What a Day

June 19th
It was a glorious day in Squamish. We awoke late but due to the great weather we knew we had to get going fast. When it is not raining in Squamish one must take advantage of the open window. After a splendid breakfast (bananna pancakes) presented by the glorious Aussie/Canuck duo, we set out for a 15 pitch day up to the top of the Chief.
It was a great start to the day. After a short drive to the parking lot we set out up St. Vitus direct route to gain the upper buttress. The first pitch was 10c pitch led marvelously by the infamous Hardman from Tennessee. After some thin finger crack action (the crux was wet) Warren jumped out onto the ledge using his patented flying squirrel technique that he learned back home. I followed and cleaned the gear and we walked up the next pitch. It was 5.8 offwidth and the lead was mine. In forty meters I place the only four pieces that would fit the crack and set up a belay. Warren showed up a bit later and took the sharp-end on a two pitch linkup. Next was Memorial Flake which Warren was more psyched about and big snake took the lead again. All of this was to gain Memorial ledge and then set off for Memorial Crack. We were joined on the ledge by our Soloist friend David and shared some food and water. Warren Had been dying to do Memorial Crack so this lead was his also. David went ahead of us, beautifully demonstrating the cool head needed for soloing such a great route. He took the camera and shot some pics from above. Once above this, we marched up again for our linkup to the squamish buttress (squamptress).
The hike was quite brutal and we were engulfed by our hunger and thirst. We were losing steam but still found enough gusto in our reservoirs to hit it hard. I took the lead. Great big jugs sent me over a roof to a slabby face climb to a bolt. Once to the bolt I hit the crux. Everything up to this point was quite casual. We were talking to each other and laughing how I couldnt keep chalk on my sweaty digits. Then I hit the vertical business. Crimping and edging my feet on smaller holds, I fondled my chalk bag over and over but it wasnt helping. About eight feet above the bolt I hit the wall. Hanging on small hold, I threw my foot up in desperation just missing the foothold. Warren let out a shout, "yeah buddy'. But it was too late and I was spit off the wall and went careening down like giant ass rocket. About twnety to thirty feet later I was hanging over the edge wondering what the hell had just happened. I had fallen off a vertical face and bounced onto the slab and began sliding quite fast toward the roof I had been flying over so casually. And the jugs that had been so kind to me earlier now were the destructors of my body. Luckily instead of my face smashing into them I was saved by my ankle. Immediately it was gushing blood and we realized it was time to retreat. We began the ginger hike down to a rappel which was quite insecure looking. Warren went first and while he was descending I noticed someone getting in my truck. Warren tried to tell me it was just our friend David, but I knew what was really going on.
Earlier I had made sure the truck was locked. But this stranger dressed in all black had found a key. Once finally down the brutal hike we found the rock on my seat and the window shattered. My computer, wallet and cell phone were all missing. From here warren and I went picked up Steph at the campground and went to town to find the police. After talking to a very kind and courteous policeman and some locals about the tragedy we took our meager looking entourage to the bar for beer, food and cigarettes. These were the most soothing moments of the day.

More to come