the south chek years, part 2: the projects

Part 1 is here.

Over the 2018/ 2019 winter my pulley injury healed up completely, though the full process took six months. Meanwhile Leo's progression through the grades was accelerating, not least as he was pretty much living in the Hive bouldering gym in Vancouver during his first year at UBC. He wanted to climb 5.12 as soon as possible. I recommended Flingus Cling at Pet Wall to him as I knew it was often dry and climbable on bluebird winter days, and indeed, his redpoint came in January! I jokingly suggested that he might as well move straight on to 5.13 and within a few months he had ticked off Just Can’t Do It, a popular 5.13a at Chek, without bothering to climb any other 5.12's; a shockingly steep improvement trajectory.

Leo redpointing Flingus Cling in January 2019

In the spring I began spending much more time climbing with Tyrone. A great privilege as he has deep roots in Squamish sport climbing and bouldering and knows more about the Chek area than anyone else. We both had unfinished business at the Monastery and the Hermitage. In my case: Pain Box, which had haunted my dreams all winter, and The Contrarian, a slightly easier but very elegant line.

Anxious signage under the Pain Box project, winter 2018/19

Pain Box has two contrasting halves: a very steep and burly traverse with almost no footholds that leads to a rest in the existing route Puzzle Box then a less steep but complicated sequence of crimpy moves including two low-percentage (for me, anyway) deadpoints near the top. The challenge felt substantially mental as I never felt solid on the opening sequence so could not be confident that any redpoint attempt would get me through the first half, yet I always knew the main difficulties were above. This combination made it stressful to even start an attempt.

On my successful redpoint in April I spent a long time at the rest trying to psyche up for the upper part. James had just completed an amazing snowboarding season culminating in second place in his age group in an all-western Canada event held on the huge jump features of Calgary’s Winter Olympic Park. Competitive events of that kind don’t allow any of the “I am not feeling it today” excuses that are common in redpointing and I was in awe of James’ ability to perform on demand. At the rest, I tried to “channel” James, imagining myself committing to a slopestyle run, and remarkably it worked.

I suggested 5.13a for Pain Box, given that it felt to be the hardest thing I had ever climbed and that I had ticked off benchmark 5.13a routes like Pushers and Darkness at Noon in the preceding couple of years. In my sendage.com write up I predicted that some sandbag grades would be offered, which they were, but that the thirteen grade would stick in the long run. So far that seems to be true - perhaps it helps that it is given 5.13a in the most recent Squamish Select? - and it seems significant that the route sees very few ascents despite being at a cliff very popular with people pushing their grade around that level. If it were a soft-touch 5.13a there should surely be queues underneath?

Scott Milton working Pain Box, summer 2020

Free from first ascent projects (the Contrarian, now a sought-after 5.12c, went down shortly after), but still spending a lot of time at the Monastery to belay Ty, I began playing on Chris H’s route Separation Anxiety, at that time the hardest route there with a tentative 5.13c grade. I had belayed several of Chris’ attempts before his first ascent so felt some connection. The route is a short punchy power endurance exercise with no easy moves, an abrupt diagonal'ing crux at mid-height and a fluffable dynamic finish. The standard beta involves a brutal reach out to a blunt arete which felt impossible for my left shoulder, which still has limited mobility following an impingement in 2011. However on my fourth session I discovered new beta, skipping the sideways move in favour of an upwards lurch to small crimps above, which the standard beta used only for feet.

Leo looking strong through the Separation Anxiety crux

Around this time Leo, on his first university vacation, also began taking an interest, impressively managing all the moves including the standard beta on his first session. Over the summer we trekked up there at least once each week, gradually grinding the route into submission. For some reason I became especially stuck on a rightwards move near the top that no-one else found cruxy, indeed our flexible friend Tony seemed to be able to rest halfway through it! Again I felt poor shoulder mobility to be the key issue but fading fingers also did not help.

Spot the dysfunctional shoulder ...
My midway crux on Separation Anxiety

On my twelfth session, I was there with Leo and his friend Nic, when Leo abruptly sent, with little fuss. I was aware how neat it would be if we could both climb our first 5.13c on the same day on the same route and began to feel immense pressure. Normally I would only try the redpoint three times in a session but this time rolled the dice on a fourth try. I tried changing one thing: shaking a couple of times quickly off a sidepull before entering the shouldery rightwards section. To my surprise this worked and thankfully I then managed to stick the final throw - my first time trying that section on redpoint.

