Bear Canyon Blitz

A close-to-home multisport.

Spring is the red-headed stepchild of the seasons. It’s an in-between period with crusty old snow, muddy bike trails, sloppy trail-running, and temperatures too cold to enjoy a swim. The rivers run heavy and high, so unless you’re a daredevil rafter or river surfer, you’re likely to stay away until the flows level out. The fishing ain’t bad, but it’s usually pretty chilly, and most of the bug life is waiting for summer to explode. All things considered, spring isn’t really the best for anything. But, on the right days, at the right times, and in the right places, it offers the chance to do everything.

Bear Canyon is one of those places. The lush drainage, hollowed out by Bear Creek, sits between Mount Ellis and Chestnut Mountain just 15 minutes southeast of downtown Bozeman. In the winter, skiers and splitboarders flock there to skin up, then ski down the former ski hill on its north-facing slope. In the summer, climbers tote ropes and crash-pads up the canyon’s south-facing slope to scale an assortment of sport and trad routes and V3-V8 boulders. There’s a short window in the springtime, when the south-facing crag has sufficiently dried out but the north-facing slope is still covered in slush, that those who come prepared can do both.

Clad in snow pants, t-shirts, and sunglasses, we slashed our way down through mounds of spring slush.

It was early spring, and a string of 50-degree days had melted most of the snow from Bear Canyon’s rock walls, but enough slush hung onto the ski hill for a fun run. Rather than choose between the two activities, my friend Travis proposed a dual-sport day, so we packed ropes, draws, and harnesses along with our skis and skins, picked up another friend, Seamus, and made for the canyon.

The mercury reached 68 that afternoon, and by the time we’d skinned halfway up the first incline, the jackets we’d donned at the car were buried in our backpacks. With muscles finely tuned from a winter’s worth of skiing, we breezed to the top. Then, clad in snow pants, t-shirts, and sunglasses, we slashed our way down through mounds of spring slush. Avoiding exposed rocks, bushes, and dirt revealed by the melting snow, it was a wet-and-wild ride to the bottom, where we clicked out of our bindings, slung skis over our shoulders, and stepped over the divide separating snow and grass, demarcating the boundary between winter and summer. It was on to the next activity.

We slipped and skidded down on the descent, which was the most dangerous thing we did all day, resulting in soaking-wet boots after an unsuccessful creek crossing.

After stopping at the car to exchange gear, we set off up the trail, winding our way to the base of the crag. Conditions made the approach a little challenging—the springtime obstacles included slick creek crossings and sheets of ice coating the trails. On a particularly slippery section of trail, we had to fight to keep ourselves from spilling over the edge, clutching onto weeds and tree roots to keep our balance, but we knuckled through and reached Under the Sea Wall to find several groups of climbers already arrayed along its base. Seamus made quick work of Coral Crimper, climbing up into the sunshine, then both Travis and I had a go, testing creaky upper-body muscles that had only seen the inside of a gym for four months. They served well enough, but after running up Snorkeling in the Sink next door, and with the sun already dipping below the opposite edge of the canyon, we decided to call it a day. We slipped and skidded down on the descent, which was the most dangerous thing we did all day, resulting in soaking-wet boots after an unsuccessful creek crossing, and drove home with reggae crackling out of the speakers in Travis’s rickety old Subaru.

While our Bear Canyon slush run couldn’t compare to death drops off the Ridge, and the climbing was likewise pretty mellow, our day was a fitting handoff from winter to summer. I have a feeling that the Bear Canyon Blitz will become a new spring tradition.