age and climbing performance

Notable sport climbing performances at various ages

As someone who quit work in my late 40's to climb full-time, the topic of climbing potential when conventionally "old" has long been an interest. I describe here how I was significantly inspired to "work now, climb later" (apologies, DMM) by a London friend who achieved his best lifetime climbing performances well into his 40's. A few years ago I launched a thread on a British climbing web forum facetiously titled "benchmarks for the elderly" to share news of significant ascents at various age thresholds. In general the results were even more encouraging than I expected and suggested strongly that climbing at a high level was possible in your 50's and beyond. 

In 2021, my Sheffield-based friend Simon started a Facebook group "Grey Power" aimed at climbers in their 50's and older. It has proved shockingly successful and now has over 10,000 members. A recent post, describing Lynn Hill's ascent of a 5.13d sport climb aged 62, kicked off a side conversation about performance at age which re-interested me in the "benchmarks for the elderly" data. I thought it would be a worthwhile exercise to update the data from the old forum thread. In particular I wanted to add more data for women which had been under-represented there.

The chart above summarises my first pass at this. The "new" data has mostly come from pleas for help sent to two people - the hyper-knowledgeable Swedish expat Jonas Wiklund in Barcelona and perma-road-tripping rockstar Maggie Odette somewhere in North America. They unearthed numerous anecdotes of notable ascents which I attempted where possible to authenticate from other sources. Then I condensed those down to a shorter list to make the chart. Very approximately the data points are the "Oldest Known Ascents" at various grades. (If anyone is interested in the reference sources, see the Google Sheet here.)

The data

An obvious question is what does the chart tell us, beyond recording that someone did a hard thing at a specific age? Specifically, does it have any predictive value? I think it is reasonable to use the data for setting personal aspirations. If, say, you just turned 50, have had some life change that enables you to be more serious about your climbing, the ceiling for what may be possible is quite elevated: people your age, male and female, have climbed well into the upper 8's/ 5.14's. 

A topic that I am less sure about is whether the trend-line signifies anything? Superficially it looks like a  forecast of decrepitude. In other words: the rate of decline in your personal climbing performance that you might expect with age. The decline for both male and female from 50 to 60 on the curve is about a full YDS grade, or a couple of full Euro-sport grades, and then accelerates downhill beyond 70 for males (I was unable to find much data for females north of Lynn Hill). Intuitively that makes sense; we are accustomed to perceiving advancing age as an increasing drag on physical performance across a wide spectrum of activities, and athleticism isn't usually expected in the over-70's. 

Unfortunately, that interpretation would really only be robust if we could analyse multiple samples of performance data for individual climbers over their lifetimes. And even then we might want assurance that they had been trying equally hard at climbing throughout their lives. In the real world, careers, parenting and other pursuits distract people from climbing for years or even decades. In fact I believe some of the older climbers whose hard ascents have been newsworthy over the last decade, like Bill Ramsey and Chuck Odette, achieved their best performances in their 50's, not in their 20's. (Bill's article on projecting the 8c route "Golden" at 54 is the greatest thing ever written about redpointing, regardless of age.)

Another data problem is that we are not examining performances from a homogenous cohort of climbers, who are only distinguished by age but are otherwise identical. For example, no climbers aged ~60 now (my generation) had access to modern climbing gyms or, perhaps, more importantly, informed training advice until they were in their mid-20's or older, past their prime years for building strength and power foundations, tendon resilience and so forth.  Jeff Smoot's book about 1980's climbing in the US,  "Hangdog Days", documents how the influential Oregon climber Alan Watts caused himself permanent soft tissue damage in his prime by never taking rest days; a folly almost inconceivable to any subsequent climbing generation. In my peer group I can think of two people who were exceptional climbers in the mid-1980s and early-1990s respectively but suffered elbow and shoulder over-use injuries from which they have never fully recovered. 

It seems to me probable that the cohort of climbers currently in their 40's - early 50's, who did have access to quality climbing gyms in their formative years, and at least some warning against wrecking their bodies through over-training, may show less decline into their late 50's and 60's than the GenX elders/ late baby boomers occupying that age zone now.

If anyone reading this is aware of ascents-at-age that are significant or would augment the data (as mentioned, hard ascents by women in their 60's and 70's are an obvious absence) please let me know.

