Avens, Mount

Summit Elevation (m): 2992
Trip Date: July 24 2025
Round Trip Time (hr): 13
Elevation Gain (m): 1600
Total Trip Distance (km): 36.0
Quick ‘n Dirty Rating: Class 3 – you fall, you break something.
Difficulty Notes: A long, involved approach on a decommissioned trail followed by route finding and a stiff moderate / easy difficult ascent through a keyhole notch.
Technical Rating: SC7-
GPS Track: Gaia
Map: Google Maps

Some days in the hills feel longer and more involved somehow than you’d expect. Mount Avens was such a day – for me at least. This remote peak overlooking both the Baker and Wildflower Creek headwaters and sitting at the far northern end of the huge Castle Mountain / Pulsatilla massif sees very few visitors and has been on my list for a long time now. Although I can pretty confidently say that there aren’t many with this summit under their feet, I know of at least 3 parties who have ascended it in the past 20 years. All parties indicated a complex, difficult route through a huge curtain wall of cliffs encircling giant summit scree slopes. With an obvious technical crux at the cliffs, it turns out that just getting there might be by far the hardest part of the day.

Despite bivouac confidently stating that Mount Avens is, “A gentle summit which could be walked up from any direction.”, it most certainly is *not*. Back in 1990, Rick Collier and Reg Bonney ascended complex terrain and rated it as PD 4th, 50m in David Jones’ Rockies Central (pg. 285). Ben Nearingburg and Liam Harrap made an ascent in 2015 and mentioned difficult terrain – I think they used a rope. (I believe they also carried in, and then ate a birthday cake somewhere along the route!) In 2016, Banff photographer extraordinaire and local Rockies legend Paul Zizka also stood on this remote summit and posted briefly about it on Facebook. I contacted him just before my own trip for details and he also indicated difficult terrain. I spotted a large break in the cliffs and mapped out my route through it. As a last minute addition I noted that Rick mentioned ascending “slippery ledges” through the first cliff band before a “rising traverse south” along the base of the second band to “an obvious break”. I didn’t pay much attention to Rick’s report because of his stiff rating, but put a line on Gaia just in case.

This isn’t my first rodeo with a remote, rarely ascended and very lightly beta’d Rockies summit. I knew that this was going to be an adventure with plenty of type II suffering maybe even dipping briefly into type III. While planning my own attempt I was doing something the other parties did not – I wanted to do it as a day trip from Calgary rather than lug overnight gear along. The only way to do this “reasonably” was to access the valley NW of the peak via the now defunct Baker Creek Trail from Hwy 1A near the Baker Creek Lodge. Despite AI confidently asserting that the trail is not decommissioned and there being no information on it anywhere, I knew that it was. Both Phil and Paul had traveled it and had some information for me. Paul’s beta was almost a decade stale at this point, but Phil’s was a little more recent within the last 5 years. He assured me that I might have a decent track until the upper access valley, dubbed “Wonder Valley” by Rick in Jones’ guide. I tried not to have my hopes too high, counting on a trail something like the old outfitter trail we’d discovered up McConnell Creek in 2020. My last hurdle was going to be weather. Summer 2025 has been a mixed bag in the Alberta Rockies with lots of overcast, rainy, tstormy afternoons. July 24th looked decent enough to make an effort so I set my alarm for 05:00 and grabbed a few hours of nervous sleep.

The day started out exactly on par – a soaking wet highway and obviously wet mountains from an overnight tstorm. As I drove up a quiet hwy 1A to the Baker Creek day use area, I wondered what all the rain was going to do to my route and hoped the cliffs would still be safe to climb. Good thing I didn’t set my alarm any earlier! A sign in the large parking lot indicated parking was only allowed between 07:00 and 23:00. I guess when they decommission a trail they really don’t want folks using it to access any overnight camping anymore. I also had a 16-hour time limit to complete my day now! 😉 Phil warned me to find the trail as soon as possible, so I walked back over a bridge on the highway to get over a raging Baker Creek before looking for something on its west side where Gaia indicated a trail. Sure enough! Right away I found a faint track through the ditch and then a major trail in the forest. YES!! What a great start. The trail was not only very obvious, it was also very obviously maintained. I hiked through a cutline before continuing in light forest, noting freshly cut, fallen trees along the way. This wasn’t at all what I was expecting but obviously I was absolutely thrilled with this turn of events! 

