The Old Settler & My Worst Lake Swim Ever
- Greg Luesink
- Aug 4, 2024
- 5 min read
An oddly named summit in West Harrison piqued Ben's and my interest after seeing another person's trip on Strava. We decided to give it a gander.
It had been a while since Ben and I had gotten out, as he'd sprained his ankle quite badly in the Spring and was only cleared to hike in mid-July. To dust off the cob-webs, we "settled" on a scramble that was new to us both. While the Old Settler has some high-quality ~5.7 climbing routes on the south spires, we opted for the north summit tower, a mostly 3rd class route with some 4th class moves near the top.
We started off the day driving up East Harrison FSR and taking a right after the Cogburn Campground. Ben's 4x4 is a force to be reckoned with, even a downed tree was no match, we just rolled right over it. Following orange flagging tape, we whacked our way through the alders leaning over the long-unused logging road. Sometimes the flagging made sense, and many times, it did not. We wished that we'd brought some snips to clear a more direct path through to the evergreen slopes.
At long last, we reached the alpine lake below the mountain. It didn't look too deep, and there was an island in the middle, so I suggested that we try to wade across to the other side. Ben sagely suggested that we simply walk around and avoid getting wet. So walk around we did.
We began ascending the scree slopes towards the looker's left of the mountain. The "true" (highest) summit is further back on the left (north), despite the middle tower appearing taller from below. The scree climb was no different from any other loose pile of rocks, one step forward, slide halfway back. Eventually, we were nearing what appeared to be a nice ramp leading up rightwards to the saddle.
The ramp system was quite engaging, just the right amount of difficulty to be fun but not spooky. Lots of sand and debris covered the slabs of rock, so we minded our foot placements to not slip nor loose rocks onto one another. At the saddle, we looked at the steeper headwall leading to the summit. We had decided to travel light and left the harnesses and rope at home, so we had to judge whether we would be able to climb down what we were about to climb up.
After humming and hawing, we committed to the tricky rock step and were relieved to find that it got easier up higher. We quickly moved through the remaining ridge top, finally turning around to soak in the views.
Although it was smokey, we could see our home Cheam Range and even Mt Baker in the distance. To the East, we could see the summits of the Anderson River Valley (Ibex, Chamois, Gemse, etc.) and the Coquihalla Range (Yak, Nak, Thar, Needle, Flatiron, Jim Kelly, and Coquihalla Mountain).
We ate some food, snapped a few photos, and began the down-climb to the saddle. The moment of truth came as we began the down climb through the tricky step. Thankfully, it was much easier than feared, but we made sure to triple check each hand and foothold to make sure they wouldn't break on us. With significant exposure on either side of us, a tumble would result in inevitable demise. Back at the saddle, we looked for a good line to retrace our path up the ramp, ideally minimizing the loose sand and "death pebbles" scattered on the rocks.
As we descended the ramp, we spotted a group of two moving up towards us. Eventually, we crossed paths and I recognized one of them from a few years prior, we exchanged a quick hello, and we noted that they wisely had brought a rope. I mentioned that a rappel might have been preferable but the down-climb wasn't as bad as feared. We continued down as they moved up.
A Regretful Lake Swim
What happened next is truly one of my most regretful decisions to date. It pains me to recount the tale, but I must. As much for your entertainment as to engrain the lesson in my brain.
As Ben and I approached the lake, I mentioned that it could be refreshing to wade across the lake rather than walk around again. From high above on the scree slope, it looked quite shallow.
"Looked" shallow.
Ben grinned and retorted, "Alright, let's make it a race, whoever gets to the other side of the lake first, wins."
So, with that, I took off my shoes, put my phone in a zip lock, and started wading into the water. I was shoulder pressing my bag above my head when the lake-bottom disappeared from under my feet. Treading water with one arm, I bobbed my head back to the surface, sputtering.
In a moment, I had a decision to make: turn back and walk, or "commit to the bit"
I decided it would be a better story if I continued on across the lake. It was a better story, but not for the "funny" joke that I thought it would be...
Quite quickly after committing to the swim, I realized that I was going to drown myself by keeping my bag dry. In desperation, I dunked my back in the water and started breast-stroking. As I neared the island in the middle of the lake, I stepped onto some large boulders submerged. As soon as I stepped, my foot slipped on the algae-covered rock and I was back in the water, bruising my hip. With every step, I kept slipping, even slicing open my foot on a sharp edge.
At this point, I wasn't laughing anymore. I was pissed at myself. What a stupid idea...
But it gets worse...
As I hoisted my backpack over my shoulder, I felt a "RIIIPPPP" and my jaw dropped as I looked and saw the the shoulder strap had torn in two (likely due to the pack being water-logged and twice as heavy).
Cursing myself, I stumbled onto the island, donning my soggy shoes as I made my way as close to the other side of the lake as I could before swimming. At this point, I was miserable. Ben had long since reached the other side, and I had cut my foot, broken my pack, and sorely bruised my ego.
But it gets worse.
I finally reached the other side after some more faffing around in the water trying to climb up the steep bank. Ben was chuckling as I opened my pack to see if my phone had survived the baptism. Thankfully, it was still working, so that was a relief.
We descended the flagged route with haste, as the bugs were out with a vengeance. Back at the car, we packed up and drove back to Chilliwack. At home was where I realized the full extent of the damage from my mis-adventure across the lake.
I'd completely forgotten that I'd brought my Rocky Talky Radios at the bottom of my pack... and both had been drowned in the lake swim.
My total losses for the summer was a painful tally of some lost Smith Pursuit sunglasses in a previous bushwhack to rescue a food drop bag, and now two radios, and a broken pack. Luckily my headlamp survived the submersion, with the help of a bucket of rice.
This marked a very painful ending to an otherwise enjoyable outing with Ben. My stupidity on this day will haunt me forever. Don't swim across the lake with your gear, kids, especially not electronics.
The end.
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