After a 3 week long work period with wildfire, I had run out of "duty days" (AKA I had worked too many days with overtime), and had to take a weekend off. Knowing that these weekends are few and far between during a summer with my work, I was certain to make the most of it. I quickly called up my friend Troy to see if he was available to do Guaranteed Rugged, a climb in Marble Canyon about a half hour north of Lillooet, which we had been talking about doing since that winter in Montreal. What made it such a notable adventure was that it had only been bolted in May of 2022, and was officially North America's longest sport climb at a whopping 33 pitches over 1068 meters. NA longest sport climb? Nearby Williams Lake?? I mean c'mon. I gotta do it.
He however, was navigating his own fiasco at the moment, having been rear ended while asleep in his van by some drunk teenagers, totalling his famous blue minivan. Amid such devastation, he still managed to commit to the adventure and we began planning. That Thursday, I jumped out of a helicopter while doing my second hover exit certification, and then quickly began prepping for the road down and the climb we had planned to do the next morning.
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| A photo I took of someone else doing the hover exit |
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| very cool skycrane heli that was there the same day, it sucks up water through that hose to drop on fires |
After the 2.5 hr drive south of Williams Lake, I arrived at the Marble Canyon campsite in the dark, where Troy was waiting. Being a 33 pitch climb, we had no intentions of doing every single pitch individually, having to set up 66 belays in a day would suck so so hard, particularly since the climb alternated greatly between easy climbing and scrambles among just a few crux pitches. So instead, the plan was to simul climb everything up to 5.8, and then link every other 2-3 pitches with our 70m rope, but do the crux 5.10c pitches individually. Having never simul climbed, but understanding it to be something of a dark art in climbing, I was pretty nervous rolling in to the parking lot, but it certainly was great to see Troy again and catch up on his exploits in Squamish.
So what is simul-climbing? Well the basic idea is that rather than having one person lead climbing while the other remains fixed and belaying, both climbers climb at the same time. To do so, the leader climbs as normal, while the belayer begins climbing some 20-30 meters afterwards taking up slack with a grigri, and relying on its autolocking mechanism and a backup knot for when the leader takes a fall before the belayer can grab the brake strand, which is likely (obviously there are more niches to this practice but thats the jist). The three main implications this has are:
1. Ya the follower has a more difficult time belaying as you can imagine. You need to be able to coordinate with your leader in order to climb at roughly the same speed, as giving out slack is quite hard
2. Since you never have to set up a belay on an anchor you can link many pitches in a row, and thus, since you only can carry so much gear/draws to protect the pitches you are commonly having to do big ol' runouts to climb for as long as you'd like (even moreso a problem when protecting with trad gear as not every piece fits in every crack ykno)
3. The big one: the follower can pretty much never fall, for if they do, they will pull the leader right off the wall with them, likely to the leader's surprise. In combination to #2 this can get quite dodgy as the leader can take massive whips, making them vulnerable to decking on ledges or gear popping to create even further falls (which is irrelevant for a sport climb such as GR - making it quite a bit safer).
Despite these complications, I'm always a sucker for signing up to do things that might be out of my comfort zone when Troy begins explaining his methodologies. He manages to describe systems so analytically and smoothly, that I cannot have anything but full confidence in whatever the hell he's got planned. Whether it's a 70m rappel down a frozen waterfall, over which we cannot see if the ends are on the ground, or a frightening lead in a sopping wet crack in the rain, or learning to simul climb in the parking lot the night before we bang out 15 pitches of it the next morning, I always seem to be walking in to these things with full composure, although maybe sometimes naive, after hearing Troy's poised and logical explanations.
It was decided that I would lead all the pitches we simul climbed, which although meant I would be the one taking pretty much all the risk, would be safer being that Troy was the stronger climber and less likely to fall while seconding. Being so, a great portion of my lessons on simul-climbing was devoted to understanding the use and function of the two progress capture devices (PCDs) that Troy had, which would make our climbing much safer.
