the nostalgia project: the Squamish years, Canada (2012-2017)

I have not written anything fresh for this project for the six years after I moved to Squamish as most of my significant ascents and experiences have already been documented in this blog. For example:

2012: The Fleeing Heifer and Blackwater, two Squamish 5.12 classics.

2013: Just Can't Do It and Project Grizzly, my first 5.13a and b, respectively. Also, onsighting Crime of the Century.

2015: Onsighting Freeway.

2016: Horne Lake's Jesus Save the Pushers, the "world's best 5.13a".

2017: Wedge Mountain, the highest summit in Garibaldi Provincial Park, with Leo.

There is an obvious omission here, which is 2014. I rock climbed on 99 days, according to the diary, but did nothing so meaningful that it inspired me to write. The year was sort of notable for my first overnight splitboard tours (not exactly climbing though plenty of uphill action), which I did document. I'll let that blog post represent the year.

the nostalgia project: Inshallah Factor, Jordan (2011)

The route

The East Face of Jebel Rum from Rum village.
Inshallah Factor starts in the centre then heads leftwards to the obvious skyline chimney

Inshallah Factor is a fifteen pitch trad route on the 500m East Face of Jebel Rum in Wadi Rum.  The hardest pitch is 6c (or YDS mid-5.11 or perhaps a Brit E4). Approximately half the pitches are YDS 5.10a or harder.

Wadi Rum is a world famous sandstone rock climbing area in the south of Jordan. The area's other-wordly desert landscapes also make it a popular place to shoot movies about Mars or desert planets in a galaxy far, far away.

Jebel Nassarani west face, Wadi Rum

The context

I have been aware of Wadi Rum from my youth through climbing magazine articles and photos, and have always been interested in climbing there, at least theoretically. After I moved to the Middle East it became a much more practical objective, not just because of proximity but also because of increasing familiarity with arab culture.

I visited Wadi Rum twice from the UAE. The first time for just four days with Wolf in April 2009 then a longer trip with Duncan in March 2011. On both occasions we rented cars in Amman and drove the 300km road to Rum. On both occasions we also camped at the curious "Rest House", an establishment that appears to be government owned and may have been the only option in Rum village when the  guidebook was written. More on that subject later.

On the first trip, Wolf and I did a couple of classic itineraries: ascended Jebel Rum, the highest summit in the area, by Hammad's route, an interminable scramble with some short roped pitches, and also climbed Jebel Burdah via Orange Sunshine, on which we got very off-route and tackled pitches that seemed far harder than the guidebook grade. On both formations we got a good introduction to the challenges of the terrain, in particular that what may look monolithic and compact from a distance can be a maze of deep slot canyons and false summits up close.

Descending Jebel Burdah, © Wolf, 2009

In 2011 our aims were more ambitious. I had been reading extensively about La Guerre Sainte, an extraordinary 12 pitch route direct up a vertical face established by a French team in 2000. I flagged it to Duncan in advance as a possible objective but was aware that it might be too hard with multiple 7a+/ 7b (YDS 5.12a and 5.12b) pitches near the top and would require 4WD assistance for access. Another red flag at that time was that it only seemed to have been repeated by "pro" climbers. Inshallah Factor had also came up in conversation and had the benefit of some recommendations from ordinary climbers.

With the latter in mind, our first climb was The Eye of Allah, which branches off the Jebel Rum route that I had done in 2009 to climb to the east summit of the massif, directly above Inshallah Factor, and is the descent route for all the east face routes. This was a tough day, not least as we had arrived very late the previous night. On the steepest part of the descent we got a rope badly stuck on rappel. I ended up making a scary long solo on loose flakey rock to retrieve it.

Looking through the Eye of Allah © Duncan, 2011

Rum village from Jebel Rum © Wolf, 2009

Me above Jebel Rum East Face after climbing Eye of Allah © Duncan, 2011

Several factors then conspired to change our planning somewhat and lower expectations. Duncan got sick - from food poisoning if I recall correctly, no surprise at the less than hygienic Rest House. It was far colder than on my previous visit and - after six years in the balmy UAE - I had little suitable clothing. My dry skin flared up in the low humidity and dirt, developing persistent splits on several fingers. We were also being harassed continuously to view other accommodation options or sign up for desert tours. That kind of thing is not unusual in developing countries but it was disconcerting how aggressive it had become at Rum village compared to two years earlier.

