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.
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.
(* 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 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 ...)
