Featured in our Winter 2004 catalog
It was the best year for ice in the Canadian Rockies since ‘93. Everywhere the ice was coming in big, blue and beautiful; Mount Rundle was no exception. Ten Years After, an elegant rock-to-ice mixed route, lay on the black stone like a rapier hung to the castle wall. My buddy Philippe from Briançon, France, was camped out in the basement on my bouldering pad; we found the time in mid-November and went for it.
Mist rose from the river like Celtic myth ascending (can anyone not be altered by seeing that?). A hard hour up through the timber, sweat funneling down my spine, glazing my butt. Then I cranked on bomber picks slotted into rock, pulled strong onto chrome-colored ice, some of it as thin as the windshield on my truck, my heart thrust hot blood – life – toward failing forearms. Then a rest, recovery, 100 more feet of fun led to Philippe’s wide smile tucked tight under a roof. The next pitch was all mine ...