On the positive side, we made friends with a Brit couple, Amy and Nick, who arrived in the campsite a day after us in their pimped-out Toyota Land Cruiser "Brenda" en route to Cape Town. They were not there primarily to climb but were easily persuaded to join up with us. After Duncan had recovered we all hiked to The Beauty, a classic entry-level Wadi Rum route. We top-roped them on the opening pitch then continued to the top without them.

Me on the Beauty first pitch © Duncan, 2011

Duncan before the Beauty's wide pitch

The Beauty's wide pitch

Rappelling from the Beauty, Rum Village beyond

A couple of days later, after an abandoned attempt  (my fault: bad skin, too cold, too hard) on another classic, Lionheart, the four of us set out in Brenda to explore the desert for three days. This was a very attractive idea as almost everyone who visits Wadi Rum is normally dependent on local 4WD drivers and subject to their fees and itinerary constraints.  I even wondered whether travelling unguided might be illegal and suggested we steer clear of guided groups.

The rebel alliance © Duncan, 2011

This mini-expedition proved very memorable. Conditions were perfect with dust-free skies and wild flowers carpeting the desert. There a few moments of difficult navigation decisions and don't-get-stuck driving in deep sand but nothing of real concern. Our route took us under La Guerre Sainte on the first day but we had already taken it off the ticklist and anyway did not have time for an attempt.

Start of our desert drive, heading south

Passing the east side of Jebel Nassrani
La Guerre Sainte climbs the face right of centre

Desert flowers

We camped for two nights in the remote Barrah Canyon. Duncan and I climbed the tougher-than-expected classic Merlin's Wand. The next day I took a full rest day to heal my skin while Duncan climbed with Amy and Nick. The day after we hiked Jebel Burdah, which gave my hands another day off, then - after a cumulative ~50 km of desert driving in a giant loop - we popped back onto sealed roads and re-established camp at the Rest House

Me on Merlin's Wand, probably complaining about something © Duncan, 2011

Me, Amy, Nick - Barrah Canyon campfire © Duncan, 2011

Barrah Canyon dawn

The ascent

With time running out on our trip and nothing substantial achieved, it was an obvious decision to attempt Inshallah Factor. So we made an early start the next day.

My diary notes are fairly terse: "All day ascent of Inshallah Factor. I led all crack pitches up to the crux (5.10+ ish, some burly stuff), then Duncan made a fine lead of the scary E4 pitch."

I was quite proud of dispatching the cracks in reasonable style. Duncan did indeed make a great lead of the crux pitch, finessing small wired nut placements in the middle of tenuous moves. A similar pitch on most popular north american trad cliffs would probably have been bolted on the first ascent, or at least sprouted a few bolts later.

"Rambled onwards, finding chimneys to be tiring going at the top. Then managed to get back down EoA with no screw-ups."

The top part of Inshallah Factor is a long diagonal traverse on fairly easy terrain, but in a very grand and exposed position. Then the climb disappears into the chimney, which is the most prominent feature of the east face - though the word "chimney" understates its extraordinary scale and speleological nature.  If I recall correctly, you hike a long way back into the mountain in a horizontal passage (maybe 30m or more) then climb a long vertical pitch, then repeat, abandoning much hope of ever seeing daylight again. In the right mood it would probably be fun but I remember being very relieved when we finally surfaced. Researching the descent in advance proved to have been smart (it would be a horrific onsight) and I believe we were down before it got dark or not much later.

Subsequent ascents

I have not been back to Wadi Rum. Later in 2011 I did travel twice to nearby Lebanon - a whole other story - and made a loose plan with a Beirut-based american expat that I climbed with there, John Redwine, to go back to Wadi Rum in 2012 to attempt Guerre Sainte. Sadly John died in a solo climbing accident that winter, searching out ice on the 3000m peaks in northern Lebanon. I did not get to know John very well, but he left a strong impression as a generous-spirited and adventurous person, and writing about him now, almost ten years later, still brings back strong memories.

And another thing ...

