The semantics of adventure

"I'd like to go on an adventure" such a simple sentence which can have vastly different meanings to different people. Which I should have known and do know, considering my definition of adventure is much different than some of my friends. However, I wasn't thinking that when I wrote in a wine-induced epiphany moment to Barry Blanchard. I decided I wanted to hire him to take me out on an alpine climb. For those who don't know, Barry Blanchard is one of the most highly respected alpinists out there. He makes his living as a climbing guide, has put up more ascents in the Rockies than I can care to mention, has numerous ascents of Everest and other Hymalayan peaks under his belt, has worked on movies such as K2, has been called upon in documentaries, is a sponsored Patagonia and Grivel athlete and the list continues.

I wrote to Barry for a variety of reasons, I had climbed with him and Jason Lavigne a couple years before. Jason's wife had purchased a guided climb as his Christmas present and I had pitched in to offset the cost and went along. Barry and I hit it off and continued to keep in contact, exchanging pleasantries when we'd see other now and then. So I knew him.

Since Colin's passing I've been reintroducing myself to the environments that him and I used to climb in. A right of passage in a way, getting used the reality that I couldn't be there with him anymore. If I could, I would do this process alone. However when it comes to climbing, it's impossible. The next solution is to go with someone I know and trust but is not connected to my previous life, a new beginning. I realized that I could do this with Barry. Hence the drunken email request.

When he returned my email he suggested the East Ridge of Mt Patterson, located off the Columbia Ice Fields Parkway in Alberta. http://rmbooks.com/Peakfinder/peakfinder.asp?Peakname=Mount+Patterson A climb that would take two days, we would have to fjord a fast moving river, climb loose 5.7 rock in mountaineering boots and heavy packs, sleep overnight on the mountain, continue the next day to the summit and do the long descent down.

That's when I realized that my idea of adventure and Barry's idea were a wee bit different. However I'm the one who had made the call for adventure and I was the one who should answer it. I said yes.

Barry let me know that he would be bringing an aspirant guide along. He actively mentors young guides and I found out after the fact that this route is too significant for a guide to bring a guest without adequate support. Lucky for me I just had to pay for Barry since as he succinctly put it, "I'm expensive but at least I'm old."

I picked up Jason Billings in Canmore and we grabbed Barry at his home in Banff. By 3:30am we were off. We drove along the Bow Valley Parkway until we reached our objective, Mt Patterson. By 5:00am we were walking in the brisk air. Quickly we reached our first crux, crossing the Mistaya river. She was moving quite quickly and I had visions of thigh deep freezing cold water with me struggling while carrying my heavy pack. But we crossed it fairly easily. We waded through more water and eventually got to a spot where we left our sandals and donned our mountaineering boots. I should back up a bit. While getting ready to leave from Tom's place in Canmore that morning, I grabbed my boots and realized that I didn't have the footbed inserts. I sat there just looking at my boots knowing that my inserts were back in Calgary. Challenge number one presented itself and I wondered how it would feel to not have the support of my insoles but I didn't have any choice in the matter at that point.

After we crossed the river we started the slow bushwacking to get to the base of Mt Patterson. Once at the base we continued to move upwards over scrambling terrain. Eventually we got to where we became mountaineers. A long snow gully which I estimated at about 200 metres. We put on our harnesses and crampons, pulled out our ice axes and began. Crossing snow gullies is always slightly stressful for me. I don't want to fall. Sure, I don't want to fall anytime I'm climbing but falling on a snow slope ain't good. I would be relying on my ability to self-arrest with my ice axe and Barry's ability to stop me (as we were roped together) so he doesn't come tumbling down with me. The snow was soft so arresting would be viable, but I would never want to chance a fall. Barry kicked good steps and in reality all I had to do was be mindful when I stepped in his footsteps. The mental game of mountaineering had begun. It's amazing how your mind can be a powerful ally or enemy depending on how you exercise mental discipline. It felt like hours on the snow and probably was. Eventually we reached the first rock step where the climbing would begin. "Step" sounds insignificant, looming rock above me sounds more apt. You look way up and what you're seeing feels like it should be the entire climb when in fact it is less than a third of the climb. Fuck me batman.