Double-send day 

In the last months of 2019 my interest shifted from the Monastery to projects elsewhere. At the Hermitage Chris and I had dismissed the possibility of a route on its fantastic but blank “Action Directe” style roof without actually looking closely. One misty day in September I did investigate more thoroughly and found that a hairline break in the middle of the roof actually held a small loose block. I knocked it off - shooting some video before and after in case of any accusations of chipping! - uncovering a positive edge. Further investigation uncovered a cool sequence of holds heading rightwards from above the roof. Unfortunately linking those two features looked hard: a long dyno followed immediately by another powerful boulder problem. 

Up to that point all the Hermitage routes had been given thematic names, referencing religious retreat or social isolation. I pre-named the project “Patience, Grasshopper” in honour of the cheesy “Kung Fu” TV series that I enjoyed in my youth. The phrase occurs in flashbacks when an elderly shaolin monk is urging his apprentice to be less hasty; I guess I had Leo somewhat in mind. After bolting the line I made a few attempts but put the project on hold for the winter resolving to train specifically for the dyno.

Back at Electric Avenue I had been aware for some time of a “last great line”, on the blankest feature of the cliff, an almost vertical face just left of Leo’s “Torii Gate”. The prospective line was in two halves. The bottom part was no problem: a ~5.10+ face to a break and complete rest on the arete. The top part was a mystery: a shuffle back across from the arete attempting to crimp a hairline seam while not sliding off terrible smears, then a short vertical section with no obvious holds at all. I decided to scrub and bolt it anyway, then began attempts on it when temperatures began to fall in late September. Fortunately Ty was still available as a willing belayer and I also managed to lure Chris out once to look at it as well. Helpfully Chris and Ty found a plausible sequence for the very last move, involving a very strenuous reach off a poor gaston, but they could not do the seam section - which conversely I had reasonably dialled.

In mid October I took time away from Chek to climb on the steep limestone at Horne Lake. I also trained on an approximate replica of the gaston move in my garage. On my return I tried the project again and was excited to find that I had become strong enough to do the move from the gaston, but could not quite manage a tenuous stand-up move on terrible feet to reach the gaston itself. This became a major new frustration until I tried a very subtly different foot sequence and the move was unlocked. I sent on my next try. 

Two final challenges still remained: a name and a grade. I wanted something that would convey the exceptional (for me) tenuousness of the climb. While googling some phrases I stumbled over the Sanskrit word “Aparigraha” from the Jain religion, which means non-attachment or non-possession. The term has been co-opted by the yoga industry too; denouncing materialism being fashionable for folk in pricey Lululemon pants. Ty asked me if I had a name straight after my send and I announced rather too loudly that I was considering "Aparigraha" which - I added - "is some yoga bullshit”. Almost immediately I suffered a fierce look from a woman belaying on a nearby route. She wryly pointed out that she was a yoga teacher …

As to the grade, Chris assured me that the top crux was only about V3 and we both agreed that, although the slab moves past the seam were heinous for us, the true slab magicians of Squamish might not be slowed down by it much at all. So, although for me it was one of the hardest climbs I have ever done, Aparigraha went in the guidebook at a modest 5.12b. However, two years on, it does not appear to have been repeated, despite being easily top-toped and located at what may now be the most popular sport climbing cliff in Canada. Hmmm.

Over the 2019/2020 winter James was in Whistler often as he had been invited into his snowboard club’s development team, which meant I was spending a lot of time there too. Helpfully the Whistler climbing gym, the Core, has a variable angle Tension Board. I set a dynamic problem on the board which was the approximate dimensions of the jump on Patience Grasshopper (yes, I took measuring tape up the route!) and tried it repeatedly, never actually sticking the move but unquestionably getting a little bouncier. As soon as the snow cleared at Chek in the early spring I went back to the Hermitage only to discover - predictably! - that I could cover the distance on the dyno but not latch the hold. Leo was finding it straightforward so I gifted him the project and he sent on his second redpoint attempt. For good measure he then led the crux double-dyno style. “Pleased for him” was my diary comment, possibly written with gritted teeth! A baton-passing moment.

EPILOGUE

In summer 2021 the prolific US climber Paige Claassen made the first female ascent of Squamish's iconic Dreamcatcher. I have been aware of Paige since 2013, when we had a long correspondence about UAE climbing, for an ambitious global climbing/ volunteering tour she was planning (she even bought my guidebook).  After a modest brag about Dreamcatcher her Instagram account went quiet for a few days, presumably as she was taking some rest days. But her next IG story was a surprise: several images of a familiar-looking cliff with wildly-enthusiastic comments about great stone and brilliant routes. Of all the places in Squamish she could have visited after Dreamcatcher she had somehow found her way to the Hermitage and climbed The Contrarian and Patience Grasshopper!