Wadi Rum has all the natural attributes to be one of the greatest climbing areas on earth; unfortunately, after my two visits, I found it a hard place to recommend. Two types of frustrating dogma blight the place. One is more understandable, as it is a product of the region: the locals' adherence to strict Sunni Islamic practise. In particular, the absolute invisibility and economic non-participation of women. To a secular western mind that is wrong in all kinds of ways but specifically viewed through the tourism lens, leads to public places (the "Rest House", other eateries and accommodation) being almost literally shit-holes. Sanitation and food hygiene are poor as men there seem too proud to clean up (*). Northern Jordan, where the population is more culturally-heterogeneous and women much more visible, has a very different character.

The other dogma is, regrettably, a British export: an antipathy to bolts in a serious multi-pitch environment that needs them. The first climbers to visit Jordan were 1970s era Brits who indoctrinated the locals that drilled protection was haram.  This is one issue in ascent - a need to step up the boldness and climb within limits - but another in descent where long rappel routes necessarily follow chossy lines of natural flake/ thread anchors where ropes are routinely hard to retrieve. In recent years more pragmatic European and other international climbers have begun establishing routes there and using bolts more freely, but what the place really needs is the funding and will to retro-bolt and/or re-route lines on the old classics.

Extraordinary sand creation found in the desert, unknown artist!

* Apparently Wadi Rum Desert is an exception to this generalisation and offers a good service to climbers. I believe this business appeared after my last visit.

the nostalgia project: Generation-X, Oman (2010)

A reminder: what is the nostalgia project?

The route

Generation-X is a limestone deep water solo (DWS) route above the Indian Ocean, at Gen's Cave on the Musandam coast of Oman. The grade is around 7b+ (5.12c). Gen's Cave is mentioned in the Dibba Coast chapter of UAE Rock Climbing (2009) and Generation-X described in this update PDF published in 2011.

Gen's Cave, Musandam. Generation-X climbs from the sea, centre of the image

Neil Gresham researching Generation-X before making the first ascent, 2011
The eventual line was about one metre to the left

The wild Indian Ocean coast of Musandam forms a continuous cliff line for an extraordinary length. A minimum estimate would 90km; being the straight-line distance from the sleepy UAE/ Omani port of Dibba up to the geopolitical hotspot of the Strait of Hormuz, near Iran. However a close look at a map shows that the coast is a crazy fractal puzzle of inlets within coves within bays, and so is far longer. It would take a lifetime to explore thoroughly. Climbing is accessed by boat and almost always "descended" by jumping back to the sea. For perfection, a visit should be multi-day, using a traditional arabian dhow for sleeping and a smaller powerboat to support climbing. With luck, nights will include a phosphorescence show and days include snorkelling amongst coral and seeing dolphins. It is a magical place.

Classic Musandam DWS action #1: support boat and climber
Tim Emmett, first ascent of Free Diving, The Red Pillar, 2011

Classic Musandam DWS action #2: support boat, snorkeller and climber
Matt Pfeiffer on Free Diving at The Red Pillar, 2011

Classic Musandam DWS action #3: arabian dhow, incomparable scenery
(and Leo aged six, rowing the inflatable, 2006)

Classic Musandam DWS action #4: playing with dolphins, 2011

Sara O"Rourke styling the Barracuda Stack exit, 2011

Classic Musandam DWS action #6: drying chalk bags

The context

I was very privileged to be one of the pioneers of DWS climbing on the Musandam coast and the main chronicler of that activity. Over seven years from 2006, I made numerous first ascents, checked out dozens of cliffs and documented over one hundred routes. More importantly it still conjures great intensity in my memory where other fragments from that period have begun to fade: brisk sea air; cliffs stretching to the horizon but revealing fresh geometries around every corner; fear of falling or jumping into the sea, and relief at surviving the same; rare but precious glimpses of a flow state in which increasing height above water became a perverse pleasure; salt water stinging abraded hands; elated sunburned friends; fishmarket odours at Dibba port; deep exhaustion ahead of long drives home.

Our first forays were a steep learning curve. Unexpected early lessons included not sharing boats with an expat rugby team (!) and not being afraid of large fish (after the first ascent of one stack I realised  I was about to jump ten metres into a shoal of two meter long barracuda).

More generically, we learned to check for actual deep water under our prospective climbs; in some sheltered bays, coral reefs existed just under the low tide mark. Another key insight was not to swim to the cliffs and attempt to pull out of the water. The rock just under the high tide mark was usually razor sharp, with potential for Tarantino'esque injuries. It was almost always better to step off a boat. That in turn necessitated a boatman who understood what we were trying to achieve. On a few worrying occasions, the support boat would linger in the fall zone rather than reverse away to a safe distance.

