the bonus days

In 2012 the climbing season came to an abrupt end in the second week in October. I expected the same this year and briefly in September thought that we would have to settle for less. As it turned out, high pressure settled over the west coast in early October and stayed all month. During the first two weeks I was pre-occupied with my new route at Pet Wall, but after that it seemed indecent to dive back into another lengthy project - instead I tried to just enjoy these bonus days whilst they lasted. Stupidly I left my camera at home most of the time so was pleased to stumble over this aerial footage, shot during that period, which gives a great flavour.



Trad climbing has taken a backseat for me this year, but I have had a few aspirations tucked away, waiting for the right moment. At the top of the list was Crime of the Century, a classic .11c finger crack at Penny Lane cliff in the Smoke Bluffs. Because it is very easily accessed from above, it has been loved to death by top-ropers and has lost a lot of texture on key holds. In summer heat it is a very poor choice, but even in the crisp fall conditions, on the day of my attempt, it felt quite slick. I had hoped to flash the route and did just manage to achieve that, despite a foot slipping near the top. Very satisfying. That day was my 100th climbing outside in 2013, which seemed quite apt (100 ... Century ... geddit?).

Otherwise I have mostly left route choices to my climbing partners. Andy Robinson came to Squamish several times during the month. For some reason we repeatedly ended up at the Malamute cliff by the oceanfront, perhaps because it gets plenty of sun. Over three sessions we climbed all the various link-up pitches on the excellent Grub Street cliff, including the Grub Street route itself: Andy's first .11a lead at Squamish. In the same area, we took a "look" at Agonal, a three pitch face climb which may be one of Squamish's most aesthetic lines. The two main pitches follow a diagonal basalt dyke across an otherwise blank granite face with a giant overlap underneath, giving a spacey isolated feel. I found the climbing very precarious and technical, and used several bolts for progress to lead the crux .11c pitch. I need to return to try the route clean next year. Below is Andy following in rather better style.

"Feared and revered, a tick of this friction climb up the imposing black slab is a feather in any slab climber's cap" says the Squamish Select guide about Magic Carpet Ride at Shannon Falls. I have read that several times whilst glancing through the book, mentally filing the route under "never". Slab routes are scary, especially sparsely-bolted ones from the era when classics like MCR were first established. However I owed some belay sessions to my french-canadian friend, Marie-Michelle, who had helped me with the Pet Wall route, and bizarrely she thought trying the route was a good idea. Having extracted a promise that I would not have to lead in any circumstance, I agreed to hold her rope.

Magic Carpet Ride is an inspiring line, ascending a distinctive black tongue of granite for four pitches. From below there appear to be no holds at all in its ~120m length. There are also no bolts for the first 15m, which was somewhat damp, so Marie opted to start via the evocatively-named Not Your Normal Nightmare to the right, which is harder but better protected. We later both top-roped the original start. 

In theory the meat of the route is the middle two pitches at .11a and .11c. Both have long mandatory run-outs of up to about 8m, so ~16m falls in a worse case scenario. Neither of us could distinguish the difficulty between the two pitches; both felt very thin. A typical move would be rocking up high on a single millimetre edge or barely-visible smear, whilst pawing at anything at all with the hands to maintain momentum. However the top pitch, in theory just .10c, proved the true crux, as we discovered it had not dried out since the late-September rains. Marie's lead of this pitch was the most impressive thing I have witnessed in a long while. In the middle of the pitch is a very long runout on pure friction which was damp. Marie took several falls there - long enough for me to reel in significant amounts of rope whilst she was still sliding - but she somehow maintained enough psyche to keep going. And past the last three bolts, also very spaced, the slab was simply covered in grease. Marie's technique for climbing this section was to randomly tag patches of slime with chalk and pretend they were holds. You have to wonder how European history might have evolved differently had these brick-hard Québécois stayed in France instead of sailing west in the 16th century. Maybe we englishmen would all be speaking french?

