On July 6, 1999, a friend of mine, Chris Hunter, and a co-worker of his at the Edmonton Mountain Equipment Co-op were climbing the Northeast Ridge on Chinaman's Peak, part of a long massif overlooking the town of Canmore, Alberta in the southern Front Ranges of the Canadian Rockies. According to his journal they had checked out the route the day before, climbing the first five pitches to get the feel of the rock, then descended, planning to climb the entire route the next day. He wrote in the final entry in his journal "We had an awesome day. We hung out and relaxed for the rest of the evening. Chinaman's tommorrow !"
Chris was a bright, experienced mountaineer with ascents of Mt. Robson's Kain Face, Mt. Edith Cavell's East Ridge, Mt. Athabasca's North Face and other mountains, as well as a long list of waterfall ice routes in the Canadian Rockies.The Northeast Ridge, a popular 5.6 bolted route, is a huge, steep limestone cliff, composed of rock of dubious quality in places, and getting off route is not a good idea as the rock generally does not hold falls on trad gear well. Chris and his partner were many pitches up, into the steepest part of the climb when they realized they had gone too far to the right and were off route. Chris was above and to the right of his partner almost the full length of the sixty-meter rope, with three points of protection between them. He spotted a bolt below his position and realized it would be a safe anchor to belay his partner and regain the route from. He instructed his partner to begin lowering him down to the bolt.
While being lowered, a piece of protection failed, the other two pieces zippered out and Chris fell, penduluming as he did so, past his partner at the belay and ultimately plunging over a hundred meters in a roped fall over brutal terrain. While the belay held and his partner was saved, Chris suffered multiple severe trauma and died about thirty minutes later. He was twenty-four years old. Chinaman's Peak was Chris' first mountain. He first hiked up the standard route in 1990 with his father at the age of fifteen, and ironically it ended up being his last climb.
On the first anniversary of his death, a group of twelve hikers and climbers set off from the trailhead on the Spray Lakes Road for the standard hike up the back side of Chinaman's Peak. The group consisted of Chris' father, Dr. Douglas Hunter, his younger sister Sloane, and about eight or nine friends, including myself. We carried two hundred-pound bags of concrete premixed powder, five gallons of water and a beautifully inscribed wooden cross which a friend of Dr. Hunter's had made in his cabinetmaking shop. We split the powder and water evenly into jugs and green garbage bags, and several people took turns carrying the four-foot high cross.
It was a beautiful warm July morning, and we made our way steadily up the excellent hiking trail that switchbacks up the south face of Chinaman's Peak. The trail climbs through a shaded humid forest from the trailhead, which eventually thins out near the top as stunted spruce and fir trees give way to large slabs and scree. However, the scree was not bad, the trail well-worn and the route to the top was never in question, being well-used and also the descent walk-off for the technical routes on the north side of the mountain.
Photo by Dennis Krajac
It was a beautiful warm July morning, and we made our way steadily up the excellent hiking trail that switchbacks up the south face of Chinaman's Peak. The trail climbs through a shaded humid forest from the trailhead, which eventually thins out near the top as stunted spruce and fir trees give way to large slabs and scree. However, the scree was not bad, the trail well-worn and the route to the top was never in question, being well-used and also the descent walk-off for the technical routes on the north side of the mountain.
We reached the summit ridge, with the summit of Chinaman's Peak to our left, several hundred meters distant. To our right several hundred meters away was the summit of Mt. Lawrence Grassi. We traversed the ridge heading west, staying well back from the steep, winding face below it and finally arrived at the summit after a two-hour hike from the trailhead. The group sat down around the rocky summit, having a drink and a bite to eat, and enjoying the views of the Main Ranges to the west and the town of Canmore spread out below the face of the mountain in the valley below. It was a pleasant, warm and idyllic morning, with absolutely no wind whatsoever on the summit. We relaxed for about a half hour; then it was time to get to work and carry out our main purpose for climbing the mountain.
Photo by Dr. Douglas H. Hunter
We set about searching for a small hole or depression near the summit in which we could place Chris' marker and set it in concrete. After about fifteen minutes we came to the conclusion the only spot was right at the summit itself, in a small hole formed by three very heavy rocks linked together in a natural triangle. We hadn't wanted to put it right there, but due to the steep and slabby nature of the top of the mountain, it seemed to be the only place. We dug a bunch of loose crud, rocks and small stones out of the triangle and soon had a hole about two feet deep with a two foot radius.
The group began mixing the concrete in small batches in a doubled-up green garbage bag, being careful to spill nothing. We finally had the entire hole filled to about a two foot depth and placed the cross in it. After I smoothed off the top of it, Dr. Hunter reached into his pack and handed me the rock shoes Chris had worn on the day of the accident. He instructed me to place them in the mix and I did, side by side, with only the toes sticking out three inches from the surface of the concrete, at the foot of the cross. We took some of the bigger rocks and stones which had originally been removed from the hole and carefully placed them back around the marker, covering the concrete and leaving the area looking completely natural again, but for a beautiful wooden cross poking out of the rocks.
We had spilled nothing; no powder lay on the area where we had worked, and we carefully packed up any garbage bags or other trash and stowed it in our packs. Dr. Hunter hung a picture of Chris on it and we stood back to admire out handiwork. Someone said a little prayer for him and that was it.
It was a very touching and somber moment, but everyone was happy to see it done as Chris had left his mark on all of us in one way or another. We hung around on the summit and rested a while; I joked to his father that Chris probably wouldn't mind if rock climbers belaying their partner up the final pitch used it for a belay anchor. One by one the members of our group began to make their way back down the pebbly slabs along the ridge and down the mountain. I left a small personal talisman of my own on his memorial marker and joined Dr. Hunter for the descent.
Photos by William Marler
It was a very touching and somber moment, but everyone was happy to see it done as Chris had left his mark on all of us in one way or another. We hung around on the summit and rested a while; I joked to his father that Chris probably wouldn't mind if rock climbers belaying their partner up the final pitch used it for a belay anchor. One by one the members of our group began to make their way back down the pebbly slabs along the ridge and down the mountain. I left a small personal talisman of my own on his memorial marker and joined Dr. Hunter for the descent.