Choppy seas also rendered boat-to-cliff manoeuvres more serious. We learned not to DWS in the winter, when the Indian Ocean typically had larger swells. Later we also learned not to DWS in the summer either despite the superficial attraction of being at sea during the hottest months - it was just far too humid. April and May is the best time.

Even more evolved beta included carrying a lightweight dry-bag up routes, to enclose shoes and chalk bag before jumping back to the water. Attempting "hard" routes where falls were likely required bringing multiple shoes (and chalk bags) to the cliffs so one had a reasonable chance of having a dry pair for the successful send.

Me, The Original Route, Shark Bay, 2006., rediscovered in 2012
possibly the Musandam coast's first DWS first ascent?

Me and Mike O, exploring the Barracuda Stack, 2006
(The FA of the Pyramid in the background is in the blog here)

Gen's Cave is named for Genevieve, an expat French climber whose birthday coincided with an early exploratory trip. I wasn't on that trip but did check the place out a couple of years later. The unusual feature of the cliff is a sea cave entrance just tall enough for small boats to enter, with a dank hollowed-out "room" behind. That experience is a highlight for tourist boats from Dibba or Zighy Bay.

At the lip of the cave entrance is a good hold. In 2010, I figured out that it could be grabbed from a carefully-piloted boat at the right tide. This move leaves the climber dangling footless above the water but a swift campus move gains a jug rail and then a small ledge about seven metres above the sea. Above the ledge the rock arches outwards in an impressive roof feature for at least another ten metres. I remember making an uncommitted effort to make further progress and falling almost immediately. I forget whether others tried it but certainly no-one got higher.

Me playing on the start of what would become Generation-X, 2010 

Around the same time, my guidebook to UAE climbing, printed at the end of 2009 and including a short chapter on Musandam DWS, had started to spark some interest overseas. One big surprise was an email from Seb Grieve, the Sheffield-based star of the influential 1990s climbing film, Hard Grit. He and a group of friends had got in the habit of making regular expeditions to obscure climbing locations, and he was wondering whether Musandam should be their next destination.

We continued corresponding through the winter of 2010/11, eventually ending up with a plan for Seb and four friends - all at the intimidatingly-famous end of the climber spectrum - to spend a week on a dhow exploring the coast. (Hamad Sajwani, an Emirati climber, played a critical role in negotiating this with a Dibba boatman.) I offered to join as a guide and hoped to get other UAE-based climbers involved, but the cost and time commitment seemed prohibitive for them. At a late stage I remembered Read Macadam, a very strong Canadian climber living in Muscat, who could both represent expat climbers better than me and also spoke Arabic. To my relief, he signed up enthusiastically.

The trip ended up being very memorable for me and I think a good experience for all involved. I could write about it at great length but as that would be a little off-topic I have just posted a few photos below. (The update PDF gives a good flavour of what was climbed.)

Collecting the Brit all-star crew from DXB: Neil, Tim, Mikey, Seb, Grant

Same crew, paying homage to Damian's Boulders, Dibba

Same crew plus Read - third from left - and our boatmen

Same crew, technology break

Some idiot in a kayak© unsure, possibly Neil G

Same idiot, second ascent of One Liner, Big Wall Bay © unsure, possibly Neil G

Mikey on Prohibition, Far North Bays 

Me and Mikey starting FA projects, Platform's Cove © unsure, possibly Neil G

Read, FA of Partheon Slots, 8a, 2011 © unsure, possibly Neil G
The hardest DWS route in the Middle East

Though we travelled the length of the coast up to the Strait of Hormuz, the team found the best potential at Big Wall Bay, about half way up the coast, and at Gen's Cave. I showed the main cave project to Neil Gresham who worked on it for half a day or so, while the rest of the team put up some startingly-tall routes on a sector they named Gogarth East nearby. Neil eventually succeeded, though not before soloing a parallel climb to get above the project from above to get a look at the finishing moves. He graded it 7b+. Tim and Read also repeated it. Neil encouraged me to try. 7b+ was my hardest redpoint grade then, so I didn't fancy my chances. However, aided by Neil's shouted beta and his tickmarks, I surprised myself by getting all the way to the crux at about 13m before falling.

