traversing the Chief east to west

From the front deck of our house we look south to the Chief and in particular the saddle between the third summit of the Chief and the Squaw. I have often noticed that the north-east ridge up to the third summit from the saddle is not very steep, and wondered whether it is possible to find a non-technical way up there. The only publicised hikers' routes up to the Chief's summits come up from the south-west side, all variants on the incredibly-popular Backside Trail.

My interest in this more obscure side of the Chief has also increased because of the Sea to Sky Gondola. There is a good view down over the east side of the third summit from the Gondola's Chief Viewing Platform. From there, the north-east ridge to the third summit looks easy, though from a distance you can never be 100% sure what's lurking in the trees.

The Chief third summit from the gondola viewing platform

The same view rendered in Google Earth with the possible north-east ridge route

Unsurprisingly, asking a few local climbing friends fairly quickly uncovered that there is a trail of some kind up there, though no-one was able to be very specific about its exact line. I filed the idea away in my head under "things to try with the kids some time".

This weekend (a long weekend in Canada because of Victoria Day) I was scheduled to be "in charge" of Leo. He usually has league soccer matches on Saturdays, sandwiched between evening training sessions, so it seems best that he doesn't do anything active the rest of the time. However this weekend was different: no matches and no training. So I insisted he join me for some kind of outdoor exercise. Reluctantly, as given a free choice he would prefer to be indoors gaming online on his PS3, he agreed to go for a hike. I offered a few options, from which he picked what I was calling "the Chief loop", probably because it is nearest to the house. I mentioned that I wasn't sure of the exact route, but I don't think he was listening.

The plan was that we would leave the car near the start of the normal ascent route, with the expectation that we would come down that way after traversing the third and second summits.

Our whole planned route rendered in Google Earth

This meant the hike started with a dusty trudge of about 1.5km along the Mamquam forest service road. Leo was not in a very engaged mood, but it turned out that passing under the recent North Walls rock slide zone was a worthy conversation topic.

The forest service road; Squaw rock behind

The next section is the Squaw Rock approach trail, which I know quite well. As it is completely enclosed in tall trees, it is fairly dull walking, also steep. Fortunately after 30 minutes or so, the trail meets the saddle where there are a few viewpoints and the angle eases.

The approach trail up to Squaw Rock

On the saddle between Squaw and Chief, looking north to our house

The Chief third summit from the saddle

Beyond this point was new terrain for me. There are several trail forks, most of which unmarked, so we chose whichever was closest to the ridge. At one fork there was a "Chief" sign, though placed ambiguously and without any arrow, so that it could apply to either turn.

Starting the north-east ridge trail up to the third Summit

Cryptic signage

The trail gradually steepened up, and we passed two sections with easy rope pulls. Up to this point, we had been entirely alone, but at the next view point there was another father and son team. They asked us where they were. It became immediately obvious that they were very badly lost, having taken a wrong turn off the normal route to the 3rd summit, and continued contouring hopefully around the Chief for at least a couple of kilometres. I suggested they join us though warned that I only had a vague idea of the route.

Just above that point the enigmatic "Chief" sign appeared again, but seemed to want us to head downhill. Instead, I noted a faint trail leading upwards to a ~10m rock chimney full of tree roots, and partially equipped with an (old)  knotted rope. I recommended that we tried that. With hindsight it seems unlikely this was the correct way, but everyone got past the obstacle - eventually. Leo was nervous on this section and the other teenager even more so. I ended up descending the chimney to assist him, then had to stand tenuously bridged across the outside whilst telling him where to place his feet. Thankfully his father was a better climber.

The sketchy chimney

Above the chimney our trail converged with another more substantial one. Beyond that point were two more "climbing" sections, equipped both with new'ish ropes and rebar steps, in a european "via ferrata" style. The amount of assistance provided seemed excessive.

