Another summer has closed like a screen door on a group of mosquitoes; it is done like a concert where they turn the venue lights on too quickly after the final chords. I hope I don’t sound negative, because this was meant to come off bittersweet.
We’ve had a long hot summer, with weather that supported a steady lakeside diet and a hefty amount of time in cool glacial rivers. A summer of leaving every window in your house wide open for weeks on end and the fan running ceaselessly; we all lived for a short time in our own conifer blanketed Polynesian island where swim trunks were worn every day from sun up to sun down, backpacks got really salty and smelly and alpine starts became the norm for more than just the alpinists.
Why then did it not feel as satisfying when the rain started to fall?
I have a theory, or maybe more of an idea I’m forming into a personal dogma. What I missed throughout this hot time was the limitless views and vistas afforded us by the crystal blue skies.
It was the smoke’s fault. That oppressive brownish yellow hand pressing down on us all as we tried to recreate and enjoy Squamish’s most fun season.
It squashed me and suffocated my motivation and desire to get out there each sunny day I had free.
Others have said the same and as autumn came crashing in with its velvet quiet showers I simultaneously said a hooray for the end to sweaty smoky heat and a boo to the end of endlessly dry rocks.
Can we ever find balance!?
It’s actually a bit crazy to complain here because the other side of this is that our province experienced the worst forest fire season on record, homes were lost, people endangered and displaced. Family members of mine were evacuated from their homes.
The fires did make their way to our doorstep. It is believed people out in the dry as tinder cut block started the fire 13km up the Mamquam forest service road.
In all this, floating like an island of perfection was the day I climbed up the far south side of the Apron on the Chief with my four-year-old daughter Anik.
It sounds psycho, I know, and I’m not going to launch into an explanation of why it really wasn’t as insane as you might think.
We climbed up the Apron’s descent slabs, ate lunch, chatted with climbers coming down and ogled the views before walking back down the way we came.
She and I had a complete blast and that is all any of us can hope for.
I can thank Canadian mountain guide Keith Reid as the inspiration for our little climb.
Thumbs way up Keith!
Happy fall everyone.
