Here is another story that has been dusted off and retooled a bit from the original print version. You should expect that with the age of the tale… enhancements and embellishments will be a matter of course…
The day dawned fine and fair. Tantalizing aromas led me upstairs and soon we were sitting in one of my favourite places in the world: the comfortable and controlled chaos of KK’s kitchen. Ever the consummate host, he once again worked his special magic and had his amazing alchemic blend of coffee and freshly baked bread waiting for us along with early morning Tour de France coverage. We had yet another languorous morning, as most were so far on this trip; sipping on fine coffee, and watching Andy Schlek slowly lose the tour. The only difference today being, that we would need to be packing gear for our first mountain goal of this trip.
I just had a Double Macchiato, and a big pot of tea, and I’m sittin’ here buzzin’ like a cheap TV
– Swing Fever
There was no avoiding the perfect weather, and eventually we did need to move, so by mid-day we were packed up and en route to Backhoe Billy’s. KK drove us over there and all the while he was thoughtful and pensive about joining us on the trip itself, reserving his decision until the very last minute. We were all very happy when he decided to come along. A relaxing afternoon drive along beautiful mountain highways landed us in the last small town before the wilderness. We stocked up on petrol and grabbed an early dinner. Mexican food of all things….
For the next hour and a half Bill skillfully maneuvered his truck up a maze of logging roads to exactly the precise destination we wanted; sans GPS of course. The last road system we were on was plagued with ‘water bars’ but none that were impassable to his venerable 4×4 and expert driving. We parked near the best access point to the lower ridge of our objective that we could find and set up our tents in the gathering darkness. This region is well known in myth and legend for its over-abundance of voracious and large man-eating mosquitoes, and we were not disappointed or let down in the least.
Even though the night was crystal clear and the Milky Way was amazing, we had to seek refuge from the mossies, and so into our tents we went. We all slept well, and yet, too soon it was morning. The first order of business as usual, was to fire up the stove and brew up coffee in the French Presses. We choked down some cold breakfast and quickly headed out. KK wasn’t planning a summit bid but wanted to go with us on the approach so off the four of us went. After only a few hundred meters on the road we turned off it and headed directly into the bush. The bushwhacking was easy going as the forest was reasonably open, although moderately steep in some spots. After an hour or so we hit the wooded ridge crest and picked up what appeared to be a flagging tape marked trail of sorts. Not long after this point and at a small clearing with a view we left KK to read and swat bugs in the sun whilst we headed up and out onto the steeper portion of the ridge.
It was easy going for a fair ways, mostly through heather at the start and then over blocky low third class granite. All at once we came to a sudden impasse where there was a steep discontinuity in the ridge. It certainly did not look at all doable without abseiling, yet with some tricky down climbing Bill found a way around on the south side and we made our way back onto the ridge proper. This happened several more times during the ascent, and each time when things looked like we would be forced to break out some hardware, we were able to find a sneaky way around or over. We were into the real climbing now. The guidebook advertised this to be “an exhilarating and dramatic route”, and I’m here to say that it spoke true.
We also encountered several steep snow slopes that necessitated the use of our ice axes. At one point there was a nasty moat that we also had to negotiate, which may have been the actual technical crux of the climb. It was just above this that we had our first and only real near mishap on the climb; where Renee did a head over heels tumble on the steep snow landing herself on a small rocky ledge. Had that ledge not been there she might have gone a long way before stopping; or as we used to say ‘starve to death bouncing’. Nonetheless she did hit hard and was sporting a most excellent Technicolor bruise for many days hence. This was no setback however and we carried on; weaving our way upwards through ledge systems, short vertical bits and the occasional steep snow section. Totally enjoyable climbing, never really beyond class four, although there was some non-trivial exposure in places and loose rock in others. There was even a small cornice that Bill cut through with his axe to gain the summit. Like a mountain goat, Bill excels at moving effortlessly over this type of terrain; being one of his many attributes that I have always envied, but never been able to emulate.
This route begged the question … what exactly is class 4? Similar in nature to what is 5.8? In my opinion these are two of the vaguest grades in climbing. Each one being kind of a wide open transitional zone from one realm into another. Some years later, Renee, Bill, and I were on another class 4 climb where we bailed very early on because of the scariness of the loose rock and tremendous exposure involved.
