D

riving through the valley, 
we 
could 
see 
a 
storm 

looming in the distance, but 

all we could do was hope it wouldn’t 
be coming toward us. It’s incredibly 
difficult to predict where a storm 
is heading in the mountains, as one 
ridge will force it east and the next 
will push it south.

As we pulled up to the trailhead, 

with the presence of the storm fading 
from our minds, a clap of thunder 
echoed 
between 
the 
mountains, 

reminding us that there would be no 
escape.

This was exactly what I was hoping 

wouldn’t happen. I was being dropped 
off with my girlfriend at a trailhead, 
and from there we would be almost 
completely alone for the next six days.

The trail, the Sawback Trail in 

Alberta, 
Canada, 
would 
take 
us 

from Lake Louise to Banff, Alberta. 

Winding through three passes and 
over 46 miles, it was easily the most 
ambitious backpacking trip either of 
us had taken.

I was used to backpacking in 

Michigan and in Ontario, Canada, and 
had done so a number of times, but 
this was a completely new adventure. 
Backpacking at high elevation changes 
everything, from how the weather 
moves, 
to 
causing 
below-freezing 

temperatures in July. And I had 
always gone out in bigger groups, with 
someone who was more experienced 
than I was at the time.

I was trying to put on a façade 

of 
being 
uber-confident 
and 
not 

concerned about what we were faced 
with so my girlfriend wouldn’t get 
any more worried, but my nerves 
were eating away at me. I couldn’t 
stop wondering if we were making the 
right decision.

Reluctantly, we lifted our nearly 

50-pound 
backpacks 
on 
to 
our 

shoulders, clipped our hip belts and 
set off. Soon after we started trekking 
up the rest of the pass, the storm 
caught us. The near golf ball-sized 
hail forced us to stop and wait under a 
tree, but the lightning suggested that 
might be unwise.

At 
this 
moment, 
we 
were 

questioning what the hell we were 
even doing on that trail. Neither of 
us had backpacked in Banff, or in any 
sort of elevation for that matter.

On top of that, I was the more 

experienced backpacker of the two 
of us, leaving me to make most of 
our decisions. When I made this 
realization, coupled with being in the 
mountains and turbulent conditions, I 
became more scared than I ever have 
been while backpacking.

The pressure of knowing that your 

safety, as well as someone else’s safety, 
rides completely on your decision 
making is scary and overwhelming. 
Regardless of how ready I felt prior 
to the trip, at that moment trekking 
up Boulder Pass I felt everything but 
that.

We were challenged with whether 

or not to push forward, completely 
unsure of how long the storm would 
hover above us. On one hand, it could 
stop advancing once it reached the top 
of the pass, but it was just as likely 
to keep going through the pass and 
follow us down the valley on the other 
side.

If we had turned around, we 

wouldn’t have woken up in the middle 
of our first night to the vicious purr 
of a wolverine outside our tent (it 
was confirmed to be a wolverine by a 
friend who was at the same campsite 
a few days later who said he saw one 
there).

If we had turned around, we 

wouldn’t have gotten trail lost for 
over four hours when we came across 
a part of the trail that had been 
completely wiped out by an avalanche 
the previous winter.

But above all, if we had turned 

around, I wouldn’t know that I could 
do it: I would be left wondering if I 
could conquer the rest of the trail.

The sense of accomplishment we 

felt as we hitch-hiked our way down 
the mountain after coming out on 
Mount Norquay, the southern end of 
the Sawback Trail, was unbelievable.

When I found out about the trail 

several months prior, it seemed like 
something incredible to do, but highly 
unlikely to take on given my lack of 
experience navigating complicated 
trails and hiking in big mountain 
ranges. But I went for it anyway, 
trusting what I did know, and came 
away knowing that doubting myself 
wouldn’t get me anywhere. It’s those 
scary, risky situations that teach the 
most.

Backpacking (sometimes too often) 

presents me with near life or death 
situations, where I’m forced to trust 
my decision making, and that’s one of 
the reasons I love it so much. There is 
no room to doubt yourself.

On that day heading up Boulder 

Pass, I was definitely doubting myself. 
I had little confidence that we would 
get off that trail unscathed. But we 
did, and we’re both better for it.

Wednesday, April 4, 2018 // The Statement
6B

Navigating through apprehension

BY COLIN BERESFORD, DEPUTY STATEMENT EDITOR

Courtesy of Miranda Miley

