Saturday, July 16, 2005 9:05 pm

This will be a day long remembered. I had anticipated this trek -– “scramble” -- to be of moderate difficulty. In fact, I just about passed up on it because I thought it would be too easy. I joined it solely to get into the mountains, a dose of Rocky Mountain fuel to get me to the next scramble, Mount Temple on August 7.

Up until this morning I had no definition, or expectation, of a scramble. At its most extreme perhaps a killer series of switchbacks that melt one’s legs? Boy was I wrong.

The swashbuckling adventurer and famed explorer Tsiktsik was humbled today. For a period of about 90 minutes he thought his life was surely over, his legs trembling, his heart bursting, clinging to wet, muddy cliffsides of rocky shale, each footstep onto a 3 to 6 inch foothold the only thing separating his life from freefalling death.

The day began at 5:30am, an easy rise, slow preparation, Ctrain to the UofC, a walk through the Olympic Oval to observe the speed-skaters. People introduced, waivers signed, rides arranged. The weather? During the drive it was pouring. By the time we arrived at Peter Lougheed Park, with its upper and lower Kananaskis lakes, the rain had eased (not stopped). Sean -– our scrambler guide -– gave us a quick overview and off we started.

As I am used to climbing lone volcanos (see the cone?), Sean was excellent in providing information, overview and technique -– a full context -– when in a mountain range scenario. In application to Rocky Mountain scrambles I was introduced to a new world. A world, to date, I had haughtily scoffed at, belittled. (“I’m not wearing hiking boots; no way do I take off my Nikes.” and “What the?! We have to wear helmets?! Give me a friggin gay break.”)

The day started out easy, casually climbing through alpine trail. The rain kept us moving; too cool to stop for long breaks. The clouds and mists clearing once in a while for sneak viewing of the lakes and surrounding mountain landscape-peaks. At one point I even said to Christine, “I thought this would be more difficult.” She agreed. Sean commented, “We’re hiking, not scrambling.” Oh. Mmmm. * Tsiktsik scoffs *

On we go. 3.9 km later we arrive at the NE ridge, making good time. We’re already in the cloud mists; occasionally the lakes make sight. Surprisingly there is almost zero wind.

The NE ridge to the North Summit (2670 meters, 8760 feet) began gradually, from a non-threatening wide ridge into increasingly rocky terrain, increasingly narrow trail, increasingly risky exposure (i.e., cliffs). Though it is difficult for me to ascertain now, I estimate that within 30 minutes I knew I was in the middle of the most dangerous, insane, fucked up climb of my life.

Footholds measured in inches, handholds in centimeters. The ‘trail,’ if you could call it that, if it even existed, was wet and muddy. Rocky shale was everywhere, under our feet, under our fingers, bouncing down the cliffs that descended below us in ever-increasing height. The light rain continued, at times hitting the ground in icy pebbles. Visibility greatly varied as the mists moved over us, between us.

One fellow, Vic, who had both eardrums blown out on a flight within the last year, starting experiencing ‘vertigo’ with subsequent panic attacks. As he put it: a near-overwhelming desire to get down. Rapid heart rate, body shakes, legs trembling, quick breathing. He clung desperately to the cliff sides as his friends soothed him, “take deep breaths,” etc. I don’t know what my face showed (seems not much as others were mildly surprised to later know what I was partially thinking-feeling), but I knew exactly what Vic was going through. Another factor that added to the intensity of the experience was that I was last, bringing up the rear: nobody was looking at me, nobody to potentially guide / suggest footsteps or handholds. As everyone else looked forward, I dealt with my own anxiety attacks, brief though they were before militantly squashing them.

As I could barely tolerate the reality of going up, the idea of descending this same terrain was inconceivable. I was the cat (squirrel?) in the tree, and there was no chance at all I could descend this or its equivalent somewhere else. This was of some concern; but I blocked it out just as I did the cliffs below. The only choice available was to climb higher still and hope for an easier alternative route out / off.

This was the first 30 minutes. This section of the climb I estimate lasted another 60-70 minutes. Another 70 minutes of excruciating, mind-bending hellfire intensity.

Sean had estimated 50 minutes total for this section. Because of the size of the group -– him and eight of us -– the going was significantly slower. He split us into two groups of four -– four climbed while four waited, and then caught up. Standing there in the drizzle, mists, on what I thought were tenuous footholds, and no scenic views or sunshine to take one’s mind elsewhere, the waiting shredded my nerves.

At one point Sean had us four pass the other group, then asked me to climb into a higher position to allow the other four come up behind us. I looked at him incredulously, thinking “You can’t be serious. Climb to where?!” Yet I did it, carving footholds into the soil and rock. What kept me on that mountainside I do not know.

Sean used the rope once during this section in an area of increased exposure. “Terra firma. The more firma, the less terror,” he quips. May as well laugh, as a maniacal laughter is all I have left.

