Simpson River

Good things come to those who wait. In this case, the wait lasted eight months. Following our failed attempt to reach the Simpson River in October last year, Dan Durston and I were ready to give it another shot. This time, we were join by a fellow packrafter enthusiast from Fernie, Erik Mauer. Our route was exactly the same as last time and would see us crossing the Sunshine Meadows in Banff National Park, down-climbing a ridge into the Simpson Valley and establishing our camp for the night near the confluence of the North Simpson and the Simpson rivers.

Our trip being a point-to-point hike, we had to deal with the car shuttle situation first. That meant an early departure from home (4AM), followed by a 3-hour drive to meet the boys at the Simpson River trailhead at 7AM. But a drive to the mountains is never boring and this sunrise on the very last day of spring was a good reward after a short 4-hour night of sleep.

As I entered Kootenay National Park in British Columbia, the sky became cloudy. The forecast was indeed showing we might get rain at around noon. That was pretty much when we expected to be down-climbing the ridge so we had to get going as soon as possible.

I got to the trailhead first and while walking on the bridge over the Vermilion River, I was impressed by how high and fast the river was. It was to be expected at this time of the year, but having seen it only in late summer and winter, the difference was striking. Leaving a car parked there, we drove together for an hour to the Sunshine Village Ski Resort to start our hike. Thanks to Covid, the Sunshine Road was still closed and we now had to add a steep 7KM incline road walk to our already long 16KM approach.

After a grueling 7KM hike up the Sunshine Road, we were now confronted to a heavily snowy crossing of the Sunshine Meadows. It was hard. Really hard. A real post-holing galore that lasted 10KM. We thought we would be ok in terms of snow hardness by starting early in the morning, but the temperature wasn't cold enough to prevent the snow from being too soft.

A few snow-free patches gave us well-deserved breaks but they were sadly only temporary and never really aligned with our route.

The sky darkened and bets were made: would it rain on us or not? The last time we had cellphone signal, the radar showed that a rain patch would skirt around our ridgeline but we knew too well that the weather forecast is rarely accurate. We didn't mind too much for the rain in general, but having to down-climb the rocky ridge in wet conditions with our enormous backpacks would have been less than ideal.

No, Dan was not bleeding in the snow. This is what we call "Watermelon Snow" in the hiking world. But the real name is Chlamydomonas Nivalis, a green algae that also has a red carotenoid pigment, giving it it's pink tint.

I will admit it, the hike to the ridge seemed never-ending. A packrafting load-out is heavy no matter how light you try to pack up. My shoulders were hurting. But I kept pushing as my two partners were setting up a steady pace in front of me.

Finally at our ridge, it started raining. Lightly, but still enough to be annoying. We all geared up with our rain shells and made our way down.

Our first view of the Simpson Valley brought back memories. I was a little nervous about our route ahead. There was still some snow at the top, and snow was a major obstacle last time and had forced us to turn around.

It was such a relief to see that except for a massive snow ridge at the top, the rest of our route looked snow-free!

Dan took the lead, guiding us down the steep rocky section where we struggled so much on our first attempt. Without the snow on the ground, it was still a sketchy downhill scramble at times, but nothing too hard to make us consider turning around.

After a few very steep and rocky cliff bands that we successfully managed, we were left with a couple of heavily treed sections. Some of them had lots of burnt down trees, while others had little cliffs in our way. The rain surely made us walk slower because we all ended up sliding at least once on the wet ground.

The rain stopped and we were finally done with the ridge. Less than a kilometer of bushwacking left and we would be at the Simpson River.

There it is!!!

We skirted the Simpson for a little while and ended deciding that the better camping spot was on the other side. Being already wet from the rain, crossing the swift river was no big deal. With our shelters set up, Dan proposed that we should walk up the river for 5 or 6 kilometers and paddle from the headwaters of the Simpson back to our camp. I was tired and was looking forward to a calm evening around the campfire. But Erik was willing to go, so I ended packing my raft too and off we were.

The trail was faint, but after crossing the river a few times, we ended up on a nice horse trail that made our travel faster and easier.

This section of the river was narrower and filled with deadfall and rocks. After approximately 3 kilometers from our camp, we decided that pushing on further up was useless as we could clearly see how the river was not safe to paddle with massive deadfall every feet.

We put in our rafts and enjoyed a short but wild descent. It gave us a clear preview of what to expect on the next day. I remember starting to doubt myself for what was next. I knew this river quite well, having hiked along it a few times. And if this narrow and shallow section was swift, what would the main channel further down look like with even bigger deadfall and much more flow?

We got back to camp, started a bigger fire and gathered around it to have dinner.

Every piece of clothing we were wearing was soaked and this picture shows what a packrafting camp really looks like! Unfortunately, right after dinner, the rain picked up again and prevented us from spending the longest day of the year outside. We all retreated to our respective shelter, only to come out of it the next morning after a night of heavy rain. I usually don't mind the rain if I'm solo or with Andrea. But not being able to spend a few hours with the guys around the fire was a bummer.

The rain stopped early in the morning and it's under a foggy sky that we packed up our bags and inflated our rafts.

And finally, we were paddling down the mighty Simpson River. All this rain from the last 12 hours surely didn't make the river less fast than what it already was with the snow still melting higher up. After not even 5 minutes on the water, we were facing our first obstacle: deadfall. We knew that portaging around fallen trees would be something we would have to do dozens of times during our descent. Dan and I had studied the satellite imagery before the trip and had identified so many deadfall that marking them on our GPS map was pointless. We would just have to deal with them as we go. I guess that's the price to pay when you want to paddle a river that has never been paddled by anyone before!

