The chronicles in this section relate to the 5 years I spent living, in various abodes, across the mountains of western Canada, whereby I travelled annually down the coast of the United States, through the deserts of Nevada into Utah. One time, I went as far as north Mexico.
Braving armed U.S border patrol, ice climbing in hypothermic conditions, exploring the mind expansion of Burning Man and tip toeing up blank walls of granite rock 1000ft high (to name a few) offered a lot of room for essential life experience and plenty of time for meditation on it’s effects.
This is how this blog came into being in the first place.
The title ‘Presence in Rock Climbing’ came about because I saw that not only does rock climbing offer an intense course in mind control but in those crucial moments, aboard towering heights, the mind is rendered useless and all thoughts evaporate, leaving one in complete Presence.
This is the ‘amazing feeling’ everyone goes on about and while climbing is an incredible human expression, it is actually the absence of thought (ego) that is so liberating.
It was and still is a very special part of my life and expression as is the timeless connections I made along the way.
This section honours that and offers me a chance to share it with you, which makes me very happy.
The road sign for Bridgeport, California appears from the darkness in the headlights of Diana’s little Toyota, as we cross the township line and breathe a sigh of relief. At the first set of traffic lights we take a left and head to the Twin Lakes campsite, the gateway to the mountains we seek. Navigating the maze of trailers until we find a spot on the outskirts, the clock ticks over to midnight and our four wheeled marathon runner groans to a tired halt. We sit for a moment in the dark, rubbing our bleary eyes inside the fog of fatigue until we muster the energy to cook some food and set up the tent.
I’m both exhausted and excited to finally be here. Knackered yet knowing that the silent watchtowers of the High Sierra mountains were looming in the wilderness above kept me wired. Naturally, lots of outdoor enthusiasts are attracted to this place but it’s climbers in particular who come with the desire to ascend an iconic chunk of stone called the ‘Incredible Hulk’. 1500ft of immaculate, steep granite, with panoramic vistas from it’s summit, an awesome vertical adventure basically.
Previously at the Banff Mountain Film Festival in 2010, I saw a video of two legendary climbers Peter Croft and Lisa Rands climbing ‘Venturi Effect’, one of the mountains hardest lines, which got me inspired to get out and climb for years and after my trip to the Bugaboos last year, I felt better prepared. Now we were here to climb it too!
Unpacking and repacking Diana’s car after dinner is like playing Tetris and at this hour we’re too shattered to bear proof all the food, we just want to sleep. Besides, “we didn’t see any signs in the park about bears did we?” queries Diana. “No I don’t even see any bears proof bins in the campsite, maybe they all migrated to Yosemite.” I retort. So shuffling with glee, we head to the tent and slip into our cocooning sleeping bags and immediately go catatonic.
The next day, we awake to the sound of chirping songbirds reverberating out of the morning silence. Crawling out of the tent, I relieve myself against a giant cedar, drinking in the fresh and vibrant smells of the pine forest. Today’s the day we hike to the Hulk!
Only this well of excitement drains from me completely like my morning salutation to the tree as I look over at Diana’s car in horror to see the passenger side window smashed to pieces with all…ALL the food torn to shreds and scattered across the campsite. A complete display of annihilation by bear. The evidence made clear by the claw marks on the interior. Damn..it ate all the pistachios too. Moments go by as we survey the wreckage, salvaging the few scraps that made it.
You should have seen my face, I was so upset. Looking back I can laugh though, not many people can tell this kind of story. But no doubt about it, I was mad, especially as the park warden gave us a what-you-going-to-do shrug when we clearly needed help, condolence…something. Thank goodnessDiana’s always cool in the face of calamity and soon we are cleaning up the car, cello-taping the window and restocking for tomorrow’s next try. That evening we bear proof all the food and lock it in the trunk before bed.
The next day dawns again, with no sign of bear burglary. We lay out all of our gear for the three days we will be on the move; Rope, climbing equipment, food and tent. Dee takes the former, I take the latter. Ready, set, go time!
We walk westward through a dense birch forest away from Twin Lakes, into a wide valley with tumbling shattered mountain peaks at it’s end, maybe two miles away. Before reaching this end you turn left (south west), cross a stream and navigate a winding path through a field of boulders, always going up and up into this side canyon until you enter the snowy chamber of the High Sierra, the abode of the Incredible Hulk.
Two weeks ago I was up in Nevada attending Burning Man (The Year of the Snake) and hitch hiked back to Las Vegas for a healthy dose of duality, where I met up with Diana. Now, I was stretching out and drinking in the mountain air, sweating hard and loving it. To be grounded back into nature, on a new adventure with an amazing friend felt exquisitely perfect.
We reach base camp (a sheltered slab of rock) at the top of the canyon five hours later and Diana sets up the tent while I go fetch some water. It’s so quiet up here, the trees have thinned out just below the campsite too so it’s nothing but rock pinnacles, snow and boulders up here. The colossal jagged tooth of the Hulk dominates the skyline like a brooding ogre that personifies the silence and majesty of the place. It’s awesome, inspiring and kinda nerve racking at the same time to imagine our puny bodies making our way up it’s 1500ft flanks tomorrow morning like determined ants. Later on after some delicious chow and revered silence I take one last look and set the alarm for 5 am.
