Mount Reliance: Coast Range H enry S. H all, J r. A S long ago as 1864 Alfred Waddington gave names to a few features visible from the line of his projected road from Bute Inlet up the Homathko Valley through the Coast Range. One peak of about 10,500 ft., which he must have seen from near Waddington Canyon (1100 ft.), he called Mount Reliance. It rises six or seven miles N. E. by E. of the junction of the east and west branches of the Homathko River, and about eight miles N. W. of Mount Queen Bess. From Mount Razorback I saw it clearly in 1932.1 From an unnamed rock peak on the S. side of the Homathko W. branch, opposite Scimitar Creek, Gibson, Hendricks and I saw it in 1939; Gibson at the time suggested calling it Pagoda Peak. The Mundays and I saw it from the S. end of Tatlayoko Lake in 1942. H arry Haynes, a rancher in the Tatlayoko Valley, who had been out with us that year, said that in 1944 he had taken horses across the Homathko almost to its base. Thus, after the Mundays and I had engaged during the spring in preliminary correspondence about plans for the summer, Mount Reliance seemed to be a worthwhile objective for 1946. We met at Vancouver and on July 29th took the 9 a.m. boat up spectacular Howe Sound to Squamish, and then the P.G.E. train for the fine ride through the Coast Range to Williams Lake, 20 hours from Vancouver. The familiar ride across Chilcotin Plateau, over a road which had not improved during the war years, brought us, after a night s stop at Alexis Creek, to the Tatlayoko Valley. Despite minor breakdowns we reached Harry Haynes ranch after dark on the 31st. The next day we spent in repacking food. Meanwhile Mrs. Haynes collected the horses, and Harry shoed them. On August 2nd we set out in brilliant weather, riding, with three heavily laden pack-horses this time by trail instead of by water on the lake, because the outboard motor had gone to town for repairs. A passable trail exists on the E. shore of the lake, 1 See C. A. L, X X I (1932), lower photograph opp. p. 95. Mount Re liance is the white peak in extreme right background. Summit is at left of ridge.
kept open by the ranchers to drive their cattle to and from summer range. Tatlayoko Lake is 2700 ft. above sea level, and the peaks rise abruptly to 7000 ft. on the E. and to 10,000 ft. on the W. and S. shores. The lake is 14 miles long and about one mile wide, and it is the source of the Homathko E. branch. We camped the first night less than two miles from the S. end of the lake and had a fine look through the glasses at the upper half of Mount Reliance, about 15 miles away. We picked a route which later turned out to be correct. The second day, after we had forded the clear outlet of the lake to its N. W. (right) bank, took us to the end of the easy going, at one point through small forest fires, pretty certainly set by men to burn off timber and increase feed for the cattle. We were now directly under Homathko Peak (10,200 ft.) across the nar row main valley, and about four miles beyond Stonsayoko Creek, up which we had back-packed for Mount Queen Bess. A day was spent in reconnaissance of a possible route for horse travel, in the morning near the river by Harry and me, and in the afternoon higher up by Don and Harry. After a day of delay for rain, the only bad weather of the trip, we moved another couple of miles on the morning of the 6th and made further reconnaissance in the afternoon. Harry and Muriel Haynes came back after dark and said that we could not continue far down the right bank. Next morning we forded and made two more miles down the left bank, with the horses, to an impasse where rock slides came directly into the river. Don and I reconnoitred and found rough country ahead, while Harry and Muriel took the horses back across the river. She was to stay with them while he helped us with the back-packing up to a climbing camp. Our base camp was at about 2300 ft., directly on the shore of the swiftly flowing Homathko, which is here about 200 yards wide. It took two days to reach high camp at 5300 ft., just below treeline. First we had a moderate day, with 50-lb. packs, along the river and up over a wooded rocky spur and down into what we called Reliance Creek, which drains the glaciers between Mounts Homathko and Reliance. The next day brought very tough go ing a log bridge over the roaring creek, and then three hours through an alder slide. Don and Harry cut while Phyl and I re layed the packs. After lunch came six hours of as difficult uphill packing as any of us had ever encountered: smooth rock slab, stretches of easier wooded going, then steepening wood, then a