Alpine climbing is not like conventional rock climbing. We were spending the night out there so we had all the gear required on our backs. My pack was 35+ lbs and I was wearing mountaineering boots. You're not in Kansas anymore Dorothy. I had navigated rockbands to get to ice climbs but this was far more difficult. Barry would lead and Jason and I would stay at the belay and climb at the same time. This means being mindful of where we are to ensure neither of us knock rocks down on the other. In the Rockies this is challenging as there is loose rock everywhere. Even rock that looks good might not be, every hold you suspect must be tested by kicking or hitting it to see what happens. It's disconcerting when what you thought was a hold is now in your hand! The climbing was at most 5.7 in difficulty but it felt as daunting as 5.10.

Our first day was 14hrs before we decided to bivvy. Barry and Jason entertained the notion of continuing since the summit looked within easy reach. I looked up and all I saw was hours and hours of climbing. They asked me what I wanted to do and I said I thought it made sense to bivvy where we were since we had a spot to dig our snow coffin. Both decided that was reasonable and we set up our makeshift camp. I had never bivvied on a mountain in this type of manner before so this was all very exciting to me. I've stayed in a tent on a glacier but that's not the same as being perched on a mountain. I stayed roped up to our belay station with a long tether so I could walk around. Mostly the evening consisted of melting water and waiting for our dinner to cook. I never thought Kraft Dinner and tuna could taste so good. Without my inserts my feet had reached an equilibrium of coldness. Not so cold as to be a problem but cold enough to be distracting if I thought about it too much. The snow travel hadn't helped since it got our boots and socks wet. I was happy to change into dry socks and put on my most coveted prima-loft socks. Jason was intrigued by the socks and I explained how much I loved them for ice climbing. Climbers are always interested to hear about another climber's tricks. The prima-loft socks did wonders for warmth. I also put on a late edition to my climbing gear, Tom's prima-loft pants. He convinced me to ditch my bulkier (and heavier) -9 sleeping bag in favor of his pants and his +5 sleeping bag. It reduced weight and he mentioned the advantages of having a warm layer while in camp before getting into the sleeping bag. He couldn't have been more correct. I owe him big time for the suggestion and generous offer. Again, one thing I've always appreciated about climbing friends, everyone wants you to succeed when you're going after an objective.

The view from our bivvy site was nothing less than staggeringly beautiful. The sun was shining as the sky started to turn silvery pink and we were bathed in light. There were mountain tops as far as the eye could see. I thought of Colin and wondered how many times he had been in a situation like this. I never bivvied with him but felt so happy that I could at least share in the experience. I realized that this was part of the reason why I came, to know more of Colin's experience and in some ways I felt like I was with him.

All of us were exhausted and after we had drank 2 cups of soup and ate our Kraft Dinner it was time to slip into our sleeping bags and bivvy sacs for the night. I continued to watch the sunset trying to remember everything. My camera wasn't working so I wasn't sure if I'd ever see this again. I was tired enough to fall into a fitful sleep, waking up often but knowing I was still getting rest.

Early light I woke to Barry stirring and the hiss of the small stove. After dinner Barry had urged me to drink tea and I knew I was definitely dehydrated but I also knew my penchant for having to pee in the night so I trusted my own judgement and declined. In the morning I gladly took as much tea and coffee as he was offering. I took a bite of the shockingly sweet pop-tart that was part of our breakfast. The quick hit of sugar followed by the caffeine was enough to make the idea of getting out my warm bivvy bag viable. My muscles were tired and sore but not too bad.

We got packed up and ready to set out. I kept on the warm prima-loft socks as they added more bulk to keep my boots tight since the lack of my insoles made my boots sloppier than I was used to and this didn't help when trying to rock climb.

We started up and after about the 4th pitch I began to wonder what the guys were possibly thinking when they hoped we could finish yesterday. Not a hope in hell and in fact we would have been looking for a bivvy site in the dark more likely. I gave up wondering where the summit was at, its a futile endeavour. Climbing Edith Cavell taught me that. These mountains are far bigger than the eye registers. The climbing was consistent with the day before but today we had to traverse more snow covered ridges. To be honest this activity strikes terror in my heart. On a traverse your rope is running horizontally, which means if you happen to fall you will drop the distance that the rope is run out. Which in our case was often a long way. I'm not afraid of heights but the thought of the drop, combined with the exposure was really nerve wracking. In some cases I would have slide down a snow slope to an abyss dangling above an glacier. Think of the movie "Touching The Void" for those of you that have seen it. Once again the mental ability to refuse to think like that comes into play. I would put all my concentration into each move, not even thinking about the end of the traverse until it was done.

