# Canadian Alpine Journal/Volume 1/Number 1/The Ascent of Mt. Hermit

THE ASCENT OF MT. HERMIT
By the Rev. S. H. Gray
Few travellers on the west-bound Canadian Pacific express will forget the impressive moment when the train enters the giant gateway that opens to Rogers pass, the railway summit of the Selkirks. Rising on either hand are the towering masses of Mts. Tupper and Macdonald. This is Rogers pass, and the little station which bears that name is close by the summit. Looking back, as the train descends the grade to Glacier House, one commands an inspiring view of the Hermit range, of which Mt. Tupper is the beginning. The next to attract his notice is the compact group of peaks known as Mt. Rogers. Between this group and Tupper, and modestly receding into the background, is a well-knit and shapely rock-mass, with a fine apron of névé spread beneath it, called Hermit mountain. Possibly there is something in the name and the more apparent loneliness of the peak that invites acquaintance. At any rate, it had an attraction for the Rev. Dr. Herdman, whose enthusiasm was contagious enough to induce the Rev. A. M. Gordon and myself to join him in an attempt to climb it. Hermit, as far as we knew, had never been climbed, and that added to our zeal.
We met at Glacier House on the afternoon of August 3rd, 1904. After enjoying a good meal at the hospitable house, we set forth on a five-mile walk to Rogers pass. Edouard Feuz and his son were our guides. Leaving the rails a little east of the Pass ​station, we climbed the well-made trail to the cabin which the railway company has built for the convenience of moutnaineers, thereby earning their heartfelt gratitude. We reached the cabin about nine p.m., with plenty of daylight left to boil the kettle and get comfortably fixed for the night.
At three o'clock Feuz gave the word to rise. A moment's struggle to realize where we were, and here at last was the great day. What mountaineer ever forgets that moment when he first opens the flap of his tent or the door of his hut and draws the breath of the mountain air, with the silence of the eternal hills about him? After a bite to eat, we struck off to the right, circling giant rocks and leaping small torrents, walking rapidly in the uncertain light. It was light when we reached the glacier, and clear enough to take photos when we reached the névé. The southern face, the broadside of Hermit, was directly before us. There appeared to be several feasible routes to the summit. The left or western side of the mountain rose in a sharp angle from the glacier; the eastern side was a long arête of easy grade and apparently afforded a sure, if long, route to the peak. Mr. Wheeler has included in his splendid set of maps—the second volume of his great work on the Selkirks—a fine drawing of Mts. Rogers and Hermit, and has in it marked our route on Hermit as lying along this eastern arête. That is the obvious route, and Mr. Wheeler is in no way to blame for the mistake. Feuz chose another and far more interesting mode of attack. A narrow and steep couloir leads up the face of the mountain from the névé, from which it is separated by a bergschrund. We put on the rope, crossed the cleft by a bridge at the right, worked across to the centre of the couloir, and at once commenced its steep ascent. This was a fine climb on good, stiff snow, and, though at the top somewhat alarmingly steep, was sure and safe.
​The couloir led us almost directly to the shoulder of the eastern arête, at no great distance beneath the peak itself, to which, however, all progress seemed barred by a precipitous wall of rock. We had breakfast at this point—nine o'clock—and had leisure to look back on one of the noblest and grandest panoramas it is given man to see. The great peaks of the Summit range, from Tupper on the right to our nearest neighbor, Rogers, on the left, with Macdonald, Sir Donald, Dawson and Bonney in the centre, were clad in the soft pink light of the rising sun. From the side of Mt. Hector I have seen this light covering that beautiful ice-mountain, Balfour, and resting on that terrible display of rock and ice—that tortured world of barren crags, which one views from Lefroy; but these scenes lacked something of the mystery of distance and contrast of color and coutour which took one's breath away on Hermit. Truly, Hermit is the mountain for the view which no man can describe,—or forget. Turning about, we witnessed another spectacle, only less impressive. The Rockies lay that way, a solid wall of vast and unexplored grandeur, above which hung a rich canopy of cloud fired from the east.
Feuz did a little reconnoitering here, to find a way round the precipice above us. He found it on the north face of the mountain, and we were soon at work with the axes on the snow. This difficulty being surmounted with comparative ease, there remained only a rock-stairway to be climbed to reach the peak. This was grand work, enlivened by long reaches and undignified pushes from below. An ice-axe would be shoved into a cleft above to yield a foothold for the first man. The rope from above solved the problem for the rest. After an hour or less of this fine exercise, we reached the summit, on the run. There was no cairn, and, as no record of a previous ascent is extant, we were likely the first to gain the top of Hermit.
​This first peak (10,194 feet) ran down again into a depression of 100 feet or so, and then up again into a second peak, the second peak again into a third and fourth. We visited each in turn and found them good climbing. The descent from the third peak was quite precipitous, and was quite the hardest piece of work we had yet encountered.
After a good rest on the fourth or most westerly peak, we commenced the descent by the western arête. It was a matter of working from ledge to ledge. Except when one looked from the extreme edge of these ledges, he could see nothing below but the white of the glacier; but a little traverse, north or south, invariably led to an opening to a lower ledge. Falling stones were the worst danger. Feuz ducked in time to escape one half as big as his head. I got one on the ankle, but not to amount to anything. The ledges became narrower and the pitch steeper, the farther we descended. Probably, we covered more than half the distance to the glacier in this way, and might have made the whole descent by the arête, but for a moment of indecision for which I take all the blame. Dr. Herdman and Mr. Gordon had been on the rope with Feuz, and the younger guide and I were roped together. Young Feuz was leading and doing it with accuracy and speed. All went well until we dropped down five or six feet to a sloping ledge covered with scree, and nothing in sight below but the glistening white of the glacier. Carefully he picked his way to the edge and then swung himself sideways to a projection or ledge hidden from us. Here I asked Feuz senior to give me a rope from behind. There was a little hesitation. Mr. Gordon, intrepid climber as he proved himself on this and another climb we had together, wanted to take my place. But the cautious senior guide thought otherwise, and called us back. We all roped together then, and left the arête for good.
CROSSING SWISS NÉVÉ TO REACH MOUNT HERMIT
DESCENDING MOUNT HERMIT
This ended the interesting part of the climb. Dr. Herdman, never weary, wanted to climb Swiss peak and make a red-letter day of it, but, as this would have meant getting back to Glacier House at midnight, nobody seconded the motion. All that sticks in the memory concerning the return to the cabin was the intolerable glare of the sunlight on the glacier and the wearisome ploughing through the soft, wet snow. We reached the cabin at four p.m., and after a meal, started down the path to the railway and footed the ties five miles to Glacier House, reaching the hotel at seven o'clock.
Hermit is well worth climbing—Mr. Gordon and I climbed Lefroy, a week later, with Hans Kauffmann, and were amply rewarded, but the long, steady pull up that interminable snow and ice incline is not to be compared, from the climber's point of view, to the varied and exciting work on snow and rock which one meets with on Hermit; and, while the view from Lefroy is one of awe-inspiring grandeur, it does not compare in richness and variety of form and color with the view from Hermit. This, of course, is a matter of taste, but I think my companions will share my view.
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