nasty slab traverse with precarious footing, then a series of small cliff bands, sometimes moss-covered, oftener bare. The average angle was such that for two hours there was no chance for a relaxed rest. Each of us would sit on the up side of a tree and put down his pack as best he could, always holding on to it. Finally, as we began to anticipate a waterless night, the slope began to ease off. Pretty well exhausted, we camped beside a small, clear stream only a couple of hundred feet from a site we had picked from 2500 ft. below. On this beautiful spot we rested for a day, except that Don and I made sure of the route to the glacier, to connect with what we had seen from the lake. I slept under the stars, as I did during the whole trip, save on the two rainy nights. Above: the great N. E. shoulder of Reliance. Below: the deep, distant roar of the main river. To the E.: bare ridges beyond the lake. To the W.: Mount Success, bold and glacier-clad in the angle between the Homathko branches. We climbed on August 11th. Don, Phyl and I left camp at 5 a.m. (Pacific Standard Time). An hour brought us to steepen ing snow slopes, across which I led to the ice-chute trough border ing the main glacier tongue. While the others kept an eye on the overhang above, I cut 30 steps; and we were on the snow-covered ice. The route required some selection but was not difficult. We worked up the broken ice and snow quite steeply into a neve basin at 8500 ft., where Don took the lead. Crossing this basin, we came to a sudden drop of perhaps 3000 ft. A 200-ft. ice-cliff from the upper glacier plateau of Reliance overhung this cirque. Beyond rose Mount Queen Bess, so steep in the morning light that we could hardly believe that we had climbed it four years before. Our route on it remained in the shade until just before noon. A short rock ridge took us from the basin at the crest of the cirque onto the upper plateau at about 9000 ft. Ahead of us, over the steeply undulating neve, rose the main ridge of Reliance. We could not be sure from here whether the left end or the right would turn out to be the higher. At 1 p.m. we climbed up onto the crest. To our left rose rock, good granite, for another 125 ft. After seven hours almost entirely on snow, this was a relief, even to our party who always enjoy a good snow and ice climb. Half way up the fairly easy rock, we were startled to see a chipmunk scrambling up the almost vertical lichen-covered rock to our right. How or why this little animal had come up 5000 ft., over glacier and rock
faces, to a point several miles from vegetation, we were at a loss to explain. Anyway, there he was, about to take away our first ascent. Or had he done it before? He did not bother to go quite to the to p! At 2 p. m. we stepped up onto a sloping, lichen-covered slab, 25 by 15 ft. the summit. The peak at the W. end of the summit crest, perhaps half a mile away, appeared to be about 20 or 30 ft. lower. The view was truly magnificent. Nothing like it is ever seen in the Rockies. From 10,500 ft. we could look down to the waves in the rapids of the Homathko, 9400 ft. below, and, beyond and just to the right, up to 13,260-ft. (or higher) Mount Waddington. At our feet to the E. was an almost vertical 5000-ft. drop; and beyond, a glacial pass leading over to Mantle Glacier, up which we had come to Mount Queen Bess. Light, fluffy clouds floated past, obstruct ing sections of the view but lending enchantment to the scene. The air was warm and still. We lay out on the rock, when we were not busy with photography or observation, and even talked of spending a night on top, as we had done on Mount Combatant (12,400 ft.) in 1933. To the S. and W. the dark trenches of the main and side valleys, and the rock peaks, were all that interrupted the vast expanse of snowfields, out of which myriad glacier tongues issued into the valleys. Here, in one sweep, were more examples of the varied phenomena of glaciation than one could find in sea sons of climbing in other ranges. Regretfully we started down at 3.45, and at 7 we reached camp. We found that our morning s route had twice been swept by avalanches. At the end of a day of rest came one of those super lative sunsets that set one s blood tingling with the magnificence of nature: to the E., heavy showers; to the W., above the darken ing crest of Mount Success, a widening line of blue sky, bordered by gold, rimming a dark band of cloud the center of which was a wildly flaming mass of red and orange such as we had rarely seen; far below, in the gathering darkness, the steady, deep roar of the cruel glacial river, rushing relentlessly on its destructive course to the sea, 40 miles away. On our way out several days later, instead of following the lake shore, we travelled up over Potato Mountain to the E., camping at 6500 ft. At sunset we walked up to the precipitous escarpment
facing Tatlayoko Lake. Harry stalked and shot a deer, which it was permissible for him to do, even out of season, as the holder of a miner s and trapper s license. We had had almost no meat and were feeling the lack of it. Mounts Waddington and Tiedemann stood out magnificently, 40 miles away. This may be the only place easily reached by trail where they can be seen. More than 4000 ft. below stretched Tatlayoko Lake, and behind it great peaks to the W. and S. To the E. we could make out the hills more than 100 miles away across Chilcotin Plateau. Mounts Tatlow and Taseko rose bold and almost bare beyond hardly visible Chilko Lake. To the N. stood the Archie and Rainbow Ranges. In the morning we came back and sat for hours. Such a view has no equal in the Rockies. Returning to camp we passed some of the valley cattle on summer range, and we enjoyed deer liver for supper. Next day, the 18th, we moved along the high ground and in the afternoon wound down into the main valley. Its ranches were distinctly visible for several hours before we reached the valley floor. We came in to Harry s place at dusk, well satisfied. I had never seen finer weather in my eight seasons in the Coast Range, nor had the Mundays in their fourteen.