Cap Trinite on Bay Eternite in the Saguenay Fjord, Quebec

From our tent I heard two loud crashes of thunder and found myself trying to grab Anne’s hand as she scrambled out of the tent to get below the boulder. She tore away, her better instincts telling her the thunder I had heard was actually something – big – falling off the cliff. Once out of the tent, it was obvious we were really in some weather. The tropical storm that had been forming as we headed north almost a week before had apparently turned into something. The tarp was flying high like a single wing, then crashing down, rain was blowing everywhere and we soon discovered that the “thunder” I had heard had almost crushed three of my best friends.

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My wife Anne and I rolled north, across the border, with Sam Bendroth packed into the the back of my pick-up, freshly retrofitted with a cap that didn’t fit, a 2×4 canoe rack and re-riveted plex-iglas window.  Sarah Garlick and Jim Surette were a couple of days behind us, canoe lashed to the roof of their Matrix. The weather was beautiful. It was the end of my summer guiding season and Anne had taken a break from her busy schedule so we could celebrate out 1st anniversary together – just us, and three of our friends.

Jugging up to clean some chunder

After a relatively easy drive, a few minor language issues and a good sleep we got our first load in the canoe at the Bay Eterinite boat launch – about three hours north of Quebec city and in a peaceful bay carved into the mountains which line the Saguenay Fjord – around noon. We were rolling heavy, it was our anniversary after all, and after a couple of trips all the kit was in place at a our bivi site below the stunning 800′+ Grand Galets on Cap Trinite.

The first couple of days were slow. We had all been working a lot and this adventure was as much a vacation as climbing trip.

After a warm-up pitch that first afternoon, a rain day followed and Anne and I paddled back for more provisions; fresh ice, more beer, that kind of thing. The forecast was good for the next few days. As we paddled our laden canoe back to camp the approaching front pushed us backwards forcing us to shore. We watched, gear on high ground, as a wall of white caps moved in.

I scrambled down the little cliffs lining the coast in the rain, relishing the isolation, the grey water – and the taste of Molsen’s Export. After a 1/2 hour conditions mellowed, and we loaded back up and paddled back to camp, singing, in a soaking rain.

Sarah and Jim arrived in the sunny and breezy afternoon of our third day. Sam and I were in the shade enjoying the first lead of Maree Houte. This 100m section of overhanging rock comes right down to just above the water, where it meets a walkable ledge that is only partly submerged at the highest tides; the perfect place to dry out after a rain. Maree’s gorgeous 5.12a first pitch is variety pack of steep climbing on good rock with a hard, bolt protected crux, a great finger crack in a corner and a splitter off-width.

After a pitch the sheltered sections of granite became covered in a persistent flaky chunder. Luckily, Sam and I are no strangers to choss gardening after spending much of the past decade developing the forgotten notch of New Hampshire’s White Mountains, so while Sarah and Jim got to work on a long and dirty 5.11+ called La Vire du cure Dallaire, Sam laid into the second pitch of Maree, getting it done on a scary lead. We fixed a rope and retreated for a team briefing.

The gorgeous 2nd pitch of Maree Haute

After a morning spent cleaning the flakey rock we were finally ready to try a little free climbing. Sam headed up the 1st 12a pitch of Maree, crushing it. I followed and headed out on the second lead, quickly working up the less steep stemming and liebacking of its gently overhanging lower half. But, higher up it got harder and the rock got looser. My progress slowed while I figured out the difficult moves with small gear in the flaky cracks. The final jug haul up to the belay is a classic and exposed bit of glory climbing. The gear is hidden below the roof, the good holds are all on the same hollow sounding flake and you are right out over the high tide line. Sam arriving at the belay in full freak out mode after tearing through the crux, excitedly spurting between breaths about how hard it was. Funny, from the belay he made it seem easy.

