Squamish TR : Part I
A.M.
I tried writing it in HTML and putting it on a webpage. I even scanned in
dozens of nice pictures, but in the end I found it too time-consuming, and
ultimately I decided nobody would read it anyway. So I am going to use
Dingus Milktoasts multi-part TR format to hopefully amuse those who are
bored, and most importantly greatly improve legibility. I may post these
parts once per day, or several, depending upon my inherent laziness. A last
note to those who generously offered to host my TR on their websites, I do
appreciate it.
Squamish TR : Fear of A Black Granite
Part I
At this moment there is a tremendous roaring in my ears, my eyes are filled
with a blinding light which makes me squint and recoil as the wind blasts my
body and the dust swirls past me. The noise withdraws with the passing of
the truck, its' headlamps now a dancing vision of red circles in my retinas,
and the artificial wind disipated. The light fades from my eyes as the night
seeps back into my vision, and once again I am able to focus on the stretch
of highway before me. The twinkling stars above catch my attention, and I
look skyward to meet their gaze. Interrupted on my visual journey, I am
suddenly aware of a gigantic presence lurking beyond the trees; like a
silent menace, it's black outline blocks out much of the sky on the horizon.
Focusing completely upon the entity, I am suddenly aware of its'
overwhelming size, as each step on the gravelled side of the highway brings
it into greater view. The entity appears as a gigantic white phantasm, it's
sloping granite flanks bathed suddenly by the pale moonlight; the sheer
walls of the upper sections of the monolith appearing like that of a giants'
teeth, gleaming in the darkness.
I stop in my tracks and stare in captivity at that which is both terrifying
and beautiful; both alluring and repelling; I stare upon the massive granite
walls of the Stawamus Chief. I am in Squamish, British Columbia, with the
impudent idea that I am to climb upon this great monsters back. I stare at
the smooth, featureless wall of the Grand, trying to pick out that one line
of weakness, the "Split Pillar". The "easiest" line up this gigantic
rockface, the grade is an intimidating 5.10b. Would I be fortunate enough to
stand triumphant upon the top?
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My partner, Wolfang, his girlfriend Alejandra, and I arrived in the Stawamus
Chief climbers campground at about 3 o'clock in the afternoon on September
3. Although it had been raining in Squamish all day, we later found out that
this had been the first rainfall in three weeks! Tired from the airport
waiting, the taxi ride in Vancouver, and the bus ride to the Chief, the
logical thing would have been to hit our sleeping bags and rest for the next
day. But we were so excited about our arrival, that despite the drizzling
rain and darkness in the forest, we simply had to explore what we had come
so far to see.
Squamish had been a dream of mine for some time now; at first discovered by
magazine pictures and internet trip reports, and later fantasized about as a
destination spot to climb well-protected, highly textured, solid rock. The
most popular granite in Southern Ontario is the nefarious "Bon Echo", a
chosspile of decrepid granite rising from an inaccessible lake. Popular
t-shirts depict a slogan which runs something like this: Loose rock, often
wet, moss, lichen, black flies, long runouts, difficult routefinding, etc
.... This aint no f%^&ing climbing gym! You're damned right it isn't; in
fact it's probably the anti-thesis of what the modern trad climber looks
for. For me Squamish was everything I had ever dreamed of, and more.
With the rain spitting a smooth layer of slime on the black granite of the
Campground Wall, we looked in the guidebook for a good route. None seemed
very interesting, with the exception of two routes: A pitch in Time (5.10b),
an overhanging fistcrack; Rainy Day Dream Away (5.10c), a splitter
fingercrack which started wide and steep, but seemed to get narrow and
slabby at the top. We decided upon the approproiate "Rainy Day" route,
rationalizing that jamming would offset the difficulties of the slippery
rock. Wolfang racked up as I flaked the rope on the dirty wet ground. Once
ready, he started jamming up the easy fistcrack which led to fingers, and
came to a dirty ledge with a dead tree. Bypassing it on the left, he entered
the crux stage of the route, a vertical fingercrack which split the slab
above. He entered it timidly, and began protecting heavily. It wasn't long
before he was on tension, panting in the humid forest. After resting, he
would jam up a few metres, slot a cam or a nut into the crack, and rest
again. Before long he was virtually aid climbing the route, placing gear
while sitting, trying to sew the heinously thin crack up. With extreme
difficulty he topped out.
Wolfangs' difficulties left me frightened, since he led quite impressive
trad routes back in Ontario. Many times I had belayed him in wonderment as
he would top out on a 5.10d or a 5.11a. My own best gear lead had been a
5.10b, and that had required many tension rests. I began up the fistcrack,
cleaning the large gear, and gingerly jammed the fingercrack, reaching the
tree ledge with relative ease. Entering the fingercrack above, I jammed my
fingers and my LaSportiva Cliffs into the crack, finding perfect placements
for rests as I cleaned the route. Near the top the crack was getting
desperately thin, and my feet were cutting loose repeatedly. Only my finger
locks tenuously placed in the crack were keeping me from skidding onto
tension. Eventually I could bear the route no more. I peeled, and rested on
the rope, panting with fatigue. I fell twice more before being lowered, most
humbly, to the forest floor. I had officially been spanked by a Squamish
route.
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