Finally a few notes that hopefully pre-empt some questions/ complaints:

• Yes, I have ignored trad climbing. Several reasons of which the main one is that it is unclear to me how to rank trad ascents from different climbing scenes meaningfully. How do you compare a hard but safe Indian Creek crack to a don't-fall British ledge-shuffle or a Czech sandstone trouser-filler between giant but spaced bolts?  (British E-grades do aspire to this but 1. they are not in widespread use outside Britain 2. there is the deep rabbit hole of whether they apply to onsight or worked ascents. In passing, though, to placate the Brits: Rob Matheson has climbed E7 at 72, Nick Dixon E8 around 60 and the ubiquitous Steve McClure E11 around 50.)
• The trend-line is a cubic polynomial curve generated automatically by Google Sheets that fits the male data with an r-squared of 0.99.  Yes, it is heavily influenced by the final data point (6a around 90).
• Some of the ascents cited are of routes that may have been downgraded and/or have split grades. I ran with the grade perceived by the ascentionists rather than, say, the current consensus on 8a.nu/ Mountain Project/ sendage.com. Precise grades don't seem hugely important in this context either in considering the overall trend or for the individuals involved (older climbers don't typically have sponsorships or instagram follower counts contingent on whether their hardest thing was 8b+/8c or 8c).
• Similarly some of the ascents are FA's of new routes which don't yet have established grades.

The Tantalus Traverse, river-to-river

The Tantalus Traverse is a rite of passage for Squamish mountaineers. It is attempted in a wide variety of styles and route variants but the common component is summiting the twin peaks, Tantalus and Dionne, via the long ridge of which they are the highest points, either moving north to south or vice-versa. The logic of the traverse is very clear from the Tantalus lookout on the 99.

The ridge from the lookout: Tantalus and Dionne twin summits in centre

In the summer of 2021 Leo was working at Squamish’s excellent climbing store, Climb On. He and his co-worker, MK, made a plan to attempt the traverse together and to my surprise asked if I would like to join. I was very interested but hesitant as their intention was to do the hardcore “river-to-river” version of the route rather than use a helicopter to gain and exit the alpine, and I doubted that I had the required fitness. Even tackled over three days, as they intended, the first day involves 2300m of ascent from the valley floor with full packs. The only comparable single-day ascent I have done since moving to BC was Mt Rexford from the valley in 2017 but on that occasion we offloaded most of our gear at a campsite halfway up and completed the climb with minimal weight. Furthermore, Leo and MK wanted to tag the summits of Pelion, Alpha and Serratus as well as the core summits of Tantalus and Dionne which is all that the heli-assisted groups usually climb.   

Our approximate route in Google Earth, from the north-east

Our approximate route in Google Earth, from the east

In the event, my fitness turned out to be adequate for the traverse. This may have been helped by Leo and MK procuring super-light gear as only climbing shop employees can, including the amazing Edelrid 6mm Rap Line  and toy-like Mago 8 belay plates.   My friend Luc also lent me his Arcteryx Alpha FL pack  which proved so great that I bought one for myself after the trip. I also have a theory that I have unintentionally made myself more aerobically-fit over the last few years through hundreds of days carrying new routing gear uphill at Chek. Heavy pack carried for medium duration = legit endurance training for bigger days? 

However we didn’t achieve all of our objectives. This was almost entirely due to route finding issues, even though we had researched the line quite thoroughly and had a GPS track to follow. On day one we couldn’t find the scrambling route up Pelion (a well-hidden gully, we later discovered) and opted to skip the summit. On day two, we made too leisurely a start and got caught behind several heli-bumped groups on the climb to the Tantalus ridge. Finishing that day in the dark we then got lost trying to find the right descent beyond Dionne and bivouacked well short of our intended stop at the Haberl Hut. On day three, we were unsure how to ascend the west side of Serratus, and ended up skipping that peak and then Alpha as well. None of which bothered me at the time or in retrospect: it was a fantastic adventure and I am extremely grateful to Leo and MK for inviting me along.  