Marie contemplating the crux pitch of MCR (feather photoshopped retrospectively)

Anyway, all this late-season adventuring is now just memories as the weather has decisively turned to merde ... winter has arrived. I am not too unhappy. A vague training plan is taking shape, there are a couple of business ideas I want to explore and I have a splitboard ready to collect from Prior. 

off the couch

While working Project Grizzly in August and September I couldn't help noticing some bolts on the wall just to the right, which did not seem to be associated with any route. There were at the end of an impressive undercling feature, crossing golden glacier-polished granite above and left of several established routes, notably the hallowed "Burning down the Couch". I asked on the squamishclimbing.com web forum whether anyone knew anything of the bolt's history and got two incompatible responses: that they were bolts used during filming of the last Twilight movie, which contains a brief climbing sequence; that they were an abandoned project of a climber who had since left town. The latter seemed more likely, so I tried emailing the climber, Craig, through his guiding website, but got no response. I then lost interest for a while. But about two weeks ago I happened to mention the topic to my friend Eric, who seems to usually know something about most things. Eric knows Craig and suggested I messaged him through Facebook. Craig did then respond, acknowledged the bolts were his and kindly offered the project to me.

The unclimbed rock

Craig also made a comment that he had decided that the project needed more bolts, which was my conclusion after rappelling the line once. A lot of bolts have been placed at Squamish but there is definitely a sense that drilling is not welcome everywhere. There are no "rules" as such, and no final arbiter of what is OK, but I am aware there are some strong opinions out there and that as a recent arrival in the climbing community I should probably tread carefully. Pet Wall in particular is an impeccable piece of granite with several famous climbers involved in its development, even though it has come to be viewed mainly as a sport cliff and has many bolts. The excellent Squamish Access Society has produced a best practices document, which warns:

"Careful consideration and thoughtful contemplation of your actions is warranted whenever considering placing fixed protection. When in doubt, seek opinions of other climbers including seasoned route developers before you take action. Keep in mind, opinion on these matters vary widely and individuals who disagree with what you have done may take action and remove your work."

Anyway, after a session top-roping the line with Eric, I decided to take the plunge and added two more bolts. There are two obvious ways to access the new climbing, either directly from below on a brutally crimpy .12d route, Rocket, or by a short traverse from halfway up the easier Burning down the Couch. I opted for the Couch approach as it results in a long route with escalating difficulty - about .11d to half-height then about .12b. The hardest moves are right at the top.

Top-roping at the start of the new climbing - the line is obvious!

The process of leading the route wasn't too eventful. As often, timing the weather and getting a belayer to the cliff at the right moment was the key issue. In this case, I am very grateful to Mari-Michelle, a recent partner, who came to the cliff twice on consecutive days to assure success, even though we didn't get much else done on either day. The length of the route and reasonably high difficulty throughout means a lot of focused concentration; not always my strong point. The final redpoint was quite a beautiful experience. I climbed very precisely but in a nicely detached way. Just before the final crux, which was fully in the sun, I looked back and saw the rope arcing away then vanishing back into the shade at the base - an amazing illusion.

Though it is now mid-October and was raining hard at the same time last year, we are instead being blessed with bluebird skies and crisp conditions. No excuses for slacking off!

Whilst casting about for a name for the new route I came up with "Off the Couch". As well as the reference to Burning down the Couch -  which it unquestionably moves "off" -  I also liked the inference that the "work" must continue! I don't think I have the stomach for any more long redpoint campaigns but I hope to exploit the great friction to try some of the harder trad routes on my wishlist.

And finally ... I did some research to try and make sense of the Twilight filming anecdote, and found this clip. "My" part of Pet is clearly visible (briefly! 1:45 -1:48) but the climber is a few metres right of the new line, below some other mystery bolts I have spotted there. Actually that is also a potential short new route ("Breaking Dawn the Couch"?) but I will leave for someone else!

taming the grizzly

Last week I climbed my first 5.13b graded route. Translated into european sport grades, this equates to the magic 8a - a very long held ambition. Over the last eighteen months several people have asked me what I "do", to which I have given a wide variety of answers, usually complicated and often nuanced. But the very simplest version has always been: "I quit my job to try to climb 8a". So: it's done. "Now what?" would be a suitable question at this point - and I do feel a general review of life looming - but I'll write about that another time (or keep it private). What follows is all about the send.

Project Grizzly is on the Petrifying Wall ("Pet") at Murrin Park, 10 minutes south of Squamish. Though it gets four stars in the guidebook, and would probably be in the book's Top 100 list were the author not being modest (he did the first ascent in 2000), it is rare to see anyone on it. One reason may be that cams have to be plugged into a flake crack to reach the first bolt at about 8m and most people visit Pet for pure sport climbing. This section is shared with a long wandering 5.10 trad route, The Coffin, put up during the first wave of development at Pet in the 1980s. Several of those historic routes at Pet have been retro-bolted but not The Coffin, presumably because the first ascentionist won't acquiesce. Anyway, it is not a major inconvenience. The flake is only 5.9 at most and above is a small ledge where you can pause to get into sport climbing mode.

