Heli-hiking in the Rocky Mountains, Canada: A dose of summer adventure in Canada

I'm heading towards Golden in the Rocky Mountains, where I'll be picked up by the Uber – in this instance, a helicopter – and airlifted into the hiking, climbing and skiing mecca of the Bugaboos, a granite range set amidst the 540-million-year-old Purcell Mountains.

For those going heli-hiking with CMH, the standard stop-off the night before (it's an early helicopter pick up, so necessary to stay nearby) is the stunning Banff. I opt to go a little off the tourist-beaten track and head to the equally beautiful Panorama resort near the quaint town of Invermere (which happens to have its own inland "beaches"). With some of the best mountain biking, hiking, golfing and ski slopes, Panorama is little known outside Canada but an adventurer's paradise.

On my first morning, I catch a lift to the top of the mountain (some 2370 metres up) for an outdoor yoga class on the deck in rising summer sun. Later, after a stroll around the picturesque golf course and along the river, I sit on the deck of my lodge apartment drinking a locally brewed beer and looking out to a deer trotting down the street before the vast expanse of mountains. It's magic, but nothing on what I'm about to experience.

The next morning, I drive to the CMH helicopter depot near Golden.

My first ever helicopter ride is exhilarating; we crouch, windswept, close to where it lands and scuttle in. It lifts lightly and we zoom out over serpentine streams, dense forest and a curtain of swept-back mountains.

Less than 15 minutes later, we land on the manicured lawn behind the intimate, 33-room Bugaboo lodge, nestled amidst the mountains and designed to take in the extraordinary 3200-metre-high granite Bugaboo spire, considered one of the best rocks to climb in Canada.

CMH, the world's largest heli-hiking and heli-skiing company, is best known for attracting adventurous skiers and snow boarders, keen to access the sort of snow and unadulterated slopes that can only be reached by helicopter.

It is less known (outside Canada, at least) for its summer alternative – helicopter as Uber to drop us, on request, to various otherwise inaccessible mountains, cliff faces and glaciers.

Heli-hiking draws a slightly different crowd to heli-skiing; while it is an experience for the adventurous, you don't have to be an extreme sportsperson. Among our group are couples and groups of friends in their 50s and 60s, a young family who come annually to explore the terrain with a private guide, a mum and daughter, and a handful of singles ranging in age from 30 to 60.

Over the next three days we will feast on the sort of fresh, well-executed food that you never experience on mountains (it is flown in by helicopter every few days and prepared by a team of chefs), soothe our aching muscles in the baths in each of our rooms or at the in-house spa, hang out and get to know one another at the bar or in the rooftop spa and sauna.

But mostly we will go on adventures.

In the morning, we are kitted up with hiking boots and provided with waterproof gear (there is also a shop in the lodge in case, like me, you don't consider bringing things like decent socks). We are then separated into small groups depending on fitness levels and preferences; heli-hiking with CMH is very much a choose-your-own-adventure. You can go for half or full days, pick the level of difficulty that you like and even the type of terrain.

Given my "holiday" goal, I go all in for maximum difficulty.

On the first morning, after a stretch class and a breakfast of good coffee and bircher muesli with stewed and fresh fruit, as well as pastries, eggs, bacon and toast for those who want it, our group is dropped at a high shale-covered mountain.

We skirt up the side of the Warren Peak, 2880 metres high, along a "goat highway". There is nothing but snow-dusted mountains, valleys of turquoise lakes and blue skies into the horizon.

At this elevation, trees do not grow. Only the odd wildflower or tusk of grass bursts through the carpet of silver and charcoal, russet and chocolate-coloured shale and pebble quartzite.

After stopping at the summit for a pre-packed snack (apples, nut bars, home-made cookies and hummus wraps) we walk and slide down the other side into a valley of streams, larch trees and balsam fir, fresh grizzly paw prints and wildflowers, including Indian paintbrush, rugwort, monkey flower, marsh marigold and arnica.

