on both sides of the skinny N ridge were fearsome enough to cause concern as Lupe started toward an apparent drop-off leading to the closest knob.  Happily, this drop was quickly revealed as an illusion.  A minor dip, and a faint path on perfectly safe ground went right to the top of the S knob.  An easy traipse, and Lupe was there!

The two knobs (L of Center) contending for the title of true summit. Photo looks N.
Peak 6000 (Center) from the S knob. Photo looks NW.

So far, so good, but gazing N toward the next knob, SPHP was uncertain.

The N knob (R) from the S one. Photo looks NNW.

Well, shoot!  It’s just like Stolk said, Loopster.  Both of these high points are so close to the same elevation, I can’t tell which is highest.  Let’s creep a little closer, and see if there’s a safe way over there.

Don’t do anything stupid, SPHP!

Oh, you know me, Looper.  I do lots of stupid things.  The trick is not being too stupid.  C’mon!

From the N end of the S knob, the news was good.  The faint path went all the way to the S high point of the N knob, which hopefully would be far enough.  Hard to say for certain, though.  The N knob actually had at least a couple of high points along it.

The N knob (Center) from the N end of the S one. Photo looks N.

OK, Loopster.  We can do this.  Onward!  Puppy, ho!  Be careful, though.  That W edge is really steep.

S knob (R) from the N one. Photo looks SSE.

2:30 PM, Telkwa Microwave Mountain, N summit – Upon reaching the first high point of the N knob, SPHP felt instant relief.  No need to go any farther.  Clearly nothing any higher beyond this point.  Good thing, too!  This was it.  The rest was beyond SPHP’s comfort zone.

As things stood, joyfulness reigned!  SPHP shook Lupe’s paw.

Whew, a little more exciting here at the end than I would have ever thought, Loop!  Anyway, congratulations on your successful ascent of Telkwa Microwave Mountain!

Nothing to it, SPHP!  A simple stroll along a skinny ridge.  So what?  Oh, wait.  Yes, it was terrifying!  A 2 chocolate coconut bar mountain at least!

Ha!  You already had one a while ago, crafty Dingo, and are going to have to wait for the next one.  So little room up here that I don’t dare take off the pack.  One accidental bump, and it will be 500 feet below us.

Is this the true summit, SPHP?

Hard to say, but you’ve been to it somewhere along the way.  Actually tend to agree with Stolk.  The S knob along this ridge is most likely the true summit.  Glad we tagged this N high point, too, though!

Laying down, Lupe waited as SPHP took a few photos.  Due to the cramped quarters, SPHP couldn’t get her in any of them.

Telkwa Microwave Mountain true summit (L). Photo looks S.
Aldrich Lake (far L), HP5868 (R of Center). Photo looks ENE.
Looking NNE with help from the telephoto lens.

5 minutes sitting together in the breeze while relaxing and enjoying the views was it before SPHP started back S, leaving the Carolina Dog alone in splendid isolation atop her remote, lofty, northernmost perch.

On the N knob. Photo looks NNW.

That’s good, Loopster!  C’mon!

Returning to the true summit – the S knob of the N ridge in both Stolk’s and SPHP’s opinions, or the middle high point, if you counted the conical hill near the obelisk – Lupe lingered surveying the views.  SPHP shook her gently offered paw once more.

Returning to the S knob (Center). Photo looks S.
Back at the likely true summit. Photo looks S.
A final glance back at the N summit (L of Center). Photo looks NNW.

The Carolina Dog’s traditional summit hour was already waning as she returned to the conical hill near the obelisk, but SPHP decided the wind was too cold up there.  Retreating S a little way, a soft patch of tundra was a better choice.

After having some Taste of the Wild, and sharing the second chocolate coconut bar of the day, Lupe curled up on SPHP’s lap.  At first, the views of the way she’d come up and the big, barren ridges nearby were clear, but as time ticked away, intermittent fog began obscuring the scene.

Back on the conical hill near the obelisk.
Relaxing S of the obelisk. Photo looks SW.

By the time summit hour was up, the views were gone.  Waiting a little longer produced no improvement.

Fiddlesticks!  Thought we’d return to the true summit one more time, Loopster.

Not much point in it now, SPHP.

No, there wasn’t.  A final glance back at the obelisk and the conical hill, and the American Dingo was on her way.

About ready to go. Photo looks N.

The fog and threat of rain ruined other plans as well.  Would have been fun to explore the S ridge on the way back to Stolk Rock, but Lupe stuck to the road again under the circumstances.  She wasn’t anywhere near the S ridge by the time she lost enough elevation to get below the clouds.

Even the road route was incredibly scenic!  Lupe displayed great energy and enthusiasm, often abandoning the road to race freely across the wet tundra before returning to check on SPHP’s progress.

Back below the clouds. Photo looks S.
Tiny wildflowers of the tundra.

Don’t suppose we’ll ever see the Scottish Moors, SPHP, but this is what I’d image them to be like!

The Telkwa Microwave Mountain moors. Photo looks SE.

The sky brightened.  Spirits soared!  Reaching Stolk Rock, it seemed like the sun might break through the clouds at any moment.

Back at Stolk Rock. Photo looks SSE.

It never did.  Lupe had a blast, anyway!

The Winfield Creek drainage below Stolk Rock. Photo looks SW.
Exploring near one of the biggest tarns. Photo looks SSE.
Resting on the tundra with a view of the region John Stolk explored. Photo looks NNW.
By a big tarn with an interesting shape.

7:04 PM, 53ºF, back at the microwave tower off Microwave Road – Well, it was over.  Tired, Lupe hopped up onto her pink blanket in the RAV4.  Her Telkwa Microwave Mountain (6,333 ft.) adventure was complete.  A slow, bumpy ride back to Aveling Coal Mine Road ensued.

A little sunshine wouldn’t have hurt a thing, but still an awesome day, Looper!  How does beef stew and Fritos sound for dinner back at one of the campsites Stolk recommended along the beautiful Telkwa River?

Fabulous, SPHP!  I’m famished!

Evening near the Aveling Coal Mine Road bridge over the Telkwa River.
Telkwa Microwave Mountain, Hazelton Mountains, British Columbia, Canada 7-27-23

Links:

Next Adventure                      Prior Adventure

Lupe’s Scrollable GPS Track

John Stolk’s Trip Report (9-6-17)

Hudson Bay Mountain, Hazelton Mountains, British Columbia, Canada – The Crater Lake Trail & Beyond! (8-7-22)

Directions: At the village of Telkwa turn W off Yellowhead Hwy No. 16 onto Harkin Road.  Harkin Road goes 1 block, makes a 90º L turn running straight into Coal Mine Road, which immediately crosses a bridge over the Bulkley River.

Proceed SW on paved Coal Mine Road for 4 miles to a fork.  Take the R branch of the fork.  You are now on Aveling Coal Mine Road.  There is a green and white street sign in the bushes on the R after making this turn, but it parallels the road and is not visible before making the turn.

The pavement ends 100 meters beyond this turn.  After 6 miles, Aveling Coal Mine Road crosses the Telkwa River.  (Campsites on the R.)  5 miles beyond this bridge, Road No. 116 appears on the R.

Do not take No. 116.  Continue straight 2 miles to another fork at a flat spot with plenty of room to turn around.  The road curving uphill to the R is Microwave Road.  At various points Microwave Road becomes steep, narrow, rocky, full of potholes, switchbacks, etc.  As per Stolk’s TR, any 2WD vehicle with decent clearance can make it.  Follow Microwave Road 7.5 miles to a short spur on the L leading to the microwave tower.

Welcome to your trailhead!  Distances given are +/- one mile.

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