Project Grizzly: the features haunting me for two months!

The next 18m is the meat of the route: granite face climbing up a gently-overhanging wall with no good rests. It starts fairly easily through a couple of overlaps on reasonable holds. A couple of crisp layaway moves then reach the start of a short rightwards traverse on a strip of very slick glacier-polished rock. This section, which only has only a couple of real handholds and just slopey ramps for the feet, initially seemed impossible and took me a long time to comprehend. Even after I had a semi-workable approach, I ended up scrapping it entirely in favour of something more efficient. By the time I started making serious redpoint attempts the movement felt totally solid; a very satisfying transformation. At the end of the traverse is a reach to a crimp rail in an overhanging bulge. The clip here, off the rail, is disconcerting as it feels like you may lose grip and backflip at any moment. For me the next move felt to be the hardest, a long dynamic grab for a distant sloper. Catching it accurately was key as there are only certain areas of texture that allow me to hold it.

From the sloper, you have to immediately transition into the route's weirdest and most technical move, a tenuous couple of high step-ups, with the left hand locked in an inverted chickenwing position on a small undercling. At the end of the movement the hand has to be dynamically unweighted and repositioned into a conventional undercling to allow the next clip to be made. One more awkward move follows, high-stepping on to the sloper whilst crossing through to a hidden undercut pocket. For me this pocket takes two fingers and feels very positive but other people, with whom I worked the route, didn't find it so useful. A long reach from the pocket gains the base of the "rest" block, a large feature creating a generous layback hold. This is the best hold on the route. Unfortunately it is pasted on an overhanging wall with modest footholds. For me it was sufficient to recover some crimp strength for the next few moves but hardly a good rest.

This very low quality video (my work, tripod mounted Olympus Pen camera) shows some of the moves up to the block:



From the block there is a long semi-dynamic reach out left to a crimp rail above a small overlap. This is another move that initially seemed impossible but eventually felt straightforward. Or so I thought. In fact, to my great surprise and irritation, I fell here on my penultimate redpoint try. Beyond are some slightly easier but powerful moves on small flakes on a kind of headwall above the overlap. The last move in this sequence is a cross-through to a large but perversely-bad sloper, which requires some careful body positioning to hold. During my successful redpoint burn, I came very close to falling here, I think as much because of whole body tiredness as fatigued arms.

Routes that involve a wide variety of climbing style are often deemed "classic". Up to this height, Project Grizzly deserves that label. However it is the last section that makes the route truly great - or a climber's nightmare! Above the headwall the angle kicks back to steep slab and there is a foothold allowing a good rest if you press your face into the rock to keep balance. The anchor chains are only about 4m above. Unfortunately, the rock is glacier-polished again and has almost no visible holds, except for one cruelly-minuscule rock horn at full stretch on which I could half-pad crimp with two fingers. I spent more time trying to figure out a reliable sequence for this "slab of doom" than on any other part of the route, even sending pestering emails to two people I knew who had done it.

My engagement with the Grizzly lasted almost two months in total, visiting the route about once per week initially. By about half-way through that period I believed I could do all the moves - if not actually link them or hold on long enough to clip - but was totally shut down by the final slab. One day I simply went to the top of the cliff alone and did nothing but attempt the slab. After an hour of tries I had got nowhere and pulled back up the rope. I was quite depressed and sat for a long while vacuously contemplating the view out over Howe Sound. I was on the point of abandoning the route but finally decided I should at least try in different shoes. I swapped my Muiras for stiffer 5.10 Anasazi Whites. Another hour later I had still not solved the problem, but had at least discovered that with the right hand crimping hard on the horn I could stem reliably on two unobvious footholds without slipping - yielding about half a meter of height gain! From there, for someone of my height a very smooth vertical edge is tantalising out of reach for the right hand, but any attempt to remove the right hand from the horn resulted in an immediate fall. Again I was about to give up, but quite instinctively (it seemed mad in theory) tried reaching through with my left hand instead to the edge. Amazingly, by forcing a big stretch in my left shoulder, I could just get a finger on to the edge in a gaston position, then rock up on to my right foot to secure the hold better. A very aesthetic move. From there two better hand holds came into reach and the slab mastered.