The first 3.5 kilometers were delightful forest hiking on a beautiful trail that wound its way over moss and dappled morning light ahead of me. Slowly but surely the trail because a little less distinct and a little more swampy as I approached the 4.5km mark. So far I’d noted that the vegetation was absolutely soaked from an overnight rainstorm and was very happy with my wide trail preventing it from affecting me too much. This was all about to change in a very dramatic way. After a few swampy sections with running water on the trail I noticed a classic brown Parks Canada sign ahead – strange for a decommissioned trail, no? The sign pointed to the right indicating that hikers should take that path rather than continue straight ahead. I didn’t like this turn of events one bit. Firstly, neither Phil or Paul had mentioned a deviation – I had no idea which trail they’d used. Secondly, the hiking trail dipped down towards Baker Creek and I had a very bad feeling about that direction. But what could I do? Either choice was potentially shitty. Horse trails are usually more willows and more creek crossings than hiking trails. I sighed deeply before heading towards the creek – still on an obvious trail at this point but now the story takes an ugly turn my friends. Ugly, ugly, ugly.

It’s hard for me to impart on the reader what happened within 1km of starting along the hiker “trail”. Despite a positive start, I knew I was in for it when it crossed the lively creek and picked up with a few old blazes on the far side. There were no more recent cuts on fallen trees – they were just plopped across a faint trail in the soaking wet vegetation. I could handle that – I was more prepared for that then what I’d had so far to be fair. And then the blowdown started. All I can say to impart how bad this section was is that I didn’t even record video (cursing too much) and I may have even started sobbing at one point. IT WAS SO BAD DUDE. It made the Siffleur River Trail look like a highway. I suddenly found myself literally crawling over, under and through giant fallen trees that were so big and so thick with tangled roots and branches that it seemed impossible to carry on. It must have happened recently as the branches were still green and there was no obvious route through it. Of course everything was also SOAKED and soon I was so wet I might as well have just drowned myself back in the creek – it would have sucked a lot less. I also assumed the sh_t show wouldn’t last very long, but it just kept going and going for at least 1-1.5kms. So bad. So very, very bad. Type III fun was definitely had by all involved and enjoyed by no one.

And the hell wasn’t over. Oh no! After the blowdown, the swamp, bugs, willows and even RAIN started. F_ck. My. Life. Seriously. I have never come so close to turning back before even seeing my objective. Despite a forecast showing plenty of clear skies, it was 100% cloudy overhead, soaking wet on the ground and now I was feeling rain drops. W.T.F.?! Honestly I came to a point where it was preferable to at least hike to the junction with the horse trail and try following it back, even if I wasn’t going to tackle Mount Avens today. At one point I left the now very faint and intermittent hiker trail and tramped across a swamp to find the horse trail to my left. I couldn’t find it anywhere! Uh oh. Now what?! I dejectedly continued trying to stick to the hiker “trail”, following very old blazes and the odd bits of trampled ground. This certainly wasn’t the reasonable track that Phil told me about and I doubted even a cheerful Paul Zizka would recommend this to anyone other than a sworn enemy. In case you haven’t figured it out yet though, I am a stubborn dutchman and I am also oddly and relentlessly optimistic when it comes to mountain adventures. I very rarely turn back and today would be no different.

At some point I decided to abandon the trail and start bushwhacking around the north end of Bulwark Peak to get me started up Wonder Valley. At this point I hadn’t seen my peak yet and the clouds were still thick overhead. At least it had stopped raining and the bugs were responding to the spray I’d thankfully carried along. As I worked my way through reasonable forest and across a lively creek – slowly, slowly I climbed out of the low valley I’d been in both literally and metaphorically for the last 4 hours. I stumbled upon another very old (blazed) trail after crossing to the east side of the creek which was kind of cool. Then I slowly started breaking treeline on rubble slopes west of my peak. The clouds overhead started breaking up and I had dramatic views across the valley towards Bulwark and Armor Peak. As I worked my way higher and higher the valley started earning the name “Wonder”. Waterfalls and stepped terrain with trees greening the surface and rock walls rising hundreds of meters above kept my camera warm and finally brought some cheer to my day.

