Quote courtesy of Jim

"It is not the critic who counts, not the man who points out
how the strong man stumbles or where the doer of deeds could
have done better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually
in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood,
who strives valiantly, who errs and comes up short again and
again because there is no effort without error and shortcomings,
who knows the great devotion, who spends himself in a worthy
cause, who at best knows in the end the high achievement of
triumph and who, at worst, if he fails while daring greatly,
knows his place shall never be with those timid and cold souls
who knew neither victory nor defeat."


Theodore Roosevelt {1858-1919 26th US President}

Notes to Self

Be Honest
Be precise, simple and concise in communication
Listen
Think about It?
Ask for clarification if necessary?
Stay Positive
Take time
Acknowledge them for speaking to me about this
Record meticulously

Slipstream

It is a little after eleven pm. I have been chatting to Diana and calling up Mike in Nelson; talking about skiing, and my car that is sitting there - broken down. I am a little worried about this house in Canmore, getting the renovations done on time and rented and getting myself away on this Bugaboo - Rogers Pass trip. The waves are beginning to crash around.

I spent the last three days up on the Columbia Icefields; forgetting about the tides. Letting the scenery overwhelm me - bring back the insignificance of self. The cliffs seemed to crash around. The mountains, once I would have thought them unclimbable, now I think of them in terms of commitment, exposure and the dreams of home.

I should have come up here before, and explore these mountains from, all sides before rushing in and attacking just one of those faces. To feel the mountain,m and understand where the energy comes from, instead of letting that power overwhelm, or battling without understanding. The climb was all that mattered - that name. Slipstream.

Early the morning before we had arisen at the Rampart Ck Youth Hostel, filled our bodies and driven about forty kilometers north up the Icefields Parkway. Wa;Walking into the Dome Glacier, and up the ramps to the start of Slipstream had been without significant concern. The walls suddenly moved in. Tim opened up his pack, three icescrews tumbled down the snow - lost forever; somewhere in that five hundred meter abyss. I couldn't believe it. What am I doing here. I just looked at him. What is going on? Tim looked a little sheepish as we continued to organize ourselves. I pulled the rope out and fed a line out to Time. Moments later he was falling past me. Pointlessly I tried to feed in the slack rope; only succeeding in jamming my hand between my belay plate and one of the belay screws that I had clipped as a first runner. I stared at that screw as Tim slid past me. "Don't pull out, Don't pull out" I imagined it cracking apart ice flying everywhere and our bodies tumbling over the snow and rock to the glacier far below. My eyes were still glued to the screw when Tim climbed back up to me. I have never,ever had anyone fall on me in the mountains, or on a multi-pitch route. I was just about out of my brain. "You don't do that, You cannot do that! What happened!" I saw quite clearly what happened. He slipped. How on earth does one slip while ice-climbing. I do not know. A tool pops. Thew ice fractures. But slip?

I asked Tim all those questions once again! I put some bandage on my little finger where an old cut that should have been stitched had reopened. My finger hurt like hell I could not bend it. I did not want to think about what might be wrong. Decisions had to be made. "are you feeling OK?" I asked Tim. "Sure" was the weird response. I felt like going down, but this climb was 'one of those climbs'. I jammed a glove over my fingers, and tried to hold my ice ax with my two good fingers. Mmm; could work. I was still annoyed with Tim. Stuff this. "if you want to lead every pitch, I will go on." I stated as the alternative. My brain and body were still frazzled enough. Somebody had to pay the price. "Ill still have to see how I go on this pitch, getting screws out and all that". I was feeling less like climbing as my hand began to swell, and pain slowly reached my brain. He agreed and set off again. I placed another belay screw and demanded he place a good close screw.

The routine settled in. Tim led up. I seconded and cleaned, always a little surprised that this "easy" looking pitch became quite steep. Every pitch surprised me the same way. A lot of sustained grade 4 ice. I led the last short pitch onto a snow ramp. I could see where a slab avalanche had pulled out slightly to my left but still above the route. Everything was solid now,and good steps had been kicked by a previous party. I was soon at the summit cornice trying to place a screw before topping out. The light was failing ; and so was I. All ,my screws had ice plugging them and my nerve was giving out. The last three meters moved out over an arete and onto a vertical face that plunged below; far more steeply than our gully. One hundred meters below, the face disappeared; as if overhanging and the glacier appeared far below. The clincher was a huge serac fall booming around the corner. Forget it. Tim, come here and lead this. I stood at the belay, once more looking at my screws, checking out this ridge of ice, and saying to myself "Please don't fall, Please don't fall" Over and Over. Tim was framed in the twilight. An incredible photo opportunity for the cameras that I did not bring and a hand that couldn't shoot.