Short unnecessary via ferrata section

One of our "clients" on the final via ferrata section, just under the third summit

We then arrived quite abruptly at the third summit, which was predictably (bank holiday weekend ...) busy. No-one seemed curious that we had come up from the "wrong" side. After a sandwich break, Leo and I abandoned our "clients", suggesting that they couldn't possibly get lost again if they followed the crowds down. We then traversed over to the even-busier second summit, where we didn't linger at all. At the narrow gap between the second and first summits, I tried to interest Leo in the via ferrata there, which gives a quick route to the first summit, but he wasn't keen. As I had been that way a few years before, I was not bothered to miss it.
 

Leo starting down from the second summit

The rest of the descent passed very quickly as we stupidly decided to run, enjoying seeing how many tourists we could pass. I was pondering how embarrassed I would be if I tripped and broke a limb or twisted my ankle, when we bumped into a stretcher party bringing an injured hiker down. However, we ignored the bad omen, and resumed at the same speed. We were back at the car about 3 and half hours after we left.

Clearly this was a very mild adventure by Squamish standards but I thought I would document it as there is very little information about the route on the web. I plan to do it again some time soon and try to figure out where we went wrong. Then see if it can be done with a seven year old ...

EDIT: I did this walk again one week later, with my friend Bob, starting from home, which adds another 1-2km on roads and flat trails. This time I followed the most substantial of the trails rather than trying to follow the ridge directly. The consequence was that we ended up avoiding the sketchy chimney but did otherwise follow most of the previous week's route, including the two via ferrata sections. It is hard to describe this with great precision, but broadly-speaking the ridge is followed apart from one large dogleg away from the ridge contouring around the Chief leftwards for about 200m, until blocked by the large cliff of Above and Beyond, at which point the trail heads back up rightwards. Generally, once on the ridge, looking for combinations of 1. the most well-trodden trail 2. the occasional "Chief" signs and 3. red flagging tape, will find the right route.

Map of our route from Bob's Strava page

Same data plotted on Google Earth

... and zoomed in closer on the North East ridge (note the major dogleg away from the ridge line)

viking

My father was born on 19th September 1914, in Viking, a small prairie town in eastern Alberta. A month ago I drove there from Squamish for the centenary with one of sisters, Sally, and my youngest son, James. Anniversaries often seem rather abstract and contrived to me, but this one made a great excuse for a road trip. We took six days to complete a big loop, passing Helmcken Falls, Mt Robson, Jasper and the Miette Hot Springs on the outward journey and Canmore, Lake Louise, Revelstoke and the Okanagan on the return. 

Our 2900km round trip - like driving Paris to Moscow

Neither Sally nor I had been to Viking before. Our main motivation for the trip was curiosity about the town and its role in our family's history. Our grandfather, William, moved there from London in 1909, the year the town was established.

William outside the Viking homestead

He persuaded our grandmother, Irene, also from southern England, to join him. They had two sons in quick succession whilst William established a law business and a farm. We still have a letter from Irene back to her mother in Britain, which suggests that she and William were very happy. 

Unfortunately world events intervened in 1914 and William considered it his duty to return to Britain. He served for almost the whole course of World War 1, receiving a Military Cross for bravery in 1917, but was killed in September 1918 by an artillery shell, just a couple of months before fighting ended. He is buried in Tincourt Cemetery, in the Somme region of northern France.

Irene, who had relocated to Britain with her sons during the war, moved back to Viking in 1919. William's brother, Reggie, and his wife, accompanied her, and ended up settling in the town for almost two decades. Before the war Reggie had secured a job with a Hong Kong bank, which he had to give up in favour of this alternative, and very different, path. Sadly he died of tuberculosis in 1937. Not in Viking but in Victoria, as conventional medical opinion at the time was that the moister warmer coastal climate was better for lung problems (these days an arid climate would be preferred). However he was succeeded by two sons, and his descendants are now quite numerous across Canada, (with a statistically-implausibly concentration in Barrie, Ontario - click on the image below for a visualisation!).

Irene returned to Britain permanently in 1923, when my father was nine. Throughout his life he retained memories of his Alberta farm years and maintained close contact with his Canadian cousins.