He made his way up the next pitch, more chunder raining down on me, finger jamming, off-widthing and taking up the steep wet crack. A burly little roof move and we were up to our highpoint; a little hole half way up the route.  I kept telling Sam the rock would get better as we got higher – being more exposed to rain and weather – but after three pitches we still weren’t high enough. Above was an off-width lined with more of those loose flakes, but at least it was overhanging.

We headed down from there, after all it was the day before my anniversary and Anne is a lot more attractive than Sammy.

The 1st and 2nd pitches of The Beluga Belly

On our anniversary, Sarah, Jim and Sam started up the straight-out-of-the-water, 3 pitch and wide Beluga Belly (5.11+), at low tide, while Anne and I took a quiet rest day together. By the time they finished and rapped the route the access ledge was partially underwater giving Anne and I some more, high tide-enforced, quality time. While they sat marooned, the clouds that had been building all day finally started a steady rain and the increasing wind began to pick up white capped chop on the bay.

That night we all had dinner together sheltered below a camo tarp strung between our tent and a boulder. Sarah and Jim went to bed while Anne, Sam and I had another beer and played out a southern NH card game called 45′s. Now it was pouring. Sammy won and got up to walk back to his tent, the wind had just really started to blow. A few minutes later he was almost crushed by a tree ending it’s 850′ free fall just a few feet away. All we heard was two loud thundering crashes, and Anne was out the tent door to get shelter below the boulder.

I ran out in the dark, rain pounding, wind blowing and stumbled into a shaken Sarah. She yelled through the storm that the tree that almost took out Sam had hit their tent too She said everyone was OK, but they were headed over to bivy with us, their tent ruined. Jim was shortly behind her, cool and collected. I mushed my way through the mud and puddles to Sam’s bivy. He was already reading, and calmly asked me through the tent wall if I thought he was safe. I just reminded him of the obvious and mentioned we were all going to spend some time huddled below the boulder. He joined us shortly.

The storm continued the rest of the night as we huddled together. One of us had a soft cooler for a foam pad, another slept on a towel inside a trash bag, another wedged her hips between the dirt and the boulder and one just sandwiched herself patiently in the middle. Unsure of what to do next, I sat on the cooler and drank beer, trying to keep smiling and finally relaxing when we double checked the guidebook. It described a climber’s trail back the cars – only a two hour walk. With a plan for tomorrow hatched, all we had to do was wait – and not get hit by another tree.

The next morning Sam drew the short straw and jugged our fixed line in a waterfall to retrieve it. The rest of us packed up while Jim bundled our gear in a burly two tarp taco wrap. We started hiking in the rain, packs light with little bivy kits.

The Sarah-Anne Wrap Bivi. Sarah is in there somewhere

The hike out was memorable; we scoped an amazing amount of potential for steep crack climbing, and witnessed some incredible wind at the Notre-Dame du Saguenay statue at the tip of the cape. The storm had passed, but the wind here was still so strong I realized we had actually been sheltered from the full force of Irene by the steep granite of the Cap and our semi-subterranean bivy.

Arriving at a locked up and darkened visitor’s center, and a parking lot empty but for our two vehicles, was a surreal. We discussed the fact that they might have shut the park down due to the storm, but a persistent feeling of it-couldn’t-have-been-that-bad convinced me the competing theory of “zombie apocalypse” was more plausible. After a quiet hour drying out in the park we arrived at the park entrance, and the backside of a closed gate right next to the park headquarters A very busy English speaking park employee took the time to explain that the park was shut down and had been evacuated. She explained that the main road was washed out, and gave us advice on where to find inexpensive lodging for the night and told us to check in with her in the morning.

After a more traditional 1st anniversary dinner at a fine restaurant, and a good night’s sleep in a clean, modern hotel room in Chicoutimi, we headed back to the park the next day. We had since learned how bad the storm had been, seen Facebook photos from home of friends’ damaged houses – Sarah and Jim’s house was just inches above the high water line – and had plotted our route back to New Hampshire to avoid the many closed roads. We lined up a zodiac ride out to the Cap to clean out our kit, and Jonathan, our English speaker driver, gave us a high speed tour of the Saguenay and an up close look at some seals.