Unsurprisingly the highlight was summiting Tantalus and then Dionne, and making the complex exposed rappels between them. Intermittent cloud cover made this section especially atmospheric, as we would have zero visibility one moment and long vistas another. Leo “led” the rappels throughout and I was very impressed to watch how calmly and confidently he navigated the terrain. I also slightly impressed myself by leading a short but steep crack pitch, perhaps 5.8, in approach shoes with a handful of ultralight cams on the (doubled) 6mm rope, to bypass the wide moat on Dionne. Later we would discover that other climbers at that point in the season were making a very loose scramble on the south-west face but I think our line was safer.

Trail head, day 1

Beginning the hike up Sigurd Creek, day 1

High on Pelion, day 1

day 1 bivouac south of Pelion

Sub-alpine meadows, start of day 2  

Getting psyched to start the technical climbing, morning of day 2

Horrific choss on the Tantalus north side bypass.
(Better to climb 4th class rock direct to the ridge instead)

MK holding the ridge together, day 2

MK and ...

Leo, Tantalus summit, day 2

Leo with Dionne behind

Leo, rigging the rappel past the Witch's Tit

Me leading a crack on Dionne to avoid the moat

Leo, summit of Dionne at sunset, day 2

Running out of light under Dionne, day 2

Day 2 bivouac

Sunrise on day 3. Garibaldi summit visible right of centre.

MK looking down over Lake Lovely Water, day 3

A "river-to-river" traverse necessarily involves a west-to-east crossing of the Squamish River to finish.Helpfully Leo and MK had pre-placed a small inflatable boat which made this straightforward, if muddy. Many people make unauthorised/ illegal use of the wire cables installed by BC Hydro for their (locked-up) cable trolley. I was glad we didn't have to do this. However we did have a final "bonus crux" carrying the boat and our packs 2km down a dirt road to our pickup.

In the past that dirt road, which lies on Squamish Nation reservation land, has been open to vehicles but recently it has been blocked off and it not even clear whether the nation want people there at all. Someone at the right level of government should be talking with BC Hydro and Squamish Nation to try to figure out a better/ sustainable solution, but this seems highly unlikely any time soon (as I have written elsewhere, District of Squamish are shamefully absent from important access negotiations like this). Meanwhile the continued absence of uncomplicated pedestrian access to the Tantalus is great news for the two helicopter companies operating out of Squamish airport. They offer a good service at a manageable price, which I have benefited from on several occasions since climbing Alpha in 2016, so I am not complaining, but this outstanding mountain range deserves better.

a data-driven Top 100 for Squamish

Climbers like lists. It is common to find "best of ..." type lists in guidebooks, less common but not unusual to find more granular sortings "top 10 highball boulders", "five most classic offwidths", etc. 

The excellent Squamish Select route guidebook, now in its 4th edition, has had a Top 100 list in its last two editions. Stating that a climb is "definitely top 100" is a frequent comment in online and even real-world conversations. These lists are based on one person's subjective opinion, or maybe the pooled opinion of a few people, but I have sometimes wondered if there is a way to do it more objectively, sourcing a much wider range of opinion? 

A month or so ago, my friend Tim B pointed out that the sendage.com database actually computes an average star rating for every entry, though you can only see it by browsing the source. For example, Grand Wall's average, based on 94 logged ascents, is 4.8841 (more accurately: is right now,  as the average is recalculated every time someone logs their ascent of the route in the database and gives a star rating).

Grand Wall's sendage.com page as the user sees it

And the source code for the same page,
note the 4.8841 average star rating

More usefully, the website's useful filtering tool allows sorting by rating, using the average ratings. So you can select an area and then filter with criteria like this:

In plain english: show me all the routes with at least four stars and twenty logbook entries, then sort them by average star rating. This gives 115 results. It is a fairly trivial exercise to then copy and paste these results into a spreadsheet (here, if you are interested) and play around with the list further, for example, dropping the bottom fifteen entries (the ones with the lowest average star ratings) to give a Top 100. When I did this I found a couple of duplicates that I thought uncontroversial to simplify: Spirit of Squamish and Klahanie Crack, and Smoke Bluff Connection and Wonderland. I also dropped a route from Porteau Cove as that is in the Vancouver not Squamish guidebook. Here is the final list, (re)sorted by grade:

A few comments: 