At some point I looked up at a dark crack in soaring cliffs on the west face of Avens still high above me and noticed water running down it. “Thankfully that’s not the crack I’m ascending” was my first thought. My second (after looking carefully at Gaia) was, “Crap, that is definitely the crack I was going to ascend!” Arg. It was certainly one of those days. As I worked my way up rubble slopes under the crack I realized it really didn’t matter if there was water in it or not – this terrain was far above my pay grade. There’s a reason Paul looked for an alternate route down the mountain – I’m impressed that he got up there without a rope. Time for plan B. I noticed right away that the ledges that Rick mentioned looked very reasonable from below. I could easily spot what looked like a moderate (at most) line snaking up them to hopefully break the first cliffband. I couldn’t see high enough to be sure, but I donned my brain bucket, gulped some water and started up.

I didn’t find the ledges “greasy”, instead they were easy and dry. After working my way up and climber’s right (south) I was stoked to find another easy, wide scree gully leading back up to my left (north) to gain the rubble slopes between the upper and lower cliff bands on the SW side of Avens. The only bit of beta I recalled from Rick, was to traverse south along the upper cliffs to find a PD 4th class break somewhere along them, so that’s what I did. My views of the upper Wonder Valley towards Pulsatilla Mountain and Mitella Lake were stunning. (The names for this area, including “Wonder Valley” and “Mitella Lake” are hard to originate. I couldn’t find (m)any references to either from any official sources.) My views of the upper cliffs were somewhat more intimidating. Despite looking “reasonable” on satellite imagery that I had downloaded to my phone, in person they were vertical, loose and foreboding. I kept traversing however, feeling strangely optimistic that something would open up somewhere. 

At one point I passed under a section of cliffs that looked to break down slightly more than what came before. I logged it in my brain as a possibility if I didn’t find anything easier around the next corner. Sure enough! Poking my head around the next corner didn’t inspire confidence to continue, so I turned back to the one potential option I’d spotted. It didn’t look that easy or straightforward from below and there was a massive rock the size of my Prius balanced above the route but I started up anyway.

Sometimes you have to really get your nose into this sort of terrain before anything opens up. The holds were decent despite a near-vertical ascent and suddenly I found myself looking through a gap where the massive boulder was no longer attached to the mountain above. It was nerve wracking to stand under this giant hunk of stone, knowing that it wasn’t even supported on half of its sides! Intriguing as the hole was, the terrain under it was vertical and soaking wet – totally unclimbable. As I looked closer however, I spotted another, much smaller keyhole to the left of the larger one.

My heart rate increased a little. Could it? Would it? Damn son! Almost vibrating with excitement about the possibilities, I climbed a bit higher to check it out. I could 100% sneak through the hole as long as I took my camera and pack off first. The only question now was what the terrain would be like once I popped out of it. I hurriedly took off my gear and shoved it through the tiny gap before following through it myself on good holds.

And like a I was birthed from the cliffs below, I found myself invigorated with new energy and life when I took in the scene that opened up around me. Somehow I’d ended up on pretty darn easy looking terrain, leading to what I hoped (and expected at this point) to be massive scree slopes all the way to the summit. I could not believe it! What a route! This was a top tier moment for me in the Rockies. At this point, I still had NO idea that somehow I’d stumbled on the exact same keyhole that Rick and Reg had used 35 years earlier. Wild stuff, this business of remote peakbagging in the Banff backcountry. Some days are worse and then somehow better than others.

Lo and behold – for once my assumption about easy terrain ahead was correct. Large rubble slopes led up to the massive scree and mud slopes to the summit, still hundreds of vertical meters above me but now, finally within reach. A whopping 6 hours into my day I knew for the very first time that the summit of Mount Avens was a possibility.

It still wasn’t a guarantee with dark clouds building in all directions, but I raced as quickly as I could up the foreshortened terrain, only stopping a few times to take in the dramatic scenes forming behind me towards Protection, Bulwark and Pulsatilla Mountain. At 13:20 I topped out on the summit ridge and had to pick my jaw up from around my feet where it’d dropped thanks to the views over Wildflower Creek. Although Wildflower Lake was barely visible from this vantage, two large unnamed tarns far below provided a colorful palette with Hickson and Bonnet providing a dramatic backdrop.

