Hardwear Sessions

As the three of us hiked up the trail, we all silently wondered how this adventure would unravel itself. After several hours of hiking we came to a clearing, and Mt Louis' summit loomed above us. It definitely looked bigger and steeper than the mental picture I had committed to memory. This was not going to be as easy as I thought.

"Did anyone bring food?" I asked. "Or bivy gear?"

"Nope," Brandon replied in a confident and proud note.

Danny piped up and said, "I think I'll just take some pictures from the valley floor, and hang out with the other guys," referring to our friends who were camping in the same valley for the weekend. "Do you think they'll have enough food to share?"

With that Brandon and I set off to find the base of our climb, while Danny set off to find the campsite. Once Brandon and I found the base, we roped up and started climbing. The climbing was fun, and we effortlessly simul-climbed up the base and onto a series of aesthetic ridges. A piton here, and finger jam there and the meters quickly melted away below us. Brandon set up a belay on a cam placement and I joined him. With nearly 800 meters of progress made, the final ridge to the summit was in sight but the way to get there was not particularly obvious. A short down climb and traverse to the left would put us inside of a snow and ice filled gully chocked full of teetering Jenga blocks. My eyes followed a hand crack up and right, but quickly disappeared from sight as it rounded a corner. This left us with a rather dubious choice to make. With time ticking away, and such good momentum being carried up to this point, I decided it would be best to just make a choice and keep moving. I choose the hand crack trending right. As soon as I was out of sight from my belayer, I realized I made the wrong choice. A steady stream of water flowed over the path of least resistance rendering it unclimbable. I pounded my smallest piton into a seam and began assessing the situation. Further right was dry rock. Unfortunately it was unprotectable, and significantly harder, but it was my only option. I tried to dry off my soaking wet shoes as best as possible, and initiated myself into the bouldery sequence. The moves were coming together and I was almost through it. Several more moves and I would hit a jug to a ledge. I looked down to figure out my footwork. As I looked down I noticed the piton was further below me than I had expected.

"Don't screw this up Will," I muttered under my breath. With my feet stemming on two small edges, and a gaston for my left hand, I slowly pulled up to the jug. It was garbage; slopping and wet. My foot popped off and I began to fall. When the rope caught me, I was upside down and 30 feet lower on a ledge. I pulled myself up and onto my feet. I immediately fell to my knees. My left ankle was as limp as an over cooked spaghetti noodle, and couldn't support any of my weight. I turned my head to the sky, and the only thing that I could muster out of my mouth was a string of explicits. It didn't come out quietly either.

"What's going on up there?" Brandon screamed up.

"I think my ankle is busted. Can you lower me back to the belay?"

"I don't know if there is enough rope, but I'll try"

Brandon lowered me down and I bit my lip as the surges of pain pulsed through my leg. When I arrived at the belay, we devised a new game plan. Brandon went up to my high point and backed up my piton (that was nearly pulled out), and lowered off, pulling out the rest of the gear on his way down. We pulled the rope and he set off for the snow filled gully to our left. When the rope came taught I dragged myself up behind him, and several pitches later we both stood tall a top of the summit. Well…Brandon stood tall, and I sort stood hobbled over.

The decent was on the opposite side of the mountain, and rather straight forward with bolted rappel stations every 60 meters to the base. Descending the talus field back to the tree line was hell. I tried hobbling behind Brandon who was quickly bounding ahead into the darkness. After three steps I lost balance and re-twisted my ankle. Falling to my knees I screamed in agony. The pain was more than I could handle. I nearly blacked out. Brandon turned around and helped me to my feet. I was tired and it was now dark. I didn't see the point of trying to negotiate this treacherous landscape any longer.

"I think I'm just going to try and get some sleep here. You can go ahead and I'll meet you on the valley floor in the morning at our friends campsite," I mumbled to Brandon in despair.

"I'm not leaving you behind H," he wittingly quoted from the movie 'K2'. I agreed to try my best to make it to the campsite. I proceeded to crawl backwards on my hands and knees down the talus and towards the tree line. We lost the trail and had to bushwack for several hours to get to the valley floor. Upon entering the valley floor, I found a flat spot and immediately fell asleep while Brandon searched for our friends campsite. I woke up to Brandon's voice. I wondered how long I had been sleeping.

"I can't find them anywhere. I think they left." We took a look at my ankle. It was size of a grapefruit and was beginning to turn deep shades of purple. It was cold and I couldn't go back to sleep, so we decided it best to slowly work our way to the car. Brandon made an impromptu crutch for me and we began the long hike out. We arrived at the parking lot just before sun-rise only to discover that there were no cars to be found. We continued our hike out to the highway and stuck out our thumbs in sheer desperation. Soon enough we got a lift from a middle aged gentleman who chatted us up about the events of the prior day and then dropped us off in front of a breakfast joint in Canmore. It was 6 am and the doors were just opened.

"I'll have the biggest breakfast you have, with an extra serving of eggs and coffee. Lots of coffee." A crazy looking smile spread across our faces when our orders arrived and we hammered back the food. Between mouthfuls of food, I asked Brandon what we should call our new route.

"The Meinen/Pullan Route, of course."