Cutting Steps

I’m an avid reader of mountaineering books, always with a couple of them on the go at any given time. A lot of them were written many years ago, back in the day before crampons were in common use like they are nowadays. A useful skill that a climber had back then was cutting steps in ice with their ice axe. Those steps served as a place to put your foot as you climbed up or down a steep icy slope. I didn’t get my first ice axe until 1967, which also turned out to be the year I got my first pair of crampons. They were 12-point crampons, with the forward-facing points we call lobster claws. Crampons like that allowed you to get excellent purchase on any slope, no matter how steep or slippery. So, I never had to learn how to cut steps after all. I can’t say I’m disappointed, though, as I think that putting your boot into a step on steep ice wouldn’t have been as secure as crampons. That’s just speculation on my part, though.

Old Magazines

One summer day in the 1960s, I discovered an old log cabin along the banks of the Stikine River in far northern British Columbia. I had no idea who had built it or when, but it was quite dry and intact. Inside, I found some copies of a magazine called The Nor’west Prairie Farmer, dated 1916, 1917 and 1918. The magazines were interesting enough, but what fascinated me more was who had left them there. Were they a trapper or prospector? How old were they? Did they spend only a part of the year there, or live there year-round? Were they alone? There were no roads, so you could only get to the spot by boat.

Pan Nepodk

Out on the reservation, there’s a double summit known as Pan Nepodk. It’s easy enough to reach, just a mile north of the highway. I mention this peak simply as a landmark, to guide you to yet another peak. Just a mile west of Pan Nepodk sits Peak 2634. It’s nothing out of the ordinary, but it stands out in my mind because of what I saw the day I climbed it. As I walked up on to the gentle summit ridge, I heard a strange sound, much like that of a dog barking. Kind of a high-pitched sound, and not very loud. I looked over and there was a gray fox, standing there looking back at me. He yipped at me several times, then trotted away as I moved towards him. I mention this incident because in all the years I’ve been climbing in the desert, I’ve only met such a creature a few times. Kind of a special day.

Biggar

Driving some of the lesser highways of Saskatchewan, I arrived at a town called Biggar, population 2,100. What made the place stand out in my mind to this day is their slogan, prominently displayed around town, which reads like this: “New York is big ….. but this is Biggar”.

Another one I really like is here in Arizona. A small village named Hope has signs posted along the highway at either end of town which say “You’re Now Beyond Hope”.

Washboard

A washboard road is one where you have to drive over a series of ripples which run across the road at a right angle to your direction of travel. Those ripples make for a very bumpy ride. Trying to drive quickly over them will shake your vehicle badly. Usually the only relief is to drive very slowly.

The term “washboard road” came from an old-fashioned implement called a washboard used for washing clothes. In early ones, the ridges were made of wood. In later ones, the ripples were metal, usually zinc. There were also ones with glass ridges. In the 1960s, when I was working in remote mining exploration camps (where there was no electricity and no access to a laundromat) we had the glass type. This link talks about how you used a washboard. It was a tedious way to wash your clothes.

Mount Adams

The second-highest mountain in Washington state is Mount Adams, which stands 12,281 feet above sea level. A group of us Canucks climbed it back in the summer of 1977 by the North Cleaver route. Years passed, and in 1990 I found myself there once again, but this time on the south side of the peak. The good folks at the ranger station said that nobody had climbed it yet that year from that side – it was too early in the season, there was so much snow that you couldn’t even drive to the end of the road. My friend and I decided to try it anyway. They were right, snow blocked the road some distance from its end.

It was 6:00 PM when we started walking. We had parked the truck where a snowbank blocked all further progress. We had enough warm clothing, plus food and water, to stay out as long as needed. It took us some time to cover the miles to the end of the road, then pass through a campground deep in snow. The trees ended there, and it was getting dark by then. We decided to have some fun with this, taking as many stops to rest as we wished, and not being in any hurry whatsoever. This was before the days of GPS, so we relied on map, compass and altimeter. There was little danger of getting lost, as the south side of the peak was one endless, gentle snow slope. We climbed through the night and witnessed a beautiful sunrise. It was mid-day by the time we reached the summit. On the way back down, we stopped often to enjoy the view, take rests and have snacks. The entire afternoon slipped away, and by the time we made it back to our truck, it was 7:00 PM. In retrospect, it’s hard to imagine that we spent a full 25 hours doing that easy climb, but we did. It turns out that that was the longest I’ve ever taken to climb a single mountain in one push.