Sam Bendroth mid-breifiing

In the zodiac on our way back to the quay, on calm water, one of the towed canoes capsized and the three trash bags on board floated away. All was recovered with the exception of a shirt and some sunglasses, far less than many people lost to the hurricane. We were fortunate in many ways – I later saw the crushed metal water bottle that had been between Sarah and Jim’s heads when their tent was hit – all we really had to endure was the shell shock of a near miss and one uncomfortable night. Many people’s homes’ were severely damaged or lost entirely, including an entire community here in North Conway and many more in devastated parts of Vermont and New York.

Despite the tribulations and the flaky rock, I did love the place. The effect of the water, the paddle approach, the careful and crumbly gear placements, the steep compelling crack lines and the amazingly friendly locals all combine to make a long weekend here feel like a far flung, and far more expensive, expedition.

Cap Trinite got under my skin and I can’t wait to go back – and with any luck, actually climb something.

In 2008, this journey began with Evan, Craig, and those fickle weather gods…

Never admit defeat! Evan, Craig, and Jeremy went back for more in July.
And then back again in August.
Third time’s the charm?

When the mountains give you lemons, make lemonade at Man Camp.

Read about more of Evan’s escapades into the great playgrounds of Canada, south of the border, Europe, and everywhere and anywhere else he can find stellar rock and snow on his blog.

Hiking up to base camp

So here is the story (only slightly embellished on my [Coke's] part).….

Jeremy took a week off work in the store to go climbing in the Bugaboos. He was due to return to work on the first day of the Sidewalk Sale, which is one of the busiest days of the year for us. The first six days of his trip, they had fantastic weather: Blue skies, gorgeous sunshine, and fantastic climbing. The seventh day, however, a massive storm of biblical proportions set in. Their climbing trip over, they packed up his car and prepared to return stateside. As they drove, Jeremy noticed a great deal of water pouring onto the road, but his car had seen worse and he was determined to get home. He rounded a sharp curve in the road and slammed on his brakes. Just ahead of them, a massive mudslide had come through and completely washed out the highway. The only road home was gone. Without food, fuel, or shelter, they turned the car around and drove to a small inn a few kilometers (we’re in Canada , remember?) back. Inquiring about the condition of the roads, they were disturbed to hear that it would take at least two days, if not more, for the road to reopen. They were trapped. And the Sidewalk Sale started the next day.

2nd pitch of bugaboo spire NE ridge

Most of us, if we found ourselves in Jeremy’s position, would understand that the gods were simply not favorable of a return to work, and instead wanted us to extend our vacation by several days. There was no alternative way back to the States, so of course everyone would understand why a return to work was impossible. Jeremy, however, saw the situation as a challenge and was ready to meet it head on.

He had noticed an Apache attack helicopter sitting nearby the inn, and a plan began to formulate in his head. He walked back to his car and gathered up everything he could carry in his bag. He bade a sad farewell to his car, not knowing if the two would ever meet again. Striding over to the helicopter, he noticed the pilot starting preparations to leave. He stood in front of the helicopter and stuck out his thumb. How could the pilot resist? The door to the helicopter opened, and Jeremy jumped in. Up they flew, headed south. Out the window Jeremy could see that the road had washed out in a number of locations – it would definitely take weeks for the road to reopen.

On the Apache flew until they reached a lonely field in rural Canada . There the pilot dropped Jeremy off, wished him luck, and continued on his highly classified Canadian CIA mission. Jeremy had no choice but to stick out his thumb again, and hope for the best.

My partner climbing Pigeon in style

After some time, he was picked up and driven to some random town in the middle of Canada . The town had a bus stop, but it would be days before the next bus to Seattle came through so Jeremy was forced to hitchhike again. This time, he was able to reach a slightly larger town that had a bus coming in 7 hours, at 3 in the morning. Jeremy used the time to take his first shower in a week and to study the locals at an all night trucker diner. Turns out Canadian truckers are quite similar to American truckers. Who knew?

