Six Photos For Now

It’s been crazy busy since my last blog post. I had an insanely jam packed summer of guiding and exploring, left the Yukon in September to do more adventuring, and now about to hop on a plane for SE Asia for even more adventures.

I miss this blog, and I miss writing fun little stories. So, in the interim, while I think about what I’ll write about when I get home in January, here’s 6 photos from the summer that I really like. No context, no stories, just some snapshots of my life. I hope you like them.

Dogs for Emma Live - June 8t

A show! A new show! Can you believe it?!! Yahoo!

Thursday June 8th at the Heart of Riverdale in Whitehorse, I’ll be performing the music from my EP “Dogs for Emma” with an amazing band! With Andy Slade on keyboards and synthesizers, Olivier de Colombel on saxophones, Ben McGrath on drums and special guest Rob Dickson on guitar and effects, we’re going to be bending and mashing as many genres of music as possible while playing reimagined songs from my EP along with a few other favourites. This band is really special because I don’t we’re every going to play together again. Olivier #2 is moving to the east coast and I’m going on an indefinite performance sabbatical after this concert.

Limited tickets are available on my bandcamp page. Hope to see you there!

A Ski Story

Bishop to F4.

I moved my chess piece delicately. One more move and I’d have Étienne’s king in checkmate. My plan was flawless.

Before I had a chance to catch my thoughts, Étienne’s rook slammed down taking my queen and almost knocking the chess board over, perched precariously on top of our wobbly cooler now turned table.

“Check!”

“God Damn it Étienne!!! My queen!!!!” I still had lots of pieces left, but it was only a matter of time before I lost this game…again.

It was day six of our ski trip and Étienne and I were huddled in my homemade pyramid shelter manically playing chess to pass the time. We were skiing as much as possible during the day before playing endless rounds of chess at night, shivering in the cold drinking cheap beer. It was the middle of the week and the entire ski hill seemed devoid of any humans. Camping on the slushy, icy ground of the empty parking lot of Shames Mountain outside of Terrace BC, we basked in the cold quiet of the evenings listening to the hooting of a nearby owl and the distant hum of a generator somewhere on the hill.

I started skiing in earnest 4 years ago after moving to the Yukon. I had tried skiing a few times before, but a mix of injury, money and location always prevented me from diving deep into the sport. Now in Whitehorse, there seemed to be the perfect combination for a newbie skier: a small but cheap hill 10 minutes away from town and endless backcountry terrain a few hours away. The pure fun of racing down a hill mixed with the freedom and natural beauty of the backcountry was addicting and it didn’t take much time before I was hooked.

Skiing wasn’t without its challenges though. Both my feet are filled with screws, metal plates and bone transplants (the result of a degenerative neuromuscular disease) and my feet have neither the circulation, flexibility or shape to make ski boots anything but torturous. In the cold days of winter, with special liners and heated socks, my feet are either freezing cold, or reheating in screaming agony. When the weather gets nicer in the spring, my toes will swell until I’m nauseous with pain and I have to take my boots off.

Weird body issues aside, skiing is really damn hard.  Nothing is more frustrating than seeing all your friends rip down a chute yipping and hollering in delight, while you have to labour and grunt your way down, flailing head first into the snow every other turn. By the way, trying to get back up after falling down a steep slope, in powder with giant sticks attached to your feet has to be one of the hardest, most physically demanding tasks out there.

Regardless of these hurdles, I still love this sport and after six days of skiing with Étienne, I felt like I had made some breakthroughs. My kick turns on the way up were becoming more stable, the jump turns on the way down more fluid, and my confidence a little more steady. Étienne, an incredible skier and recently certified ski guide, had given me a ton of helpful coaching and it seemed like it was paying off. We had to leave the next day to start the 16 hour drive back to Whitehorse but maybe, just maybe we could sneak in another ski before we left. Étienne had spotted two steep couloirs during the previous day’s excursion and was keen to ski them. The thought of going down something that vertical terrified me, but if Étienne said I could do it, I wanted to try.

We got up before the sun had crested above the mountains and hastily made breakfast in the brisk morning air. Cramming our feet into cold boots and shouldering our 30lb touring packs, we dashed off towards the alpine, gaining 500m in less than an hour. As we reached the narrow ridgeline that led to our objective, the sun came out and painted the mountains around us in brilliant gold underneath a deep blue ski.

In what felt like no time, we were standing above our first couloir. Narrowly nestled between two steep rock walls, the chute disappeared below me underneath its own progressively steepening curve. Pawing good, untracked snow, Étienne grinned from ear to ear at our line. I on the other hand couldn’t stop my legs from shaking, fear engulfing my thoughts.

Étienne launched down the couloir, effortlessly floating down the steep line while releasing waves of snow sluff which each turn. Tucking in safely behind a rocky outcrop, Étienne hollered up that it was my turn and reminded me to have some fun. I took a deep breath, dropped into the chute and tried not to crash into the rocks on either side of me. It wasn’t pretty, but I made it down without getting hurt and actually had a bit of fun.