Celebrity endorsement:
Paige on The Contrarian

the south chek years, part 1: the yellow gate

In the beginning was the yellow gate. Or to be more accurate: the mysterious absence beyond it, where there had always been a wall of trees. Piecing facts together later I would discover that two events had coincided that spring: BC hydro had clear cut the forest beyond the gate and a phone company had built a spur road to put an antenna on a hydro tower at its end. But all I knew on that April day in 2015 at Chek was that something had changed and it deserved further investigation.

Between the yellow gate and the Sea to Sky Highway was a small parking lot, sometimes used by climbers heading to some cliffs to the west. I parked there and instead wandered south up the spur road. After a few minutes I passed an intriguingly steep but small cliff at a bend in the road then a few metres further found a much grander feature: a short canyon where the road ended, flanked on both sides by mossy but tall slabs at various angles. A perfect candidate for route development, except for the steel building at its centre, surrounded by fencing and security cameras.

A few months later I showed the small cliff to my friend Chris Hecimovic, who deemed it worth developing. I christened it the “Shit Show” in homage to Chek’s similar angle but infinitely more impressive Big Show cliff on the other side of the hill. Over the next year I developed six routes there, from low 5.10 to 5.12d, then distributed a one page topo under a gentler name: “The Substation”. To my surprise it proved popular for a short while.

More significant in that period were two other events. During one bolting session, a convoy of trucks passed me then later returned with the dismantled remains of the building in the canyon. Later I was able to talk to one of the contractors who confirmed that the cell phone company had ended its tenure. Within a few weeks I had fixed my first scrubbing line there, on an aesthetic low angle rib feature relatively free of moss, and tentatively named the canyon “Electric Avenue”.

Drone shot of Electric Avenue after the first few routes were scrubbed.
The Substation is just visible overhanging the dirt road back toward the highway

On every occasion that I drove from Squamish to Chek around that time, I was struck by the faux-alpine nature of the hill that rose two hundred metres above the Substation. It had a pointy summit and a large expanse of bare rock forming a ridge on its west side. Intriguingly a very steep cliff was just visible east of the summit. I once tried scrambling direct to the summit through the second-growth forest above the Substation but got lost in a maze of vegetated slabs.

Aerial view of "Mt Chek" from the south

In December 2015, Chris and I tried a different approach, contouring south of the hill beyond Electric Avenue and bushwhacking up an interminable steep gully. Our efforts were rewarded when we emerged from the dense trees at a col with views eastwards. A few metres beyond we found the steep cliff just visible from the 99. It was as impressive as we had hoped but we were clearly not the first people to find it: bleached old ropes hung there like rigging on a ghost ship. Unused bolts and hangers were scattered all over the talus from a torn bag still clipped to a claim bolt but gnawed by rodents. When I got home I emailed Tyrone Brett, once the most active developer at Chek but by then submerged in work for MEC. He confirmed that he had been there ten years before and named it “The Monastery".

In March the next year I returned alone, flagging a tentative trail to the Monastery, and finding an easy scramble from there to the summit, a surprising flat area with stunning views to Sky Pilot and The Chief to the south, the Tantalus range to the west and Tricouni to the north. Around that time, neither of my two sons, Leo (sixteen at that time) or James (eight years younger), had any interest in climbing. However James would try anything if encouraged. It struck me that the summit might be a fun place to adopt as a family camping spot, especially as there was no evidence that anyone else ever went up there.

James on the summit, view south to Squamish behind him

Drone view of "our" campsite 

Higher altitude drone view

James breakfasting, Tantalus range behind him

James breakfasting, Tricouni and Cloudburst behind him

Dawn view of the Tantalus range from the tent

Over spring and summer 2016 we did exactly that, enjoying having a small but very special slice of the Sea to Sky to ourselves, encountering only grouse and the occasional bear. Meanwhile we began developing Electric Avenue slowly. James climbed the rib for the area’s inaugural route: “Taiga Face”, 5.7 - his first lead. He would go on to lead several more moderates nearby. 

James making the first ascent of Taiga Face in light rain, 2016

Meanwhile we regularly hiked past the still-virgin and still-secret Monastery, which I fully intended to develop when the time seemed right. One line in particular interested me: a sinuous overhanging groove at the right end of the cliff.In fall 2016 my friend Luc Martin and his family came to Electric Avenue to help clear alders. He made a critical discovery: that the yellow gate was no longer locked and cars could be driven up to Electric Avenue, reducing the hike to the Monastery. Coincidentally, for reasons I never fully understood, knowledge of the Monastery expanded to a couple of other route developers and suddenly there was an unseemly gold rush up there for the obvious lines. I dropped a rope down my groove to claim it for the spring.

