This ancient volcanic core located in Garibaldi Provincial Park just north of Vancouver B.C. was my first summit.
Little did I know then what mountain madness lay ahead. Yes to be into peak bagging one must be a little touched.
But what splendid madness it be!
The summer of 1986 was a blast for me. I was in Vancouver with Tom and we had made arrangements to meet H there. It just so happens that we also had a friend who lived out there and she was having a party….. all summer long.
After the party arrangements were made, a car was rented and off we went to Garibaldi to climb the “Barrier” and the Black Tusk.
The “Barrier” is a 3000 vertical foot wall.
A trial that switch backs back and forth climbs this massive obstacle. When I reached the top…… wha-la…… I was at Garibaldi Lake…. well almost.
I had to wait for the group to catch up to me. When they caught up, there was much hem and haw. The vote eventually went to Tom and as we all looked at him he decided we should set up camp in the mosquito swamp that we stood in, hereto fore referred to as the “MS”. I still had some energy, as usual, and continued to the lake proper. There were no objections as the prospect of four of us in a two man tent was understood to be a negative experience.
After about 2 km and half an hour I arrived at the lake and camped there. To my delight I had a plexi-glass enclosed shelter to myself and felt sorry for the poor foolish lads back at the MS. The next day the boys showed up at Garibaldi Lake and we were then off to The Black Tusk.
Before you get to the top, a near vertical chimney of over 100 meters in length must be climbed. I was skeptical, constantly lecturing about danger and blah blah blah. Ignorant of my rant and perhaps slightly irritated, Tom just went for it and was the first to the top of it. When it was my turn I found the igneous rock easy to climb on with lots of holds and large ones too. We had a chance for a glissade on the way down, I did a bum slide I think.
That night we shared my Crown Royal with some ladies from Texas. I remember a real whoop of a time was had, much laughter.
Later, we all went out to the lake and stood on the shore, in the moonlight, the lake calm as glass. It was a beautiful evening, made more beautiful because of our day on The Black Tusk.
After the mountain it was back to Vancouver for more partying and laying at White Rock Beach with June and Pam. Janet and Nina never made it to the beach but what can you do, eh?
were good times.
The charm, one might say the genius of memory, is that it is choosy, chancy, and temperamental: it rejects the edifying cathedral and indelibly photographs the small boy outside, chewing a hunk of melon in the dust.
1899-1973, Anglo-Irish Novelist