My psyche for the route rose exponentially with the knowledge that the slab was possible. A few days later I was back with some friends top-roping the whole route, hoping to demonstrate the new move. But I couldn't do it. Not even close. Any effort to reach up with the left hand caused an immediate fall. I tried on lead as well: again hopeless. I was totally mystified. Had I cheated subtly the one time I had done it? Had my solo top-rope rig helped me in some way? Two weeks after my first solo session I was back at the top again, with a newly-purchased micro-traxion, which allows solo top-roping with a slack'ish rope, so I could eliminate rope tension as a reason for success. Again I could do the move, indeed I did it three times in a row within a few minutes.

By this time I had the rest of the route sufficiently dialled that I had started redpoint attempts and was getting very gradually higher. 13th September: tried twice falling both times at the third bolt. 15th September: tried once falling at the fourth bolt. On the 18th I tried once, fell at the fourth bolt, but continued bolt-to-bolt to the top. This time surely I could at least pull the top move? No! Later that same day, I tried again on top rope and almost linked the whole route apart from one dumb error on the headwall. And then succeeded on the slab. So it seemed I could do the slab, but not on lead! The only plausible explanation was fatigue - that I needed to be as fresh as possible to lock off the horn whilst reaching for the gaston.

I took a day off on 19th September to rest. It felt risky as a storm was forecast then rain for weeks beyond. On the 20th September it was thankfully still dry though almost certainly the last possible day for the Grizzly in 2013. I persuaded my very reliable local friend Bob to come to Pet for a session. He has not climbed much this year so we warmed up on a couple of the easy trad cracks right by the Murrin parking lot. I top-roped one of the cracks multiple times eliminating holds. It was more fun than the rather earnest warmup pitches I had been doing normally, and I think helped reduce my redpoint stress considerably. I also felt strong. Back at the Grizzly I made my fifth redpoint try, getting all the way to the "rest" block for the first time. Surely the route was in the bag? But I fell at the lurch to the crimp rail. Was it too humid? Thirty minutes later I headed back up again for try #6. A gentle breeze appeared as I climbed the initial flake: an excellent omen. This time I made it past all the cruxes, on through the headwall to below the slab of doom. I rested a long time there, perhaps ten minutes. Then stepped up into the stem, crimped hard on the horn ... and couldn't move. Somehow I reversed back to the rest without slipping off and resumed the miserable face-against-the-wall rest. Defeat seemed inevitable. I had no more time for another redpoint that day and anyway had always felt burned out by two attempts on the route. What to do? Another age passed until Bob patiently noted the obvious: I may as well try again. A few seconds later I was back up, somehow got my finger to the gaston and my emotions switched in a instant from despair to elation. In another few moments I was at the chain.

POSTSCRIPT: All of this grade-chasing drama would be worth less were Project Grizzly not actually 8a! One local friend, when told I had done it, reached quickly for an old guidebook, noted that the route was "recent" and declared with a knowing smile that only the old routes at Pet had solid grades. However, the internet is supportive: aside from mine, there are six ascents of the Grizzly recorded at 8a.nu or Sendage.com, all at 8a/ 5.13b and none qualified with "soft". In contrast, Squamish's most popular 8a, Vultures Circling, also at Murrin Park, has been flagged as "soft" by several people. But time will tell.

Horne Lake

Road-trip! OK: mini road-trip. Last week a complex array of parent/ child/ holiday schedules aligned so that my friend Todd and I could escape for a couple of days. Both of us were keen to check out the limestone at Horne Lake on Vancouver Island. Our mutual friend Travis also joined, helpfully sharing the ferry costs.

The climbing at Horne Lake is all located on one large wall about 200m high and a kilometre wide, rising above the north-west corner of the lake. Most of the rock is relatively uninteresting vertical face, but the centrepiece is a sensationally steep open cave, the Amphitheatre, which was the catalyst for the area's initial development in the late 1990s. Tufa features are abundant in the cave, so the climbing style is very similar to some of the famous limestone areas in Europe and Asia, like Kalymnos or Railay/ Tonsai (though Horne doesn't free-hanging stalactites). A great resource to have within reach of Squamish, as otherwise the nearest good tufa climbing is in Mexico! The ambience is pretty nice also. The lake beckons for an after-climb swim and there are beautiful arbutus trees mixed in with the usual firs and cedars. Fixed draws on most of the routes is a plus for me too.

