Hero Ice & the Hotel Lobby

"Put it into third..."
"No thats fourth"
"Oh, sorry"
"Maybe, I should drive instead"
"Yeah that's probably a good idea"

Not impressed with my ability to destroy a transmission, Phil and Adam watched me embarrass myself learning standard in the parking of lot of Mount Pakenham. After some debate about who was best suited to do the drive (not me) we were on our way to pick up the fourth member of the journey into Quebec to find climbable ice.

The drive seemed easy enough considering we had printed directions all the way to Tremblant, but Quebec has a funny way of making everything seem closer than it really is. The plan was to locate some university friends of Adams, sleep on their hotel floor and then wake up to meet our fifth and most experienced climber.

Although a miscommunication lead to Adam and I spending the better part of the night flirting in vain with all the hotel desk ladies in the village to try and get a discount on a room for two that would hopefully have room for four.

We soon realized that unless we planned on dishing out some serious cash we better start making new plans. Somehow our group picked the exact weekend when seven busloads of university students had arrived in Tremblant to board, ski and pack the bars.



Eventually we settled on the cheapest and best of options. The local hostel. Where we had a chance to finally shower, eat right and do a lot of well deserved nothing. In the midst of all the nothing, I managed to strike up a conversation with an Aussie who was in the middle of his going away party. He had been a resident of the hostel for the week and everyone there had taken a shine to him. His name was Mark, and he had left his job as a high paying IT consultant to travel and see the places in the world he had only dreamt of while spinning the globe on his desk.

Standing in the kitchen, making our way back to the hostel bar with snacks for the party, Mark and I talked for nearly an hour about making the decision between love and money. Making the choice between the security of the paycheck or the one that allows you to follow your passions. We stood on different ends of the topic, even though we were leading very similar lives. Mark enlightened me about a lot of things and I realized then that sometimes useful advice can come when you least expect it and from the most unsuspecting people.

In the morning, after packing up our gear and finding the fifth member at the crag we started the building of the anchors. We practiced anchor building, tie offs, placing ice screws and discussed the practicality of different acronyms in anchor building. Our guide taught us about SECURE and how it was logical because if you follow the letters it's progressional.

Strong
Equalized
Centered
Unbroken
Redundant
Edge

The group practiced using SECURE to put up our top ropes before we geared up and started climbing that beautiful ice. The weather was lingering around -4(Celsius) and it created the perfect conditions for us to grow our confidence and technique.
Exhausted and out of water we left the Ice many hours later. On the shuttle bus back we realized just how out of place we must have looked. Looking around we noticed that every other person we saw was carrying a snowboard, a pair of ski's or a purse to do some shopping. Then there was the four us. Outfitted in backpacks, ropes, climbing helmets and ice axes. Grinning from ear to ear we packed the car and started the long journey back.

"Formal education will make you a living; self-education will make you a fortune"- Jim Rohn
OS

Moving Forward, Looking Back

Lists, they are everywhere. Cluttering my desk, tacked to my walls, written in short hand, scratched into notebooks and overflowing from the garbage can. Some of them complete, many more still wanting my attention. What I notice though is that these lists all have dates scribbled at the top, so I cannot deny that these lists are all in fact "To-Do"

Looking back at these lists and other pieces of my life I can recount an entire year of accomplishments, mishaps and memories.

In my mind, I tend to choose a moment that defines the situation or in this case the year. I won’t pretend that there is a debate between great moments because one of them undoubtedly stands out. A simple and significant interaction between the people and the place.

It was early July, and just like most memorable times would have it, everything was going wrong. Out of money, out of a job, unable to eat, pay rent or be proud of myself I sat on the hood of my car in the driveway of our spray lakes house. I Looked out over the reservoir, watched the clouds push between the mountains and the town of Canmore continue its business as usual. How could everything have strayed so far from the plan?

Refusing to feel sorry for myself, I resolved that I would do something productive with the remaining hours of light left in the day.

My climbing partner and I packed our gear, our water and our troubles and spent the night projecting a 5.10a named Johnny Neumonic. The climb itself was part of my goal to finish all the climbs of that grade in the area before the month was up. At the time it seemed a stretch that I would reach that goal. That day was my third or fourth attempt to send it.

The hours between when we arrived and when we finally completed the climb were the only ones I had all week were my thoughts were focused on just solving the problem in my face. One more bolt, one inch higher, and one more second before my footing gave out where the only things I prayed for. Not money, not food, not anything.

Not much was talked about during that time. “Pass the water” “Secure” “Clipping” These must have been the only words spoken for nearly 4 hours. A pure state of focus had fallen over those 20 vertical meters, and the 10 horizontal feet that we stood that day.

I realized this when the light finally disappeared from the valley and we coiled our rope and started the hike back to the car. When we got to the top of the hike the Mountains had given us a gift. Settled between the East end of Rundle and Chinamens peak was a full moon on a perfectly clear night that reflected off of the glass still lake. The mountain goats could be heard dropping rocks behind us and the reflection of light off the lake made the entire upper pass seem heavenly.

We took a pause, caught our breaths from the hike and looked on at that jaw dropping view. As I asked to pass the water we both realized that we had the two biggest shit eating grins on our faces out of the entire town. Nothing could bring down the high, no one could stop us from laughing at how stupid our problems were and never would I give up the pursuit of moments like those.

Go, Get Outside