A Winter Storm
*WHUMPF* “Did you hear that?” “I felt it” “Wait what? I didn’t feel it!” “What do we do?” “We don’t go any higher. We turn back.” “… ok” Last Winter myself and Spring started getting into backcountry ski touring. Learning to ski follows naturally if you live near mountains and wish to continue to visit them through the Winter. There is of course snowshoeing, but it is laborious. Skiing makes the uphill climbing more energy efficient and the downhill is fast. You can’t beat skiing for the ground that can be covered during the short hours of daylight through the Winter months. While the mountains in Winter are staggeringly beautiful they are also extremely dangerous. More so than in Summer when the temperatures are more hospitable and the hazards, though still present, are largely visible and known. As Humans we tend to anthropomorphize many things and I feel that when we see something beautiful that makes us feel happiness we imagine that the source of that beauty cares for us, otherwise why would it make us happy? We imbue these places with intent towards us. When the winds howl the mountain doesn’t want us there, but when the sun shines it welcomes us openly. I have felt this in the mountains while watching a sunrise or staring out at a grand panorama. It can be easy to let the joy felt blind us to the objective dangers that are always present. The mountains do not care if we find happiness or not. The are eternally indifferent. To an outsider who has never explored deep into a remote mountain range this may seem laughably obvious. It is only those that answer the call to venture into these high places that understand the struggle to separate the objective reality with the subjective emotional experience that one undergoes while immersed in these environments. I know I will spend a lifetime trying to understand it and, like all those pulled back to the mountains, will continue to go there to experience it. When I first started my Winter forays into the Hills it was easy to fool myself into believing that all I needed to get into the mountains was enough mettle to endure the cold and the skill to be able to ski, but I’ve since learned that this is merely the tip of the iceberg of the knowledge and experience that I actually require. The Winter Storm that titles this post does not refer to the weather but rather the early experiences of most individuals who push into the mountains in Winter without an understanding of the risks they are taking....
The Copilot: How civilized!
We have had more than a few hikes/scrambles around Southwest B.C. that have made us earn our right to be there. They consisted of either an approach on miles of logging road that is so graciously referred to as a “slog”, a heinous bushwack or alder thrash that scratches and slaps at any exposed skin or sometimes if we were really lucky we have had to ford some sort of raging ice-cold water to further our progress. But we have slowly become accustomed to the ways of the wild in B.C. and you could say we have developed a special fondness for them. The scenic ride to the top Looking at our objective The views just don’t get old However, since the arrival of the Sea to Sky Gondola a certain civility and european feel has been brought to one of our local mountain areas: Sky Pilot. The trail has been tamed. We no longer have to endure miles of approach on logging road or thrashing through alder to arrive at our destination. No, now we have a scenic 10 minute ride up in a cable car, a cafe at the top should we need one more caffeine boost before we set off and a well-groomed trail that leads us straight to the alpine. If you didn’t know any better you might actually think you were in a little European town in the Alps. Going up… and up Copilot This August, however,our sights were set on a lesser named bump in the area, The Copilot. Next to Sky Pilot it looks much less intimidating, as it doesn’t quite take up as much of the skyline as it’s better known, better half. But, seeing as we had already scrambled Sky Pilot a few years earlier (If you want to see how our first trip went in this area, pre-gondola, take a look at our successful attempt to climb Sky Pilot in 2011.), we set our sights on this smaller objective and what turned out to be a mini alpine adventure, only minutes from our home. Climb on Summit Selfie Lounging up top More views Despite it’s smaller stature this is still a stiff scramble and should only be attempted by those with the experience,gear and skill to do so. The climb itself is short, approx 90m up the Northeast gully. It’s an obvious line that is filled with loose rock halfway up, so wear a helmet. There were no issues scrambling this section and we made a note of the rappel stations, good sturdy trees, on the way up. We brought the necessary equipment to rappel the route as...
Acorns, Part 2: Starvation Lake
< Acorns, Part 1: Coho Park and the Smoke Bluffs The term “maturity” is pretty odd when you think about it, especially in relation to modern, westernized, civilization. What is it to be a mature individual nowadays? There is a societal pressure to achieve maturity. To be called immature is an insult. Myself and Spring felt this pressure in Ireland. We felt a pressure from our peers and elders to secure stable income, to be responsible in our choices and move towards the expected goal of getting a mortgage, maybe having a child and settling down. When we left Ireland behind, and left everyone we knew behind, something changed. It was like that pressure valve to conform to our culture’s definition of maturity was released. A weight was lifted from our shoulders. We were no longer keeping up with anybody’s expectations. When I was a child my mother would send us out of the house during the Summer months, to get out of her hair but also to give her time to clean up our mess. With those long days free to do what I wished I’d usually, along with some friends, try and find some woods or fields nearby to explore. I was always curious, like most Children I believe, of the places that Man hadn’t seen fit to manicure. With age and the burden of responsibility I’d forgotten this curiosity, but now, In Canada, with no peers to speak of, I felt it rekindled. I don’t think people ever truly “grow up”. I don’t accept that we pass a rubicon where we have to lose touch with what motivated us as children. I feel we choose to suppress those “childish” inclinations for ones we have been told make more sense for adults. Similar to my youth, in Canada now I’d see wild places and wonder what’s hidden behind those trees or where that river flows to or what I could look out on if I was standing on that shimmering white summit. I didn’t care if exploring those places would advance my career, or lead to financial stability, or allow me to keep up with the Jones’, I was driven by pure curiosity. Shortly after our first few forays out on trails in 2010, mentioned in the first part of this series, we started looking at some trail maps for the vicinity around our home in Squamish, BC. At that time we didn’t have internet, we’d planned it that way so as to give ourselves a break from needing to be connected all the time. We’d use free wifi at the local Starbucks occasionally but in general we...