The ice was little brittle but soon Tim was over, and I felt the end was nigh. I pulled my belay out in semi darkness and tried to force myself out onto the face. The exposure was foremost in my mind. I was in the most incredible place in the world. Hanging one thousand meters above the Dome Glacier, one tool in , and my other arm swinging wildly into the darkness trying to find somewhere that would accept this blunt piece of metal. Thank you for this top-rope, that will be fine, and I was on top. Time for something to eat.

We roped up for glacier travel and walked along the serac line to seek out this "one-rap; down-climb gully". The descent looked horrendous. A long rap over a cornice and what looked to be a huge serac band. Arriving over that obstacle, hard steep ice for another three hundred plus meters. No thanks. The previous party had not made this rap; their trail led elsewhere. Little Snowdome seemed to be a good possibility, and we found more tracks. Our minds were still totally without it, thinking that there would be a casual romp home. I peered over r the edge at the crazy rockies ridge line. No thanks. I found out l;later that there is a good snow descent down this way; we missed the gully. Hmmm. Maybe the serac rap is the best alternative. Tim was pushing for the Athabasca glacier, but in the morning. How I found this combination to be appealing I still do not know. Somehow decision making was at an all Tim low at 8:30 that evening. We prepared a bivvy and we st it out. Thankfully, surprisingly mild temperatures and a light wind prevailed. Our feet stuffed into Tim's pack. We waited. It will be light soon. Beautiful and warm. Clear and we will stroll out. Casual. Warm Sun. This is worth it. $ Am. Mmmm. A few clouds are rolling in. A little snow blowing. OH shit. 5 Am. It is a whiteout and we are moving. No further ahead than at 8 Pm last night. Tim still vows the glacier route. His first mountaineering route and I am still letting him call the shots. I too want an easy way out. I head off into white blackness. No compass. No map.. We were not supposed to be here, there were not any one pitch waterfalls still standing. Early March, and a month of above zero weather behind us.
I had brought all my gear with me in the car, in a little black bag. I have enjoyed these one-day car trips. Ski tours wearing cotton T-shirts and jeans with Gore-tex over them. Getting back to the car and slipping it off and relaxing quickly. Now where am I?

I am taking steps across this glacier; guessing where I am going. I do not want to head blindly into nowhere. I want a frame of reference. I have fallen half-in over six crevasses and cannot see them. I wanted to head out to the middle of the Athabasca glacier, but this seems ridiculous. A good gully ram,p system leads down; and I follow it. This is great. WE are cruising down. outa here. A little bit steeper. Some ice. Hmm. A cliff. Oh well; there is ice to rap from. Rap it. Half an hour later I am still trying to set up another anchor halfway down. The ice is about four inches thick and hanging out from the rock another four. I work something out, and delicately - why delicately? move off the prussik and onto my anchor. Tim comes down and we finish the rappel. Left a knot in the rope and had to cut it. Done. Check out the last rappel. Hmm it is quite a way. We need that fifty meters of rope. I race up and check out another gully, and another; even worse. This is getting insanely dangerous. Tim volunteers to leave his rope tied to the anchor to get out. This has to work. I want to live. This is our only exit. Already it is two O'clock. I do not want another night out here. We see a helicopter flying up the Athabasca glacier- the route we should have been on. The helicopter comes back down; the cloud layer is just above us. I guess they are searching for us. I suppose we are overdue. I do not want to spend another night out here. I had been fantasizing about crawling into my bed for hours\not. I wacked in a piton low down in this two foot wide gully.. A quick rap down this tied to the piton. One hour later Tim had freed himself of a prussik that caught on the midpoint tape. I was yelling obscenities as spindrift poured over me; and imagined myself hurtling off into space when I heard a loud crack and a huge roar above me. Somewhere a serac had broken free. I hugged the gully and prayed, "Please get off the rope Tim" I do not want to die. Get off the fucking rope." A few small chunks rattled past me. I waited. The avalanche must have scoured the gullies father over. Thank God. Now get off that rope. I continued yelling more and more unrestrained abuse down the rope toward Tim. Finally we were both off. Cut the last few meters on Tim's rope and tied ourselves to an end and walked down a flat glacier. Happiness is seeing friends after a long time. Thanks is having the Wardens waiting. Hunger is having two plates of "boy scout" pasta placed in front of me by the scouts at Rampart Ck Hostel. Pain is removing my glove off my hand and realizing how swollen it looks. Sleep is where it is at.