We got to one of our belays and Barry decided for the second time that the climbing was too stiff to lead with his pack on. He would climb without it and drag it up once he had created a new belay station. As he was hauling on the bag I looked up and the thought flitted across my mind, "I bet that pack could dislodge a boulder" No sooner had I thought that when Barry cried out "Rock ROCK!!" I saw the boulders careening down to us. I sucked my body as close to the snow/ice feature as I could. All of a sudden my world exploded into a world of pain and I heard myself cry out. I didn't know where I was, incredible pain was radiating from my hip, and I was still making noises. Eventually I got my wits about me and realized I had been hit by a boulder. I had been belaying Barry and I had let go of my brake hand which meant he was unprotected if he fall. I had the sinking awareness that this is how deaths happen on the mountain. Jason quickly tied off the belay rope which means Barry was safe. Luckily he had a good stance while he was hauling his bag up. Part of me disassociated and I was observing. "So this is how being hit by a boulder feels, that really fucking hurts. Are your bones broken? Do you notice that your sweating, I wonder why that happens? Breathing through the pain would help Lise so you can think clearly. If you're seriously hurt we are really fucked you know." Jason was beside me, very calm and he asked, "Do you have a sharp or dull pain?" I knew he needed to know if anything was broken. I tentatively began to move my leg, scared I would feel a searing pain but none happened. Barry was calling from above. I had finally stopped crying out in pain and was following my own advice of taking deep breaths. My heart was finally starting to slow down but my breathing was ragged.

All of a sudden our climb had changed and we now had to deal with an injury. Jason called up to Barry "She's OK but she's been hit by a boulder" Jason told me he needed to see the injury so I would have to pull down my pants. No worries buddy, I wanted to see as well. There was the start of a nasty contusion but no bleeding, nothing protruding. I knew I could still climb. I looked over at Jason and between breaths said "I can climb but not with my pack" Jason called up to Barry, "We have to haul up her pack" Jason put some snow in a ziplock which I put on my contusion and he gave me some ibuprofen. I wasn't exactly sure how I was going to climb but the only other alternative was a helicopter evacuation. When you don't really have a choice you do what needs to be done. I began to climb putting as much weight on my good leg as I good. I pulled on every piece of gear to help me. Adrenaline is a beautiful thing, it dulls pain enough to allow you to do what your brain tells you needs to be done. My disassociated self commented "I wonder how you're making your injury worse by continuing" I replied "I don't really have a choice do I?!" the secondary voice concurred "You're right, we'll do what needs to be done and worry about the consequences later, I'll help." Voice number 2 slipped back into my body to give added strength and I continued up.

When I got to the belay Barry had a worried look in his eyes and I smiled weakly at him. "You're ok?" he asked. A rhetorical question which really meant "Good to see you're still alive." I answered, "My hip is hurt but nothing is broken, I can still climb" he nodded relieved and asked "Did Jason give you some ibuprofen? Make sure you take more in 2 hours. Good to see you're still with us." I smiled again, relieved that I was still with us too.

The next pitch I put my pack back on and continued up. Putting weight on my right side didn't feel good but I could do it. We were close to the top. I made a deal with myself to refuse to think about how I would feel later, I still had a descent to do.