At 3am, a road weary Jeremy boarded a bus headed to Seattle . The Sidewalk Sale was due to begin in 7 hours. The race was on. At 8am, Jeremy called from Bellingham to let the crew know he’d be running late. The response from his coworkers was less than positive, and I will leave the exact words out of this story to prevent offending anyone. Then Jeremy explained that he had been stranded in Canada, had hitchhiked on a helicopter, and had been on a Greyhound bus since 3am. There was no way he was going to abandon his team on sale day. Cheers and shouts of joy erupted from the store. Jeremy arrived just after the store opened and performed brilliantly all day.

Here's Jeremy hard at work

The store hit their sale goal and Legendary Service was received by all. That would be the end of this happy tale, except that Jeremy’s car still sat abandoned in Canada . He sent a heartfelt plea to the climbing community, hoping that someone would pick his car up for him and drive it back to Seattle . A few days went by, and finally someone called him offering to return his beloved vehicle.

Fred Beckey had heard Jeremy’s cry for help, understood his plight, and was willing to bring his car home. Several days later Mr. Beckey’s climbing partner, a 23 year old blond Swede, dropped Jeremy’s car off at OR. With tears of joy in his eyes, he pushed past the young girl and embraced his beloved automobile. After days of adventure into the great unknown, simply so he wouldn’t leave his team hung out to dry, Jeremy Park ’s Excellent Escapade was over.

Evan, swimming in pow for Valhalla Mountain Touring, British Columbia

The concept was introduced to me by my friend who ski tours, trail runs and climbs hard all the time, and basically it boils down to this:

1 Vertical Foot of Elevation Gained = 1 Calorie consumed.

Simple, I know, but extremely difficult to execute. When the season starts it isn’t that hard to stay on track with food, calories consumed and energy expended. Maybe it’s the light layer of extra girth on my frame from a fall of sport climbing and campsite beer sessions that is there to burn off. Or maybe its because I can’t really get more than 3-5 grand of vertical feet in the short days and tired lungs of December. Either way, as the season progresses, the fat reserves are gone, the fitness increases and the days get longer and the battle to maintain the equilibrium of the equation ensues.

So back to my typical morning at Valhalla Mountain Touring and how I maintain the balance.

Breaky on the table. Yum.

7am: Hot breakfast is served. This is usually something like eggs benny, waffles, or breakfast burritos.
Calorie count: 800

730am: Make lunch, and snack on the days goodies. This is what I call ‘breakfast desert’ as I am a firm believer that every meal must end with something sweet. Most likely victims of this meal are brownies, chocolate chip cookies or date squares. Lunch usually consists of 2 sandwiches (either PB & J, cheese and fixings or dinner left overs) and piles of fresh baking and trail mix.
Calorie count: 300

8am: Start touring

9am: Eat the first wave of snacks. Usually a brownie
Calories: 300

Counting up vertical.

10am: Eat half of the first sandwich.
Calories: 200

1030am: Rip the first 1 to 2 grand of epic powder.

11am: Eat the other half of the first sandwich and don’t forget to follow with something sweet, every meal gets desert!
Calories: 200

1200: More snacks and start nibbling on the next sandwich.
Calories: 200

1230: Ski another mind boggling dose of powder.

1pm: Start wondering if I brought enough food to break more trail through the 30cms of fresh fluff. Eat another brownie and save the last one for the last hill climb.
Calories: 200

2pm: Hit a summit and ski a great line down the mountain. Throw on the skins for another lap and finish off the last sandwich.
Calories: 200

3pm: The early crew is feeling the pull of the sauna and tired legs. Send them home to the lodge and get the late crew psyched for the afternoon push. Eat a cookie.
Calories: 150

4pm: Pull the skins at the top of the last run and inhale the last espresso brownie you have been saving all day. Drop a 2 to 3 grand home run back to the lodge, where the sauna is hot and so are the appetizers.
Calories: 300 (you saved a huge brownie for last!)