The main cliffline. The Amphitheatre is just visible above the trees

Inside the Amphitheatre. Spot the anchor chains at the lip

Looking down at the lake through an arbutus tangle

That, unfortunately, is the end of the good news about Horne Lake. Tragically, though adjacent to a provincial park, the cliff is on private land. And the landowners, a strata co-op encompassing many lakeside homes, also draw water from a spring under the Amphitheatre. Climbing is not allowed, as far as I can figure out because of the water issue, unfounded liability fears and - I guess - the inevitable inertia of a decision-making entity with many individual members. In practise, the climbing ban does not seem to be enforced or even advertised on signboards, but consensus amongst local climbers seems to be to keep the place below the radar to discourage excessive attention. There is no guidebook.

During our two days there, we did encounter other climbers; sufficient to make the narrow ledges under the Amphitheatre feel crowded at times. All Canadians, I think, but definitely not limited to "locals". For example, there was a couple from Saskatchewan. It is hard to keep cliffs secret. Horne is well documented on the US website rockclimbing.com and sporadically appears in sponsored climbers' videos, oddly including one from Vancouver-based posh anorak purveyors, Arc'teryz, who you would think would know better, though that one is now offline. So it is difficult to imagine that the current status quo is sustainable in the long term.

In the spirit of the dodgy access situation, I am therefore not going to spray exuberantly how Horne Lake is a fantastic must-visit world-class venue. However, I will, er, definitely be heading back. In the context of the Squamish climbing season, it looks like Horne may be a good option once the winter rains start, as the umbrella-like Amphitheatre should stay climbable until the tufas start to seep. (Similarly, the word seems to be that Skaha, in the Okanagan, is climbable in the spring long before Squamish.) One route at Horne in particular has gone straight into my long term wishlist: Jesus Save the Pushers, a monstrous upside-down thing across a 20m (?) roof, that I am told has no bad holds. JSTP is graded 5.13a, but I feel may be doable for me with work. I onsighted a .12b - Moonraker - and flashed .12a - Quarter Century Girl - on this visit without too much trouble (*), which bodes well. For me, the climbing style is very familar.

Todd and Travis, who haven't squandered as much of their lives in dusty limestone holes as me, did struggle with the tufas. However Travis redpointed Quarter Century Girl and Todd onsighted a sparsely-bolted .11c horror: the Waterspout. For the success of our short trip we owe thanks to Fiona, who greeted us from a yoga mat in the parking lot on day one. I have various not-wholly-positive preconceptions about people on yoga mats, but Fiona, a strong Aussie expat, proved extremely helpful: orientating us at the cliff (we had little information apart from a magazine article from 1999), directing us toward good routes and never saying "namaste" once. My preconceptions need a rethink.

Travis warming up in the Amphitheatre

Todd warming up in the Amphitheatre

Todd almost sending Quarter Century Girl

Fiona actually sending Quarter Century Girl

Todd leading the Waterspout

(* confession time: I grabbed the anchor chain on Moonraker to clip after my "onsight". I initially felt this disqualified the ascent but after doing the route again an hour later, without the chain grab, I decided it made no real difference to the route. Or put another way, I definitely onsighted a .12b but arguably not the full route ...)

the road to Butt Face

It would be an understatement to say that my older son, Leo, 13, does not climb often. In the last five years, up to the start of this summer vacation, he has done: a couple of weekends bouldering outside in the UAE in 2009, when I was putting photos together for my guidebook; one afternoon bouldering on Squamish rock last summer; one easy climb this spring on a school camping trip ... and that's it. No indoor climbing at all, unless you count using the wifi at the Hive gym  a couple of times whilst I trained! I don't mind - generally I don't think kids should be pressured into specific sports - but sometimes I get wistful when I read amazing stories like this (Jim Herson and his 14 year old daughter sending the Nose in a day).  