Inevitably I was then obsessed with the route and managed to arrange three more day-trips to the coast in May and June, trying the route four times. Unfortunately I was also struggling with an increasingly-bad shoulder impingement problem. I did not send. On my best attempt I wore a Go-Pro, resulting in this video, in which I talk through all the moves up to my highpoint:



Neil takes the same fall on one of his attempts at 4:18 in this video.

The ascent

The shoulder impingement got better around September 2011 but then morphed into a frozen shoulder problem which took several more months to resolve adequately (eight years on, my left shoulder is still distinctly less mobile than my right). Around March 2012 I was back to approximately my pre-injury shape and had succeeded on a 7b+ sport route. By then I had already committed mentally to leaving the region so I knew that any residual climbing projects would need attention soon. I began thinking again about Generation-X.

I managed to organise a weekend in April on the coast with a good crew of Abu Dhabi and Dubai friends. Helpfully for my motivation, Leo (then 12 years old) also asked if he could join, bringing his soccer pal Benji. At that time Leo was not interested in climbing so their plan was just to goof around, swim, snorkel, etc. On the first day the sea was quite choppy so climbing plans were de-emphasised. At one venue we visited, the boys were mocking some of the adults' hesitancy with cliff-jumps. I told them to shut up or try it themselves .. that challenge resulted in the video below!

Leo and Benji, behaving

Leo and Benji, failed kayak-surf attempt

The next day the sea was calmer. I was extremely anxious not to lose the opportunity so pleaded with the rest of the group that we take the boat straight to Gen's Cave. I recall I also had some theory about catching the moment just after the low-angle morning sun had burned the condensation off the holds. As I was not warmed-up, I assumed my first attempt would be a failure and wore my least technical shoes - a pair of comfy Sportiva Mythos - so as to keep my better shoes dry for subsequent tries.

Unexpectedly, when I touched rock I felt good, especially on the first crux in the middle of the route where I had often fallen. I had only got above there twice before. I took my time at the heelhook rest before launching into the upper crux. On the two previous occasions I had got there, I had failed where you have your right hand in an OK pocket, back arched out above the sea and are reaching blindly for something in a shallow ramp feature beyond with your left hand. For some reason - luck? intuition? stronger core? - on this attempt I managed to search around with my left hand a little longer and found a positive sidepull. Instantly my optimism soared - I knew the route could be possible. I threw my left foot up onto the ramp and came through with my right hand to a good gaston hold. From there it was just a glory road of rattly jugs to the sun-baked low terrain rock above the cave.

When I had got my breath back I yelled down to my friends in the boat: "I am giving up climbing now; it doesn't get any better than this". Obviously I didn't but if there was ever a "quit while you are ahead" moment for me, that was it. A DWS send at your grade limit is pretty special.

Gen-X - opening moves © Alan C
Note the Mythos shoes

Gen-X, first crux © Alan C

Gen-X, main crux © Alan C
Possibly my all-time favourite photo - thanks again Alan

Gen-X, final moves © Alan C

Gen-X, unstylish descent © Alan C

Subsequent ascents

I have not been back on Generation-X. I did manage two more days on the coast before leaving the UAE, adding a few more new routes. On the second of these days we visited Gen's Cave again, where I was interested in trying one of the big routes on the Gogarth East feature. I climbed The Fixer, 6b, maybe 25m high. I had intended to jump from the finishing ledge but lost my nerve. I started down-climbing then had a change of heart and threw myself off spontaneously before I could re-consider. This was an error. The longer than usual flight time confused me and I entered the water with a pronounced forward lean.  When I surfaced, I realised that I could not swim and had to yell to the guys in the boat to haul me out. Back in Abu Dhabi I realised that I had probably broken a rib. I could not climb for another month and by then DWS season was over. A month later I had left the region.

Me on The Fixer, Gogarth East, Gen's Cave, 2012

Musandam climbing got a little more fashionable over the next few years. Oddly the Brits' visit was not the main catalyst, despite articles by Neil and Mikey in two climbing magazines.

