I recently read a piece about some excellent activities to get up to when summer turns to fall in Squamish. Everything about this article was informative except for one glaring omission – fall climbing.
As fall rolls around, the mornings are crisper, the sunlight more golden, the condensation in my van totally obscuring.
The sun, a little lower in the sky, struggles to nudge over the walls of our fjord; its daily act cut shorter and shorter. Snow falls up high, the dark slabs and recesses of the Stawamus Chief darken with perpetual water and the hordes of van-dwellers vacate their illegitimate campsites for more arid, southerly destinations.
This, make no mistake, is fall on the granite walls, cliffs and boulders of Squamish; the most precious time of year to climb. Why? It’s deeply rooted in the Canadian habit of complaining about the weather. We all get set to complain about the unending rains of fall and winter, but our local geology gives us a hand by not absorbing too much water other than in the fissures, cracks and crevices between the planes of granite. The rains wash away the tourists, the southern dirt bags, the desperate Vancouverites. They also wash the blood, sweat, tears, dead skin and caked chalk off the boulders and climbs.
As the temperatures drop and the wind picks up, the friction increases between climbing shoe rubber and stone; between callused hands and sloping holds, between shallow, rounded jams and the first knuckle of our first and second fingers.
Right before the rains move in long-term there’s a subtle window where the long routes embossed into the high walls of the Chief, the smaller cliffs hidden in the woods and the chaos of boulders beneath the canopy are all clean, dry and perfect.
You wake pre-dawn for coffee, sort your gear in the sun’s first rays and pull on another insulated jacket as you lock your front door. Days can be teeth-chattering up high, but the bright side is no sweaty tips or greasing shoes. Hands and feet are new Velcro. The routes and boulders, all empty now after a busy summer, are yours alone, enjoyed neat or with one partner.
Knowledgeable travelling climbers, locals and those climbing at the cutting edge quietly flock here to climb when the friction is at its best. The cool, crisp autumn days don’t last long, which is why this time of year is so cherished. After that, as everyone knows, the season shuts down with hundreds of millimetres, sopping cliffs and ever-mossing boulders consistent with our rainforest locale.
The exceptions are the northern outflows and strong high-pressure ridges that descend on Squamish throughout the winter. Thankfully those NEVER happen and we shouldn’t even waste ink telling you of such imaginary and blissful times.