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| eg. of a PCD |
These devices are clipped on a bolt in place of a quickdraw by the leader at certain parts of the climb, primarily after a harder section of climbing, but also maybe before the leader planned to run out a section to a larger degree (after clipping some piece of pro between you and the PCD). What these dinky little triangular devices did, were pretty much act as an ascender device, such that the rope could only move through one direction of the device when engaged. So when oriented such that the rope can continue to feed up through the device, the leader can continue to climb, but if the belayer below the device falls, the load will be held entirely by the device and not pull the leader off as well. Pretty darn nifty. The couple nuances however are that you really don't want to whip onto the bolt that the device is clipped in to, as there is a risk of the rope being sheared or cut when taking a leader fall onto this angular lil thing. So you wanna place it somewhere where the next protection is very close or requires very easy climbing to get to.
With that out of the way we racked up and organized gear to be brought up with us, and then hit the hay. After a pretty poor sleep, I stumbled out of my truck bed around 7am (a subalpine start) and wandered around the campsite and lake until Troy popped out of his van. I had been on a streak of a few poor sleeps, and felt pretty crappy as the fatigue from the 14 days straight of overtime I had worked prior to the climb began to sink in. Trying to shake it off and settle in the present, knowing that I was about to begin a pretty full-on day of climbing, I focused on scarfing down some food and chugging my instant coffee. Afterwards I hopped in his van to drive down the highway to the trailhead.
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| the upper headwall |
I chugged the last bits of my coffee, and we threw our gear on ready to take down this chossy beast. I realize now that I have barely even talked about this climb itself, but yah its all limestone, and being just 12 months old, is reportedly a chossy brute capable of shedding massive blocks at any minute onto the little nats who try to scale it. I had not climbed any limestone before, apart from the time when I first learnt how to rock climb outdoors from this cowboy I met in Montana. Twas' a very exciting day that ended in him triggering a rock fall above me, clipping my leg and tearing my favourite pants.
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| RTG (ready to go) |
Wandering up the scree trail we found the base of the first pitch. An interesting low angle slab. Is this what climbing on limestone is supposed to be like? Where are the fridge sized blocks poised to collapse on our unsuspecting noggins? This doesn't look too bad (pitch 1 pompous).
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| Pitch 1 |
Troy moseyed up these first two pitches, linking them, and I followed. At the base of pitch 3 we prepared for our simul climbing, and I began the lead. The climbing felt super nonchalant, and I comfortably was skipping every other bolt or so. Troy below me was getting familiar with belaying while climbing, which is no comfortable feat, and I had to slow my pace slightly. Felt good to finally be climbing faster than Troy for once, despite the fact that it was because he had to carry our pack and belay me while climbing. 5 pitches later (i think), I was below a 5.9 pitch which Troy would lead.
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The sun was coming out, and we were warming up. Thankfully I had worn my all-weather flannel, capable of adapting instantaneously to any conditions. Eg. too hot? Pop a button. Still too hot? Pop another! Too cold? Lace em' all back up! Troy on the other hand, was able to retreat into guide hermit mode, with his new sock hood jacket device:
| We then got sorted for another block of 4 pitch simul climbing, nothing of interest here, pretty easy climbing. We were flying through the route. I think we had done 12 pitches in just two hours! |
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| 3 buttons undone |
At the end of that second block, Troy got ready to lead our first real test, a linkage of two 5.10b pitches back to back. The climbing did feel quite challenging, it ended with a somewhat insecure slab section, noice lead Troy. The next 5 pitches or so we linked in two/three pitch blocks, things were starting to get a little interesting with a few 10a and 10b stuff, but the sections of scrambling that punctuated each testpiece really dulled any feelings of exposure throughout this segment. But eventually, we were at the base of the 21st pitch on the headwall, and below the three crux pitches. This is what is was all about. Steep steep climbing directly above a gulley that sank down for hundreds of meters. Oh, the exposure. Man I'm a sucker for gullies. What incredible systems of rock disposal for these big ol mountains. So deep, so strong, so beautifully decorated with douglas firs, who are allowed to pop up wherever consistent rock fall is not.
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| pretty neat patch of fir |
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Man it would have looked fierce running up that slope, I'm guessing that it happened in 2017 when pretty well everything in BC blew up.