In 2013 an all-star North Face/ National Geographic sponsored team (Honnold, Findlay, Chin, Ozturk, etc) explored the coast in a fancy catamaran rented in Muscat. In their social media updates they claimed to be the first to climb on the coast, which irritated a few of us who had pioneered climbing in the region. However I emailed the team a copy of my DWS PDF guide. Their original intent had been to climb big walls above the sea, a bad idea (choss!) from which they could have been dissuaded had they done some prior research. They quietly switched their focus to DWS and Alex Honnold repeated Read's 8a. Mark Synott, the leader of the trip, called me in Squamish on their return to the US, and made a sort-of apology/ thank you. In return, I proof-read the eventual Nat Geo article, which put the record straight and mentioned my guidebook. Hazel also sent me a short account of the routes that they established.

so hot right now #1: some dude called Alex, unknown spot, Musandam, 2013

A few years after that, Read organised a Red Bull Psicobloc event on the coast, focused on Gen's Cave. The legendary Chris Sharma attended. Unsurprisingly he repeated Generation-X (as well as establishing other lines that went undocumented). As far as I know this was the fifth ascent, which makes me smile ... as the ascent list therefore runs: Gresham; Emmett; Macadam; me; Sharma. I don't envisage that happening again in my lifetime!

so hot right now #2: some dude called Sharma, Gen-X fifth (?) ascent, 2017 

black, needles, devil's tower, pigeon, chipmunk

Like 2017 and 2018, 2019 was another year in which mountaineering and trad adventures added some variety to my usual diet of obsessive sport climbing.

Duncan and I have been exchanging emails about a visit to the notorious Black Canyon for two decades (and actually went there, but got snowed out before we could climb, in 2004). We share this interest because we are both old enough to remember when the Black was one of the major climbing venues in the US, and was described breathlessly in the iconic 1970s book "Climb! The History Of Rock Climbing In Colorado". The Black has slid from mainstream to obscure cult status since then, as it ticks almost none of the boxes associated with modern climbing: consistent rock quality, obvious lines, fixed anchors, easy retreat. The combination of those last two absences is a major consideration at the Black as most routes start with an unpleasant long descent into the canyon, sometimes including committing rappels. Consensus wisdom is that the easiest way out is always to complete your intended route - whatever that takes.

We ended up spending about a week there in May 2019, but only climbed two routes: Maiden Voyage and the Scenic Cruise. However the latter was our main objective. Spring 2019 was unusually snowy in Colorado and conditions a little wetter and colder than we had anticipated. The national park service had not even officially opened the park when we arrived. Though we covered the ground on the Scenic Cruise, and (just) avoided bivouacking or climbing in the dark, the style of my ascent was poor and even Duncan pulled on a few pieces. In retrospect a longer stay and more warm-up routes would have been good idea, but that was not so obvious at the time. One major screw-up for me was wearing shoes that were too tight, despite much experimentation to try to have the perfect long-route shoe ready for the trip. I had significant foot pain from guidebook pitch 3 onward and made an additional bad error of not removing my shoes during a long hanging belay session in the middle of that pitch. Anyway, a very memorable day on what is probably the biggest consistently-steep wall that I have ever been on. I should really try to do it again in better style one day.

The Black Canyon from the South Chasm View railings

Looking straight down to the Gunnison river 600m below, South Chasm railings
The Scenic Cruise climbs the face below, approximately.

The Scenic Cruise climbs the wall in the centre of this photo from the Narrows view point 
Spot the climbers ....

... there.

The mandatory show-us-your-rack shot

Me on Scenic Cruise, guidebook pitch 3 © Duncan

Me on Scenic Cruise, guidebook pitch 5, about to hand over the lead © Duncan
5.10+, apparently

Me on Scenic Cruise, guidebook pitch 8 © Duncan

After the Black we drove back east then north to the South Dakota Needles, another old-school area not often included in modern climbers' road trips. We were only able spend one full day there. I strongly recommend visiting the Needles. Most people would want to dial back their grade expectations a long way as the climbing is serious: spaced bolts and cheesegrater faces. However the actual climbing on a plethora of knobs and crystals is great fun, the area is stunningly beautiful and most of the routes lead to actual summits. Though the geology and flora are very different, the area feels quite like the Czech sandstone with its similar "towns" of small towers.

The first route we did was also the highlight for me: the Cerberus route on the Tricouni Nail needle. Only 5.8 but some of the moves were quite delicate, as well as bold, and it is sobering to think of Royal Robbins establishing the route ground-up in junky shoes the year that I was born. Apparently you are supposed to simul-rappel this route, with one climber each side of the notched summit (there is no anchor). We modified this technique to make it slightly less scary. I lowered Duncan to the base where he stayed on the rope as ballast, threw the rest of the rope down the other side, did a worrying manoeuvre up and over the summit then rapped down.