• In case you are wondering, the other popular databases (Mountain Project, 8a.nu) don't have the same star rating sorting tools (as far as I can see). 
• The list is what it is. It is the consequence of analysing widely-sourced subjective data in an objective way. I am not saying it is "better" than a list constructed in a more conventional way (but I am not saying it is "worse" either).
• The only arbitrary choice is the minimum sends in the filter. Leaving this at zero gives very weird results, biasing especially to new routes only logged a handful of times which the FA'er and their buddies have all given five stars. I chose 20 sends - you will get slightly different results if you lower to, say, 10.
• On the subject of number of logged sends, I assume it is not necessary to point out that actual sends will be a large multiple of logged sends? Because many people don't use sendage or, like me, may only log routes selectively. However I think it is reasonable to assume that logged sends are roughly proportional to actual sends. In other words: if a route has been logged many times it has been climbed many times, and if it hasn't been logged often it isn't getting sent often. 
• Unfortunately some very significant but hard routes get screened out by the minimum sends filter. Spirit of the West and Queen Bee are good examples. They have only been logged 3 and 12 times respectively.
• Similarly there are no trad routes in the list above 5.12a. The main reason is that the harder trad routes simply don't get logged very often on sendage. For example, even the uber-classic 5.12c Flight of the Challenger has only been logged 18 times. Cobra Crack has only been logged once.
• There are a disproportionately large number of 5.12d's. I have written about this before.
• I have highlighted new routes established since the last guidebook came out in gold. These constitute 10% of the list, which is a startling proportion, given that the guidebook came out only three years ago. Arguably it is something everyone should celebrate, as it implies the best may yet be to come. 
• Sceptical people may also spot that many of the highlighted new routes are from cliffs that I have discovered and/or routes that I have established. Well, that is what the data says. Feel free to do the analysis yourself and see if you discover something different.  
• Some exceptional moderate-ish routes established in the last few years aren't in the list because they haven't been climbed often enough yet but I am sure soon will be. Life in Space, Natural Perfection and  Zen Garden spring to mind.
• In the Squamish Select books, it is fairly obvious that the Top 100 list is being used to entice people to visit new or overlooked cliffs. That is a very valid reason to highlight some specific climbs over others, but clearly that can't be done with a strict data-driven list. 

the south chek years, part three: the canyon

Highliner above the canyon

Looking east from the talus ledges under the Monastery, many people notice a very steep white wall about a kilometre away. In late 2017 Chris H and I made two attempts to reach it, and in the process unintentionally learned a lot about the complex topography of the area. 

One of the minor ironies of the Chek area is that none of the area’s names make much sense. “Chek” itself is an abbreviation of Cheakamus, but the Cheakamus river is several kilometres away and at a far lower altitude. The official name of the recreation site that encompasses Chek climbing is the “Chek Canyon” site. This superficially makes sense as there is a canyon running south from the main parking lot which becomes increasingly steep-sided and impressive beyond the Big Show cliffs. My “deathtrap trail” which links the Big Show and the Monastery contours up its west side. But I doubt that is the canyon for which the rec site is named; more likely the reference is to the big gorge carved by the Cheakamus River, between Daisy Lake and Paradise Valley, again some distance away and at lower altitude. The forest service road that passes through the rec site is the Conroy Creek FSR and some people therefore call the Chek area “Conroy”. But the Conroy Creek itself is well to the south of any of the established climbing areas. In fact the only time I have crossed the creek was during my second hike with Chris to find the white wall.

None of which is the focus of this blog post except that the canyon, which is probably not The Chek Canyon, is central to the story and therefore needs a name; I will just call it “the canyon”. Also that, while hiking back from the white wall, we had our first opportunity to see the whole of its west side. At the time I was mostly interested in the Hermitage cliff which we had just discovered but I also noticed a cliff of uncertain size up above the established Big Show area, which as far as I knew had never been explored. Strangely this discovery then sat in my head for two years. I never quite forgot about it but never generated the momentum to do anything about it either.

In early 2020 development of the Hermitage was coming to a close and I was spending more time working on the “deathtrap trail” which was the best approach to the Hermitage. I re-routed the first steep climb on that trail twice, seeking to avoid a large patch of scree which did not look like it would ever stabilise. One day in April, after a morning of that kind of work, I had some time to kill, so went for a short exploratory bushwhack from the top of the steep climb toward where I thought the mystery cliff might be. A tricky scramble out of a gully led me to a ledge system that slanted up above the Big Show. Almost immediately I could tell I had found something significant: the first wall I encountered was at least 25-30m tall, was both steep and featured and was also shockingly dry. And there were more large expanses of rock beyond.

