2005 - Squamish Scrambler - Year 1

The views that were promised will have to wait until next year, but the cloud and fog only seemed to add to the atmosphere of being in the mountains, especially when a strange voice echoed back at us from below...

With thirteen starters and finishers, some as young as seven, I was very impressed with the turnout for the first annual Squamish Scrambler.

Over a breakfast of Tim's coffee I looked up at the clouds and promised blue skies by mid day. Unfortunately the clouds waited a few hours longer than expected and everyone was treated to beautiful sunny skies as they were driving home along highway 99 that evening.

We started the 'hike' at 9:30am, and it was evident early, with the likes of Ean Jackson, Dom Repta, Geoff Palmer and Jim Mandelli that there would be very little 'hiking' amonst the lead group.

As soon as Dom hit the trail he was off, with the rest of the boys following suite. Cheryl Picot and Sue Nicholson formed a second running group, while the hiking pack consisted of Sibylle Tinsel, Eric and Johanna Jackson and Ami Jo Schamer.

After about a half hour of running the guys were at the Red Heather warming hut (5km). From there it was approximately thirty five minutes longer to the Elfin Lakes shelter (11km), where we all gathered inside, still holding out hope that a magical patch of blue ski would materialize. There was some discussion of deviating from the original route in favour of running to Mamquam Lake and back, (a total return distance of 44km from the parking lot, and yet another option for next years version) to avoid going higher into the cloud cover. Jackson, Palmer and myself (fortunately, at least for one person) decided to continue along our original route, while Dom and Jim headed back down to meet up with with their partners Cheryl and Sue.

It took Ean, Geoff and I about an additional fourty minutes to arrive at 'the saddle' (1h45m from parking lot). Columnar Peak was to the left and The Gargoyles to the right, I was aware that we were supposed to drop down the opposite side of the saddle following the only trail heading away from it. With visibility as low as 20-30 feet, we had trouble locating the proper trail and decided to continue along the visible trail up The Gargoyles. Once up top it was immediately clear as to where the name had originated as both sides of this narrow ridge were flanked by the tall, jagged, freestanding remains of the original ridgeline.

As we soaked up the atmosphere created by these figures pearing through the clouds at us, we shouted into the abyss below, and listened to our voices travel across an invisible landscape.

"HELLO..."

"hello...hello...HELLO...HELP!!

We were all in shock and looked at each other in disbelief...

"HELLO, IS SOMEONE DOWN THERE?"

"YES, I'VE FALLEN DOWN THE MOUNTAIN!"

Now keep in mind that we had just randomly shouted down a steep chute into the clouds and received a response...

"ARE YOU SERIOUS?"

"YES!!!"

We tried to assess the situation to see how we could best help.

"ARE YOU INJURED?"

"NO."

"IS THERE ANYONE ELSE WITH YOU?"

"NO."

"ARE YOU ON STABLE GROUND?"

"NOT REALLY."

"ARE YOU SAFELY ABLE TO STAY WHERE YOU ARE?"

"I THINK SO."

"HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN DOWN THERE?"

"ABOUT TWO HOURS!"

Two hours! I have no idea what would have travelled through his mind in that amount of time, but we were all shocked at how calm and composed he seemed to be. Jackson proceeded to place a 911 call and after they took all our information they said that Squamish Search and Rescue would call us right back. As we were awaiting the return phone call from Search and Rescue, we heard what sounded like an avalance of rocks. Immediately after it subsided we yelled again,

"HELLO!"

"HELLO, CAN YOU HEAR US!"

"HELLO...HELLO...HEY...CAN YOU HEAR US?"

We had lost verbal contact with the guy, and had every reason to believe that the worst had occured. We didn't know what to do as we were peering down from above into pure nothingness. The rock was so loose that we couldn't even try to get a better vantage or shouting point without running the risk of dumping more rock down onto this guy!

We all spread out and started shouting into different chutes, I even grabbed my whistle and just started blaring into it...we absolutely needed to hear this guys voice again. The few minutes that may have passed in that time felt like an eternity, for we all thought that we had just heard some poor soul's last words.

Our thoughts were ripped back to reality as we could just make out a faint voice, now coming from further left on the mountain. He had indeed slipped and fallen further, and it had left him just out of our range of communication.

While we had all pondered the worst we realised that we didn't even know this person's name. Once we established contact again, it was the first thing we tried to cover...

"ARE YOU OK?"

We got a response and yelled back,

"WHAT'S YOUR NAME?"

This started a painful exchange of inaudiable responses...

"WHAT'S YOUR NAME?"

"Was that Mike he said?"

"WHAT'S YOUR NAME?"

"I thought he said Dave?"

"WHAT'S YOUR NAME?"

"I definately heard him say Alister...or Steve?"

Once we realised that we were useless in our present postion above him, we all agreed to head down from where we were via the main trail. We were hoping we would eventually be able to get somewhere near him from a side angle.

"WE CAN'T QUITE MAKE OUT WHAT YOU ARE SAYING. IF YOU CAN UNDERSTAND ME, WE ARE GOING TO TRY AND FIND A BETTER POSITION TO HELP YOU FROM. PLEASE TRY NOT TO MOVE. IT MAY BE A FEW MINUTES BEFORE YOU HEAR US AGAIN. WE ARE NOT LEAVING, AND MORE HELP IS ON THE WAY. DO YOU UNDERSTAND?"

Again all we heard was a voice, and whether he said yes, or what, we simply did not know. Either way, we had to change our location, so we hiked back up the ridge we had dropped down which lead us back onto the main trail which inturn took us back onto the main saddle trail down.