In 2017 I spent 110 days at Chek, almost all of which working on new routes. Development at the Monastery was a frenetic scene in which I sometimes felt marginalised despite having (literally) laid the path for the other participants. On the positive side, about thirty good quality routes between 5.11 and 5.13 were established very quickly; a net gain for the whole community. My groove line (“Puzzle Box”, 5.12b) would eventually find recognition in the Top 100 list of the Squamish Select guidebook (thanks Marc!) and most of my other lines are also popular.

Monastery development crew, 2017

Development at Electric Avenue progressed at a more relaxed pace, perhaps because there were no big lines there that might stand out in an ambitious person’s resume. Some other developers joined the party - Krissy MacKay, Tess Egan and Jay Robinson, Jack Fieldhouse - but we had no trouble dividing up the available terrain between us.

A surprise event that year was Leo taking up climbing, after a decade of almost non-stop soccer. The initial reason was his school’s Duke of Edinburgh’s award scheme, which required a physical activity in which he could measurably progress. A guide friend, Emilisa, assessed Leo in the Smoke Bluffs and established that he could barely climb 5.7 - there was certainly scope for rapid improvement. As I had had some success throwing James in at the deep end by leading climbs at an early stage, I challenged Leo to make the first ascent of a cool-looking face route at Electric Avenue which I had just cleaned. Impressively he learned how to work moves, take lead falls and make redpoint attempts then succeeded on the first ascent within five weeks of the Bluffs assessment. The route “Torii Gate” (named for a Japanese shinto symbol often placed at the base of steps to a shrine; the Monastery trail begins right by the climb) is in the guidebook at 5.10c but many suggest it could be 5.11.

Leo after sending "Torii Gate"

In the fall, Chris Hecimovic and I went exploring again, hoping to confirm my hunch that another cliff lay beneath the Monastery. We came away with “The Hermitage”, an elegant cliff of very smooth compact stone, unfortunately rather distant from everywhere. A couple of days later I went on a solo hike from the established cliffs at the Circus area of Chek along the eastside canyon beyond then contouring around the whole hill to Electric Avenue and completing a loop. I did not find a better way to the Hermitage but did find many giant Douglas Firs and a lot of bear scat.

2018 brought more of the same (75 days at Chek), with the addition of some furtive work at the Hermitage. The highlight was a new style of project which had been on my mind since the summit camping sessions in 2016: a multi-pitch connecting large slabs on the west ridge of “Mt Chek” (as I had begun to call the hill). For this monstrous task I needed help and recruited Tess and Jay. We split the estimated ten pitches in half and got to work separately, right through a hot June and July. I took the upper half, leaving home at 5am every day to maximise time in the shade. We combined forces with James and their son Kye for the first ascent. The route “Frontside 180”, 5.8 (named for the views and a reference to the easiest park trick in snowboarding) became an instant Squamish classic, receiving multiple ascents on most dry days ever since. In 2019, the route won a “Golden Scrub Brush Award” for best new moderate multi-pitch. At the award event, we sent James and Kye up on stage to collect it.

Frontside 180 team, before the first ascent
Tess, Kye, Jay, James, me

James on the FA, pitch 5

Chaotic post-FA selfie

Meanwhile Leo and his school friend Nic were almost constantly at Electric Avenue working through the grades. By the end of the summer they had climbed all the 5.11's there and had relocated to “old” Chek to try the classic 5.11d “Rug Munchers”. My ambitions had narrowed down to a first ascent project at the Monastery which I had pre-named “Pain Box”, after the seminal training essay by the patron saint of ageing climbers, Bill Ramsey. In late August I put in some determined attempts that ended with me touching but latching the hold beyond the last crux. On my next attempt I blew a pulley on the opening move, effectively ending my climbing for the year.

One project that did not need functional fingers was an alternative approach to the Monastery. At a meeting of most of the Monastery and Electric Avenue developers it had been agreed that parking was getting overwhelmed by the 99 and at Electric Avenue itself, and there would be advantages in finding a way to the Monastery from the upper parking lot at Chek. James and I found a way to link exposed ledges through the complex steep terrain above the eastside canyon to eventually reach the Big Show. Over the next few months I flagged this trail sporadically and eventually posted a map for it on the yellow gate. The first few users were not very impressed. One labelled the trail a “deathtrap” - a name which then stuck.

Electric Avenue in its final form, fall 2018
Climber on Railton Road, 5.10a

I released a topo for Electric Avenue and Frontside 180 just before the 2018 Labor day long weekend, documenting forty routes. The crowds duly turned out to climb there. However, some prankster thought it would be funny to lock the yellow gate at midday on the holiday Monday. In the subsequent panic, people who had driven to the cliff managed to break the gate off at its hinges so they could extricate their vehicles. On my next visit I was shocked to see that familiar metal object of four years acquaintance tossed aside in the bushes - a clear message that the place was changing and wasn't "mine" any more.