I wanted to forget about this climb, and imagine that it never happened. This was my last "waterfall" climb for the year. My fingers were not broken. I was much kinder to people. Tim left for Hueco Tanks in Texas three days later. I eagerly turned to completing the renovations on the basement of a house I was intending to be renting out by the end of the month. I intensely desired normality. Once again I felt I could be satisfied by an office job. This state of derangement could not last long.

Sentinel Pass and the rights and duties of Man.

I have finished working for Greenpeace. Moved out of Calgary and back to Banff. David and I went to Abbots Pass and climbed Lefroy and Victoria. on Friday Shelly and I went walking into Sentinel Pass, we had a long discussion about society and the individual - interspersed with awed exclamations on the incredible horizon looming above us.

Greenpeace had me thinking a lot about the costs that we place on our earth and on our society. My ongoing investigation of my life and what truly I desire; and what other people and society require; led me to thinking about work, it's costs; leisure and its costs; our obligations as individuals and as a society to reduce theses costs and so the result.

Our discussion originated from the question - should we support people who are no/are not able to support themselves. And for the sake of argument I looked at the other extreme - a person who works in a field such as cosmetics, drug, chemical etc industry where their work is for luxury and unnecessary. This work causes serious damage, but the person is highly paid for their work, self-sufficient and 'admired' in society. What I am interested in is who places more costs on our world and society.

We have valued work - at what it pays at the market rate; but the market rate does not reflect a number of factors; costs no included in production - environmental costs. A lot of work we have excluded from the market; volunteer work, housekeeping, raising children etc according to our market theory - this is not valuable. Our society assumes that more money is better. So people work for more money. I dispute that money is what we aspire - partly it is the things that money can buy - cars, houses etc. but many of these factors are environmentally costly and why do we desire them - for status, for ease of getting to work. They are necessity only because of the lifestyle forced upon us. Do less. Work less. Own less, and live more simply. These items are not what we want in life. They are still materials to let us live easier. They are like a cyanide kill that we think is an aspirin. Cars do not help us - they kill us, destroy our environment.

What we really want in life is changes through time - sometimes it is challenges, sometimes peace and tranquility. These do not depend on material possessions, they are states of mind. We desire to be happy and contented. However, when dissatisfied we are tempted to buy our way out.

A Hike in the Mountains

The drive from Banff to the Columbia Icefields is a tourists dream trip. In summer the highway is lined with R.V.'s, Japanese, and camera's. In winter... it is pretty quiet, strangely no-one is here. The mountains in January are beautiful, scattered snow and rock fill the sky. The sky was quiet, the snow was actually pretty good at Parker's ridge, and we all glowed in the aura. I have never understood this, but I have always liked it, why are there never any people in the mountains when winter arrives? We relaxed in the Hilda Creek Youth Hostel at the base of our ski slope. We stoked the fire in the sauna and prepared our simple meal. Fueled as always by carbohydrates, we digested in the sauna. Too tired to try to put a day into words. Just relax and know.

I had planned to take the Sunday and go climbing. I was getting slightly pissed off with people, why couldn't they get out of bed, and go for a walk in the beautiful moonlight at 2 am. I was tired of expending energy convincing people. I stopped, and gathered myself, and my energy was within me.

The next morning I awoke and quietly gathered my equipment. I was excited and positive. Today was going to be incredible. I quickly slipped out the door of the hut, and started walking. The sky was impossibly clear, and cold. The only sound was the scrunch, scrunch of my boots on the firm snow as I walked along the road to the Columbia Icefields.

I was getting sleepy now, and just so relaxed. My body was speaking, and I laid down on the glacier in my cocoon of clothing. The balance was there, the temperature was perfect. I was neither sweating nor cold. I could lie down to sleep on the glacier, and then get up and hike still perfectly comfortable. This sounds like an advertisement for Gore-tex. I awoke after a half hour, and felt incredibly refreshed, the sunlight was just beginning to affect the night's sky. I had remembered a crevasse free approach from the summer before and kept a straight line up the Andromeda glacier. The snow was surprisingly deep, considering the lack of snow we had in the Rockies that winter. As I neared the top of the bowl, I was wading waist deep in the fluffy stuff that had avalanched from the rocks high in the bowl. I looked around, and tried to feel what the world around me was doing. There was no maliciousness in the air, the world merely was, and I was there. I continued over the bergschrund and onto the face just as a reasonably large spindrift avalanche quietly appeared two meters to my left.