However, this summer Leo had the choice of being in Canada with me or in Japan with his mum. He chose Canada. Or more precisely - his parents suspected - he chose his PS3 in Canada. To offset that, it was agreed that the "price" of his choice should be significant time outside in some wholesome activity. I offered climbing or hiking: climbing got the nod. To put some structure on that, I suggested he trained toward a specific objective and recommended that be a full-length route up the Squamish Chief. After some more discussion we agreed an exact route: Rambles/ Banana Peel with 2nd pitch variant/ Boomstick Crack/ Squamish Buttress with the "Buttface" variation/ Talking Crack. This combination lets you rope you up a few metres from the 99 highway and coil the rope again on the summit, with 22 pitches in between. It's almost the easiest way between those points but not totally beginner-friendly. There is one 5.9 pitch near the top, three 5.8 pitches and more than half of the remainder is 5.7. And the vertical height gain is about 600m. The photo below (click for a larger version) gives some idea. Yes, there's a mini forest hike in the middle.

We had five weeks in which to prepare for the route and get it done. Because of some other calls on Leo's time and the importance of avoiding weekend crowds on the Chief, the actual ascent had to be on a Monday (but not on 5th August, BC Day) or a Wednesday. And obviously during a decent weather window. In practise everything got shoehorned into three weeks.

At risk of shedding most readers who have made it this far, I thought I would spell out the preparation we did, in case anyone finds themselves working through something similar.

10th July. We drove to Pemberton to play on the friendly Green Bastion boulders. I wanted to remind Leo how basic rock movement felt, without the distraction of a rope and equipment. He did about five V0 problems. His footwork was pretty awful. I realised he needed new shoes; a few days later we found a pair of Sportiva Mythos in a Squamish shop which fitted OK.

15th July. We did one short roped climb at Murrin Park, the steep and un-fun Beginners Luck, undergraded at 5.5 and inappropriately - I think -  included in the guidebook's Top 100 list. Reasonably enough, Leo struggled slightly but climbed it clean. He also lowered me successfully from the anchors using an ATC device - from my perspective an important test! Then we practised rappelling at the nearby Bog Wall. I was keen that he should experience doing this without a safety rope at an early stage, in case we needed to retreat from a multi-pitch climb. Some people might blanche at this for a beginner but in reality using a ATC XP on a doubled 10mm rope on slabby rock is close to risk-free. The friction is so high that it is almost impossible to develop any acceleration even with hands off.

17th July. Multi-pitch time. We visited the AMO Wall near Shannon Falls, which has some very easy-angled 3 or 4 pitch climbs. We chose Relish Route into the excellent Beaten Zone 5.7. There was a tiny frisson of excitement when it rained as we started the second pitch. It looked like a passing shower so we waited it out. This proved correct. Almost all the climbing was holdless friction, which Leo seemed to find trivial, scampering up the rock faster than I could take in. We rappelled back down.

Second pitch on Relish Route

Third pitch on Relish Route

The Beaten Zone

Rapping back down

20th July. I wanted to test Leo on some slightly steeper rock, as the crux pitch of Butt Face is vertical face climbing so we headed to the bolted routes at Chek. These did slow him down. His best effort was climbing Kingfishers Catch Fire on Conroy Castle, with one or two rests on the rope. I thought it was more 5.9 than the guidebook's 5.8. It's also rather reachy. A great route though, with big views to the Tantalus mountains from the top.

22nd July. We spent a few hours in the Smoke Bluffs learning some basics of crack climbing. At the end of the session Leo managed a clean top rope of Bilbo Baggins, a slabby 5.9 route with mandatory hand jamming.

24th July. To get a sense of the time needed for the full ascent of the Chief, we tried the start pitches on the Apron. I had hoped we might manage the initial route, Rambles, and Banana Peel above, but Leo developed a weird ankle pain on Rambles. Anyway, we got that done reasonably quickly - about 1.5 hours for 4 pitches - and it was obvious how we could do it faster on the day.

Second pitch of Rambles

Higher on the second pitch of Rambles (note the road behind)

28th July. We had our first attempt on the main objective scheduled for the next day but I was still worried Leo hadn't had spent enough time on steep face climbing. But I made the mistake of visiting a cliff I hadn't looked at before, The Lounge up Squamish Valley. The routes there were uninspiring, mossy and undergraded. Leo got shut down by a 5.8. Not auspicious!

29th July. The big day. Amazingly I got Leo awake and out of the house by about 6:20am. (I had woken him up an hour or so earlier each morning for several preceding days!)

