TR : The Day at the Circus

[Brutus of Wyde]

Trip Report:
The Day at the Circus, a Recreational Therapy Excursion

by Brutus of Wyde
Old Climbers Home,
Oakland, California

As the Boeing 737 stretch house slammed to a stop in the
Munchkinland of Calgary, (inadvertently crushing a
Customs agent) Nurse Dorothy and Toto blinked at a
world of endless color and strange people.

It was late winter, 1998, and Nurse Dorothy was taking
Toto for a walk. Toto was in search of a brain, a heart,
and courage. Not to mention improved ice technique and
good 6.2% Canadian brewski. Dorothy just wanted to tick
some great routes and get back to Kansas in one piece.

The helpful Calgarians pointed the pair in the direction of
Polar Circus with the useful advice "Follow the yellow-pit
road, eh?"

[Polar Circus is a popular and classic ice climb
located in the Canadian Rockies off the Icefields
Parkway. Climbers from throughout the world
come to Canada to test their skills (and empty their
bladders, sometimes unintentionally) on this
incredible, 700 meter tiered frozen waterfall.
Originally rated Grade VI, the first ascent of this
route required eight days, fixed ropes, and
substantial aid on the steepest sections.

In what was to become a typical situation on this
beautiful wall, the climb was crowded even during
the first ascent, with two parties competing for
the prize. The second ascent party, narrowly
missing being the first to bag this great line,
eliminated all but five meters of aid from the
route.

With the evolution of modern tools and
techniques, "Circus" has since been downgraded
to Grade V, W5, and is typically climbed by
competent teams in a long day from the Icefields
Parkway.]

So it was that, with a party of British climbers
bivied above, and a party of Slovenian climbers in
hot pursuit, Dorothy and Toto started up the approach to
Polar Circus in the predawn of March 9, 1998.

Scrambling and teetering up the ice-crusted approach
slopes to where they had cached one of their packs (The
Tienneman Squarecrow) and one of their ropes the day
before, Dorothy glanced down nervously at the Slovenian
Roller Derby headlamps gaining rapidly on their heels.
"Be careful Toto, but hurry..." By the time Dorothy
clipped in the leash and Toto started up the first pitch,
dawn was breaking and the steely eyes of the Slovenians
were greedily scanning the ice below Toto's heels.

As Toto barked "Off Belay," both Dorothy and the
Slovenian team started up the pitch, the Slovenian male-
witch leader climbing over Dorothy's top-rope. It became
apparent that there were too many climbers in too small
an area of the climb.

The Slovenians exchanged unintelligible comments while
the leader warlock glanced at Dorothy and Toto. "Sie sint
Toad, meinek Liebscheg, unt deiner kleinek Hund Buick
auk!!!" Likely the Slovenian equivalent of "I'll get you,
my pretty. And your little dog, too!"

As Dorothy arrived at the belay, a volley of curses
was heard from the Slovenian second below. Seemed that
one of his tools somehow broke a pick.

"Ve're done." said the Slovenian leader craftily. "Ve vill
chust go up and look at the rest of the klimb." With those
words, the pair of aerobic monsters hopped on their
broomsticks and flew up the easy snow slope above,
leaving Dorothy and Toto to follow close behind.

At the next ice wall, the heavy-footed Slovenian spikes
were already gouging their way up when Toto and
Dorothy arrived.The pair hunkered down and cooled their
heels to the side of the gully, out of range of the flying
monkey-sized blocks of ice raining down from above.
When the fusilade finished, Dorothy quickly skipped up
the pitch, with Toto scampering obediently behind.

After another slow-motion sprint up easy snow slopes,
Toto bypassed shattered remains of the ice formation
known as the Pencil without bothering to stop and place
protection. His playful barking echoed off the towering
walls of the canyon. Soon the pair were simul-climbing a
waist-deep trench through the long, avalanche-prone
traverse to the base of the upper head wall.

Far above, the British team could be heard whooping
and hollering news that the top of the climb was theirs.

More waiting: The first two pitches of the wall at the head
of Polar Circus could be linked as a 70-meter simul-
climb, with relatively easy territory at the beginning and
the end. But with another flock of flying ice-monkeys sent
by the Slovenians gouging huge craters in the slope,
Dorothy and Toto found a sheltered location and sat down
for an hour-long picnic lunch, the better to watch the
huge chunks of mountain falling from the circus above.

Momentum slowed. Toto's eyelids drooped. Sleep stalked
the pair. Suddenly, snow sent by the Good Witch of the
North began drifting down from the sky, accompanied by
small spindrift avalanches, jerking them back to
frightened alertness. It was time to move. Caching one of
their two packs, "The Goose" at the base of the head wall,
they started up.

Still risking bombardment, Toto led the long pitch as
quickly as possible, sniffing out the trail of yellow
snow and ice, nearly nipping at the heels of the
Slovenians in spite of the delay.

Dorothy followed, and eyed the next pitch. Still shaking
off the soporific effects of the lunch, she wisely declined
the lead, arranged Toto's leash, and sent him ahead. Two
pitches of easy ice landed them at the large platform
below the final, crux section.

More waiting. The British Lion team rappelled past,
commenting on the cavalcade of ice being jack-hammered
out of the climb by the Slovenians. "Looks like they're
cleaning off the crux section for you anyway, mates.
Good Luck!"

More gutteral curses plummeted from above,
accompanied by chunks travelling at interplanetary
velocities. A Slovenian had just broken another of their
picks while negotiating the curtain of ice off the
penultimate belay.

"PAY NO ATTENTION TO THAT MAN BEHIND THE
CURTAINCurtainurtain!!!"

More waiting: Ever so slowly, the last Slovenian pulled
over the top. Time to move.

Within the few minutes it took the Slovs to rappel the top
pitch, Toto had led up to the ice-curtained alcove, hooking
his entire lead, placing only cursory protection. As the
Slovenians clipped the anchors in the alcove, they
exchanged a few words, mostly amiable, then the
Slovenians vanished into the mist below.

Dorothy arrived for a quick changeover. Growling, Toto
hooked around the curtain and up through the steepest
section, carefully protecting the 15-meter, shattered
vertical crux out of respect for his dwindling energy.
Wicked Slovenians dispatched, they now had the climb all
to themselves. As the ice eased off, Toto's tail wagged
furiously. He could smell the top, and was eager to mark
the topmost anchors as his own.

Toto scampered up the finish and gazed into the vast
upper bowl and distant craggy towers of Mt. Cirrus
playing hide-and-seek in the clouds. The climb was
below. The yipping of the little black dog
echoed off the vast walls. Nurse Dorothy
left "Squarecrow" at the last belay, and quickly joined
Toto.

With the day drawing to a close, the two spent a scant
few minutes at the top before beginning the rappels.
Dereka, the Good Witch of the North, floated up in a
bubble, and congratulated them.

"But how do we get down?" asked Dorothy.

"Why, you've always had the ability to go home" the
Good Witch replied. "Just close your eyes, tap the snow
off your Switchblades three times, thread the ropes
through the Ablakovs, and begin the rappels, saying
"There's no place like Rampart, there's no place like
Rampart..."

"Toto too?" Asked Dorothy

"Toto too!" she nodded.

As the pair sWitched on headlamps and descended into
the darkening gully, heading toward Rampart Creek
Hostel, the steaming sauna, soft pillows and down
comforters, the Good Witch smiled beatifically, waved
her wand, and vanished into the spindrift.

End of File.
**********************************************