Some sections were mellower than others. But a routine was quickly established; Erik and Dan were at the front scouting the river at every bend. Being the less experienced packrafter of the group, I was always behind and when I caught up to them in an eddy (a section on the river where the water is not moving because of an obstacle downstream) they would brief me on our next section before going.

The Simpson River became quite bigger as we got closer to the the Surprise Creek Cabin, a little bit less than halfway down its length. We had to negotiate faster and sketchier rapids. I was nervous. The first reason being that I don't have any experience in fast moving water. I feel like it would have been easier for me to deal with the rapids if it wasn't for the massive deadly logs sticking out of the water. The other thing is that my packraft is not designed for anything bigger than Class II rapids because it doesn't have a spray deck (fabric covering the top of the raft to prevent water from getting in when paddling in whitewater).

After our well deserved break at the cabin, we were ready for what Dan said would be the hardest section. After what we had been paddling through before stopping, I was anxious. The thing is, once you commit into a rapid, the only way out is at the end of it, whether you're still sitting in your packraft or swimming for your life behind it in the water. And that's exactly what is hard to judge on a "new" river with no beta from previous descents. And Dan was right, the section between the cabin and the canyon was pure craziness, at least to me. One rapid in particular was furious. I mean, the volume of water moving was insane. And the river just led you into it. I remember seeing Dan going for it and next thing I know I was getting sucked into it [11:35 in the video]. Just a few seconds in the rapids, my packraft was already taking water in. A lot of water. I could barely control it anymore. I looked down and my legs were completely underwater and the only thing I could see was the top of the tubes of my packraft. Everything was going so fast. I saw this massive log jam ahead. Branches sticking out everywhere. Bumping into this log jam meant a punctured boat for sure. I blew my whistle so hard to get Dan's attention on the shore but the river was so loud that he couldn't hear me. I was paddling so hard and at the very last minute, I was miraculously able to dodge the log jam and pull out in an eddy on the right. I was relieved but my heart was racing. I was this close to capsize my boat in the middle of a dangerous rapid. Erik had made it safely and we all regrouped and analyzed our next move. At this point, I knew I'd had enough. The river was only going to get wilder for the next few kilometers. I told the guys to go on and I took my boat and walked the trail. I had to calm myself down. I followed their progress from the trail. They had to skip so many log jams that we were always catching up along the way.

I had a good perspective from higher up and I always made sure I could keep an eye on them.

At one point I noticed that Erik was all wet and had lost his cap. I couldn't tell what happened but I was about to find out when we would all meet at the canyon portage.

Looking at this, I knew I had made the right call by bailing out of the water. Once again, I am all in for a crazy adventure but I also always keep in mind what my limits are. Both physically and mentally. Walking the last 8 kilometers was surely not part of my original plan, but it was the smartest thing to do at the time.

And here's the canyon on the Simpson River. Clogged by what looks like a medieval weapon made of logs. There's no coming back if you go through this with a packraft.

The river stayed wild after the canyon. I was finally able to caught up to them only to hear that Erik had lost control of his packraft and went for a swim. I remember him saying that it was scary and that "it was like being in a washing machine during the spin cycle". Fortunately, he was able to get out of this situation unhurt and the only thing he lost during this ordeal was his cap.

This picture is quite funny because out of context it seems like Dan is giving Erik a hard time because he took a swim but in reality, Dan was just talking about how delicious the spruce tips were!

Kudos to Erik for still wanting to go in the water after his swim. Dan and him found a calmer spot to put in after the canyon and kept on going.

Meanwhile I was walking around near the shore and found some remnants of an old camp.

I left the guys behind and made my way back to the trail. My mission for the rest of the trip was to capture some nice footage and pictures of them on the river. I really enjoy being behind the camera.

It was fun to see them both handling the waves like they did.

And yet another portage!

I came to the point where the trail leaves the Simpson River for a while. Little did I knew at the moment that Erik had called it a day on the river and was walking behind me on the trail. I walked alone and despite being on foot, I was still a happy man. I walked near the spot where Andrea and I had camped on December 31st 2019 and smiled profusely. My very first day of 2020 was spent walking this trail in three feet of snow, and here I was again on the very first day of the summer, still doing what I love the most. This place is beautiful.

Back along the river, I could see Dan far away in the distance. I remember thinking "where's Erik?", but seeing that Dan was not moving, my final thought was that he was waiting for him. I kept a good pace on the trail as I knew that the river was near it's mouth at the Vermilion River.

I got a little sad at this spot where the trail overlooks the river one last time. It was here that this dream of packrafting the Simpson River was born last year. I debated inflating my packraft just to paddle this amazing section. If only the entire river was like this for 20 kilometers. Because truthfully, I don't really care for whitewater. I purchased a packraft to paddle down calm rivers and access areas that would be inaccessible without a boat. Nonetheless, the whitewater experience I gained during this trip will surely help me sometimes in the future.

Back at the trailhead, the Vermilion was even more swollen than the day before.

We were reunited again. What an intense trip it was. I really have to give it to these two guys. Erik joined us on this adventure with only a few days to prepare, meaning he never spent hours studying the Simpson River map like Dan and I had done for weeks. His experience in a packraft surely made this trip safer. I really hope I'll get to paddle with him again. And Dan. He can proudly say he completed the first packraft descent of the Simpson River all the way to the Vermilion River. I like to tease him and say that he's like a mountain goat because of how fast he moves in pretty much any type of terrain. But after watching him going through some crazy and sketchy rapids, I might have to find him another nickname!

I like to think that I always deserve the usual post-adventure poutine but this time, I think I REALLY deserved it! It's a good thing I stopped in Canmore because I ended up being stuck in a hail storm for a while on the highway towards Calgary. Nothing new for the month of June in southern Alberta. All in all, this weekend was intense until the very end!