In the late 1920s Reggie arranged the sale of William and Irene's farm to a Scandinavian couple. Astonishingly two of their grandchildren, now in their 60s, still live in Viking. One of them, Bryan, agreed to meet us; a very generous and trusting decision, given that we only managed to contact him a couple of days before we arrived. His local knowledge and recall of his ancestors' experiences really transformed our visit from random tourism to something more focused.

The first place Bryan and his wife took us was the site of our grandparents' old homestead. Though now just a wheat field, the remnants of the house were not removed until the 1980s.

Alberta is flat! James, Sally and I at the homestead site

He also obtained access to the town museum, which is normally locked out of season. There we found a copy of the local newspaper from October 1914, two weeks after my father's birth. The juxtaposition of an advertisement for William's law business and the newspaper's "Call For More Men" is poignant.

Viking News from October 1914

We also discussed at length what had drawn our ancestors to a remote prairie town from Europe? Bryan had a single answer: free land. The Canadian Northern Railway had laid track as far west as Edmonton in 1905 and needed passengers and freight to justify its investment. It (and other railroad firms) advertised heavily in Britain and elsewhere in Europe, selling the dream of fertile empty territory waiting to be claimed. Viking was one of the stops on that new line. The standard measure for land in Alberta in that period was a "quarter": 160 acres. Bryan thought it was likely William would have stepped off the train and "staked" several quarters, so perhaps ending up with six hundred acres or more. We also know that William's father, George, had died young and that he and his brothers were likely to have been under financial pressure. It makes sense that becoming a large landowner, even by then British standards, had a strong appeal.

the UK Daily Mail promoting western Canadian land in 1904

A strange aspect of this story is that there was a third brother, Percy, who also lived in Viking. Percy was mentally-handicapped in some way, though apparently able to work and look after himself to some extent. We think that he may also have travelled out to Canada in 1909 and probably - helped by William? - staked his own land claim. He remained in Viking until his death in 1962, aged 74. He never married nor had children. We searched the graveyard for his name but with no success. Probably there was no-one to buy him a headstone. It is odd to think that someone could live a reasonably long life leaving so little trace - a massive contrast to our modern hyper-documented InstaFaceTwit world.

The final part of the puzzle for us was what had driven our grandmother to return to Britain in 1923? Sally knew Irene quite well. She was a bohemian woman who never remarried and devoted her life to art. Looking at Viking now - a small and very dull agricultural town - and considering how it might have been in the 1920s - much the same? - it seems very unlikely that she would have fitted in there. The railway line had crossed the Rockies by then. I wonder whether she ever considered moving west to the coast? It is easy to imagine that she could have made a life in Vancouver. Anyway, she did not. My father finished his schooling in Britain then got swept up in another world war (India then Burma then Portsmouth, where he met our mother). He never subsequently lived overseas. But through a quirk of immigration law he is not regarded as having revoked his Canadian nationality when I was born, so, taking the story full circle: I was able to move here already a citizen.

the elfin and the keith

Winter quietly ended a few weeks ago, at least in Squamish. Cherry trees have blossomed, weeds are sprouting back out of neglected flower beds and I am gradually purging my car of scarves and toques. And forgotten climbing partners are emerging from hibernation with thinly-veiled requests for belays. All good but I have let a few snow adventures pass unrecorded so thought I should catch up before the memories become too distant.

In the Sea to Sky corridor there are three main venues for backcountry skiing: the terrain beyond the resort at Whistler Blackcomb, Garibaldi Provincial Park above Squamish and the Duffey Lake area north of Pemberton. Of those, until this season, I had only really sampled Whistler meaningfully, probably because the access is so easy (lifts right into the alpine).

The most popular winter area within Garibaldi park is around the Elfin Lakes hut, which is approached from the Diamond Head road-head above Squamish. The road up to Diamond Head passes very close to our (old) house so I should really know that area very well. However, for the lazy, the full 12km hike to the hut is substantial. I have tried several times on foot in summer, with one or more kids in tow, but never managed to coax them much beyond the Red Heather shelter, about 500m vertically above the road-head. It doesn't help that that portion of the route (~5km) is almost entirely enclosed in trees, with nothing to distract from the grind, so it feels further than it really is. Early this winter I did do a few daytrips on my splitboard up to Round Mountain just above Red Heather, so at least had that section tamed. But making it all the way to Elfin itself had become a minor obsession.

