Did I freeze Sam McGee?

Okay, those are the lions, dead centre top of picture. The two rock peaks are, respectively, the East and West Lions or the Two sisters. Yesterday was day four of the contintual-exercise-to- avoid-smoking-routine and it worked quite well, a bit two well.

The day begins at around ten, when I roll out of bed, consume caffeine in large sugary doses and pack my camera bag with 2/3 of a box of crackers. Mountaineering boots, check, warm fleece, check (thinking I probably won't need it), camera and all accoutrements, check, two water canisters, check, guidebook, check. Next step, wake up Dave. He's up and about. Soon he's at my door and we're off. Of course, the trekking pole (I had to forget something) is left at home. We're downtown consuming Mcdonald's food at around noon. Strange thing about that sort of food, it tastes good going down, but provides you with absolutely no energy, I guess there's nothing really strange about that.

We follow the directions from my guidebook and find ourselves on the sea-to-sky highway a little later. We drive in circles in a neighbourhood off the highway for a while until frenzied navigation leads us to a fenced off logging road. The route has been found. It starts to rain seconds after we get out of the car. I am quite happy that I did being a fleece. I realize the trekking pole was left at home, curse my existence for a while (I have tendenitus [sp?] in my left knee) but suck it up and we begin up the winding road. Time check: approximately 1:15 PM. It's a good start, steep and gradual, gets the blood pumping. Dave and I remark that this is the country where the new Battlestar Galactica is filmed, cylon territory. The rain is light and consistent, Dave (who wears spectacles, is blinded by fogged glasses and wet hair (he has no hood to his jacket). We finally reach the trail proper, the fleece has been taken off along with the Peruvian toque I got for Christmas from my Aunt Carolyn in Australia. We start to see traces of snow alongside the trail.

We pass a rock slide, then a water fall and river blanketed by concrete-esque snow that we trapse across. Nice scenery, but the rain is coming down, not really worth a photograph. Then we notice what are perhaps the markings of a snowmobile. No sounds, it's a miserable day in Vancity and the weather isn't any nicer up here. We realise, shortly, that we are the only two souls on the mountain, memories of a dutch math teacher from my high school "zere we were, up on zee north ridge". Now the trail is uphill and covered with snow (2 to 3 feet of hard pack), somewhere below the snow are rocks and flowing water. The bridges are impossible to find and occaisionally with an anguished bellow, the leader falls into what we later term "mines". Basically placing his foot where he thinks there is footing and, quickly finding none, plunges unceremoniously a few feet down. We stop regularly for water breaks.

After some time, the trail branches down a snowy slope towards another creek. Wooden stairs looking like they were fashioned by disgruntled wood nymphs aid somewhat in our descent. We cross the bridge onto the lions proper and get a slightly fogged view of Howe sound and smoke rising from houses on the other side. A food break is necessary, if only we'd brought cheese. Dave provides some turkey sausage in trade for my crackers. The trail switchbacks through towering firs and the snow becomes increasingly deep. The fleece is back on and strong winds are blowing through the trees. A short but extensive discussion is had about ex-girlfriends in between falling into increasingly deeper and more menacing mines.

The switchbacks stop and the trail skirts along the side of the mountain, at this point I am in the lead and every two or three steps lands one of my legs descending quickly into the unknown. This is followed by curses and difficult extractions from the mines. The trees begin to thin out as we reach the tree line. The marked trail disappears and we continue upwards until we decide to cross over into a tree-less avalanche chute to take our bearings. We have a much higher view of a fogged in Howe sound. Time check: 5:00 PM. There's a storm blowing on top of the East lion. Dave and I are convinced that God Himself may be waiting on top of the peak ready to decapitate us with a bolt of lightning should we challenge Him anymore. I mark our furthest point, perhaps 150 yards from the western ridge. There will be no summit today. We pause, dave smokes a single cigarette, the sun shines through the clouds for the briefest of instances. Endorphins are flowing through my veins, though all my clothing is soaked, I feel rather pleasant. We vow to summit one of the lions come June.

The descent (read: frenzied leaping and sliding down snow) begins. I keep picturing Milestone's white chocolate cheese cake waiting for me in the city. We make good time, though the mines slow us down cutting my bad knee at one point. We keep up the pace and make it to the car by 7:00 PM.

Cold and wet, we proceed to Milestones and eat frugally, though the cheesecake does feature for me. Back home, and a warm shower never felt so good.

Early to bed, early to rise. Sociology final written and finished a few hours ago. Didn't do nearly as bad as I thought I might.

Tonight, a film featuring Noam Chomsky and relaxation before heading to Squamish on the weekend for perhaps two solid days of leading on some good rock. Things are looking up.