This past summer I was in Calgary, Canada to visit family and of course climb in the impressive Bow Valley corridor. I am so grateful for the time I get to spend bonding with family and catching up with friends not often seen. Canada was packed. This is a segment that has been on my mind…The Path…
At the end of June my friend and climbing legend Tim Emmett called me up from his temporary home in the prairies and proposed that he and I venture out to Lake Louise to attempt to climb a route called The Path. Now, The Path is what I considered above my pay grade; it is one of the hardest naturally protected climbs in Canada and I am better known as a lowly sport climber, a bolt clipper.
Tim and I have had some very good times climbing psicobloc in Oman so I knew at the very least I was in for a great time. I love the idea of expanding my climbing range by sharing these experiences. “What the heck”, I thought, “at least I’ll see what this headpoint game is all about.”
The Path was originally climbed by Canadian superman Sonnie Trotter in 2007. Sonnie had a vision when working on the original route, which was bolted, that it would be possible to climb the route safely without using any of the bolts. Sonnie climbed The Path sans bolts and rated the climb 5.14a R and the R stands for runout. That means the space between the protection is significant and very long falls are a real possibility. To be honest, after climbing on the route I would say that a few of the falls are better left untested. At the time it was one of the hardest gear climbs in the world. It has only this summer seen its 7th, 8th, 9th and 10th ascents after three years of neglect.
To say The Path was daunting is woefully understated. Prior to this summer I had never climbed a naturally protected route nearly as hard, but most of all I had never taken a fall on my own placed gear! My trad climbing experience is basically first ascents, following the easiest path of resistance. Yet, somehow, climbing into unknown territory on virgin rocks here in Arabia, I have been able to climb daring run outs, hoping and deeply trusting my climbing senses that the future above me would offer the sanctuary of protection. Often on those journeys I climb well into the no-fall zone, yet those times I have mastered my mind and pushed into new mental and physical territory.
Yet, on The Path, I knew exactly what was required to succeed because we practiced The Path on a top-rope to learn the protection placements and sequence of difficult movements required to get to the top. Despite all of the foreknowledge I was still filled with such fear that to simply step off the ground on lead set me shaking!
After a few days of top-rope play Tim had already had a lead attempt or two, but it took me until our second trip back, just for one day to tie in and attempt the route from the bottom. I had climbed The Path clean on TR by now, yet still my first lead attempt resulted in some very tense climbing (insert much stronger language to describe the scene haha!). I dare say, not my usual modus operandi! The fear got the best of me early on and I was gripped midway up the headwall. Letting go willingly above my last gear was probably good training. I fell, my first ever trad fall! I was caught, of course. The fear was totally irrational. I pulled back on and climbed from cam to cam, making the most of the new sensations, becoming familiar with the placements and the exposure. The fact that Tim had committed to a sequence on day one and was making lead attempts from day two inspired me, lit my fire, and it also vexed me. I wanted to throw in my energy to the mix, get Tim psyched, too. I should! I could not…yet.
And then it rained for more than two weeks, leaving the rock seeping, slippery and wet. Unclimbable. I sport climbed quite a bit during this period, yet sensations of The Path would creep into my psyche. By the end of the rain in mid-July I truly wondered if my fitness for the route, both mental and physical, would hold up.
On July 19th we returned for another 3 day period. We were both extremely keen to climb The Path and I know that we were both wondering the same thing: what is this going to be like after so long?
After two days Tim had fallen at the crux again, and again, making progress, getting agonizingly close. Meanwhile, I was still mustering up courage for my second lead attempt. I delayed, offered Tim first go each of those days. Giving him the reins.
On his last attempt of the day Tim found a new method to pass the top crux but lacerated his fingers in the process. Unable to climb to the chain to clean the cams, I offered to yo-yo the route, climbing up to the last micro-cam and then leading above it to the chains. Surprising both of us, I cruised through from the ground to the chains for my second TR ascent. I just needed to get my head together and start so I could log another lead attempt!
After I had cleaned the route we pulled the rope and decided to explore, take in the scenery of Lake Louise and the Plain of Six Glaciers, where we had been hanging out for all these days. It was dawning on us that we should absorb it while we had the chance. Tomorrow was our last day before Tim had to drive back east. We both understood that if we climbed The Path, we may never be back to Lake Louise with the same atmosphere. Is it hindsight or was that sense of nostalgia apparent already?
We slept early and awoke to the first bluebird skies in weeks and my 33rd birthday. My phone began binging – birthday wishes, climbing wishes. I felt a lot of support and love and even began to feel somewhat of an obligation – a pressure to dig deep for these folks and for myself.
We arrived to the base of the cliff with dappled sunshine accentuating the pastel tones of Lake Louise’s pristine quartzite. It was breezy, clear skies. We could not have asked for a better day. As we unpacked and put coffee on to boil I wandered down to speak to the climbers attempting the first pitch of The Path – Wicked Gravity 5.11. Normand, 61, on a roadtrip with his wife Ginette, was also celebrating his birthday. Quel coincidence! Normand went on to flash Wicked Gravity, clearly giving his full self to the route. It was inspired and the energy level moved up a notch. Another flurry of text messages arrived to wish me well and I knew it was up to me now.