"Is it dangerous?" I ask our guide, looking warily at the paw prints and the holes where they have scratched in search of a chipmunk meal. "Everything in the mountains is dangerous," he replies, before telling me that in his many decades in the mountains he has been charged 10 times by bears.

They normally baulk just before they get to you, to let you know to get out of their territory. "But you never know," he says, adding that he doesn't carry bear spray and has never been attacked.

I'm wary, but notice, despite his calm demeanour, he scans as we go, keeping an eye out for potential hazards or problems ahead, all the while bantering and providing insight into the geology and history of the mountains that we're in.

We don't see any bears, although we do spot mountain goats skipping down the side of the mountain and an array of birds.

These are mountains of many faces. The following day our group chooses to spend half a day climbing up vertical rock face, trying out via ferrata, which means the "iron way".

Via ferrata was developed in Italy during the first world war to help facilitate soldiers' passage through the Dolomites. It involves iron rungs embedded into the rock and a cable that runs alongside which climbers attach themselves to for safety.

There are varying degrees of difficulty and the one we do, a more experienced climber tells me, is about mid-range. There are rungs on some parts of the rock, but not others, meaning we have to rock climb to get to the next "ladder".

The mum and daughter I'm with, as well as a woman who became scared during the first day's climb, scramble up with apparent ease, exhilarated and enjoying themselves. I, on the other hand, become sweaty palmed and terrified. My harness is hooked on to the cable, but we are high up and I find it hard to feel my footing with clunky hiking boots on.

It's a slow ascent and I have a moment where I pause, breathing deeply, unsure of how to make it to the next ladder and wanting nothing more than for the helicopter to appear and get me the hell out of here. The guide below me is patient. Put your foot here, your hand there, he instructs, you can do it.

We make it to the top and the lump in my throat gives way to deep relief and pride that I made it. Not only does the external landscape shift dramatically with each walk, the landscape inside me is shifting too.

On day three, we ask the guides if we can do a glacier hike. "Sure," they say and pull out crampons, ice picks and the rope that will tie us into a chain-gang of sorts in case someone slips into a crevice.

I find the equipment more daunting than the actual hike this time. We are dropped off by the helicopter onto a slab of algae-rimmed snow, surrounded by the mountains. It's so cold that my fingers start to burn and I wish I had a second pair of gloves on as we trek, crunching over fractured ice and skipping across abysses, pausing on the other side at a distance to peer over the edge into the never-ending depths.

We pass ade-coloured glacial lakes and sculptural formations created by the ice sheets pushing together over time.It is an otherworldly landscape, made more so because after our lunch the helicopter picks us up and places us on a nearby sun-bathed mountain of larch and fir tress and grass saturated with the bright colours of purple, yellow and red wildflowers. It is so warm that, as we come to a calm spot, we dive into the stream to cool off.

The vista has become more like the stuff of fairytales each day we have been in the mountains and more beautiful than I could have imagined.

"Was it what you expected", my guide asks me on the final day. "It was more", I replied, and I meant it.

TRIP NOTES

MORE

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VISIT

A Summer day lift pass at Panorama Resort to access hiking and mountain biking trails costs $CAD52 for adults and $CAD28 for children. See www.panoramaresort.com

A round at the award-winning, internationally renowned golf course, Greywolf, which is located at Panorama, costs from $CAD59. See www.greywolfgolf.com

FLY

Air Canada operates multiple daily flights between Sydney and Brisbane to Calgary, via Vancouver. See www.aircanada.com/au

STAY

There are a variety of lodging options at Panorama Resort. See www.panoramaresort.com/lodging

Accommodation at CMH Bugaboos, which costs $CAD3390 per person for three nights, includes all meals, hikes and use of lodge facilities. See www.canadianmountainholidays.com

Sarah Berry was a guest of CMH and Tourism Canada.