The Secret of the Canadian Rockies

by John Werenka (Canada)

A leap into the unknown Canada

There is a general consensus among the climbing community in Alberta to keep the location of a certain cave relatively undisclosed. You will not find a published location or coordinates. Getting there is not impossible, but requires raking together bits and pieces of information from multiple websites, Google Earth, Google Images etc. On June 16, 2019 in 25-degree weather my friend Carter and I packed our ice climbing gear and went for a walk. We quickly realized that reality turned out to be quite different from what our research suggested. Our first guess was a Google Earth shadow. The second was inaccessible without traditional rock climbing gear. Another hour of exploring brought us to a tiny cave and some randomly assorted footprints. Carter went left, and I went right. As I traversed along a narrow unforgiving ledge, I began to doubt our chances. Sweaty and exhausted, I pushed on. As I rounded a corner, the mountain began to drop away, leaving me face to face with the jaws of the “Booming Ice Chasm.” I had never seen anything like it, felt as if I was about to be swallowed up by the mountain. I dropped my heavy pack and hustled back to find Carter. From the mouth of the chasm, we could see a tiny snow dusted opening above the icy ground. The significance of this particular cave lies in that entrance. It is small enough to trap a pocket of freezing air inside the cave year-round. The cold air then acts to preserve a pristine ramp of blue ice that runs the full 180-meter length of the cave. Those familiar with ice climbing are able to rappel down the ice into the mountain and climb out. We dumped our packs and excitedly threw on our climbing gear, ready to take on this daunting foreign objective. I tied into the rope and began to lower myself. My hands began to sweat as I approached the small entrance to the cave. At a 35-degree angle, my body pressed against the ice, I worked my crampons down, baby step by baby step. I felt the chill of snow on my neck as my pack scraped the frosty ceiling while I squeezed down into the abyss. Complete darkness. The light from my 330-lumen headlamp was swallowed up; it’s only use to see the blue Kool-Aid colored ice directly underneath me. I descended further, the sound of my crampons piercing the brittle ice echoed in the blackness. I reached the end of the rope and built an anchor with a couple of ice screws. My breath danced in the cold air in front of me as I warmed my hands and waited for Carter to come down and join me. We cautiously rappelled once more down a 60 or 70-degree ice bulge and then Carter pulled out his 2200-lumen work light so we could have a look at our surroundings. A massive limestone cavern at least 20 meters high, the rock littered with browns, blacks and yellows. The ice ramp continued like a wave into the darkness below us. On the right of the chamber there was a thick frozen flow of water and an incredible ice dagger chandelier hanging menacingly from the ceiling. The entrance we had squeezed through was now just a small sliver of light above. It took another two rappels before reaching a small frozen lake, and the bottom of the cave. I had never experienced such darkness and silence. While frightening, it was equally fascinating. The grandeur and unique nature of the cave made for one of the most surreal experiences of my life. After a multitude of pictures and a cold soggy subway sandwich that was surprisingly tasty, Carter tied into the rope and started up the ice. The smooth featureless nature of the ice forces a climber to always be on his toes, with no opportunity for rest. Carter and I alternated pitches, fighting through the constant calf burn. I reached the entrance and Carter finished the last pitch of the day as we emerged from the mountain, soaked and blinded by the late-afternoon sun. We found it!