Fueling up for the next day.

5pm: Devour appies, which is usually nachos, baked brie, pizza or something equally cheesy and delicious
Calories: 700

6pm: fall asleep for 10 minutes after eating and the sauna, but then race back to the lodge to help with dinner prep.

730pm: Dinner is served. Amazing organic salad, unbelievable main courses, delectable desert. Have 2 of each course.
Calories: 2,000 plus another 500 for your drinks

930pm: Pass out to do the whole thing again tomorrow.

Vertical feet skied: 6,500’
Calories consumed: 6,500’

Wake up starving the next day.

Evan enjoying his dessert on another adventure. Infrared, 5.11+. Big Bend Butte, Moab

*Check out more of Evan’s adventures on his blog evanstevens.blogspot.com

So what does one do? Firstly, you have to look on the bright side. At least it happened at the start of the ice climbing season. I made my excuses at home, told my wife “I need to be alone with my grief”, packed my truck, and said goodbye to the rain in Vancouver on the WET Coast of BC. I headed out on highway one bound for Canmore, Alberta. A place that guarantees good ice and adventure.

Deciding to live it up in luxury for the first week, I booked in to the Alpine Club of Canada Clubhouse for a staggering $25 a night for FULL luxury, amazing showers, lovely lounge, and library all with great views of the valley and the mountains from every room.

Waking early for my first day of climbing, it was full of promise. I headed to Beamer, the coffee hangout down town, before checking out some of the local crags. I have been to Canmore at this time of year many times and it is often very cold and has a bunk of thick ice, so I was surprised to find myself at the Junkyards with little ice and what was there was in terrible condition.

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I decided to just step out on to it to see how it felt. Well, it felt terrible but after banging around a bit I had to keep going because I was closer to the top than the bottom. Soloing up the Junkyards is usually really easy, not so much today and I was glad to get myself back on solid ground.

Foolishly, I managed to convince myself that maybe Grotto Canyon was better, so back in the truck for the 10 min drive to the next parking area. Taking a lead fall while ice climbing is bad. Taking a fall while soloing ice is very bad. So you can imagine how bad I looked when I took a fall on WI1 (a frozen puddle) on the walk in to Grotto, mm embarrassing.  I’m glad there was no one there to see me fall, don’t tell anyone. Stumbling up the canyon I made it to the climbs only to be disappointed. I’m glad I carried all my gear up here for this.

I’m now feeling that this economy is worse than I first thought; there is no work and no ice.

Desperate times call for desperate measures. Getting up at 5am the next day I headed out to an area called the Ghost to solo a route called “This House of Sky” (THOS) Grade III, WI3-4+ 500m (for those that don’t work in metric that is 1640ft).

Nothing is as sweet as the alarm going off at 5am. Well I guess the only thing better would have been the sound of the alarm going off at 10am.

After a quick breakfast, I jumped in the truck and headed for the Ghost. The Ghost is only about 30kms from Canmore as the crow flies but it is two hours by car on bad roads. Given that it is Friday morning I should have had the place to myself, everyone should be working. Not the case, I was one of four groups on the route that morning. Doesn’t anyone work in Canada anymore?

I managed to get on the route first with a nice couple letting me go before them. Since I was soloing, I would soon be out of site given the lack of time consuming rope work. I made it to the top in a little over an hour and sat having a sandwich, then dozed off for an hour sitting in the sun watching the clouds go by.

Finally getting a little cold, I headed back down with a mixture of down climbing and 7 or 8 rappels. Back at the car by 2pm and heading for home. What a beautiful day and a great way to spend your time when you are supposed to be looking for a job.

After getting out of the Ghost and back on to the paved roads, a snow and ice storm hit causing a little delay and finally seeing me back to Canmore at around 8pm, ready for food, beer and then ready for bed.

Next….? Watch this space for more winter ice adventures.