I hummed and hawed, mumbled something about conditions being favourable. Tim was itching to climb. His sideways glances at the route and then me telegraphed his desire, but it was my birthday so, for the first time on our trips to The Path, I pulled my birthday trump-card and claimed first attempt. I was pacing, white-faced, pulled into myself. This was it. Likely our last day at Lake Louise, perhaps our last day out climbing together this summer. I told myself, “just try.”
I paced. Tim offered words of wisdom. I paced. Tim offered words of haste. “Hey mate. Get on with it.” He wasn’t putting me down. He knows my ability and believed I could climb The Path and he implored me to feel the same. One last thing – “Hey Normand, may I please borrow your helmet?” I did not have mine. I’m not superstitious, but I swear that helmet had the good birthday vibes!
Is this what I really want?
“Ok, put me on belay then,” I retorted to Tim’s insistence. He was right. I had to go. It was now or never. With fluttering heartbeat, bleached face and shaky hands I dressed my knot and plopped down with a sigh to pull on my climbing boots. I had whittled it down to one simple question: Is this what I really want?
Once answered – obviously in the affirmative – I had but one course of action. If you try, like a real try-hard try, then you will have succeeded whether you fall or not. As I set off, part of me remained sitting at the base. I had an ongoing internal struggle as part of me physically rebelled. My irrational fear cried out “halt!”, but one move at a time I forced myself onward. Focus. Move. Breathe. Precise. By pulling onto the stone I had achieved my first victory.
At the top of Wicked Gravity I spent a good few minutes breathing deeply to calm my heart rate and prepare for the business above. “I just need to get to the crack and then I just need to get to the roof and then…” I muttered to myself, setting mile markers for my journey. Finally, by sheer force of will I began to move slowly, fighting against the weight of my fear. I climbed through the first big opening moves with my deep breaths roaring inside my head. I focused hard to embody the confidence I so wished to exert on the stone. Exhaling, I stabbed my right hand into the first crack, my last piece of protection 5 meters below, and I let out a shout expelling a horde of daemons.
I plugged in a cam and moved on. “Just have to get to the roof, and then just I just have to…” As I climbed higher my fear gave way to exhilaration.
With additional gear and air beneath me, a cascade of potential was unleashed, I felt lightness as I moved upwards. What-ifs from fear became what-ifs from a place of passion. Each move I executed was another move proving my daemons wrong. With a spiteful delight, I quashed them, one move after another.
At the final resting holds, 30 meters above the beginning, I stared out over the turquoise waters of Lake Louise shaking first one hand, then the other. Like a soundtrack, I heard the staccato sounds of tourists on the lakeshore below and shouts of encouragement from the small crowd below me. I took it all in. This scene; it could be the last time I experience this position. The whole process of working on The Path culminated in this moment and I was conscious that I wanted to log this memory.
Turning from the tranquil mountain vista I stared straight at the crux of the route and allowed the sounds beneath to meld into an indistinct hum. The last step: a traverse across immaculate satin black quartzite with only three small edges, no bigger than the width of a pen, starkly chalk-white against the black of the stone. With a breath I set off and climbed through the crux of The Path just as I had visualised countless times before.
I let loose a holler! The ground beneath me erupted. Climbing the remaining thirty feet to the chains I was overwhelmed with the emotions I had battled, the support, the journey, the comradery. I had to blink out a tear while I clipped the chains. I offered to clean the holds for Tim, but he was so keen for his turn that I was forced to speed clean the gear as he lowered me to the ground like a sack of bricks.
I felt pressure for Tim, but if he did for himself it was masked behind pure confidence. I have never seen someone climb so purposefully as when Tim climbed The Path. Not a breath was out of place.
Relief! We had both climbed The Path – its 7th and 8th ascents – back-to-back on my birthday. It does not get much better than that!
In the end I made two lead attempts. It seems laughable that I didn’t just do it earlier. How did the fear of the known cripple me so? The Path posed a paradox for me: this fear of what I know I need to do versus the unknown, venturing into new territory. The Path became much less of a physical battle for me – before my successful lead I had climbed the route twice cleanly on a toprope! Even still, to pull the rope down and prepare to lead set my hands shaking.
On this journey at The Path I learned first-hand that we set our own limitations based on the stories we tell ourselves. The story I was telling myself was that I had never climbed a hard trad route and the result was that part of me believed it. I could always climb The Path, I just had to give myself permission to do so.
“If you want something you have never had, you must be willing to do something you have never done.”
The fear of what is known is so tangible, the big picture so clear, that to take the first step seems impossible. My story about The Path filled my entire scope of vision, overwhelming my curiosity to just try and see what happens and it paralyzed me.
It’s not easy, but often times we have to stand in the fire to burn off the venere of the limiting stories we perceive and force the question, “what do I really want?” Only then is our potential released we have a clear path.
To the unknown!