Similkameen Headwaters: Mount Kelly, Nordheim, Norske, and Morgedal Peaks

What better way to ring in the New Year than spending three days cold, windblasted, and slightly lost in the Similkameen Headwaters? Alex, Dan, and I traded party hats for toques and champagne for snow in the face as we set off from Allison Pass to explore some obscure Nordic-ski-history-inspired peaks. Because, apparently, we celebrate holidays through historical reenactment now.

Day 1:
The plan was simple: ski towards Mount Kelly, then head west to Nordheim Peak, and eventually set up camp. The weather had other ideas, a chaotic sampler platter of snow, sunshine, and “oh god, is the wind trying to take my skis off my feet?”

We made it to Nordheim SE1, skied the north ridge, and set up basecamp at the saddle for two nights. Camp was cozy if you define “cozy” as “mildly exposed and aggressively snowing.”

Day 2:
The weather calmed down and so did we? enough to start bagging some true peaklet royalty. First up was Norske SE3, right next to camp. Then we followed the ridge west to tag Norske Peak (basically a forested pimple) and the more respectable Morgedal Peak, which we climbed and skied via the north ridge.

Skiing back down was surprisingly pleasant. Minimal bushwhacking! The mountains gave us a break! Probably out of pity.

Dan earned MVP status this night by summoning a glorious campfire and busting out sausages like some sort of gourmet backcountry wizard. Morale: restored.

Day 3:
The weather decided it had been too kind, so we got a full day of overcast mood lighting. We backtracked our route, but of course I had to get FOMO over Nordheim’s true summit. Alex peer-pressured me into tagging it solo while he and Dan headed toward Mount Kelly. The summit was rocky, socked in, and appropriately anticlimactic. Classic.

Eventually reunited with the boys at Kelly, then skied the final gully back to the highway, which was... how do I put this nicely? Absolute garbage. Breakable crust and tracked-out sadness. Legs were crying. Spirits were wheezing.

Oh—and on day one, someone (not naming names) managed to trigger a spicy little 10-meter wind slab, just to keep things exciting. Lots of whumphing too, so avalanche conditions were... let’s say “suboptimal.”