Well, now I gotta focus I guess. I had the first pitch of the proposed 5.10d section (which had been downgraded to 10b by most of those who had climbed it afterwards). It was a very steep, slightly overhanging start, with a thin seam lining it, and a stubby corner flanking it on the left.
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| now half buttoned |
The first couple moves were certainly engaging, and ended up being the biggest challenge for the both of us on the entire route. It took me a few minutes to even try to figure out how I was going to start up the base of the steep section. I ended up settling for a right foot step paired with a left foot flagged out, and my right hand reached high above a lip with a couple fingers sunk into an okay pod, and my left hand sorta cupping a lumpy piece on the upper left. I managed to pull myself up from this position, throw a draw on, and then make another desperate move with my right hand up to a higher slot where I grasped another seam to throw in a finger lock. I again moved on up, and thankfully found a pretty good handjam from which I could clip the second bolt on. Jamming in limestone - you cannot stop me!! Now past the obvious crux, and two bolts above the round ledge from which I started on, I silently congratulated myself and cruised on up to the bolted anchors. I then belayed Troy on up, and he prepared for the "wraparound" pitch. This was ze money pitch. We had both been allured to this climb with the epic photos of climbers wrapping up and over this limestone buttress that rose directly above the gulley. At this point the wind had really began to pick up. The gusts blasting the walls of this limestone castle were welcome to us both (makes ya feel pretty alpine), but the dark clouds upwind of us were not. Particularly so, since we had been warned before this climb that should any precip begin while on the climb, one should abseil immediately as the wet limestone had a lot of potential to slide and take out climbers below. However upon judgement, we felt confident that the southwesterly gusts would push the clouds just adjacent to our route, but not directly over. Still, we wanted to pick up the pace in case rain did start pouring on down, as being high enough on the climb as we were, it'd likely be safer to top out, rather than set up 20+ rappels, and prolonging our exposure to the hangfire.
Troy danced up to the foot of the buttress directly above the gulley, and winded around its corner and onto the face. Now out of site and earshot while being barrelled by the wind, I no longer had any concept of Troy, apart from the periodic quivers of our rope that reminded me of his movement. Some time later, I got confirmation from the walkie talkie I was carrying (which proved to be invaluable for communication, particularly since we were executing long uninterrupted pitches requiring much coordination) that Troy was at the top of the second 10dog pitch (felt a little more 10bob however). Excited to follow on these epic pitches, I cleaned with haste and was climbing as soon as I was put on belay. Stepping along the slope I made it to the base of the buttress, and began a vertical segment up this very colorful and variant limestone, covered with a very interesting red lichen expanding in a mushroom like pattern.
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| After some research i believe it is some type of red sunburst lichen - not sure though |
The exposure over the gulley was very welcome, always wonderful to feel the air whipping below ya!
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From here on we were pretty much done the "climbing" and now had just 8 or so pitches (i forget) to get to the final 5.9 pitch. We blasted through it simul climbing the whole way up, until I got to the base of the final 5.9 pitch. Twas' a little steep, and our plan was for me to belay Troy all the way up to the base, and then he would give me a normal belay to finish it off. Pooped and not down to set up an anchor, I rather opted to tackle the final 8 bolt pitch with the 5 quickdraws I had left, including a singular carabiner that I would have to clip into the bolt directly (ehhhh ya gotta do what ya gotta do). It didn't look too technical, but still, rather than simulling it, I told Troy to stop climbing where he is, and to just belay me from there like normal. It was a bit steep, but I got on by.
Ahhh, I had made the summit, now Troy just had to run on up on belay. Our flawless day (no falls) was almost swiped away from us when as Troy was summiting a foothold broke off, but he maintained his stance and we were on top!
This was the moment we had dreamed of. We had just plowed through the longest sport climb in NA in a measly 8 hours (which includes a 30 minute break to wait for a party who was launching rocks above us), simul climbing half of it, and feeling very pleased with how well our system had worked. We were not only heroes, but in us both, a technical and strategic prowess could no longer be denied - a masterclass.