I let Leo in on the secret and within a few days we had found a way to the top of the cliff, which was on the rim of the canyon and dropped a fixed line down the first wall. A major surprise was finding bolts above the cliff already - the work of highliners who had begun to take an interest in Chek, and specifically the opportunity to fix and walk long lines across the canyon. The cliff was therefore immediately named “Highline”, though after a few months I recalled that there was already a Highline Wall (named for the same reason) on the Chief and decided to think again. Months later I settled on “Echo Beach”, a name I had in fact used previously for a new route in the UAE, but doubted anyone would spot this or care!

 

Echo Beach from across the canyon; climber on Wave Machine, 5.12b

The first step with many new cliffs is to clear the base area which in this case meant removing several small trees from the ledge system. Not for the first time I called in my good friend Luc, who in turn recruited his whole family (wife Keiko and sons Sean and Kyle) to help. As they seemed psyched on the cliff I asked whether they wanted to join in on the route development. Optimistically I pointed at a line at the far right end of the cliff which I guessed might be a “good 5.9 or 5.10” and they took the bait. Luc is primarily a mountain man who has raised his sons in the same tradition and it struck me that it might be entertaining to entangle them in a sport climbing project - this would prove correct.

The Martins at Echo Beach

Leo’s friend Nic also joined the crew at an early stage. Later my friend Ben W, and Danica, who I didn’t know but had just volunteered as moderator on a Facebook group that I had set up, adopted a line each. So we were nine, of which only I had bolted routes before. I hadn’t consciously intended to be a new routing mentor but it seemed more fun and more efficient to divide up the labour. I guess also at the back of my mind was a judgment that although the cliff had strong lines there were none that would be harder than 5.12, so there was no fame and glory at stake!

Leo making an early ascent of Surf Park, 5.12a

As everyone will know, spring 2020 was a strange time to be attempting anything at all due to the global SARS-CoV-2 outbreak. For the (apparently) very few people who understand rate of change statistics it was fairly clear by May 2020 that deaths from the virus were no longer growing exponentially and therefore the threat was not especially apocalyptic. However pandemic hysteria did continue to grow exponentially and even outdoor climbing came under scrutiny as an inappropriate activity. The local access group, which I had recently quit (more on that subject another time, perhaps), even put out guidance to that effect, suggesting that outdoor climbing was “uncondoned”, though I was amused to see that few of the board members followed their own advice. (I believe that research since has shown that there was never a risk of catching the virus from climbing holds and of course we also know that significant mental health issues have arisen because of people abstaining from sport.) 

On the positive side this meant the Chek parking lot was uncharacteristically empty through the 2020 summer and fall, and it was much easier to keep the cliff secret. By the end of the year most of the lines were complete, though in some cases the first ascents took a while. Luc’s line was revealed to be more like mid-5.11 than the 5.10 I had estimated. As none of the family had climbed that grade before it was a good challenge for him and his sons. Sean came close to stealing the FA from Luc, hence the eventual name “I schooled the Old Man”. Danica’s line, “Rodeo Clown”, also proved to be significantly harder (5.12b) than her previous hardest redpoint (5.11d), and her FA efforts turned into a classic redpoint siege that continued into 2021, complicated further for her by concussion following a mid-winter car accident. The vibe during the period was almost always upbeat. The cliff was a fun place to hang out, with its exposed ledge system and big views over the canyon. Two unique (for Chek) features of the cliff made it climbable in almost all conditions: it was high enough above the canyon to get any sun going, even mid-winter; the canyon rim above was clear of large trees and moss, meaning no seepage.

Sean making the second ascent of Stihl the Daddy, 5.11b, in December!

