Visible from nearly everywhere in Squamish are the mountains of the Tantalus Range that rise steeply along the western shores of the Howe Sound and the Squamish River.
For myself, the desire to climb Mount Tantalus, the highest peak in this provincial park, came easy. As you drive north from Squamish towards Whistler you can’t help but be instantly transfixed at the Tantalus viewpoint. The skyline stands like a medieval fortress with high, dark watchtowers on all sides, flanked by the wide treacherous moat that is the fast-moving Squamish River.
When I originally moved to Squamish in 2010 one of the first purchases I made was a hiking map. In it I could see a dotted line, which indicated a possible route across the crest of the Tantalus Range. It was mind blowing to contemplate such an adventure back then. I had recently immigrated from Ireland, leaving behind a sedentary lifestyle that involved too many hours of TV and working behind a desk. I had never pitched a tent before, climbed with a rope or really even travelled over snow. A walk in the Smoke Bluffs would leave me breathless and my legs sore for days.
Nevertheless, a seed had been planted in my mind and every time I’d drive north and see the Tantalus view, my mind would dream of being on the summit of Mount Tantalus and what that could feel like.
Years passed by, and I gained experience with mountain travel and began to make explorations into the Tantalus Range, first scrambling to the summits of the more accessible peaks near Lake Lovely Water. In between, I kept learning as much as I could about backpacking, rock and ice climbing, glacier travel and general mountain sense.
On two occasions, I actually set out to climb Mount Tantalus but never even got onto the mountain. The first time, I hiked in from the north and climbed up to a ridge with a pack that was far too heavy and once I laid eyes upon the mountain I knew I didn’t have enough energy or experience to even attempt it. The next time, I hiked in via Lake Lovely Water at the end of summer. Travel on the glaciers was so difficult that by the time I could see Mount Tantalus again, I made the decision to wait for better conditions in another year.
Then this summer a friend invited myself and my wife, Spring, to join him on a trip to the Haberl Hut. We’d be flying in by helicopter and the plan was to climb the peaks named Serratus, Dione and, finally, Tantalus itself.
The day we flew in, we quickly headed out and climbed Serratus without issue. The following day, we headed out early to climb both Dione and Tantalus in a single push, but by the time we reached the summit of Dione, we were enshrouded in clouds and fog. With zero visibility towards Tantalus, we retreated back to the hut. With the weather worsening, we called for a helicopter to pick us up and flew out just in time.
That trip confirmed something I had been feeling – that myself and my wife were both mentally and physically ready to take on Mount Tantalus. Less than a week after we’d returned to Squamish, we were packing again to go back. This time, I planned to forgo the use of a helicopter and climb the mountain in a style I had always viewed as true to the spirit of mountaineering in this corner of B.C. – to start from sea level and finish back at sea level.
To do this, we began at the Sigurd Creek Trailhead, our bags heavy with ropes, equipment and food. We hiked up and over beside Pelion Mountain then dropped down, losing a lot of the elevation we had gained before climbing up again to a small lake to camp. That first day ended up being nearly 12 hours long. The uphill travel was equivalent to hiking up the Chief five times in a row with a 40-pound pack, and we hadn’t even set foot on Tantalus yet.
We slept in bivouac sacks that night. The bugs were thankfully few and the temperatures were not too cold. We awoke early, knowing we had a big day ahead of us and after a quick breakfast we began moving towards the north ridge on Mount Tantalus. We had images and directions with us that described the route we should take but every year is different as it depends on how much snow has fallen and how quickly the summer melts it back.
Pretty quickly we found ourselves traversing above gaping crevasses and crossing over deep moats between the rock and the snow walls. We made steady but slow progress. By the early evening we had become accustomed to scrambling along the narrow and rocky ridge crest and crossing back onto snow whenever possible to move faster. We dealt with one final wide crevasse, known as a Bergschrund, before scrambling up to the summit of Mount Tantalus at around 7 p.m.
The feeling I had there was different than expected. It wasn’t necessarily elation, but rather a deep satisfaction with being comfortable in this environment. I also knew I still needed to get down safely. Our plan was not to reverse our route but to continue past the summit of Tantalus, traversing almost the complete skyline of the mountain.
With daylight beginning to fade, we rappelled off the summit to a known bivouac spot and settled in for the night. As I lay there, over my left shoulder the mountainside plummeted steeply away from me. I felt calm though and slept soundly, only waking up momentarily from the light of the moon or when the Rumbling Glacier lived up to it’s name, booming and cracking in the night.
On day three we got up and moving quickly. We found cairns built by other mountaineers and followed them along an airy and exposed ledge before reaching a location to do a short rappel. Here we began the most complicated section of the route, navigating through a series of gullies and rock towers, one of them visible from Highway 99 that is known as the Witches Tooth.
We moved slowly, but safely. We encountered issues like our ropes getting stuck and being off route but we dealt with them and continued progressing. That evening, while eating dinner at the Haberl Hut, we commented on how the day had gone and how, even a year ago, any one of the setbacks we had encountered might have sent us into a tailspin mentally.
On the fourth day we simply had to hike from the hut down to Lake Lovely Water and out to the Squamish River. It was a physically long day, our packs beginning to feel like 100 pounds on our shoulders now, but the majority of any technical difficulties were behind us.
Later that evening, back in Squamish, my bug bites finally starting to itch, I could allow myself to reflect on the experience. Edmund Hillary, the first person to climb Mount Everest famously said: “It is not the mountain we conquer, but ourselves” and in the process of bringing myself up to the challenge of climbing this high, rocky tower I had stripped away not only literal fat off my body, but fears and doubts from my mind and questions about what I needed to know to be able to go there. Along this journey my wife had gone through the same process of conquering herself and it made both of us closer.
If you are interested in visiting the Tantalus Range for yourself, look into any one of the ACMG guiding companies in Squamish and taking a course in mountaineering to gain the freedom to move in the hills.
Mountains can be more than just the view out of a window, they can be a place that allows you to become a version of yourself that you might not currently know is possible.