We topped out and I felt a flood of a relief and emotion. I thought of Colin and placed a rock on the Cairn for him. He had climbed this route with Rapheal a year before. They had completed it in a day, which seemed impossible. All of us sat in the sun and had a bite to eat. Barry looked through the summit register to read what he had written 3 years before. That climb took him, his assistant and client 3 days to climb because of some bad weather and misadventure so climbing it in 2 was a definite improvement. I started to wonder how the descent would be. I had looked down at the descent route while we were climbing. It looked straight forward from that vantage point. Hmm.... descend the glacier, move down the scree slope, follow the river to the flats, move through the swamp then to the forest and we're back to the car, no worries at least not death inducing. It turned out to be a 5hr slog, sidestepping along scree slopes, bushwacking through the dense forest, other heinous activities and eventually walking through a knee deep swamp. Now granted every step I took hurt because of the injury. I kept my favorite mantra in my head "I am strong, I am powerful, I am fit" I added a new line that I felt I needed in this situation, "I am relaxed", tension makes you more tired and susceptible to tripping. I battled with the internal dialogue and the powerful feeling of wanting to sit down, cry and feel thoroughly sorry for myself. I was hot, tired, hurting and demoralized. Ultimately I had to have a couple stern talkings to myself, that the pain was entirely irrelevant at this point. Fucking ignore it. When I took my own advice it made a difference. I won't bore you with the inner dialogue, it's the shitty part of doing something physically demanding and hard. It sucks at times and sometimes it sucks even more. No one ever said adventure was easy and if I decided in the future that I never wanted to push myself again and I would spend my leisure time at spas then so be it. But at this point in time, shut the fuck up, put one foot in front of the other and get the job done Lise. Easy-peasy when it comes right down to it.

Eventually we got to the car. We congratulated each other over the beer I had brought along that got disgusting warm in the car. I had chips stashed for the ride back. I eventually got back to Canmore around 11:30pm. I started to fully feel the pain of my injury and apparently moaned and groaned enough to wake Tom up, oops.

I rolled back into Calgary early afternoon. I ordered my favorite meal of Ginger Beef and Salt and Pepper prawns. After a month of dieting I ate without any thought of weight gain. I cracked open one of my recent California wine purchases, a lovely Zinfandel. I've gotten through half of it and am surprised that I'm as lucid as I am considering the combination with the copious amounts of Ibuprofen I've taken. I have a shockingly large bruise on my hip and ass. I've had to cancel climbing plans I had this week with a climbing hotshot who many people would give up an appendage to climb with. Mind you when you cancel a climb saying you took a boulder on a significant alpine route you've probably gained more brownie points than you thought you'd lose by canceling.

Was it a worthy endeavour? I don't know. How worthy is mountain climbing in the big scheme of things really. Am I proud of myself? Ya, I felt strong, I felt like I earned the right to be there. Did I achieve what I needed to about being in the alpine without Colin? Yes, it made me sad and more tears were shed after the fact but I got back out there without him and that's a victory. Did I get what I asked for regarding adventure? Absolutely and then some. Am I going to ask Barry Blanchard to dream up another adventure for me? Not a hope in hell.

At least not for a while.....

Getting out climbing

Ooot and aboot for my first day of trad climbing this season. I hooked with old friend and climbing mentor Dave Edgar. We hadn't spoken for over a year and I'm not sure if we sent an email to each other in that time either. But that's what makes climbing unique in some ways. With partners you like and trust, regardless of the circumstances you can often call or email out of the blue and next thing you know you're walking on a approach and catching up on each others' lives.

Yamnuska is an interesting climbing area in the Bow Valley. The approach is a 1hr minimum (for mortals such as myself) huck-up-a-lung trail to get to the base. The routes are long, committing and pure rockies climbing. Loose rock, hard to find pitches and even the easiest of climbs can be scary. But we weren't on the easiest of climbs... noooooo. We were on a route called Dazed and Confused. Turns out this was the last route that Colin and I climbed on Yam together. I'm not the best at remembering routes but once we got to base I remembered the pitch as Colin had taken a lead fall when his hold broke. I held his fall but got dragged quite a ways by his sheer weight. Ironic that this was the route we climbed as I was thinking of Colin on the drive out there and inevitably shed a few tears before meeting up with Dave. Such is how climbing is for me these days, happy and sad all at the same time.

The first pitch is a sustained 10a pitch, 50m of climbing. As I was climbing it, getting tired and pumped I remember distinctly how I felt the first time I climbed it. Exactly the same way! Tired forearms, sore calves, feeling scared since everything feels harder on the first pitch. I'm reminded how hard trad climbing can be. Woooee and I call this fun!

An 8 pitch 10b climb may be a bit stiff for the first multi-pitch of the season and humbling too. I found the approach hard even though I'd been running hills and staying fit. The climbing was tiring me out too and I was quickly schooled that bouldering in my gym and sport climbing is no match for Yamnuska.

Dave climbed strong and deliberate. Climbing with a professional is always a treat and Dave is a finess climber. He couldn't resist pointing out where my habits were sloppy and I didn't mind one bit. He'll always be a teacher to me.