Looking north-west from just south of Round Mountain

Luckily in February an old friend, Wolf, appeared in BC eager for some ski-touring. I had only one significant time window available, which fell straight after he arrived (flight from Frankfurt!), but it has just snowed heavily, which was a major incentive. Gamely he shrugged off his jetlag and we headed out. I wish I could report that we were rewarded by amazing weather and fantastic conditions but ... we weren't. Visibility was poor throughout and avalanche danger too high to allow any of the classic side-trips. However, for me, the hut was finally ticked.

Wolf and the Elfin

I had been warned that it could get busy at weekends. The place wasn't quite full but there were enough people for it to be moderately annoying. For some reason the hut is popular with snowshoers, for whom the sleep-over is the highlight, so they often turn up equipped to party. If I go again, I will try to make it mid-week outside the holidays and ideally timed with some clear weather. Wolf and I did at least find a few nice if short descents around the hut, and from Paul Ridge on the way back out, in ~20cm fresh powder. The other positive from this trip, and some other visits to the roadhead before and after, was the excellent performance of my 4Runner in the snow. I made it in and out several times on summer tires without chains whilst other people were having all sorts of problems.

Truck embedded in a snowbank just below the Diamond Head parking 

I also moved further up the learning curve with my splitboard, in particular dealing with skin transitions during heavy snowfall (not fun) and powder turns (theoretically fun but ...). I am grateful to Wolf for his patience during my frequent tantrums when struggling with both of these.

A few weeks later, I had some possible free time during the BC spring break. Luckily that coincided with Bob's interval between shifts and two days of clear weather forecast between snowstorms. Bob suggested we headed to the Duffey to stay at the Keith hut. Oddly I had never researched that area in any detail so had almost no preset expectations. Sometimes that can be the key ingredient for a really successful trip. Several things that I did not know about this area were a positive surprise: the mountains are really impressive (far more so than around Whistler); the hut is characterful; the approach time to gain the actual alpine terrain is reasonable (far shorter than at Elfin).

We were also very lucky with conditions. On day one, thanks to an insanely early start from Squamish, we were the first people to skin into the area after the previous day's storm. Until we got close to the hut there were no tracks visible at all, just blue sky, mountains, the forest and pristine snow. The next day was not quite so perfect but very atmospheric with light broken clouds. We both took many photographs, so, rather than give a detailed account, here are some of them (click then scroll through to view full size).

Mt Joffre from by the Anniversary Glacier moraine on the hut approach 

The Keith Hut

Or should it be "Keith's Hut"?

Mt Joffre from outside the hut

Looking down to the hut

Bob (who recently completed his AST2) digging a pit

Bob doing a column test on the snowpack 

Me on the edge of the Anniversary Glacier (we went right to traverse to a couloir on the NW face of the Joffre ridge)

Bob making the traverse

Looking up at the couloir (Bob just visible)

Bob making fresh tracks ... actually this whole valley was untracked

From our high point on the Matier sholder on day 2

Bob emerging from the cloud

Me starting our final descent ... we skied continuously to the valley floor seen down to the left (~700m vertical)

one BANANA, two BANANA, three BANANA, four

Lately I have been paying some attention to Squamish local politics. Possibly too much attention. Three main reasons for this: 1. it is not the climbing season, so I have had more free time than usual; 2. anyway I injured my wrist before new year and was in a cast for a month; 3. for a small town, there is plenty happening.

The easiest place to sample the town's controversies is Facebook Squamish Speaks, a tetchy discussion group on (obviously) Facebook. I experimented with joining in there, but after a while realised it was a path to madness. I do not think Facebook is well-suited to debate; it gets too personal too quickly. Real web forums that allow anonymity or semi-anonymity work better. That said, I have got to know some new people through the group, which has led to some interesting private conversations.