Rocket Radio

When I was a kid, maybe 12 years old, one of the latest fads was the Rocket Radio. It was a simple device which used a germanium diode to tune in stations. It needed no battery to operate. You would attach the alligator clip to something metal like a radiator or bedsprings. It had no speaker, just an earphone. Here’s a link, but I don’t know how long it will last. In 1959, when my Dad bought one for me, they were 2 dollars. They were a type of crystal radio, which you can Google to learn more about them.

First Girlfriend

In 1957 we moved from Vancouver to Montreal. Actually, it was a suburb out in the country, a small town called St. Bruno de Montarville. We arrived in the summer, and I was enrolled in the town’s only elementary school, aptly named École de Montarville. Now remember, this was the province of Québec, which is mostly French. Because there were Air Force personnel and their families living in this small town, that meant that there were a number of English-speaking kids who needed to be taught. As a concession to those Anglophone kids, they set aside two classrooms in the school. One room held Grades 1 to 3, the other one was for Grades 4 to 6. Each of those classrooms had an English-speaking teacher. I was in Grade 5, so in with the older kids. The entire rest of the school population was French.

When September arrived and I began school, I didn’t speak a word of French. We did, however, receive instruction in the French language as one of our subjects. Across the street from the school was a nice lake in a park-like setting, called Lac du Village. Many of the kids went over there during recess or lunch hour, myself included. There was a French-speaking girl my age who hung out there with her friends – I still remember her name, Louise Marchand. She spoke no English and I, no French. A couple of her girlfriends were bilingual, so they could translate for us. So there we were, two ten-year-olds, joking around and flirting. A whole bunch of us met at the lake every school day, and our little friendship blossomed.

Winter arrived, and I got to know one of the girls in my own class quite well – her name was Maureen O’Toole. I would double-ride her home on my bike after school. I guess you could say that we became “an item”. Once that became apparent, Louise was disgusted with me and we never spoke again. My mother was concerned that I was getting a little too chummy with Maureen. No worries – in July, my family moved to another town and all my 5th-grade flirtations came to an end.

India Rubber

When I was a kid, one of my classmates brought an India rubber ball to school. It was black, about 3 inches in diameter, and the rubber was quite hard and dense – you couldn’t compress it in your hand. My understanding is that these were made of natural rubber, the kind that is from a tree, not the synthetic rubber we have nowadays. All that being said, the thing that amazed us is how well this ball could bounce. It was unlike anything else I’ve ever seen. You could throw it hard against the pavement and marvel at how high it would bounce. If you left it alone, it would continue to bounce almost as high each time, until, after many bounces, it would finally come to a stop. I’d love to find one, but alas, even on the Internet, there’s nothing out there. I did find this picture, though. They must have been around for a while, because this photo was 5 years after my chum brought his to school.

Adventure

There are those who say that if you are having an adventure, that something is going wrong and that you are not as competent as you should be. One definition says that adventure is an undertaking usually involving danger and unknown risks. Another says that an adventure is an activity with some potential for physical danger, or an exciting experience that is typically bold and sometimes risky. Climbing mountains could satisfy all of those definitions.

Solo Climbing

There are dangers that are inherent in climbing by yourself. If you slip, there is no one to hold you on a rope. What would be nothing worse than a minor accident if you were with a companion could easily result in total disaster. However, solo climbing teaches self-reliance, makes you more aware of your surroundings, causes you to make prudent choices and exercise self-control. If you choose to climb alone, you need to be the complete master of every move you make. The best adventures of mountaineering are reserved not for fools but for the wise.

Tent-Mate

What makes a good tent-mate? For those of you who have never experienced being stuck in a tent for days with another person, picture this. A typical 2-person tent has a floor area about 88 inches long by 52 inches wide. For width, that’s about half-way between a twin and a queen mattress. For length, it’s a bit longer than a queen mattress. However, not all of that space is high-quality usable space. Tent walls tend to slope inwards from the floor on up. Also, most tents are not very tall  – enough to sit up in, but not much more. And after days of rain or snow, I don’t care how good your tent is or how much you paid for it, stuff inside your tent is going to start to get wet.

Aside from all that, it’s the person sharing your tent that can present the real challenges. If bad weather forces you to stay inside your tent for long periods, the two of you are going to get to know each other really well. Hopefully, things like burping, farting, nose-picking, snoring and any number of other personal habits won’t drive you crazy. The ideal tent-mate won’t present any of those, and life inside your nylon cocoon can go on for days in a happy state. Even better is the companion who can regale you with interesting stories and good jokes, someone who shares with you many common interests.