We were finally able to locate the 'hidden' trail we had initially missed, and thankfully it lead in the general direction that we wanted to go. The main trail only took us so far before we ourselves were forced to scramble, albeit over much safer terrain than the fallen hiker was dealing with.

We slowly proceeded around the base of the rock face, while ourselves letting rocks slide off below us. Once we had safely made it around the first corner, we tried to contact him again,

"HELLO?"

"YEAH, I HEAR YOU."

"WHAT'S YOUR NAME?"

"NOAH." (ahhh, Noah!)

"NOAH, DO YOU THINK YOU CAN SAFELY MAKE IT OVER THIS WAY?"

"HANG ON I'LL TRY..."

Again an avalance of rock let loose from the mountain, and again we lost contact with each other for a brief moment.

"YOU OK?"

"HELLO, YOU OK?"

"YEAH, BUT I DON'T THINK I CAN MAKE IT OVER THAT WAY!"

"THAT'S FINE, DON'T MOVE IF IT'S NOT SAFE. SEARCH AND RESCUE ARE ON THE WAY, AND WE WILL GET YOU OUT SAFELY."

"I THINK I CAN MAKE IT UP THIS CHUTE."

"PLEASE DO NOT MOVE IF IT IS NOT SAFE. THERE WILL BE PEOPLE HERE TO HELP SHORTLY."

We heard some more rock let loose and it was obvious that Noah wanted his situtation over sooner rather than later. Not two minutes had passed before we heard his voice again, this time from above us.

'I'M OUT! I'M OUT!"

"GREAT! NOW PLEASE DON'T MOVE UNTIL WE GET TO YOU. THE ROCK IS VERY LOOSE AROUND HERE."

Like we needed to tell this guy that the rock was loose!

Jackson, Palmer and myself safely turned around and scrambled back onto the main trail, where we were then able to make our way up to meet our new friend, Noah Timmons.

"WOW, thanks guys, I really owe you one!"

The kid, he looked maybe 21, looked none the worse for wear!

"Do you even have a scratch on you?"

"Yeah a few on my hands."

"What the hell happened to you?"

He went on to tell us of how he had planned to hike up Little Diamond Head, and then climb, with gear, up Atwell Peak...solo.

He, like us, had missed the main trail over the saddle and continued up and into the Gargoyles. At the end of the Gargoyles the trail tapers out into nothing. If you believed that you were on the right trail up Little Diamond Head, as Noah did, you would continue to look for the trail, as Noah did, and you would eventually loose your footing and slide down a loose, rocky chute for about 300 feet before managing to self arrest as you threw your arms and legs out once the chute became narrow enough to reach both sides...as Noah did. Then you would sit there for two hours contemplating how you were actually going to get your ass back out of this chute, and if you'd ever get the chance to taste beer again...as Noah undoubtedly did!

However, If you realised that you were on the wrong trail once it became too dangerous to negotiate, as we did, and you noticed how loose everything in the immeidate area was, as we did, you would undoubtedly come back down the ridgeline you had gone up, as we did. You would then aimlessly shout down a chute, just for the hell of it, and proceed to get a response from the cloud below, which would force you to go about helping some silly boy who had taken a wrong turn and somehow survived a 300 foot slide through loose and jagged rock down the side of a mountain...just as we did!

I think the most shocking thing, outside of Noah's lack of wounds, was his calm demeanor. He was very thankful, and friendly, but not in the least bit shaken by this! I initially thought he must be in shock, but after talking for a few minutes we realised he was fine and simply pointed him the in the right direction...back DOWN the mountain, on a hiking trail! He promised to call Search and Rescue and explain the situation.

Ean, Geoff and I continued along our original route, once we crossed over the saddle and found the trail heading away from it that is.

This trail eventually lead us above the tree line where we simply followed the numerous rock 'cairns' that lead the way. We reached the summit in almost exactly three hours (minus rescue time).

The views from the top were incredible, "Like I was in a ping ping ball", one guy commented. While another described it as, "Like I was on top of the world, on a really, really, really cloudy day". Someone else observed, "It's like I'm in the biggest snow cave ever known to man!"

WOW, rave reviews all around.

After praying to the Sun God for ten minutes we decided to head back out.

In true Ean Jackson form, he was convinced we were heading the wrong way, and tried to lead us down the mountain a good 90 degrees in the wrong direction! Luckily Geoff and I have heard one too many of Jackson's running tales, that always seem to end with, "I would have won that race if I didn't get lost!"

Low and behold by the time we had come down into the tree line again, it was just starting to clear off. A lake had come into view and even some of the closer smaller mountains were now visible. We unanimously agreed that a second attempt would be necessary on a clear day in the near future, and we even tossed around the idea of a winter snow shoe Fat Ass run. Stay tuned for that this winter.

On the run back out we came across Craig Moore and Ethelyn David, two no shows from the morning. Craig swears that he thought it started at 10am, and the fact that they showed up (just in time for the clearing weather) keeps them off the wall of shame. In fact, they will be immortalized in Squamish Lore for years to come, as they are officially the first people to have ever utilized our new Squamish Visitor Center (originally scheduled to open June 1st, 2005!). You will even be able to find them in next weeks edition of Squamish's newspaper, 'The Chief'.

Thanks to all participants. I promise to schedule next years event on a clear day!

Gary Robbins

P.S. Randy Hunter goes down in the 'where were you' minus one point category, and Mark Fearman gets a freebie as he called to say that his old Buick had finally bit the bullet...may she rest in peace!