I went back out to S-400 with the goal of finally climbing Exodus Peak. Camped out by Dipper Creek to give myself a head start for an early morning push. The night was peaceful, just me, the forest, and the distant promise of Type 2 fun.
From the creek crossing, I followed the road north until it forked. Just about 50 meters past where the road ends, I left the comfort of anything resembling a trail and began the classic Coast Mountains rite of passage: bushwhacking.
I tried traversing higher up toward the creek thinking I'd outsmart the terrain… spoiler: I did not. The bush got thicker, the angle steeper, and before I knew it I was engaged in some full-contact devil’s club belaying. My arms look like I tried to hug a cactus.
Eventually, I dropped down through the worst of the brush and got into boulder-hopping territory. Crossed several avalanche paths and debris fields that reminded me I was very much in the offseason of good decisions. Still, I managed to gain the ridge, sweaty, scratched, and low-key questioning my life choices.
It was at that point, staring at the final bit of climbing ahead, that I made the rare (but wise) call: I bailed. The combination of late start, terrain fatigue, and the ever-present devil’s club convinced me today was not the day for Exodus.
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