We hit a ‘gully’; compared to what we had just done it was a paradise of safety. “Heaven!” I exclaimed joyfully. On a less intimidating slope, shortly we had 2670 meters attained, peaked on Mount Indefatigable. Rest. Eat. Alex served warm tea: brilliant, as my fingers numbed.

The journey from the North Summit to the South Summit, compared to the ‘crux’ of the route up, was of great ease. Yes the ridge was exceedingly narrow in places (“several hundred yards of knife edge”), footholds just as narrow as before, but for the most part I was not bothered. What I wondered was: how the hell do we get down? What lies ahead 100 feet into the mists?

We hit a section where 3 choices existed: ridge top, go to the left of the ridge, or descend right and circle the ridge and up again. Sean chose to go left. I was ready to break ranks as the right appeared to be of greater ease (to which he later agreed). Why I was in the rear again I have no idea (is it a delicious torture?), but here I was on this ledge waiting … waiting … waiting. Meanwhile, this fellow Michael had decided not to follow the rest of us and take to the ridge above us -– well, above me. I was very, very aware of his position directly above me. Sure enough, down rain the rocks …

Luckily I was positioned under a small overhang. Watching him move I immediately spotted a good 8-9-10 pounder coming right for me. I put my head into the cliff and the rock grazed my helmet, my upper back (lower neck), hit the top of my pack and kept going. Smaller rocks bounced off my helmet. Martin, the French fellow in front of me, had immediately seen the rock(s) too. This was a guy who casually stood on the ledges as I clung to them, but even he was alarmed at seeing this happen. I realized the severity of the situation immediately but simply brushed it off. Had I not been looking, had this ten pounder unsuspectingly smacked me in the face, it probably would have caused me to lose my footing -– 550 meters down. The thought flashed in my mind that Michael was a friggin asshole, but as soon as it came it left (was he not correct in refusing the left side?). I continued focusing, and waiting, on this incredibly stupid ledge I was on. Martin had a hearty fit of laughter over the rock incident, then apologized.

It took some time to get the other six people back onto the ridge top. When it came to my turn I could not do it. I could not position my feet to get up on this 3-4 foot high rock. Sean saw my continued hesitation; like a goat he simply walked onto the rock, extended his hand and helped me up. From that particular moment I later learned scrambling is not requiring upper body strength but foot placement, weight distribution and leg power. I was trying to pull myself up unto the rock and my arms could not do it (where are the handholds?!).

I don’t think Sean made the connection at the time as the guidebook photocopies he gave to us read: “The summit panorama is truly magnificent (yeah, cloud banks - GW), but the head on perspective of the ridge connecting to the south peak suggests difficulties. A good part of the traverse, however, is mainly hiking and takes about a ½ hour to the south peak. The rock is firm where needed and a few of the exposed sections can be skirted on scree on the west (right) side. One fatality has occurred here, apparently owing to a fall over the exposed east (left) side, so use caution.”

South summit attained. To my great relief the path down from the south summit in no way resembled the path up / down to the north summit. It was a trail -– at times steep, muddy, slippery -– but a definite trail. The clouds-mists eased, the rain was gone, and the blue lakes of the upper / lower Kananaskis opened up below us for the first time, surrounding mountain peaks showing their faces.

I lazily descended, first with Sean (asking questions), later with Alex and Vic. Alex was of particular interest to me as he had recently completed a 11.5 month tour of Mexico – Cuba – Central America – South America (minus Brazil). Cost $10,000. Of the S.A. part, 3.5 months in Columbia (in/around Bogotá), 1 month in Ecuador, Peru, 3 months in Bolivia (his favorite, due to the beauty of the salt plains, political situation with Indians intrigued him). During the Guatemalan elections of Nov / Dec 2003 I was in Tikal as he helped with the elections down south.

On the drive home I talked with Martin, an electronics engineer employed by a Hong Kong company (stationed in Calgary for a Nortel contract). He was happy to discuss Hong Kong and China, “not too many people I can talk to about this.” He expressed the desire to travel mainland China; I gave him an overview of my mainland China faves: Hong Kong, Shanghai, Simitai great wall, Yangtze river, to Mohe, to Kashgar, 18 months.

He drove me to within 2 blocks of the 7-11. I bought a giant slurpee, showered. Starbucks full, to Melrose. I’ve been here now for almost three hours writing in the basement as the Stampede scene rages on.

I sincerely thought on the cliffs I had a very good chance of dying today; but, as usual, today is not that day.

I asked Sean before we split into car pools how this climb compares to Mount Temple. He stated, as before, that the mud, rain, mists made this climb more challenging. Temple is renowned for its imposing size, but it is more traveled than Indefatigable, the route / trail more marked.

I have three weeks to think about my decision to scramble Temple. Three blissfully long weeks on solid pavement: terra firma.

Exit Melrose. 11:50pm