I felt like I wanted to distil what I have learned, so below is a short guide to the headline political issues; all private sector projects of various kinds. There are routine topics that are also important, like budget management by the local municipality (DoS: the District of Squamish), but I will leave those for another time, maybe.

For context - as I have written before - Squamish is a classic post-industrial town. Twenty years ago there were several large industrial employers including a pulp mill, saw mill, chemical plant and railway engineering works, supporting a substantial blue-collar workforce. But all those places were closed down by 2005. Now the largest employers are DoS, plus Walmart and Quest University; with jobs that require different skills - or pay less - than those that have disappeared. Over the same period, relatively low house prices have sucked in a growing number of young couples and families who mostly commute to work to either Whistler or Vancouver. They typically have different values to the longer-established residents: more environmentally-concerned and less sympathetic to the resource sector. So there's a definite political divide between the old and new "tribes". In relation to development proposals, that means there is always someone who is against any new proposal. However the biggest BANANAs are definitely found amongst the newer residents.

Also for context, here's a map:

I have tackled the topics in ascending order of popularity (as far as I can judge). Most-hated first.

Garibaldi at Squamish is a ski resort proposal for an alpine area just north of Squamish that has been concept-only for at least twenty years. It would totally transform the town as the tourist season is currently almost purely summer-only. In theory it is do-or-die time this year, as BC's Environment Assessment Agency are set to pronounce on it shortly, after which it is a political decision. The proponents say they will abandon the proposal if turned down. Recently they abandoned the lower-third of their proposal - a couple of golf courses and associated residential sites by the highway - in an apparent final bid to sway opinion.

People who seem to dislike this project: amazingly, given the obvious economic benefits, almost everyone in town. The organised opposition is an unusual coalition between snowmobilers (old tribe!), who cunningly obtained tenure of the threatened alpine area decades ago, and environmentalists (new tribe!), who fret about disruption of salmon rivers and some other things.

What I think: in favour, now that the proposal has been reduced to ski resort only. Brohm Ridge, the resort's focal point, has incredible views south and west, and should be a key backcountry access point, for example, for climbing Mt Garibaldi. Currently the snowmobile club restrict access with a locked gate on the forestry road, well below the alpine level.

What is going to happen: someone, whose opinion I trust, reckons 50:50 odds at this stage.

Woodfibre LNG is a proposal to build a small-scale gas liquefaction plant on the abandoned site of the Woodfibre pulp mill, until a decade ago one of Squamish's large employers and tax-payers. WLNG's investment would be more than a billion dollars, and would likely make them the biggest tax payer in Squamish by a large margin. The business will be there for at least 30 years and is estimated to create 300 jobs during the build phase and 100 permanent jobs once operating. The company will also provide training locally in industrial skills that are likely to be in high demand throughout BC, as the current provincial government was elected with a mandate to push LNG exports.

People who seem to dislike this project: all the environmentalists, who hate that a proportion of the gas will come from fracked sources in Northern BC, and that it will be shipped substantially to China, adding to that country's carbon emissions. And they fret about tankers in Howe Sound. One even admitted that she didn't much like the idea of Squamish filling up with blue-collar workers again (the snob!).

What I think: in favour as long as the company uses electricity to power the liquefaction, and doesn't instead burn gas on site. Squamish desperately needs new tax dollars and another large employer. And I am familiar with LNG plants from living in the Gulf; as industrial facilities go, they are clean and pretty unobtrusive within the landscape.

What is going to happen: it will go ahead, as it has strong political backing at the provincial level and there is little that DoS can do to obstruct. For example, the site is already zoned for heavy industrial use.  