Opening new cliffs always seems to get a little messy in the final stage as the secret usually leaks before the “official” opening, leading to accusations of favouritism or worse. Having witnessed some especially dysfunctional examples of this, notably at The Monastery, I was keen to achieve the cleanest possible transition from “closed” to “open” status. I had a topo ready to release to the public from early 2021 but did not want to do so until Danica sent, which ended up being in May. So there were a couple of spring months when the secret was leaking out fast and ever more climbers showing up. I became anxious that someone might FA Danica’s route by mistake. Though it was clearly red-tagged to signify a “closed” project it was well-chalked, had quickdraws in place and looked pretty inviting. While it is easy to get emotive in these situations, developers need to remember that on public land everyone is entitled to be there and any “developer rights” we may perceive are conventions within the climbing community and have no legal substance whatsoever!

In the event, this awkward limbo period played out fine. Almost everyone seemed to love the cliff and the routes, and I received plenty of useful feedback to improve the topo. Only one incident occurred that was disappointing. A local (sorta-famous, Arc'teryx-sponsored) guide showed up with two bored, video-game-playing children and a feral dog, did not deign to speak with anyone already present, abandoned the entourage on the narrow exposed ledges unsupervised and then reappeared a while later swinging around on a rappel rope from the highliner bolts on uncleaned terrain well above the routes' anchors, endangering everyone below with potential rock fall. On being yelled at to understand their intention, the individual responded angrily that they “knew what they were doing” (quite evidently not true!) and were seeking out anchors to top-rope the cliff’s easiest route (which was not in fact accessible from their rappel, as I could have explained). While both bored children failed to climb the 5.11 which had been erroneously equipped, the feral dog enjoyed running around on top of other climbers’ flaked ropes. I don’t think I was alone in being relieved when this group left. Again, they were as entitled as anyone else to be there, but having the humility to actually consult with the developer before questing around above the cliff would have made for a better and safer day for everyone.

I should qualify that anecdote by saying that most guides in the Sea to Sky area don't behave arrogantly and often give back to the community through new route development and other voluntary work. This individual's behaviour that day was an outlier.

In June I released my topo “New Climbs off the Deathtrap", which also opened the lid on the Hermitage for the first time as well as Echo Beach. Several of the Echo Beach routes became instantly popular, especially Nic’s "Chicken Joe", 5.11a, and my "Wave Machine", 5.12b, the first route that I bolted on the cliff. At the time of writing, both of these long endurance routes had more than fifty logged ascents at sendage.com. Which is unprecedented for routes in their first year being open, as far as I know.

As this seven year period of route development began to draw to a close (I am aware of some other possibilities but will leave them for others) my interest started to drift away from climbing to other issues in the area. Spending time at the Hermitage and Echo Beach had increased my awareness that “the canyon” is home to an impressive collection of old-growth trees, especially some glorious tall Douglas Firs. The full extent of this untouched ecosystem - continuous forest of one square kilometre or more - is much more apparent from those cliffs (and the trail between them) than anywhere else at Chek. The largest of the trees are in the riparian area in the canyon base. There are at least ten trees of ~two metres diameter or larger, including one easily-visited example just behind the Well of Souls boulders. Firs of this size are around 400-500 years old.

The grove of firs at the end of the canyon

Given that the Conroy Creek FSR area has a long history of logging it is surprising that such a large area has been spared. The most likely reason is that the canyon’s hostile terrain - large talus at one end, narrow at the other, steep slopes in between - has been a deterrent. The trees do not have any legal protection. In 2015, BC Timber Sales proposed a new road along the canyon base, which would have created easier access to the old growth zone and likely caused the immediate logging of the biggest trees, as they grow on the road’s intended route. The road proposal did not move forward but could still reappear at a future date.

I am not by any stretch an environmental activist and I perceive a lot of hypocrisy and posturing amongst some people who style themselves as such. I don't see desirable long term environmental goals like CO2 emission control being achieved at the expense of human living standards, especially in the developing world, nor without adoption of unfashionable technologies like nuclear power. I strongly recommend Michael Schellenberger's book "Apocalypse Never" in this context. However, after travelling extensively around BC, I have become increasingly shocked by how little of the province's original coastal rainforest seems to remain standing. It is not hard to find impressive individual old growth trees or groves if you go exploring, even close to an old logging town like Squamish, but larger tracts comprising an intact ecosystem are very rare; which is unequivocally sad. In relation to the Chek trees, it also struck me that, for better or worse, I was likely to be the only person with the time and awareness to be their guardian in the near term. So I decided to be pro-active in doing that.

