Lillian, Mount (Attempt)

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It was August 2, 2025 - barely a year since the fateful trip Red Peak
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[Archive] [No Archive Link] up Red Peak that had started my scrambling addiction - and I was once again in the Kananaskis backcountry with Jaime Fehr, this time staying at the Lillian Lake campsite. I’d known this trip was coming for a while, and had planned accordingly, selecting Mount Lillian (outlined in Nugara’s More Scrambles) as my target. We had hiked in the morning of the 2nd, expecting to spend the rest of the day leisurely enjoying ourselves - but with rain in the forecast for Sunday the 3rd, I decided I’d rather relax then. That afternoon, we hiked together up to Lower Galatea lake, and parted ways at 1355hrs - Jaime was intent on fishing, while I was intent on some views.

My eyes scanned over the trail on the south bank of Lower Galatea that led to the upper lake, and I briefly debated using it. I decided against it, given there was an apparent and perfectly cromulent way to break past the small cliff that separates the two lakes, which would keep me on the north side and avoid a more significant detour. My little shortcut went unhindered and at 1417hrs I gave Jaime a brief wave from the top of said cliff, and then started my journey excelsior.

Starting out at the lower of the two lovely Galatea lakes. Starting out at the lower of the two lovely Galatea lakes. ✕

Trails? Bah. Not for scramblers. (I kid, mostly.) Note the obvious scree ascent at upper right, up and over the Tower's east ridge. Trails? Bah. Not for scramblers. (I kid, mostly.) Note the obvious scree ascent at upper right, up and over the Tower's east ridge. ✕

Starting up Lillian's slopes on firm soil. Starting up Lillian's slopes on firm soil. ✕

I’d attempted to align Nugara’s depiction of the route with what I saw in front of me, but couldn’t for the life of me match the two up. I knew I was in roughly the right place thanks to my GPS watch, and decided I’d ignore the route depiction and just use my eyes. The route up looked pretty straightforwards, after all.

Pleasantly firm slopes gave way to a touch of moderate slabby/blocky terrain around 2520m, which I could have avoided on scree to the west but chose not to - I wasn’t in any particular rush. The sun was shining, the view back over the trio of lakes was jaw-droppingly glorious, and I figured I’d got plenty more in store once I reached the top.

The “top”, however, was further away than I’d guessed. I crested the ridge at 1550hrs, and began to follow it - only to get cliffed out almost immediately trying to circumvent a small tower by a ledge on its north side. I retreated, reviewed Nugara’s guide again, then decided I’d ascended too early and opted to descend back to the south and regain the ridgeline after the obstruction in question.

This proved to be the right call. It also proved to be absurdly time-consuming as I encountered the loosest treadmill scree I’ve ever scrambled on. At some points it was all I could do to simply maintain my elevation and traverse sideways looking for firmer ground to ascend on, and so it was not until 1705hrs that I once again crested the ridge at the spot Nugara describes. From there I made quick work to the summit block, only to once again end up stumped. I could not for the life of me determine how I was supposed to get up this thing - it looked doable, yes, but absolutely not moderate! I burned time debating and attempting what I thought might be a viable route (I could ascend safely, but getting back down would have been dicy), then stepped back and looked at it from a distance, still unable to see how the heck I was supposed to get up this “moderate” summit.

Looking across the ridge towards the summit block, where things get interesting. Looking across the ridge towards the summit block, where things get interesting. ✕

This was the best potential ascent point I found. Doable on the way up, but a nightmare to get back down without a rope. This was the best potential ascent point I found. Doable on the way up, but a nightmare to get back down without a rope. ✕

All the while I was quickly running out of time, as an early-evening thunderstorm rumbled ominously to the south of The Tower. I decided it was time to call it quits as I heard the rush of rain settle onto said peak, and realized it wasn’t long before it’d hit me in turn. I took a quick panorama and then started my descent.

A hasty panorama from Lillian's ridgeline. Summits L to R include Galatea, The Tower, Engadine, Buller, Red, and Bogart.

A hasty panorama from Lillian's ridgeline. Summits L to R include Galatea, The Tower, Engadine, Buller, Red, and Bogart. ✕

I’d resolved on hearing thunder to the south that I’d rather not get cooked by a lighting strike, thanks, and that I’d use the north descent route to Buller Pass that Nugara describes. This would buy me a few additional minutes to get below treeline, rather than forcing me to race back towards the incoming threat. Descending that way turned out to be quite fun, as the rock here is extremely loose and makes for great scree surfing.

At one point I heard the clatter of rocks above me, and turned to see three curious mountain goats staring down at me, meandering around the slope, and impolitely kicking rocks my way. Hoping to scare them off, and admittedly a bit frustrated by getting so close and turning back, I cursed them out with enough expletives to make a sailor proud.

And they stopped and stared at me. There was no more rock-kicking during my entire descent.

I don’t know why. But apparently cursing out mountain goats makes them stop kicking rocks.

Huh.

The skies turn gloomy and thunder sounds behind The Tower, and I decide to bail. The skies turn gloomy and thunder sounds behind The Tower, and I decide to bail. ✕

Godrays over the Spray Lakes reservoir to the west. Godrays over the Spray Lakes reservoir to the west. ✕

Apparently goats stop kicking rocks if you curse them out. Who knew? Apparently goats stop kicking rocks if you curse them out. Who knew? ✕

As I descended further, the scree loosened even more, and surfing often resulted in the entire slope moving with me for as many as 5 meters above and below my position. At one point I became a bit concerned by the mass of rock I’d started moving and stepped sideways and out of it - and the sliding continued without me for a solid minute, while I watched with a mixture of concern and curiosity! I watched my pace after that, and stopped frequently to let the slope settle and make sure I didn’t get too much of it moving. Lillian seems to be a prime candidate for a rockslide, given a sufficient trigger…

Halfway down the slope, I stopped and smacked my head with my palm. I’d figured it out, and couldn’t understand why I hadn’t noticed this earlier: most likely, all I had to do was go around to the other side of the summit block. For some reason, it hadn’t occurred to me to check the other side - don’t ask me why. I was, and still am, just as confused as you. Of course, there wasn’t much point in turning back now - I doubted I’d be able to re-ascend the slope I was coming down at any reasonable pace, let alone the incoming thunderstorm.

The slope down to Buller Pass is extremely loose. Exercise caution here. The slope down to Buller Pass is extremely loose. Exercise caution here. ✕

Heading back to camp at Lillian Lake. Heading back to camp at Lillian Lake. ✕

The rain rolled in just after I descended through Buller Pass and got close enough to treeline that I wasn’t concerned. A lighting strike just over Red Peak quickly confirmed that I’d made the right call; my little jaunt could have become quite the electrifying experience if I’d stayed much longer. Rain or not, and even though I’d made my trip a few kilometers longer, I found myself enjoying the hike towards and over Guinn’s pass. The ground stayed in one freaking place - which seems like a low bar until you’ve been up a peak like Lillian! I crested Guinn’s pass at 1943hrs, and descended quickly from there to Lillian Lake, arriving back at camp by 2046hrs.

Jaime wholeheartedly agreed with my decision to bail. Likewise, we had a good chuckle over my “brain fart” up on the ridge that had cost me the summit.

I decided pretty quickly that I’d be back. I’ve got a few other summits on my radar for this region of K-country and want to chain them into a bit of a peak-bagging extravaganza - both for fun, and to see exactly how hard I can get away with pushing my body. Loose scree or not, the traverse over Lillian is a fun one, and one I won’t complain about repeating to properly bag the summit.