The fabulous South Dakota Needles

Me on the summit of Tricouni Nail © Duncan

From the Needles we crossed into Wyoming toward the Devil's Tower, another "bucket list" objective. A storm blowing in midweek - with hailstones so large that they were noted in the TV news in Denver, our friend Andy reported - kept our visit to two climbing days. We went all the way to the summit on our first day via Soler; something few people do more than once as final pitches on the tower are typically chossy. Summiting felt like a  worthy tick but was not quite as spectacular as the views of the Tower from a distance might suggest. The west face, which hosts many classic routes like the stemming test, El Matador, was closed for nesting falcons. We had some aspirations there but Tower grading was feeling quite stiff after a couple of days so this may have saved us from embarrassment.

Devil's Tower from the approach drive

Devil's Tower, west face

Me on the DT summit © Duncan

In July I ticked off another very long term ambition: climbing in the Bugaboos. (I still possess a never-used Bugaboos guidebook which I bought in 1982 on my first visit to Canada.) As is standard practise, my partner Bob and I carried giant packs up to the Applebee campsite to establish a basecamp for a week. Due to Bob's time constraints and a dodgy weather forecast we did this late on a Sunday evening, arriving just before dark, then woke up early the next day to get a climb done ahead of a storm. This aerobic challenge shoehorned into 24 hours was gruelling for me.

We had initially intended to climb Snowpatch Spire via the backside Surfs Up route that first day but changed plans to summit the much easier but much more distant Pigeon Spire via its famous West Ridge.

Insanely large backpack at the Bugaboos trailhead

Classic Applebee campground scene

Pigeon Spire and the Vowell Glacier

This route is often described as "the world's best 5.4" and in normal conditions is a swift solo for many. For us, it was still in early season shape with extensive snow covering rock on its upper half. Combined with some weather urgency, this made for some mild excitement in rock shoes. Bob even backed off one lead which required a rather peculiar step across an ice dribble with poor gear. I found a better cam placement which made it more reasonable.



On the way back to camp we found ourselves descending from the Bugaboo Spire - Snowpatch col in the company of two disabled guys, one with one prosthetic and one with two. Neither were finding the soft afternoon snow easy to negotiate; apparently they had forgotten the hex key which let them put on their "crampon feet". I put two and two together and realised we were conversing with an american celebrity: the MIT professor, prosthetic pioneer and strong climber, Hugh Herr. They had just climbed up and over Bugaboo Spire with - until then - no fuss.

The rest of our week at Applebee was educational - we were stormbound in our tent for 36 hours, ran up the fun McTech Arete and circumnavigated Snowpatch Spire - but we did not tag any more peaks.

Last and (I suppose) least: at the beginning of September, for the second Labor Day long weekend in a row, James and I joined up with Luc and his son Kyle to camp and climb in the mountains. This time our base was the lovely Opal Pass area north of Pemberton, near several granite and volcanic mountains described in the Scrambles in Southwest BC guidebook. A long 4WD approach and overgrown trail seem to protect this zone from crowds; we only saw one other party.

On our first full day there we set off up Chipmunk Mountain to the north of the pass. Disappointingly for Kyle his hiking boots disintegrated halfway up. He and Luc returned to the campsite. James and I enjoyed finishing off the peak alone and sharing the route-finding through the final scree and choss slopes guarding the summit.

Chipmunk Mountain from Tenquille Mountain

James with our idyllic campsite at Opal Pass

Kyle's footwear malfunction on Chipmunk

James and I on top of Chipmunk

The next morning we woke up to see a black bear in the meadows near our tent; fortunately it departed the area quickly before we had to consider whether to be concerned. We all scrambled up Tenquille Mountain to the south of the pass then continued on to Goat Peak which overlooks the Pemberton valley. Descent, packing-up and hiking out were uneventful. Reversing our approach drive was not but that's another story (ask Luc!).

Kyle, Luc, James on the summit of Tenquille

Upper Pemberton Valley from Goat Peak

James with his cool new Osprey backpack and a freakishly-large mushroom on the hike out