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| Troy Shields and Blaise Benoit after crushing "Guaranteed Rugged" |
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| Alex Handhold and Tony Clamshell or sumn after their speed record on the nose |
At the top we soaked in the summit, and took in the beautiful view of Pavilion lake below, and the limestone big walls that lay behind our summit. I also took note of a beautiful douglas fir that crowned the climb, covered in lush lime green wolf lichens and orange streaks. My, my what a tree.
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As we regained some energy in the shade, we tried our best to prolong celebrations to avoid thinking about our descent. Cuz my oh my were we in for one.
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| look at them (the fools 🤦) |
Because the gulley we had been climbing over was too steep to safely navigate into, the flagged route back to the highway made a longer traverse wrapping behind the opposite walls, and down into a secondary gulley. What we knew about this descent was that it could take anywhere from 1.5 to 4 hrs... and that there was a section where some climbers opted to rope back up to protect a scramble down a boulderfield. Well, we got on with the walk around and behind the ridge seen in the photo above. Very straightforward hiking/walking and well flagged. Eventually we had reached the west gulley, and began dropping down into it. Nothing was evidently dodgy. We meandered through open doug fir stands and out into medium angle scree slopes and made good time. Having drank all our water and starting to feel quite sunbaked, I was overjoyed to stumble upon a magical waterfall dumping cool snowmelt water into a stream below. I let the water wash over my dry head, and drained bottle after bottle of this sweet water into my cotton-mouthed throat. Man it felt good. And man did it look good with the sun shimmering against its mist
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Ah, now cool, we kept on trucking on down. Following a couple more boulder fields we reached a very steep section that required a stream crossing. While doing so it felt quite exciting balancing on slimy stones knowing a slip would send you tumbling down the gulley, all the way to the road - suffering many bumps, many bumps indeed. After this crossing we stood atop a steep 5m section that required you to downclimb back into the streambed, while exposed to the same bumpy consequence. This move was protected with a fixed rope tied off to a dinky juvenile cedar with roots running pretty shallow through the mineral soil. Not stoked to weight that line tbh. But anyways, Troy got on with it and his many laps spent downclimbing at Allez Up proved to be effective as he romped on down. I followed suit.
Past the most technical section, but not through the slog just yet, we continued on through heinous scree fields, of which never seemed to end. Dry rocks sloughed off the limestone walls above to collect in this gulley in a dry, loose mess, preventing any security of solid steps, just a continual slide. Hopping down them while allowing your feet to slide along with the rock allows for fast travel, but in the nike roshe run shoes Troy had let me borrow, my ankles felt like rolling with ever step. Not good if I want to go back to fighting fire on Monday.
Oh so close! I can hear the cars, and boy oh boy am I looking forward to some more food and water. Almost out of this beautiful, but atrocious gulley. A great climb, but one I knew I would never be doing again :)
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Popping out onto the highway we walked back on up to our cars, and then headed south towards Lilloet for a beer and to stay at the campsite just outside of town.
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| No biggie, just climbed NA's longest sport climb |
With it only being Friday and already being down in Lillooet I figured this was a great time to pop on down to Squamish to see some friends and touch a bit of granite. So that next morning I headed on down to meet up with my friend Rebecca and went for a climb in the newer Area 44 which I had never been to. I was pretty smoked from the day before and crashed pretty hard, but had a great time chatting and catching up on what she had been up to. Later that day we went to shannon falls to meet up with another friend Sam, and his partner Gabby to do a bit more climbing. Having just drank a "Monster Rehab" I was in much much better spirits. We had a blast romping up Klahanie crack and then having a few gos at local boys do good under such a beautiful canopy next to the powerful falls. A memorable finish to our day was the sundown wander through the cedars and back to the cars. The next morning I met up with my friend Mica and we spent some time relaxing on the riverbank. That calmness was very much needed, the perfect way to end my little weekend bout before I headed back up to the Cariboo.
I'm making this post some 3 weeks after I headed down there and still reflect on the time spent quite a bit, what a great weekend, thanks to everyone who made it what it was :)