The Talus Giant from Echo Beach, catching winter morning sun

In fall 2020, as a mechanism to raise awareness and get some informed opinion, I nominated two of the largest trees to UBC's BC Big Tree Registry. This led to a visit from Ira Sutherland, chair of the committee maintaining that registry, and his friends, armed with laser measurers and other gadgets. Ira was especially interested in my favourite tree in the canyon, the “Talus Giant”, directly under the "deathtrap trail". The tree was measured as having height of 65m, diameter at breast height over 2m and crown canopy width over 16m. These numbers combined create a “significance score” which I was later told placed the tree within the top forty Douglas Firs in the UBC database; a helpful statistic if the road proposal is revived.

Ira Sutherland and friends measuring circumference for the Narrows Giant:
 the canyon's broadest, but not tallest, fir

Around the same time, I worked with FLNRORD and Robin Richardson, at the local access group, on an expansion of the Chek Canyon Rec Site boundary. The initial objective was just to include the new popular climbing areas like Electric Avenue but I proposed and sketched out a bigger polygon that also enclosed the old growth area. I have been out of the loop on this for a while, but if the provincial website can be trusted, that new boundary does now seem to be official.

The new rec site boundary
The canyon straddles the central drainage marked with the thin blue line

As I hinted above, I have made a conscious effort to stop new routing for a while. Various reasons. One is that Echo Beach seems like a great stopping point, completing an arc of development and trail building around Mt Chek from The Substation to Electric Avenue to the Monastery to the Hermitage. And I think it is very unlikely I could find another cliff of comparable quality to Echo Beach any time soon. I have also noticed that too much new routing tends to erode some climbing skills, especially onsighting, as you become very used to always being on known terrain. And the time-suck is significant. I think at this point I would rather put that time into working routes at my limit and/or just enjoying climbing other people's routes.

I thought I would finish with some thoughts on a mildly-controversial topic which is "closed" first ascent projects. It is common around Squamish to come across bolted lines with red tape or similar in a prominent location, signifying that the route is "red tagged" or "closed": the person who equipped and cleaned the route has not sent yet and does not want anyone else to try. There are a lot of opinion on this of which the far ends of the spectrum are: "it is never acceptable to close a route" (an opinion often held by very strong climbers who are smugly confident that no-one else can do their projects anyway) and "you can close a route for as long as you want". Most other people, who have an opinion, tend to sit somewhere in between. Something like "Projects can be closed for as long as the equipper is still genuinely trying it" or "one year is long enough". 

I have closed several lines over the last few years, some of which have kept their red tags for much longer than a year and, in some cases, I have not really been actively trying them, though some kind of intent has been there in the background, or I have hoped that Leo, or one of this friends, might send. However I have felt guilty about my (in)actions. One mitigating idea that I have pursued is to attach my name and cell number to the first bolt. That enables anyone, who is interested, to enquire as to the actual status of the project and ask if they can try it. I think it somewhat lessens the inherent passive-aggressiveness of the red tag. Something other people might consider? Anyway, that's my two cents.

This topic is in my mind right now, as of today I have no closed projects anywhere. For the first time in a several years. Yesterday I was at Echo Beach with a new friend from Whistler, both repeating several of the 5.12's for "volume". The last couple of months have been unusually cold and rainy in Squamish but Echo Beach with its privileged position on the rim of the canyon was getting all the morning sun going. The only sounds were birdsong and the mysterious quiet roar of wind moving through big trees. Unanticipated, a succession of friends, and someone I'd messaged with but never met in person, arrived at the cliff. Leo also appeared with his friend Karina. My last closed project was a leftwards finish to Danica's Rodeo Clown that I tried multiple times during spring 2021. Though the independent climbing is short, it is in the most exposed position on the cliff, battling a slanting seam through the capping roof. Leo had a few tries yesterday then sent today without much fuss.

Consciously ending an era of your life can be bittersweet but I feel pretty good about moving on from developing at Chek. It is nice to have a body of work that's coherent, whether climbing, art, whatever. And I have had other recent life changes that open up other options, less tied to Squamish. That said, I am already feeling a lot of nostalgia about the last two years developing at Echo Beach, as it was almost entirely fun, social and a culmination of lessons learned elsewhere. I feel very fortunate to have had this experience.

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.