A Scare in Squamish

I flew from Greece to Vancouver on June 13th to meet up with my new climbing/business partner James. We would be spending the next month traveling British Colombia and Alberta putting on shoe demos for Butora Shoes while also climbing at some different crags during the week. My first Canadian climbing experience would be in Squamish Canada, home of the Chief and many classic trad lines. Having just done 5 weeks of pure sport climbing I was stoked to finally put some of my new trad gear to use! James introduced me to a few great climbers and for our first multipitch experience we were recommended a 5.9, 6 pitch trad route called "Snake" located on the apron.

Now I have some trad and multipitching experience but James has never done it before. So I would be leading all the pitches and James would follow. Which was fine by me because I love leading. The second time I ever climbed outdoors I was able to lead a 5.10a and have never looked back. My old climbing mentor always pushed my boundaries and would say "You'll get more if you lead a 5.8 than if you top rope a 5.10D," So the only time I top rope is when it is way above my redpoint level. So I take pictures of the topo with my phone and off we go.

The first pitch was pretty much a short scramble in order to get up to a flat ledge belay area. Not far or difficult and before we know it we are on the 2nd pitch, a monster 55 pitch slab/crack climb. A reasonable 5.7 pitch that I think ends with a natural tree anchor. Some swift, easy going climbing and before I know it I'm at the tree, set up the top belay, and James comes up to meet me. When we are at the belay and checking out the topo I notice that we are at the wrong anchor. about 6-7 metres before the tree there are some flakes that go left while the single crack goes right up to the tree. I realize I need to now down climb and traverse over these flakes then pull the last few metres of the proper route.

after 4 metres of traversing I realize that there is no room or places for pro. If I fall I'm going to take a bad swing into a few jagged/slabby flakes below before being pulled horizontally across the rock. Time for some mental toughness! I figure out a plan of attack to pull the way harder than 5.7 move and I'm at the anchor almost 10 metres away with no protection placed. This is something I have definitely never have done before but it really boosts my confidence on the slabby granite mountainside.

The next pitch goes smoothly without a hitch. It was a simple traverse to the left towards a stellar ledge. From there we head straight up some more slabby bits and I have some trouble pulling the crux, taking a small fall on my gear. "Great" I think to myself. The smallest came I have is a blue alien and it was placed really well. Mustering courage I pull the crux and finish the pitch. Still smooth and making decent time.

As I start the next pitch I really notice that I'm running out large sections. Not necessarily by choice but the finger width solid crack I've been throwing gear into is closing and in many spots just isn't there. That's ok though because I see a bolt actually placed a few metres above my head. The last stopper I placed was a #8 in a shallow section a which is a few metres below my feet. I pull up the last few inches to get to the bolt and my left foot slips on the smooth granite. Before I know it I'm running backwards, I trip, I lose all sense of direction. I take a few summersaults before finally being pulled back in the opposite direction. I come to a stop upside down with my eyes wide open. The sudden jerk pulls the sunglasses off of my face as I come to a rest. The first thing I think about is the incredible pain in my groin region. The harness or rope must have pulled up right to my crotch at some point, and any guy knows that this is quite a painful thing to experience.

I take a few breaths, adrenaline running through my body. "Have I broken anything? What hurts? I need to access the damage." I tell myself. My pants have specks of blood and is torn on my right hip, my left pinky finger is ripped under the nail and is dripping blood. I feel my legs and arms and I realize I haven't broken anything. Actually...except for a few cuts and bruises, I'm OK. Wow...I just took my first huge trad whip 10+ metres down a slabby granite wall and the worst thing that happened was a cut finger! Feeling scared I slow my breathing and I decide I won't let fear get the best of me here. After a few minutes I hope back on the climb. I pull up the rope take a rest, gather myself, and go for the bolt again. I struggle to keep my body from shaking and keep the fear at bay. I take a long reachy stretch for the bolt and clip it. I grab the draw and pull it and take another rest. I climb the next few moves without incident. Then at the end of a pitch there is a horizontal traverse to the right using a wet and dripping crack. Time to aid climb as much as possible! Luckily my cams fit perfectly in the crack and I just pulled through the last moves on the 5th pitch without incident.

The final pitch was a fun layback up a slab that I finished quickly. The sun was starting to dip behind the horizon so we needed to get off the mountain soon or else be stuck hiking off in the dark. Something I definitely didn't want to do. a little over an hour later we are in the car, I feel battered, bruised, thirsty and hungry. The adrenaline of the climb and descent has left my body and I feel completely exhausted. Ultimately I feel happy to be able to climb and push both my physical and mental limits.