For such a sharp looking mountain, the summit at 2,723m was broad and offered a wonderful 360 degree panorama of the coast range. It was topped by a reasonable sized cairn. There was an old summit register that we discovered in the cairn that contained faded and crumbling records from the 1950’s, with what could have been the second ascent of the mountain, the first being in 1949. Not by our route however, as that was only pioneered in the late 1970’s by the prolific team of Kubik and Zenger. We couldn’t help but at marvel at how tough those folks from the 50’s must have been to approach this mountain without the benefits of roads, 4WD, lightweight gear, etc. I also pondered why there were so few entries in the register while there was a well beaten trail in places lower on the approach. The ridge itself was clean and we saw no signs of other ascents.
The descent took us a long time; far longer than we had expected in fact. Much of the down climbing was awkward and more difficult in route finding. Going up of course all paths eventually converge on the summit. Going down, the opposite is true; one path diverges into many possibilities. I guess that’s entropy for you. We roped up in several sections to descend the steep snow. We were much slower on the return trip. To me anyway it seemed that there were more gaps that had to be crossed on the way down than during the ascent. Possibly some aberration of the space time continuum, or bizarre quantum fluctuations at work? Eventually however we made it off the ridge and back onto the treed shoulder. This is where it actually got a bit funky. We knew that by this time KK had probably long since retired back to the comfort of the truck and our camp. We needed to ensure that we dropped down to the road at the correct spot. We knew with certainty that if we went too soon we would end up on steep terrain, get cliffed out, and more than likely be in a world of hurt.
Like good Hobbits in the Old Forest we followed a nice trail through open bush and gentle slopes. We were lured downward by the easy going to a point where seemingly all of a sudden the trail no longer existed and the bush closed in so much that we couldn’t even get good bearings. The mosquitoes were relentless. Now we were really bushwhacking in earnest, although still very moderate in nature by normal west coast standards. I think Renee must have thought we had completely lost our senses as Bill and I plunged headlong into the foliage without as much as a blink of the eye. Besides being a slab virgin, she was also a bushwhack virgin… but not for long. She earned her bushwhacker merit badge on this one. We were however, at a bit of disparity in our course direction as we kept veering far more left than we should have been going. We could have of course pulled out a compass and a map at anytime, and that would have shown us that we were going more or less north as opposed to more or less east as we should have been heading. Eventually much to our surprise we hit a clearing and a logging road. Note the use of ‘a’ road. It was not ‘our’ road. This was mildly disconcerting. After consulting the stars, we figured, as it turned out correctly, which road this was, and that it did link up with our road. That was the good news. The less than good news was that it added a 3.5km walk to the end of an already very long day, as we had overshot our exit from the ridge by a considerable amount. Had we veered left any more we would have missed that road altogether and probably still been out there today. Bill and I were long since out of water, but at least Renee had a few drops left to share with us for the slog back to the vehicle. I felt as if I was in some kind of dusty zombie death march.
We were moving along at our own paces lost in our own thoughts or maybe just plain lost, and were getting rather spread apart when I noticed reasonably fresh bear scat, so I called forward to Bill for us to close ranks. Eventually though, we arrived safe and sound at the truck and much to our relief KK was indeed there. I always have had a certain amount of trepidation when we leave one of the team to fend for themselves in these types of situations and environments no matter how adept they are.
CHEF: Never get outta boat…
CHIEF:What happened, how many is it?
CHEF: A fucking tiger, fucking tiger… I don’t wanna take this goddamn shit man… I didn’t come here for this, I don’t fucking need this. All I wanted to do is fucking cook, I just wanted to learn to fucking cook. Allright, It’s all right, it’s gonna be all right… never get outta boat… Hi tiger, hi tiger…
WILLARD (v.o.): Never get out of the boat. Absolutely goddamn right. Unless you were going all the way.
Our group being separated had been weighing on my mind for some time now, but in the end there was a harmonious outcome to the day. Come back alive, come back as friends, and make the summit… in that order. True friendship is defined not by what men share and enjoy together, but what they endure for each other. I can say I have some true friends, and they were with me on that day. Fourteen hours on the go; not too shabby…
Friends are our greatest assets
Soundtrack:
Swing Fever – Bill Kirchen
Vampire Blues – Neil Young
The End – The Doors