This is the first trip report I've ever written, maybe because I've done little that is worth writing about, but nonetheless this trip was memorable and unique to the West Coast of Canada where I call home, so I thought I would share it with the Taco. Hopefully I'll get around to writing some TR's from past trips I never got around to.

"Ah shit" I yelled as I hit the ground, writhing and squirming as the pain shot through my tenderized ankle. By the time I fought my Miura off, the foot had swelled bigger than a grapefruit and had started turning black and yellow. The culprit was a poor landing from a boulder problem right onto the edge of a rock, it was the height of summer, I'm 30 minutes up the trail from the truck, pretty sure my ankle is broken, season OVER.

I taped the sucker up and hobbled back to the truck, months of hard training had left me in prime cranking form, I had projects that needed sending and just as the sun started to dry out the spring slime this sh#t happens? Upon closer inspection from the doc it proved to be just a terrible sprain, I became depressed. Summer is short on Vancouver Island and I was afraid of missing the best of it. I spent the next 6 weeks hobbling between home and work watching all my friends out hiking and climbing, soaking up the last of it before the fall rain arrives, I re-sprained my ankle twice from the weakness, it sucked.

The godsend of the injury proved to be in the form of a new adventure. My girlfriends parents had been kind enough to take me on their sailboat for some adventure in the gulf- islands. Drinking rum and cokes? shucking oysters and cleaning prawns? ropework? more rum and coke? I was beginning to like this sailing gig.

I spent the sunny weekend learning how to tack and jibe, how to go wing-on wing, how to navigate the shallow waters and passageways of the gulf islands, and most importantly, how to make the perfect rum and coke.

As the weekends passed, I could feel the summer coming to a close, the nights on the water were getting cooler. I needed to touch some real rock before the rains came and left me with only aiding. Finally after almost 7 weeks I felt ready to test my ankle again. Roger had suggested I come on a trip to check out a spot I hadn't seen before, and with a devilish grin he suggested I bring my rock shoes. The forecast was for 4 days straight of almost 30 degree temps, surely the last burst of summer. I was STOKED!

We sailed out of the Nanaimo harbour under a moderate breeze, through False narrows and straight for the northern tip of Valdes Island. Roger had told me about the sandstone cliffs that make up the western shoreline for almost the entire length of the island. I was not prepared for what I saw.

For what seemed like eternity, I sat in awe as we calmly sailed by what looked like another world, a paradise of overhanging sandstone, carved by the elements through natures creative beauty. Stunning lines that just cater to a climbers wildest imagination.


The light was fading as we pulled into our mooring and made plans to check out the cliffs in the morning. As we sat on the stern drinking RC's we beheld the rare spectacle of the midsummer aurora borealis, dancing its way across the sky. There was a sense of magic and wonder in this adventure and I eagerly anticipated the morning.

As dawn broke we scarfed back coffee and hatched a plan, I was wary of my ankle and since we knew the sandstone would be brittle, we settled upon donning our shoes and boulder traversing/beachcombing the shoreline. We were on the rock before 10am at a high tide which meant literally the water was nipping at our heels. the sun was already scorching.

We chose to work out way north along the shoreline towards a feature we spotted on the sail down (more about that later) some time was spent simply walking the sandy ledges marvelling at the life that clung to the walls just below the waters surface, we climbed some sandy friction problems and pocketed cruxes.

As we made our way further north the ledges became more infrequent and the boulder problems more intricate, the angle kicked back and we traversed a couple cool problems.

It felt truly amazing to be so up close and intimate with natures sculpted artwork. The intricacy overhead was always stunning and the steeper the walls got the crazier the designs.

The climbing is extremely intricate, there are usually either dozens of holds or none at all. The pockets are amazing little through-holes, but usually so weak you have to grab a handful and transition carefully onto every hand and foot so as not to break the delicate features.

As the climbing got harder Julie decided to motor alongside in the dingy snapping photos while Roger and I continued, eager to get to the feature we spotted the day before.

Roger took a swim on one of the cruxes when a foothold broke, he gave me a beta from the seated rest which marks the start of the fun stuff.

Now for the real business, the feature we spotted the day before, an incredible crack, unbroken for about 100ft sideways, it goes straight upwards behind a series of flakes and ranged from fists to head. I spotted one rest on two large footholds about 20 feet off the seat but from there its full on crankin to the finish.

Roger led off first with me following once we got some distance between us, I paused several times to take in the sight overhead. Never in my life have I seen such magnificently featured rock, it looks so inviting, like a limestone paradise. I pondered heading straight up it, only to find the features so delicate they would crumble in your hand. I started gunning for the finish.

As I neared the finish, a wave of euphoria coursed through my body, the pain, the stress of missing out on almost the entire summer, it all dissolved. in this moment I was just so elated and blessed to be able to climb again, on such an amazing feature.

I reached the finish elated, grinning ear to ear. We packed into the dinghy and motored back to the sailboat to spend the afternoon drinking (you guessed it) rum and cokes. I was so stoked, I went back the next day and fired off the whole traverse again, this time at low tide with about 6 feet more air underneath. We named it The Traverse So Nice We Did It Twice V3.

People say you don't know what you have until it's gone. I had gotten caught up in training all spring and had big plans for sending some projects that summer. Somewhere along the line I lost that childish dream, that sense of enjoyment and wonder you get when embarking on a unique adventure. The trip was far from my hardest days of climbing ever, but out there basking in the sun with my hair blowing in the wind and my ass hanging out over the Pacific Ocean, I rediscovered the joy of climbing.