When I first crimped my way into climbing, there weren’t a lot of options for a 16-year-old from Newmarket, Ontario. I mean, okay, there was the climbing gym and Outdoors Club of my high school, both of which I was a member. But it was not always easy getting outside and onto the real rocks, and even harder yet getting into the mountains (we didn’t have any).
So I focused on what I did have, plastic. The local gym offered me friends, training, and a path towards a bigger world of competition. I had a strong desire to climb, there was no question about that, but I also had a deeper desire to explore, and to travel. Attending climbing competitions allowed me to do that, for a while at least.
The year before I graduated from Dennison High I went to Imst, Austria for the Youth World Championships, I got proper drunk with Leo Houlding the night before my finals event and I have fond memories of stumbling home through cobbled streets. And so it became apparent to me at least, that I really wasn’t taking this competitive thing very seriously. I seemed to crave more experience perhaps, and less judgment.
The year I did graduate from high school, I was too old to compete in the Junior Category, and I felt somewhat lost for a short time. I felt the strongest I have ever felt on the steep rocks, but suddenly had nowhere to apply my teenage power, I had already climbed most of the 5.13s around my local area and I was too old to compete in the Youth Worlds. I wanted to go to out and see more of the climbing world, but I didn’t know where to go really, it was a transitional period for me.
When I asked Duane Kay, the manager of my climbing gym, he simply pulled back his pony tail, pointed west and said to me, “The mountains will show you the way my friend.” And with that, I got in my girlfriend’s car and we drove to Rifle, Colorado. It was a decision I will never, ever regret, but a tough one nonetheless.
At that time, my parents wanted me to go to school and the Canadian dollar was worth half the U.S. dollar. We had to eat potatoes and eggs for months in a row because they were cheap. But I just knew, one way or another, I needed to travel; I needed to get outside; I needed to go to a place where people lived to climb, the way I did; and I needed to see what mountain life was all about. I wanted to see the biggest cliffs and I wanted to learn how to climb them properly. A process that took the next 10 years of my life and will no doubt take another 50.
So when the Alpine Club of Canada approached me in 2008 and asked me if I’d be interested in helping them run an Under 25 Climbing Camp, I simply jumped at the opportunity. I could see straight away that this was something I was yearning for when I myself was 18. A way to get outside, meet some mentors and learn how to climb safely and quickly through the mountains. I can’t say for sure how different my life would be if I attended one of these camps myself, but I can say it would have instilled memories equally as rich as the ones I have, but for sure I could have shortened my learning curve and I could have been more confident on mountain terrain at an earlier age.
The basic idea behind the Under 25 Climbing Camp is to take out the next generation to the mountains and teach them the skills they need to be self sufficient. We try to teach them what’s beautiful about mountain culture, what’s unique about the lifestyle, and how to build a gear anchor that could hold the weight of ten trucks.
I joined forces with Rob Owens, a Petzl rep and local ACMG Alpine Guide, and David Dornian, the president of the Alpine Club of Canada. They were both imperative figures in making this whole thing come truly to life. Combined, they have decades of experience with camps like this, and with my knowledge in movement and training skills, we made a perfect trio.
The highlight of the five-day camp for me (besides eating the score-smores around the campfire) was watching Leane lead her first 5.9. She had never tied into the sharp end before the camp and watching her successfully (although with a few rests) reach the anchor and clean it safely and properly, to complete the entire process was inspiring to say the least. I could not have been happier for her. She glowed with what I assume was self-confidence and empowerment, but more than that, raw enthusiasm. They all did. We all did. It was a week of sharing, teaching, learning and building. And I left with a feeling that I had come full circle, from being the young punk with a passion for climbing, to being a mentor able to pass on my knowledge and experience. It was one of the most rewarding times of my career and so when the ACC asked me if I could participate again next July, I didn’t hold my tongue, besides, maybe there’s some lost kid from Newmarket or elsewhere who’s looking for a path to follow, and I want to tell them the way Duane told me: “The mountains will show you the way.”
For more from Sonnie, be sure to check out his blog, The Road Life.
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