I started up the west ridge to the summit and arrived at 13:37, out of breath but delighted to be exactly where I was. Views from Mount Avens were stunning, as expected. Traversing a little off the summit provided incredible shots of another unnamed tarn with dramatic cliffs of two northern outliers of Pulsatilla Mountain rising above. Unfortunately for me, I couldn’t linger long to enjoy the fruits of all my labor. I had a long way back and clouds were starting to build in earnest all around me. The wind was cool and believe it or not, I was still damp from all the morning shenanigans with blowdown and willows. I snapped a few more photos from the ridge before starting my return.

Getting back through the keyhole was easy and fun. The terrain down from there was anywhere from easy difficult (SC7-) to a stiff moderate (S6+). I’m not sure why Rick thought it was 4th class but maybe collapsing rock has made it slightly easier in the 35 years since he did it? Who knows – maybe I found a completely different hole, but that would be extremely odd and highly doubtful.

After tracing my ascent track back along the upper cliffs and down the ledges through the lower ones, it was time for some serious decisions. The first decision was how to return to Baker Creek out of Wonder Valley. I could either retrace my approach line exactly, or try to follow the old trail I’d stumbled on. I decided to go with the old trail.

For the most part it worked beautifully. As long as there were trees big enough to hold a blaze mark, I could pretty much find and stay on a very faint track that I assume animals are keeping open. As soon as there were willows or open drainages or swamps I was totally screwed – there was no way to hold the blazes and I would lose the trail frustratingly quick. I always managed to find it back eventually but it was a struggle – both physical and mental. Biting flies didn’t help the mood, but at least I had a successful peak under my feet at this point. Finally I stumbled out at Baker Creek and an old campsite. Time for my next decision.

The second decision was whether to make a serious effort at finding the horse trail on the west side of Baker Creek, and whether or not to stick to it depending on its current state. My PTSD from the morning thrash made this decision pretty damn easy. Of course I was going to try finding and sticking to the horse trail. I crossed Baker Creek just upstream of where the Wonder Valley stream doubled its volume and started looking for any indications of an old trail. It didn’t take long and I was following another faint track and old blazes down Baker Creek – this time on its west side. So apparently, not only is there one decommissioned trail along Baker Creek – there are TWO of them. Who knew? 

The horse trail started out on a very positive note. Unlike the hiker trail it didn’t devolve into swamp right away, but stayed in the forest on the edge of the manky river flats. Blazes made the trail obvious even if it was faint. Horses ensure a deep track and even where willows and trees were growing right on the path, my feet could usually still find it. I made pretty good time at first, the only downsides were biting flies and losing the trail every time more open terrain appeared (no way to hold a blaze). This side of the valley was definitely easier travel than the other side had been and I even ran into quite a few ribbons telling me that more people struggle up the horse trail than whatever the trail on the other side of Baker Creek is supposed to be. My instincts got me pretty far and just as I was just gloating about my excellent route choice I ran into a familiar hell. Blowdown.

Yup! Once again – the same event that happened on the other side of the valley, naturally occurred here too. Massive trees fallen like toothpicks. Huge limbs and branches and tangled trunks made travel almost impossible and very challenging for over a kilometer. It wasn’t just blowdown either – swamp on either end of the blowdown made life miserable. As I suspected, the horse trail tended to go through areas that a hiking trail would normally try to avoid. Walking was very tough in tight willows and marshes, nevermind finding and sticking to a trail that is only used by the occasional deer and mentally challenged hiker like myself. Oh! And the bugs got more and more aggressive as they sensed my will to live slowly leaving my body the further I struggled on and on. It got to the point where I stopped yelling for bears in the hopes that I might run into one. This happens more often on type III adventures.

Finally, almost 2 hours after starting down it, I noticed that I was parallel to my morning track. For whatever reason the horse trail I was on didn’t obviously connect with the main approach trail I’m sure it does, I just missed it in my dazed and confused state. I had to bushwhack to find the good trail back, but what a relief to be back on it again! It was now 12 hours into my day and I was starting to feel it. One foot in front of the other had me back at the car only an hour later. It’s amazing how the pace increases with a good, easy to follow trail.

As I drove back home I wondered how the heck I pull these trip off sometimes. Seriously. What drives me to keep going in such horrid conditions with absolutely no guarantee of success? Why do I keep seeking out these tough adventures and then go in all alone on a random weekday to tackle them? I’m not sure I know the answer to these questions but I do know that I’m not ready to stop just yet. For some silly reason.