Heli-Hiking Adventures in the Cariboos

As a child growing up pretty much at sea level, I’d often look at the snowy peaks of mountains on family trips and wonder what goes on way up there, how peaceful it may be, and what animals may be lurking. As I grew older and traveled to see more of the world, helicopter, and small-plane sightseeing tours helped satisfy that curiosity. However, on one particular helicopter flight over the South Canoe Glacier in Canada’s Cariboo Mountains, not only did I see thick layers of snow and ice piled on for millennia, but I actually landed, to explore the area on foot. Heli-hiking was about to open a whole new world for me.

“Heli-hiking” is exactly what it sounds like; it involves a helicopter taking hikers up to the mountains when most of the snow has melted, to backcountry hiking trails not typically accessible any other way. It’s the summertime equivalent of the more well-known term “heli-skiing”—portmanteau of heli from “helicopter” and skiing — in which backcountry ski slopes are accessed via chopper in the winter.

I found myself heli-hiking with the company that’s laid claim to inventing the concept, Canadian Mountain Holidays (CMH) , the long-running North American heli-skiing company that found a purpose for their choppers in the summer, when they began offering heli-hiking tours out of their Cariboo Lodge in 1978. In the 1980s, their heli-hiking summer program expanded to their lodge in the Bugaboos and their Bobbie Burns Lodge, servicing the Purcell and Selkirk Mountains. In 2021, CMH was acquired by Alterra—purveyors of the Ikon Pass— allowing Ikon Pass holders to also find purpose in the summer months , from late June to early September (when the bug bite situation is bearable).

Goats and Glaciers

“Okay, you mountain goats!” blurted out Tim, one of CMH’s hiking guides, as words of encouragement to my intrepid heli-hiking group. Our helicopter transport had brought us from the CMH Cariboo Lodge to the trailhead of the Crazy Horse Trail at about 5,300 feet above sea level, for the casual three-mile upward hike to about 7,200 feet. As if the helicopter ride wasn’t already inspiring, we trekked on foot, with views of the surrounding Cariboo Mountains and the South Canoe Glacier we had just seen from above, through a sprawl of glacially-formed but eroded bedrock, and eventually up the incline of a moraine to another helipad. On the way, I finally saw up close just what exists in these remote upper mountains, from pink wildflower moss campion to peculiar-looking rock formations, many of them glittering in the sun with the presence of sparkly mica. While we didn’t encounter any mountain goats, we knew they had been there recently because Tim pointed out a set of tracks. In lieu of that goat, we encountered a family of ptarmigans instead, scampering around like chickens in a patch of melting snow.

From the Crazy Horse Trail, we got a lift from helipad to helipad, to the trailhead of the Ninth Hole Trail, called that because the trail begins in an open meadow resembling the green of a golf course. The golf comparisons ended there because our hike was mostly within sight of the magnificent North Canoe Glacier, which was calving big chunks of ice, resulting in big avalanches right before our eyes—at a safe distance—under the hot summer sun.

Life in Luxury and a Mountain Lodge

While being blessed to see all these natural sights, breathe the freshest mountain air, and drink refreshing glacial water poured directly into a Nalgene from a pure mountain stream, the best part of heli-hiking was the luxurious convenience of having a helicopter to pick us up to take us to the next place, may it be back to the lodge or another trail. It was a luxury that might have lost its novelty over time but never got old. CMH even coined the phrase “heli-bump,” which is merely the act of being airlifted by helicopter to another section of a trail to avoid a steep, difficult, or otherwise time-consuming area. For example, during another hike along the Zillmer River, we appreciated a heli-bump to Zillmer Meadows so we could see the view—and still make it back to the CMH Cariboo Lodge in time for dinner.

The lodge was my base camp for my three-day heli-hiking trip. Tucked remotely in the Cariboo Mountains, it’s a seven-hour drive—followed by a 10-minute helicopter flight—from the closest main airport of Calgary, Alberta, which seems long, but the road trip is well-paced with stops, plus it’s incredibly scenic as it passes through the Canadian Rockies of Banff and Lake Louise. Once at the lodge, there’s no need to worry about being in the middle of nowhere because everything you need is there: all trekking and rain gear, comfortable beds, balconies with mountain views, and a spa house with sauna, steam room, massage sessions, and a communal hot tub. There’s also a swimming hole in the form of a mountain pond, which is also great for stand-up paddleboarding. Nearby, on the lawn, people play yard games, like badminton, croquet, and ladder toss—that is when a local black bear isn’t wandering around, looking for the wild berries that grow nearby.

With all the active things available for me to opt into in and around the CMH Cariboo Lodge, it was a good thing the meals were as hearty as they were delicious. During my stay, food offerings included Alberta beef prime rib with Yorkshire pudding and trimmings, barbecued and lemon pepper pork ribs with honey polenta cake, roasted chicken with farro, halibut with coconut carrot purée and rice noodles, DIY poke bowls, cheese plates, and more. In fact, people who are familiar with CMH’s gluttonous offerings jokingly say that CMH stands for “Cheese and Meat Holidays.”

Fortunately, there’s also a gym at the Cariboo Lodge to help burn off any unwanted calories, with weights, machines, and a small climbing wall. It also holds a daily stretch class that I attended each morning, before venturing out to the mountains with a helicopter on another day.

Fearless on the Via Ferrata

CMH offers several Via Ferrata courses across its three summer base lodges, and from the Cariboo Lodge, the classic one is the Zillmer Canyon Via Ferrata, which follows the walls of a ravine as the Zillmer River cascades down it as rushing waterfalls. With climbing harnesses, rain gear, and gloves on, my group took a helicopter to the helipad near the approach, and we followed the lead of our guide Friðjōn to the cable-lined course.

We clipped in, clipped out, clipped in, and clipped out just as you would any Via Ferrata course in the world, but this one was especially thrilling—and not for the acrophobic. As we ascended the canyon, parts of the course were just iron rungs placed on a sheer vertical face of a rock wall, with surging water dozens of feet below us. Not only that, but a few times we had to traverse the canyon to the other side by means of balance beams and slackline cables—again with the rush of waterfalls right underneath us.

The Zillmer Canyon Via Ferrata is divided into two stages, and after lunch, we ziplined over the canyon to the trailhead of the second stage. It continued to follow along the increasingly strong flow of the mountain stream dripping off the Zillmer Glacier, but was a bit more technical since the route-setter was taller and the rungs were more spread apart, forcing us to think a little bit more about using natural features at certain points—that is, when the horseflies weren’t trying to distract us. Ultimately we finished the course and got a well-deserved heli-bump to the top.

Ending on a High Note

For my third and final morning in the Cariboos, I was satisfied with a good breakfast and a hearty dinner the night before. After stretch class, I was soon whisked away with my group on another helicopter ride—the novelty still not wearing off—this time with CMH guide Hahn. She led us on a trail to the glacial Buehler Lake, named in memory of a beloved Cariboo Mountain guide, where we truly ended our trip on a “high note”; Mount Robson, the tallest peak in the Canadian Rockies, was seen in the distance.

Not only did we end our trip on a high note, we concluded on an extremely cold one. On the shore of Buehler Lake, we followed the CMH tradition of the daring by stripping down to our underwear and doing an impromptu cold plunge in the frigid glacial lake waters. The glacial plunge revived us and got the blood flowing—all before that stagnant 7-hour bus ride back to Calgary. Of course, we still had to take one last helicopter ride to get to the bus, and it still never, ever got old.

If you’re interested in heli-hiking with CMH, check out their summer adventure offerings at CMHSummer.com .

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