At the car park - about 6:45am

Optimistically we parked near of the base of the Chief descent then hiked down to the start of Rambles, which was empty, as I had hoped. I started leading the first pitch at 6:52am. Minutes later another team turned up at the base! We dispatched Rambles in three pitches but then ran into several teams already queued up on the ledges under the main Apron (the Rambles route can be bypassed by hiking). Thankfully they were all waiting for Diedre not Banana Peel. However one team were uncertain where to start and looked likely to cross ropes with us, so I had to be slightly assertive and point them to their right line. Despite this we were both at the top of the first pitch of Banana Peel at 8:00am. That route - 8 pitches - took us another couple of hours. Leo had no problems except at one short steep section on pitch 4, where I knew after leading it myself that he would struggle to reach key holds. Unfortunately the route was still in deep shade with an intermittent strong wind and we both got cold (we had one windproof between us, otherwise just t-shirts). Leo also suffered some recurrence of the ankle pain he had developed on the 24th (we realised later he was only developing this problem on low-angled rock). On the Broadway ledge, above Banana Peel, morale was definitely low and he was hinting that we should give up. I ignored this, found some shelter from the wind and suggested we ate our sandwiches; this proved just sufficient to get him interested in going "a little higher". The next section, Boomstick Crack, was no problem technically, but awkward with an intermediate semi-hanging belay (that I had been recommended to use). Leo again got cold and I think was slightly intimidated by the exposed position. At that point there's a big view down to the road 300m below.

The exposed position on Boomstick - at about 11:15am 

Thankfully, once above Boomstick, momentum improved. After stumbling upwards through the forest for a few minutes we hit sunshine on a nice bare granite area overlooking South Gully. From there the Second Summit is in view, the rock scenery is more striking and the end is in sight, if distant. Whilst resting there we were overtaken by a bubbly team of two sisters who were clearly enjoying their day. At the base of the next climbing section - Squamish Buttress original route - they waved us through, with the result that Leo shared belay ledges with them for several pitches. He had no problem with this section including the thin 5.8 moves at the start.

Around 2:00pm we were at the point where Squamish Buttress and the Butt Face variant diverge. I was apprehensive about the next section as it is graded 5.9 and Leo had only succeeded on one pitch at that grade before - and then only after multiple tries. The position is also exposed with big air down into South Gully once you step off the initial ledge. I belayed just after the crux of this pitch to be as close to him as possible. In fact my worries were overdone. He concentrated hard, hung on through the steep layback start and made it right through the crux traverse first try.

Following the 5.9 pitch on Butt Face - around 2:15pm

Higher on the 5.9 pitch

The remainder of the Butt Face did go quite slowly, though seemingly not as slow as for the team behind, so we were not responsible for any delays for others on the route overall (another worry of mine). The other crux of Butt Face is a 5.8 chimney with some non-intuitive moves. Leo did struggle there until he found the right way to face.

The cool ledge above Squamish Buttress / Butt Face - around 4:10pm

From there, the route was clearly in the bag. The last pitch, Talking Crack, is a few minutes hike southwards, directly under the First Summit. Leo's psyche was so high that he suggested he led that pitch - which would have been his first ever lead! I almost accepted but sense prevailed. After dispatching it I decided the decision was definitely correct, as the pitch has an awkward exit and gear is rattly at that point. Anyway, I was able to send Leo on to "lead" the scramble to the summit, to the surprise of a few tourists.

Last moves of the day: topping out Talking Crack

Leo on the summit - 5:15pm

Together on the summit

The descent was mellow, though as by then we had drunk all our water we didn't hang around, apart from cooling feet in Olesen Creek for a few minutes. We got back to the car at 6:40pm; just under 12 hours for the round trip.

POSTSCRIPT: I was asked what Leo thought of all this. Straight after the climb we headed home, via the McD's drive-thru, where I drank all the cold beer in the the fridge and Leo put in a couple of solid hours on Minecraft on his Mac (it turns out PS3 is so last month) ... before we both collapsed until about noon the next day. There was no post-match analysis during that period. However two weeks later one of Leo's soccer team mates came to stay with us in Squamish. Whilst we were driving past the Chief toward our house, Leo made some effort to point out the line we had ascended. Then he added that he was "quite proud" of climbing it. That will do for me.

thirteen, eh!