Squamish Oceanfront is a large parcel of de-commissioned industrial land, where the Squamish river delta meets the ocean. DoS acquired it for a dollar about ten years ago. Though it was initially ring-fenced from the municipal finances within a special purpose company - the "SODC" - large amounts of debt have since been accumulated through dubious spending on consultants, then, in an act of monumental stupidity under the previous mayor, that debt was guaranteed by the municipality, so that we taxpayers are now all liable. However, after years lying unwanted and serving as little more than a dog toilet, a developer is apparently negotiating with the council to build on the land. Just in time, as SODC has to make the first debt repayment in May this year. As I understand it, any development has to follow a template established through community consultation: mixed residential and business use with a hotel and public areas.

People who seem to dislike this project: A previous prospective developer was chased out of town in 2006, apparently because of local political infighting. But after years of controversy and failure to do anything with the site, interest within the town in this project has become jaded and apathetic. Sadly, people generally seem too financially illiterate to understand how nefariously it has been managed.

What I think: I'd like to see the site bought and the debt paid off. However, if that does not happen soon, it should be made into a park, then the municipality restructure the debt. Either way, there should be a very thorough enquiry into how the debt was accumulated).

What is going to happen: Hard to know. A well-informed source told me that the cost of bringing services (sewage, etc) out to the land makes profitable development impossible.

Sea-to-Sky Gondola does not really belong in this list, as it has already been approved and will be running from May this year, but it is illustrative of inconsistent public opinion! In 2004 a developer tried to gain permission to build a gondola to the top of the Chief from a private land parcel by the highway. Thankfully the proposal was defeated and a covenant placed on the land to prevent any recurrence. However, another group (possibly whilst consulting to the SODC) dreamed up the clever work-round of running a gondola to a higher view point above and to the side of the Chief, thus reducing the opposition. They still had to win approval to annex a strip of land from the provincial park; an awkward precedent fought hard by some access purists. Generally it seems that pushing the tourist dollar benefits to Squamish whilst wooing the outdoor lobby with promises of improved backcountry access tipped the scales in their favour.

People who seem to dislike this project: As mentioned, a small group. Otherwise, oddly few people, given that the thing will be a visual eyesore (a reason touted widely for opposing the LNG plant nearby).

What I think: Vaguely in favour but the (failed) opposition include some people for whom I have great respect. Improved access to the alpine terrain there (including Mt Habrich which I climbed in 2012) is a definite plus.

What is going to happen: Hopefully it will be a success.


Squamish Valley Music Festival an event run by brand.LIVE, a Vancouver firm, has been taking place in August for several successive summers. However from 2014 the council have approved a greater than doubling of event capacity and an expanded footprint across the town's business park and sports fields. The negotiations took place "in camera" so there is little detail except that the deal is for eight more years. This year's headliners will include Bruno Mars, Arcade Fire and Eminem.

People who seem to dislike this project: In 2013 the event gridlocked the town for a day. High official camping charges encouraged visitors to look for free sites, mostly in sensitive riparian areas (bad for the salmon!). And bins at the site overflowed causing garbage to blow across town. In 2014, with vastly larger attendance, these problems are certain to mushroom. But, bizarrely, almost everyone in town is in favour! The limited opposition are people living close to the site and various sport user groups (for example, much of the town's soccer field capacity is being closed for a month).

What I think: Nothing exemplifies the collective idiocy of Squamish than this event! The municipality and organisers hype the positive economic impacts, yet mid-summer is already when the town is at its busiest, whilst the gridlock and mess will surely piss off the people from all over the world who visit Squamish to climb or ride the MTB trails. The short term nature of the event means no new jobs will be created. Major music festivals usually take root organically (ie Glastonbury) or are foisted on towns that otherwise have nothing else to offer the world; Squamish fits neither category.

What is going to happen: It seems unlikely that eight years can pass without something going badly wrong with this event. Hopefully, when that happens, it will be revealed that the council had the foresight to build break-clauses into the contract and can tell brand.LIVE to go find some other small town to trash - but I fear otherwise.

the bonus days

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



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

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

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

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

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

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

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

off the couch

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

The unclimbed rock

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

taming the grizzly

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

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

Project Grizzly: the features haunting me for two months!

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

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

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



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

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

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

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

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

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

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