Tears on Mount Harvey
A few weeks ago we did a popular North Shore hike that we had previously done for the first time in 2011, Mount Harvey. It has spectacular scenery, on one side of the ridge the Pacific ocean with a chain of islands stretching out as far as the eye can see , and on the other side a sea of beautiful coastal mountains with no end in sight. But it wasn’t just the fantastic scenery that had me reminiscing on this trip. This years summit shot! View of the Lions Stealthy selfie The first time I hiked Mount Harvey I was training for my first road marathon. I was following a strict 5 day a week running plan and feeling the effects on my body and mind. I was feeling overwhelmed with the training and the physical toll it was taking on my body. It was important to me to still be able to train for the marathon and to also be able to spend time in the mountains, so I felt the need to always be pushing myself. That day in April 2011 proved to be the breaking point for me. The day prior to the hike I had run an 18km training run, which at the time was a long distance for me. I felt tired starting the hike, but felt pretty good, until we started the uphill section. I slowed down to a snails pace and Leigh shot past me, making his way up the hill. Looking up the steep incline,allowing the tiredness to weigh so heavy on my mind and body and watching Leigh move in a seemingly effortless way up the hill, proved to be too much. I stopped in my tracks overcome with frustration and feelings of not being able to continue. At that moment I felt so tired, so heavy with emotion that I could barely breathe. Leaning on a tree, out of sight of Leigh, I started to sob. I felt useless, exhausted and irritated with myself and my physical limitations. Feeling pretty sorry for myself, I said to myself, between sobbing breaths,“I can’t do this” “I’m too tired”. Taking in the view The smile before the meltdown Up, up and up It lasted a few minutes before I had to tell myself that no one feels sorry for me but me. I chose this and I can’t expect anyone to have sympathy for me. In my own words of tough love I needed to “suck it up buttercup”. So in that moment I had to make a decision, I wiped the tears from my eyes, composed myself and headed up towards...
Acorns, Part 1: Coho Park and the Smoke Bluffs
“Mighty Oaks from little Acorns grow” I’ve been thinking for a while now about doing a series chronicling our first humble forays into learning to explore the wild. I’ve never really documented them in any way and I think I’ve learned some important lessons from reflecting on them. I’ll get into what I feel those lessons are in the later parts of this series. Something that I feel is unique about myself and Spring is that we have learned almost everything about the activities that we engage in, in the Outdoors, since we moved to Canada a few years ago. Before arriving in Canada I had no idea what Gore-tex was, or Vibram. If you’d uttered the words Gaiter, Crampon or Adze to me while I was living in Ireland I’d have imagined you were speaking a foreign language, don’t get me started on randkluft, krummholz and bergschrund. I’d never owned a tent, sleeping bag or even a pair of hiking boots before coming to Canada in 2010. This may seem odd to many people in Canada, at least in the West, where a connection with nature seems to be a part of the cultural tradition but in the Capital of Ireland, Dublin, where I am from, I was happy to spend all of my time in cities and suburbs, watching movies at the cinemas and meeting friends to chat in coffee shops. Cities do a great job of providing ample amounts of distraction to keep you from leaving their walls and streets behind for the untouched wilds. So what changed? Well when we moved to the town of Squamish, British Columbia, in the Spring of 2010 myself and my wife knew absolutely no one here. We also knew absolutely nothing about the town. Really, our decision to come here was based on the fact that it was north of a large city, Vancouver, and south of a resort town, Whistler. Hiking or climbing near Squamish was not even a consideration. Thinking back I remember imagining that I might just replicate my life from Ireland in Canada. I would meet friends in the city for coffee and take in a film at the cinema. In Ireland I had been meeting up with friends to play a video game called “Street Fighter IV”. I had been taking it quite seriously and actually wanted to start playing in competitions. I imagined starting a “Street Fighter IV” community in Squamish. Amongst my sparse belongings that I brought with me from Ireland was a large, arcade style, gaming joystick along with other gaming controllers and a host of other gaming equipment. I can’t...