A big day today. James swam unassisted for the first time and I climbed my first 5.13. Five year olds are not strong at self-analysis so I can't cast much light on the aquatic feat. But unsurprisingly I have quite a lot to say about the climb. Maybe I should kick off with the headline items and stats:

• the route is Just Can't Do It at the Forgotten Wall at Chek
• it was graded 5.13a/b in the previous "Squamish Select" guide but now gets 5.13a
• this is equivalent to french 7c+
• there are seventeen entries for the route on 8a.nu, of which none suggest the route is "soft for the grade" and one suggests french 8a
• length is about 25m with nine bolts
• the route overhangs about 10° for the first 18m
• the style is crimpy endurance

I am indebted to my frequent partner Kay for suggesting the route as a project and then continuing to support my attempts after she discovered it was too reach-dependent for her. It was the focus of eight days at the cliff, starting in early April. It seemed to be too physically-crushing to cover the whole length of the route more than twice in one day, so initial progress in working the moves was slow. I tried my first redpoint attempt on day five, but it took six further attempts to send. On day six I slipped on a low move but managed to hang on to fail higher. When I got down I realised I had pulled something in my upper left arm, perhaps the deltoid? All the subsequent attempts have involved naproxen taken the night before to numb the pain. Time will tell how foolish that was!

Anyone who has got involved in a multi-day siege at their limit will know that stress can become hard to manage. For whatever reason my brain often exaggerates the significance of success until it becomes visualised as an inflection point in life as a whole; correspondingly continued failure casts a big existential shadow. Currently that mindset does have some foundation: I did quit work and relocate halfway around the world to become better at climbing, so doing something at this level was really needed as justification. Thankfully I now have that!

I don't think I am in a hurry to try anything harder soon. Just Can't Do It is two grades beyond my previous best lead so there's plenty of backfilling in the 5.12 range to be done; easier trad classics to be enjoyed too.

Here are some rather crap photos. It is a tough route to capture without abseiling in from above (there were no volunteers ...) as there are trees blocking the view on most aspects. These photos are front on to the wall and so show none of the steepness.

Getting set for the technical crux, a boulder problem that is probably in the V4-V6 range. The next three hand holds are a three finger single-pad crimp, a three finger half-pad crimp and another three finger single-pad crimp best taken with back3, from which bolt 3 is clipped. 

I specifically trained front3 and back3 half-crimps on my fingerboard to do these moves. Not sure if it was really necessary but I think it probably sped up the process of getting the route done.

The next three moves centre upon the sidepull I have with my left hand: first gaining it with a long reach, then deadpointing twice in succession to single-pad side edges. The foot sequence is really critical here. 

The move shown is where a foot popped and I strained my upper left arm. 

Above this is the most aesthetic move on the route, a step through to the outside edge of the left foot whilst laybacking the upper side edge and reaching for a slopey dish. The dish can then only be held by a subtle additional shift of the body rightwards. Over time I got progressively more confident on this move and I think made some major unintended gains in core strength. 

The "rest" at bolt 5, on two slanting flat holds. Up to this point I couldn't find anywhere that I could take a hand off to shake for more than a second or so. I never fully decided whether this was really a rest or not; in fact on my first redpoint attempt I fell off whilst trying to hold it! On my successful attempt I only stopped here for about five breaths.

The moves through bolt 6 where I fell multiple times. The climbing here is not hard but fatigue was extreme for me. 

The last part of the route is a fun slab with some delicate moves. Fortunately it is possible to find hands-off rests throughout that section.

backcountry baby steps

The major highlight since I last wrote has been Leo and I's tentative snowboarding trips into the backcountry. Several people have helped us with advice, loans of equipment and company, especially BobJ and AndyR; for which we are very grateful. Nothing we did went beyond first baby steps nor merits a long description but here is a simple edit of Leo's GoPro footage of our best day, riding the gentle just-out-of-bounds Flute back bowl at Whistler.

James has meanwhile mastered a no-turns kamikaze variant of skiing with which he seems satisfied (or at least: he reckons he is done with lessons!). He says he wants to snowboard instead next winter, when he turns six. That seems to be regarded as about the earliest possible age for kids to learn. It will be interesting to see if he is up to it ...

There's no doubt that it would be tough to stay sane through a winter in Squamish without wanting to engage in snow sports. When it rains almost every day, being genuinely pleased that "if it's raining down here it must be snowing up there" is important. Unfortunately these sports are pricey! I have spent more on apparently-modest objects like transceivers, shovels and snow probes in a few purchases than on climbing gear for many years. And the marginal cost of using resort lifts - always Whistler in our case, 30 minutes north - is infinitely high relative to going climbing; in several decades I have only paid for access to rock a couple of times!