After a drive across the prairies, we met up with our friends at the campground at the base of Mt. Robson.  We had just finished the Coastal Hiking Trail on the north shore of Lake Superior, and following an invite over the winter, we were ready to experience Mt. Robson with close friends from Minnesota.  The campground was quite close to the highway and did have some traffic noise, but afforded all the luxuries of BC Provincial Park camping.  Clean sites, free firewood, good facilities, but not at the expense of the wilderness or surroundings.  The campground was on the proposed site of one of CP's grand hotels, not unlike the Chateau at Banff.  Before they could get the project off the ground, the company ran into financial difficulty and the hotel remained a plan.  In the restaurant on the highway, you can still consult the drawings for the grand tourist attraction.  If you ask me, it's quite fortunate the plans didn't become reality.  Mt Robson has a bit of an 'out of the way' feel to it still.  There are plenty of tourists, but it isn't flooded like the nearby mountain towns in Alberta.

Aaron & Janine, Karin and myself spent an hour or so getting ready and packing the morning of, and made our way across the highway to park our cars at the trail head before starting in.  Our plan was to hike half-way up the first day, the rest the next day, and down/out the last day for three days, two nights.  We first heard of the Berg Lake trail from Aaron.  A friend of his had done some pretty serious world-wide hiking, and still claimed that the Berg Lake trail was his absolute favourite.  You can imagine that this sparked our interest and intrigue. The four of us were out to test his theory.

Looking up at the peak, Mt. Robson looks quite daunting.  It was humbling to know that out of all climbers to attempt the summit of the mountain, only about 10% are successful.  We were not headed to the peak, thankfully.  The Berg Lake trail approaches the peak, and then guides hikers around the North Side where the Berg Glacier spills into Berg Lake.

The Berg Lake trail initially follows the Robson River.  As the trail approaches Kinney Lake at the approximate 1/3 mark, the trail population is quite high.  Many day hikers make Kinney Lake their destination as a family day out.  It's hard not to feel out of place when you're packed up for a few days with 50+ litres of gear on your back among children running to and fro with nothing but their t-shirts.  Kids are honest about their reactions as well.  If you aren't used to seeing backpackers, you should stare at them because they are different.  Thankfully we were not alone and these children adapted quickly to our presence.

This first section is a pleasant meander along the river and under a canopy of dense trees.  The river is a white/grey colour with a touch of blue.  The odd colour gives it the affectionate name of 'flour water'.  Tiny particles of rock from the beaten side of the mountain are washed away every second and carried down to the Fraser via the Robson River.  This was a novelty of sorts and we were captivated by it.  (Those experienced hikers are now likely smiling at our next realization...)  We stopped a number of times along the way to fill up with drinking water.  It wasn't necessary to carry much as the water source was always alongside the trail.  The fast flowing river would bat our filter uptake hose around, but we were able to get water nonetheless.  As the day wore on, it seemed more and more of a task to pump water.  Not wanting to feel like wimps, we continued to pump as the plungers fought back with increasing resistance.  The beautiful flour water and teeny-tiny particles that caught our attention earlier were now undeniably clogging our water filters.  In the spirit of both cooperation and sharing, both parties had brought their water filter along, but we insisted on alternating the water retrieval.  Here we were with two previously working water filters now clogged.  We could still get water through them, mind you.  It just took about 20x the effort and elbow grease needed at the beginning of the day.  *sigh*

Kinney lake was beautiful, but we were anxious as a group to continue past and away from the masses of people 'lunching' there.  Past the lake, there appeared to be a section that once was river and/or lake bed.  This made for some nice walking and an interesting feeling of being in an open field but walled in by mountains on all sides.  The means of escape by the water was unmistakable through the valleys.  It allowed us at all times to turn around and trace the steps we had taken to get there.

These river and lake beds also proved to be a challenge at times.  The were enticing to walk along, but it was also easy to lose the trail.  Not being completely familiar with the way up, we found ourselves questioning whether the trail would depart and leave us to fend for ourselves at a mean crossing, or watch as we found our way to the wrong side of a lake or valley.  This made for some interesting stream and rive crossings as we attempted to rejoin the trail after a brief hiatus.

Following Kinney lake, there is a definite incline to the level of camp at Whitehorn.  What I haven't mentioned up to this point was that our hiking partner, Janine, was now a few months pregnant with their first child.  This did not seem to bother her along the way aside from the need for the occasional break and food stop.  As we continued to climb, however, an old knee injury started to plague her.  The trail was taking us to higher altitudes on an consistent basis, but frequently corrected itself and rejoined the river. The regular climb and quick declines took their toll more and more as we neared camp.  Thankfully, Whitehorn campground presented itself quickly and gave Janine the relief her knee needed in a big bad way. 

Whitehorn was beautiful aside from the fact that it has a whopping 22 approved tent pads.  This trail is indeed popular.  Thankfully all of the hikers were quite respectful and out for the same thing we were.  The great thing about backpacking (there are many, many things) is that people can't lug along their stereo equipment.  I'm always quite disappointed to hear radios and music and stereos on a camping trip.  Not on a backpacking trip, though.  No one in their right mind is going to carry along a unit that is powerful enough to disturb the next site with their tunes.  No sound but the noises that nature makes - the rushing river, birds, cute little squirrels and chipmunks....

NOT so cute.  Before we had left on our hike, we had read that there were bear hanging poles like we had expected.  Bears were cited as not a problem, though.  'Smaller woodland creatures' were more of a nuisance.  We had a good laugh about this as we thought of killer squirrels and bunnies attacking us and our food stores.  The campsite was equipped with large drums with lockable lids.  We checked them out and debated for a while which we would make use of: the bear poles or the drums.  Being so close to our planned dinner time, we left our food bags close to our tents in the safe knowledge that no bear in their right mind would venture into a campground of about 40 people.  Having been at the river pumping *ugh* water for approximately 10 minutes, I returned to the site.  There I found one of our food bags open with trail mix spilled on to the ground, and the other chewed through the bottom (tough dry bag seam, and three layers of Ziploc) spilling the same.  Yeah, cute bloody chipmunk... these things were killer chipmunks!!!

Following this experience (no, we were no longer laughing), we opted for storage in the drums.  We warned a number of other hikers who were hanging their food to no avail.  We would find the next morning that the crows of the neighbourhood had pecked through their bags to the food.

The rest of the evening was spent sitting by the river and basking in the shadow of the surrounding mountains.  The sun gave us a marvelous show as the shadows of the mountain on the west crept up the east valley ridge eventually leaving Mt. Robson in a gorgeous glow.  As the day grew colder, the glacial waterfalls around us slowed to a trickle quieting the valley somewhat.  When there was finally little to look at, a friendly game of hearts at the picnic table by light of a headlamp kept us up and in conversation for another hour.

A decision would have to be made in the morning as to the structure of the remainder of the trip.  If Janine would be able to continue, we may stay an extra day at the peak to recover, or she would have to stay in camp, forfeiting the experience of the glaciers for her own health.  The morning would bring our answer.