I started to move up quickly, always trying to keep a tool or crampon on solid ice. There was a few inches of snow on the face, and it obviously was not sticking very well. It did however make for very easy front-pointing. I had been on this face three months earlier, and I remember racing ahead so that I could be with myself. I went at my own pace today, pleasantly hiking in the hills. Early in the morning I reached the summit, and continued down to the Andromeda - Athabasca col. Traversing the gendarmes on the col I then continued up the other side toward the summit of Athabasca. The route is very simple and I had lots of time to enjoy the views. The wind uncharacteristically still had not picked up, and I was wishing that I had my paraglider with me, and that the National Parks would lighten up with their regulations prohibiting flights. It was one of those days. Our adventure up here in September was slightly more epic and I marvelled how serene it could be here. How harsh the winter is, I was certainly catching the season at a rare moment.

I looked up the summit register, and finding our names while I remembered one of my first alpine ice climbs, up the north face. I sat and looked. The world stretched away, the summits of Columbia, Bryce, The Twins, and Castlegaurd teasing me with more summits, less time. I wandered down, returning to the col, and bum sliding down the glacier and peacefully doing the trudge. This is a far more pleasant hike upon fresh snow than it is upon the rocks of summer.

There is something magical about the winter.

I trudged down the road, and returned quietly to Hilda Creek Hostel. No words. My friends had a beautiful day skiing around Parker's ridge. I had promised to look after the Hostel this evening whilst the usual managers had a holiday. I lit the stove, and settled in a comfy chair with a book.

In the morning I gathered my stuff, made myself a cup of tea, enjoying the serenity of the situation. This might be OK to live in this cabin. Hmmmm, no not forever, just right now. When I was mentally prepared I stepped out the door, walked down to the road, and waited. The traffic is pretty quiet out here at this time of year, but unlike the summer the first car that drove along stopped and picked me up. It would have been another good day for a hike in the mountains.

A day in the life

I walked outside this evening and looked up at the stars, the mountains and the trees. Thestars were twinkling, the breeze was flowing down the valley through the house. What abeautiful day, what a beautiful night. My life is good. I spent the day checking on smallrenovations to the store, and reviewing catalog descriptions which will be a week longtask. Then an hour or so dealing with bizarre summer orders of winter equipment. I zipseven blocks uphill for lunch and spend the early afternoon updating the look of theequipment catalog. I have spent every afternoon this week flying through the skies.Stepping out of the basement of our home bright blue sky fills my world. Huge cumulusdevelopment is growing over the mountain peaks. It looks so incredible. I have not seenclouds look so white since spending a few days in Boulder, Colorado a couple ofsummers ago - but this - the cloud is growing two kilometers from my house and the bluesky and green mountains! I sweep into the house - grab the phone - call up one of myflying friends and say that I am on my way. An hour later we are standing on top of ourlocal soaring hill two thousand feet above the valley floor listening to thermals stirringthe trees and staring at the massive cloud formations to the north - yet nothing but bluesky and small puffy clouds to the south. Fifteen minutes later in the air flying like thebirds, passing back and forth along the ridgeline trying to hook into one of the small tightthermals that are breaking through the wind. Another one of those elusive momentswhere frustration and happiness come together. Start sinking out, catch one light thermalthat picks me up and carries me 500 feet back up into the sky - but that’s it for me and Imake my way out to the landing field - actually a strip of dirt on the other side of the roadfrom the local bar. Pretty much it goes: mountains, highway, town, bar, road, landingstrip, abandoned railway line, river, mountains. Does not change much - does not need to.Land, pack up, drop my stuff into the borrowed and blown out red sort of sportscar. Enjoysitting out at the bar, watching the hangliders making slow circles in light lift. They are onthere way out too. Chatting to an interesting harley rider - sixty three years old - he sayshe feels like 16 cruising around checking out the world. Great place. We makearrangements so that he can come flying with me another day. OK. That should beinteresting. Time to go - we gotta retrive the vehicle we left at the top of the mountain -so we see the sunset - and the mosquitoes are biting now. No mosquitoes at my house socruise home and of course there is our cat coming out to the gate to greet me home. Thiscat has to get a life - three of four years old and still has the affectionate kittten in him. Ofcourse I give the cat a good old scratch to encourage this behavior. Not really hungry butthere is easy food in the fridge. I just feel like sitting down, listening to some music,turning of all these thoughts get back to reality and think about skiing powder all winterlong. I’ll just get these thoughts written down, crawl up to bed and read for about fiveminutes and try to do it all again tomorrow.
Hope to see you soon.
Trevor

Taurus: (Apr 21 - May 20) For the week of June 5 2005

Studying the various ways in which you can express your creative potential and increase your income is keeping you busy now. Carving niches in the world probably includes joint ventures of one kind or another. Your confidence in this regard may not be as high as you would like just now, however, so you are still likely to proceed slowly. The time is right to share your ideas with someone you love and/or trust if only for practical advice.