The next morning I’m hiking back from fetching the morning water, the sky all rosy and pink when out of the silence comes the sound of falling boulders, thundering their way down the gully to the Hulks right, smashing and grinding their way downward until they come to a precarious stop and silence returns. That gully, is the way we come down from the Hulk. Better be careful…
I join Diana again who’s lighting up the stove and we’re soon firing our bellies with oatmeal and coffee. After slugging the second, I’m turbo tying my shoe laces together and running after Diana who started out a little before me, to find the base of our route. Today we’re going to climb a route called ‘Red Dihedral’, so called after it’s obvious said feature that looks like an open book. Relative to this wall it’s one of the easier climbs, a good way to get familiar with the rock, the descent and the weather.
And off we go, the first few hundred feet flow beautifully, the cold granite sticking to my fingers like glue, the body warming up as sun creeps around the corner, painting the wall with light. The mosaics of passing orange and green lichen that splashes across the ocean of greygives a sense of vitality on this lifeless giant. It’s funny how you connect with a mountain though, you get to know it so intimately. Your fingers searching for tiny edges, your face so close you feel it’s tough uncaring skin grind against yours, you’re spitting out grit, fear and excitement whilst feeling the omnipresence of gravity as you dance up the wall. You feel so alive, right there in that present moment.
I could go on above the moves, the exposure, the sweeping vistas, adrenaline, joy and fears, laced with climbing jargon but I won’t this time. Suffice to say it was an awesome journey up a stoned titan. Diana was the perfect person to enjoy this escapade with, it’s such a blessing to share these rare and unique experiences with such special souls.
It wasn’t until we reached the summit however, that our ordeal in wait was revealing itself by the way of black bruiser thunder clouds. Boom! It claps as Diana and I reach the summit ridge ‘Thought you’d get off this mountain easy huh? It seemed to bellow.
All climbers know to look out for signs of storms because it is a truly miserable experience being caught out halfway up a mountain. In our defense, the clouds were streaming in from behind the mountain which made it hard to detect. Either way, we found out. Not even time for a summit photo. The sun begins to wane and the clouds start spitting rain.
Now, the descent off this thing is supposed to be a couple of rappels that lead down into the gully to lookers right of the Hulk (remember the morning rockfall) where you walk down and around back to basecamp. But at this point, as I’m crawling on my hands and knees right on the shoulder tip of the Hulk and I can’t find them. I become aware that a slippery wet shark fin of rock with a yawning abyss of air all around isn’t where I want to be in a thunderstorm, so I retreat back to the safety of the ledge where Dee is waiting.
She’s noticed that there’s a rope anchor 100ft down to the right. The guidebook states something like “Don’t go right, this only leads to a maze of ledges that won’t get you down to the ground”. But as I can’t find the rappel points straight ahead and things are feeling a little desperate with thunderclaps and an absence of any other ideas, we go down to take a look.
The freezing rain continues, some of it is lumpy with ice. My hands are cold as we down climb slowly. I pray this tat of rope is going to be worth our while. I wouldn’t recommend down climbing without a rope, 900ft up in a thunderstorm at dusk but circumstances dictate. Diana could have belayed me but we didn’t want to waste a second.
I go nice and slow, breathing consciously as I figure out a way and try not to let the scary thoughts in my mind get to me. Helping Diana to way points like ledges and big holds, I can hear her crying quietly behind me and I turn to watch her down climbing carefully and keeping it together on this now sodden rock wall. I admire her strength in this moment. I want to hug her but we need to get down fast without plummeting to our deaths. We carry on inching our way down the soaking tiers of rock as the orange glow of sunset lights up the underbelly of the dark storm cloud above.
Finally we reach the rope anchor and clip into it with relief and thread the rope through. I go first again, watching Dee’s headlight float away as I slide down the rope, scanning for the next anchor. We are really committed once we go past this point. No going back up. Reaching the next ledge, I spot the next anchor. Yes! 700ft to go. Another anchor is found. 600ft. Down we go, the echoes of thunder begins to dissipate. 500ft to go, it’s getting dark but the rain persists. Searching for the next anchor is harder with just a head light and I panic about being lost until I find it hidden in an alcove. With 400ft to the bottom, the gully looks close just two more raps and we walk the rest.
We touch down into the gully a little while later, completely soaked. The rain stops as we pull our rope down one more time. What a harsh mistress. We sit under a rock a cuddle for a moment, burying our faces into each others necks for warmth and take a selfie.
The moon shines as it rises in the now clear sky, the two of us slipping and sliding as we make our way down the flanks of the gully, littered with loose rocks waiting to be released. We take our time and are just happy to get down in one piece. Back at base we take shelter in ‘The Rock Kitchen’ and make dinner. Inside the walls of the cave, we warm up against the pot of cooking food, the smell of pasta sauce reigniting my appetite.
And it’s here, sipping tea and eating a hot meal with a beautiful, intelligent, adventurous soul with the night sky above illuminating the mountains that I feel so blessed to be alive, right here right now.
I love it, I love you, thank you, thank you, may it last forever.