Multi-pitches are as much an exercise for the mind as the body. As per normal on Yamnuska climbs, I would be happy to be done by about pitch 4 or 5 and I know I have another 4 pitches left. That feels like a daunting task as I look up and see how far we have to go. This experience was no different. There are moments when I fall in love again with the beauty of climbing, the physical act and the movement. In the next moment I am surprised at how hard it really is and I wonder why I do something that makes me tired and scared.

It was nice to see Dave and catch up. It doesn't matter how long the gaps are in between. He is a friend of the soul and someone who's enriched my life. For that he will always have my loyalty and friendship.

After the climb I headed to Canmore to stay at Tom's house. I walked into his house around 9pm-ish to the aroma of something exotic. Was it cardamon? Perhaps a curry? I was like "Hello! Damn it smells good in here...." He laughed and said "Have you eaten?" my quick response was "Nope but I really need to have a shower first" As I was getting ready to jump in the shower, Tom was putting sheets on the bed I'd be sleeping in. I started to help him and he said "Go have your shower, I'll get your bed ready, feed you and then hell I'll rub your feet" I am not making this shit up my dearest readers. I was shocked at how tired and sore I was after a 10hr adventure on Yamnuska.  I got downstairs and Tom was making me a burrito of some sort with a curried mixture of chicken, paneer, peas, rice, fresh spinach all wrapped in a tortilla, to be washed down with with a chilean merlot. Heaven, heaven, heaven. My hands were sore and scratched up but I could still wield a fork and knife with lightening speed. To my credit I fished out some treats for Tom. Some of the best dark chocolate from the Sharfenberger chocolate factory in Berkley, CA. He quickly opened one of the bars and squirreled the rest away. Really, when one is borrowing heavily on anothers' hospitality they should come bearing at least a few gifts, including a trinket from the last far away place they visited such as a hand weaving from Bhutan.

I figured the foot rub would have been pushing the limits of Tom's generosity and I didn't come with enough goodies to really warrant it.

Tom and I's plan was to climb at the Back of the Lake in Lake Louise the next day. I have to admit that my appetite for climbing a second day was waning as quickly my hunger was having devoured my dinner! My feet hurt, most of my muscles were complaining any my scratched up hands were reminding me how they felt too. 

My opening line to Tom went something like "We don't have to be in a hurry tomorrow, let me take you out for breakfast..." He started to eye me suspiciously which suggested he was willing to look a gift horse in the mouth, so I followed up with, "Lake Louise isn't that far away and it'll be warmer later, and there's plenty of daylight" My reasoning mollified him. The truth is I knew I would get my ass out climbing, I had no intention of bailing on Tom even if I ended up being his belay slave all day.

The next morning we chatted over our leisurely breakfast. We got immersed in our visions for the future, our dreams of making the world a better place and our schemes to get other people involved. Eventually we did find our selves at the climbing area. We started out on some nice 5.7's and I surprised myself by wanting to lead. As we moved into the 5.9 range, I found some of the climbs surprisingly difficult. I excel at the juggy overhanging route which gets higher grading, but I find myself getting scared on the balancy, thin hold style of climbing that we were doing. The one thing I did miscalculate was my feet. They were sore and swollen from the previous climb so I should have brought my multi-pitch climbing shoes which are more comfortable. Instead I brought my sport climbing shoes which squish my feet on a good day let alone today! I worried this might pose a problem later on and of course it did. I would take them off after every climb and slip on my flip-flops. A few times Tom couldn't help but comment on the red little sausages which are normally my toes. My sore muscles could get warmed up and wasn't a big issue, but after a while putting pressure on my feet wasn't making the climbing fun. By that time though we'd been climbing for over 5 hours so I had put in a respectable amount of time and didn't look like a wimp. There is a plethora of good climbing at this crag and I'd love to go back with fresh feet!

I dropped Tom off in Canmore and headed back home. I was tired and looking forward to sleeping in my own bed. It was a nice to walk into my house and pet my kitties. The glass of wine I just finished hasn't hurt either. It actually feels like glass #2 wouldn't be such a bad idea but its already past midnight and I'd have to open a fresh bottle. I think I should head to bed instead. The past 2 days have been fun but some rest and recuperation is a good idea!