Date: September 30th, 2008
I’m on Vancouver island with a paramotor. The obvious thing to do from here is fly it back over to the mainland, and then maybe on home to Canmore. The strait isn’t too wide, about 35-50K depending on where you went, but it’s pretty wet and not a good place to land. The Vancouver airport also makes things more difficult due to all the airspace restrictions and heavy jet traffic.
My dad came along to help out with logistics and chase, and we’ve been in the Qualicum Beach area for the last three days. The reasons I haven’t flown back over yet are varied, mainly that the wind has been warping out of the southeast for the last three days. I’ve also blown a hole in the top of my piston, we’re going to rebuild today if the parts show up…
The best part of the trip so far has been the amazing help I’ve had from locals. Mark Johnson, a bud from back in the day, has been invaluable in helping to find launch locations and just generally being his positive self. The first real problem here was to find some kind of place to launch north of Nanaimo; the island has a lot of trees, and not many clearings…
We were driving around the Fanny Bay area looking for fields when we saw this absolute perfect farm; big fields, several possible launch directions, nice grass, just a very well-tended piece of Vancouver Island. So we drove up and knocked on the door, and had the great good fortune to meet the Keenan family. I can’t thank them enough for all their help and enthusiasm. Yesterday when I blew a hole in my piston on a test flight they came and got me with their truck, then helped break down the engine on tailgate, diagnose the problem, and then feed us lunch. I think I would have thrown the motor into the ocean and gone home without the Keenan family, thanks. So much of flying for me is not just the flying but the opportunity to meet great people I might not meet otherwise.
Parts should be here today, Mark (“Yeah, I have all the bits necessary to do anything to a motor, bring it on over.”) Johnson is on the situation. Thanks.
The weather is perfect, we just need wind other than southeast so I can fly northwest!
Last night we hiked up a peak around here to get rid of some stress. So much focus, intensity, desire and the general unknown of the situation had wrung me out. The sunset was fantastic, and on the hike I realized that having the piston blow in a place where I could land on a rocky beach was a lot better than having it blow in the middle of the strait. It was a lucky day.
WG
Posted in: Blog
Date: September 15th, 2008
I don’t normally write about my family on here, but it’s pretty much unavoidable at the moment.
As many readers may know, my dad is Ben Gadd, author of the Canadian Rockies “bible,” the Handbook of the Canadian Rockies. The Handbook is definitely the most-consulted resource for anyone who needs to know about the plants, animals, geology and much more that is found in the Canadian Rockies. I expect there is a copy in the library if not in the pack of every naturalist, tour guide, hiking guide and “curious” Rockies inhabitant or visitor.
For the la
st five or so years my dad has been hard at work on not one but two new books. The first is an instructional guide on how to hike and backpack in Canada; it’s a distillation of my dad’s more than 40 years of strapping a pack on and getting out into the mountains. I experienced about 39 of those 40+ years and I survived so he must have some decent skills. While it’s written specifically for Canada, it’s a worthwhile book for anyone who would like to enjoy afternoons or multi-day trips on the trail. Our old family friend, Lonnie Springer, shot most of the excellent photos.
The second book is at the opposite end of the exertion spectrum; a guide to the geology found along (or at least within sight) of the roads of the Canadian Rockies. It’s organized by mileage and also by GPS waypoints, so you just drive down the road, keep track of your mileage or GPS position and stop to have a look at the best geologic features along the way. I grew up with both mobile and 
stationary lectures on what was happening geologically out the car windows, so I’ll vouch for the fact that my dad is both well-qualified and uniquely enthusiastic about all things geologic. I remember taking Geology 101 and thinking, “Yeah, that was covered when I was about six, somewhere up near the Icefields.” There is a series of roadside geology guides for the US, this book is the solution for the Canadian Rockies. If you’ve ever driven the Trans-Can and wondered, “Why is all that rock falling onto the road?,” Canadian Rockies Geology Road Tours has the answer.
It should also be pointed out that while my dad wrote the books, it was my mom who edited them, put up with my dad over the years in all sorts of foul weather in small tents, and also often served as the scale model in many of the shots in both books. My parents are dedicated pro-environment people, and love to share the mountains with both friends and the groups they take out into the Rockies. I think they have likely spent more time on foot in the Rockies than anyone since the aboriginal people who lived here first.
