Ice climbing, in Waterton

“Some winter,” I thought to myself as I peered out from my kitchen window, the last of our snow nearly absent from outstretched tree limbs on the other side of the pane. The consistently warm temps this winter thwarted countless attempts to climb frozen waterfalls around the Flathead, leaving us nothing to do but pace around the house, starved at the thought of sinking our ice tools into a frozen chandelier of blue ice.

Unable to take it any longer, we packed our bags and headed north to Canada. The familiar east-side winds threatened to rip us from the highway, but we made it in one piece to Glacier’s sister park, Waterton Lakes earlier this winter. Arriving at nightfall, we eagerly tucked into our sleeping bags underneath a star-filled sky and counted down the minutes until morning, and ice. 

Awakening to a pink dawn illuminating the nearby serrated peaks, we couldn’t get packed fast enough as we eyed the ice drooling from the nearby cliff bands, teasing us as we sharpened tools and geared up. 

Winding along the cliff side road, we slammed the brakes as the roadside ice flow “Quick and Dirty” came into view. The 200-foot waterfall nearly brought a tear to my eye as the 3-D formations of ice were a sight for sore eyes. Chomping at the bit, I took the sharp end of the rope and started my way up. The bouldery climbing was engaging through multiple steps of thin ice that required thoughtful moves. Climbing partner Adam Cazell was just as stoked as he climbed past my two-screw anchor and continued up the ice-filled gully overhead. Reaching the upper pitches, we were bathed in a golden ray of sun that warmed us from the inside out as we reached the top of the gully. 

Recharging with a coffee from the only storefront open in the Waterton townsite, we scanned the nearby cliff sides above town. Through the binoculars we spotted an ephemeral ice smear clinging to a tilted slab of rock. 

Our minds were made, and we started in the late afternoon towards the cliff band. As dusk turned to a deep twilight blue, Adam started up the pitch, which, surprisingly, took great gear and was much fatter than first thought. He established a belay above the 180-foot pitch, took up my slack, and got me on belay.  The climbing was flat-out fun, and I had to remind myself to stop and take in the stunning views of the Waterton Lakes and the townsite below.

Rappelling into the night, we gazed at the distant peaks towering above Glacier Park’s Goat Haunt area as the fading light was just enough to make out the grins plastered across our mugs. Our itch was scratched, for now, and we couldn’t have been happier to sample some of Canada’s finest ice.