WE WERE in the pristine mountains of western Canada when I finally mentioned
something that had been worrying me. Not for us the traditional hardships of
the great outdoors. Oh, no. We were staying at a sumptuous lodge in remote
wooded foothills, indulging in the cosseting joys of heli-hiking. Wasn’t all
this, I asked a fellow hiker, just a tiny bit decadent?
“You only just caught on?” came the reply. “Of course, it’s decadent! That’s
what we signed up for!” And with this, the middle-aged American sauntered
away towards a waiting helicopter.
Doesn’t sound very ecological, does it? Helicopters are environmentally
questionable, of course — they burn large quantities of fuel, and kick up
noise and stink. On the other hand, Canadian Mountain Holidays says that its
fuel is transported by pipeline (no messy lorries), and flying time is kept
to a minimum, and by helicoptering into these remote areas they avoid
building mountain roads.
Each morning we tumbled out of bed to feast on eggs and pastries. We put on
specially provided walking gear, then climbed aboard an 11-seater Bell 212
helicopter. And up we went. Way, way above the tree-line to remote areas of
mountain ridge for hours of delicious high walking.
Here in the mountains of British Columbia, alongside their junior cousins, the
Canadian Rockies, we walked along bear and wolf trails carrying rucksacks
filled with picnics. At day’s end, after we had admired flowers, prodded
bear poo, and watched squirrels squeaking in alarm at our passing, the
helicopter flew us home again for a bath and a lovely meal with loadsawine.
Next day, same again. Except sometimes, just for fun, they changed our
location during the walk itself. Bored with this lake-dappled plateau? No
problem. Clatter-clatter . . . here’s another.
To a puritanical Brit brought up to think that even camping mats were wussy,
it all seemed pretty sinful at first — not to be suffering for these views,
not to earn them with a slogging climb. I had worried, but still came
cheerily enough, because doubts are one thing; the wildly exciting prospect
of dashing around mountains in a helicopter was quite another.
So I arrived. Signed in. Was kitted out with boots and weather gear and was
shown to my wood-panelled room near the grand lounge. The other hikers
turned out to be mostly middle-aged, mostly American and Canadian, many
utterly unfit, quite a few of them clearly pretty hardy.
The luxury lodges are run by Canadian Mountain Holidays as heli-skiing centres
in winter. In summer, when the snow vanishes, they attract hikers.
I had booked a basic three-night package and for the first two days was
charmed by gentle physical demands spiced by eye-searing views and schoolboy
giggles at the helicopter fun. Our pilot played games getting us to drop-off
points, using updrafts as supercharged elevators, dancing round crags,
zooming over lakes.
Sometimes we landed up top in fierce sunshine, sometimes in thin snow and even
hail at heights between 1,850m and 2,500m (6,000ft-8,000ft). But I enjoyed
the cold best of all because it added that curiously necessary reminder of
hardship. In fact, the walks were tailored to individual abilities.
On the third day, however, I was forced to review all remaining doubt, as this
sorting-out process took a new step. I was offered a chance to go
heli-mountaineering. Four of us went off in the helicopter. We alighted at
2,500m on a blanket of glinting snow. Above us stood Mount Syphax, a
scrabble of limestone ravines and craggy cliffs.
I’m not a mountaineer, but here’s the interesting thing. Exactly as the
helicopter provided us with “false” easy entry into the wilds, so the climb
was smoothed for us by a series of metal hand-holds rammed into the rock at
tricky points. To a purist it was cheating. Was I bothered? No, I was
grateful. Abseiling down 100m sheer drops is a scary experience, no matter
how “easy” someone makes it with a bit of ironware.
I grabbed those metal hand-holds in sheer gratitude, and it occurred to me,
swinging high above a snowy drop that seemed to plunge beneath me for ever,
that nature, and heights, and mountains are all pretty impressive, no matter
how you get there, or what help is provided on arrival.
Later, our little group talked proudly about how scared we’d been and how
marvellous the views were from the top. Around us, the surgeons and
entrepreneurs and businessfolk and all sorts exchanged their own high-level
hiking stories and it was just a great goodbye to the mountains.
Need to know
Canadian Mountain Holidays (001 403 762 7100, www.canadianmountainholidays.com)
offers heli-hiking in British Columbia. Three nights at Bobbie Burns Lodge,
including all meals, clothing and boot loan, helicopter flights, transfers
from Banff or Calgary airport, but not flights from the UK, costs £1,241pp.
Canadian Affair (020-7616 9184, www.canadianaffair.com)
tailor-makes holidays to Canada, and can arrange heli-hiking. Return flights
from Gatwick to Calgary are from £289 return.