If you’re looking for a Christmas present or some solid self-education please check these books out. Also know that you’re supporting some good people who don’t live large; while writing the geology tour book my parents camped and lived out of their aging Subaru for weeks at a time. These books are written for people like us who live to be outside and understand the natural world, not to make the author rich or to simply sit on a coffee table in Japan (although with any luck both scenarios might happen!).
So a big congratulations to Ben and Cia for their work!
A proud son,
wg
Posted in: Blog
Date: September 3rd, 2008
Yesterday I learned a few things about being a sport climber in Canada. That’s what I am right now in terms of climbing; I go clip bolts. And I’m totally into it. My tendons are creaking, my feet are completely jacked from stuffing them into frozen shoes and my fingertips are raw like pounded beef. In Red Rocks or some other areas I can climb up to ten decently hard routes every other day and still have some skin, but Rockies limestone makes my skin feel pretty much like it did after I accidentally ran my fingers instead of a ski through the base grinder I worked with during college. But I have no complaints, it’s right where I want to be. Sport climbing in Canada is mega, especially now that we have great fall temps. There were at least one or two hours this summer where it was almost too warm to climb, thank god those days are behind us. We’re in the sending season now!
A friend at the crag yesterday suggested we write an article about being a sport climber in Canada, but it’s more fun to blog about it ’cause, well, I can write whatever I want. Here is a list of things the crew at Acephale came up with yesterday:
You know you’re a Canadian sport climber when:
1. The current temperature is zero and the forecast high is 12, but you still head to a high, windswept north-facing cliff anyhow ’cause that’s where your project is, and conditions will be “perfect!”
2. You smell like a hippie tree planter despite living in an apartment. And you would rather breathe smoke while climbing than freeze while resting.
3. You heat small rocks near the fire to put in your chalkbag, and are happy to trade the weight for the warmth.
4. You change the metric units on the forecast into imperial units ’cause a high of “50” sounds so much better than “10.” And -2C is depressing, but how bad can “28” be? Might even be too warm!
5. You scrape frost from the car in the morning but are excited when the car seat is slightly heated from the sun. Never mind that you’re going someplace that never sees sun, and is 1500 feet higher than your car.
6. Even though the overnight low was -3 and the forecast high is 10 you still go to the shady crag ’cause you’re saving the sunny crags, “Until it gets really cold.”
7. You suddenly realize that the temps are really warm compared to what you normally mixed climb in, and this convoluted reasoning somehow cheers you up.
8. You break a sweat on a route despite the near-freezing temps and then seriously complain about the “humidity.”
9. You’re thankful that the wet pocket on your project is just wet; you were worried on the hike up that there would be ice in it, which is harder to get rid of.
10. You take the fact that most of the snow on the sunny approach has melted off as somehow indicative that conditions are “improving.”
10. You ponder heading south to Rifle or someplace, but don’t want to miss the “crisp fall conditions!” at home.
11. You rip a huge flapper off your finger but keep climbing to the top of the pitch despite leaving a trail of blood like a wounded rabbit. It just doesn’t matter ’cause your hands are numb anyhow, and the rock is cold enough to act as an antiseptic.
12. You seriously eye the “climbing cut” of a huge insulated jacket.
13. Bacon, eggs, steak, beer and bowls of pasta bigger than your head are absolutely part of a high-performance sport climbing diet. You’ll need the calories to stay warm.
14. You confuse the gender of other climbers at the crag due to all the clothing, then wonder if you’re gay.
15. You breathe in and out of your climbing shoes to warm them up before putting them on. This is something you would ordinarily only do after losing a bet.
16. The most dangerous part of the day is gathering dead wood for the fire.
17. “Warming up” takes most of the day, but “cooling down” is taken care of on the lower off the route.
18. You don’t want to go mountain biking or hiking ’cause it will be too cold, but climbing seems like a good idea.
And, despite nothing in the forecast that indicates pleasurable temps or even good weather in the foreseeable future, you’ve still got plans to go climbing every chance you can for the next two weeks. And will go.
Thanks to the Acephale crew for a fun afternoon, let’s do it again Thursday. The forecast looks pretty good, a high of 50! It’ll be tropical, we might want to go early to beat the heat.
Posted in: Blog