We powered through the rest of the morning, skiing another couloir further down, power skinning back up to the ridge and making it back to the car by 1pm. Wolfing down a greasy burger and poutine lunch, I couldn’t help but feel pretty darn proud of myself. I’ve been dreaming of being in the mountains on skis and watching those youtube clips of skiers sending big lines has always inspired me to get out there. I don’t ever aspire to send some giant, mega steep mountain face doing backflips off of cliffs, but I do want to travel through the mountains in all seasons and skiing has been the missing piece for me. After this trip, I think I’m a little closer to filling that gap.

Chess wise, that’s another story…

Cold Days in Nevada

Plumber’s Crack - Photo by Étienne Lavigne

Last week, I went to Red Rocks national park just outside Las Vegas for a week of climbing with my friend Étienne and Jasper. I challenged myself to try to write a blog style update for my partner Emma whenever I could at the end of every day. Here’s one of those updates.

We had a plan. We were going to climb 5-7 pitches up Mister Z, a moderate well protected 5.6, continue on easy 5th class terrain to the Brownstone wall, and finish with another 5-6 pitches up either a 5.7 jug haul or a 5.3 scramble to the top of Juniper peak. Our plan was perfect and we were stoked to have a stress free, high mileage day.

The day looked absolutely flawless; clear skies and a warm brilliant sun. We drove into the park (listening to the insane absurdity which is American conservative talk radio), and parked at the Oak Creek trailhead. After sorting out gear, water and snacks for the day, we shouldered our packs and set off at a brisk pace towards the snow capped sandstone walls. An hour later, we were at the base of a maze of cliffs craning our heads up looking for our route’s starting point.

Unfortunately for us, the approach descriptions for our first climb sucked. "15' above the gully, climb starts by a tree in a small cave”. I had forgotten to download the pictures of the climb and we were left with a description that seemed to describe every route around us. Scrambling up the creek and over its giant boulders, we looked everywhere for a tree and a cave, but kept coming up empty.

Finally, a route appeared that kinda maybe somewhat fit the route description. A low angle crack blocked by a giant, hard looking roof. We stared at it for a while before convincing ourselves that the climb probably looked harder than it actually was. The guidebook called this an easy 5.6 pitch, one of the easier grades in climbing. How hard could it be?

Étienne took off on the first lead and at first things seemed like they were going in the right direction. Moving smoothly, he climbed the crack and arrived at the roof. He then started moving up and around the roof, stopped singing to himself, and started grunting... This was not something I had heard him do all week. Étienne is a very strong climber and up until now had seemed to float up our previous climbs. Laybacking on the edge of the roof block, Étienne reached for a small crimp while his feet smeared up a tiny strip of blank sandstone.

Étienne retreating from our non-route

Suddenly, Étienne let out a loud yell that reverberated throughout the canyon as the small hold he was gripping ripped off the wall and landed by my feet. He flew off the wall and was caught a little ways down by our blue #3 cam that he had barely managed to place a few moments earlier. "The hold broke!! I had it but the hold broke!!"

"There's no way that's a 5.6!!" Étienne exclaimed. It was now clear we had gotten on the wrong route, if this was a route at all. After gaming out our options, Étienne decided to continue climbing to the big ledge above him where he’d try to set up a rappel. He launched into another attempt up the imposing roof, letting out more cries and grunts. Desperately slapping the rock and inch'ing his feet up, Étienne lunged for the edge of the roof, grabbed a good hold and pulled himself up. "What a route!!!! That was like 5.11 something! Holy shit!!! So hard!”

After catching his breath and regaining his composure, he slung a rock, threw his rope and rappelled back down to me. 20 minutes later, we had pulled our rope down and finished this pseudo pitch in one piece without losing any of our gear.

"Well, fuck, I guess this isn't it. Great climbing though!" I laughed at Étienne. The madness of it all felt funny; we were back to square one with no idea where to go.

We decided to backtrack a little ways and explored the cliff base a little higher up. Finally, 3 hours after leaving the car, we found something that maybe looked like our climb. The route matched the description, looked awesome, and was covered in chalk marks - everything seemed to be looking up. We had lunch and decided that if we started up right away, we'd have time to get back to the car before dark and before park rangers ticketed vehicles 200$ for overstaying in the park.

The sun dipped behind the mountains and the temperatures plummeted to around 0º celsius. Shivering, I put on my jacket and filled my harness with 30lbs of climbing gear before setting off up the first pitch. It was a mix of chimney and face climbing with the odd hand jam thrown in there. The climb was easy enough, but I immensely struggled to trust the rock. 5 meters up, a decent looking hold broke off easily after lightly tapping it. Shortly after that, Étienne yelled up that another rock had broken down by the belay. The rock seemed fragile and any fall in this terrain would almost definitely mean some kind of injury.

I got to the top of the chimney and panicked. I knew I had to traverse left and climb up some easy face holds but I was freaked out by the seemingly terrible rock quality and the inability to protect the next 5 meters of climbing. Retreating to a big ledge below me, I set up a belay and pulled the rope up as Étienne climbed up. He continued past me to where I had bailed but stopped shortly after that.

"Dude, I can't trust any of these holds. They look like they're all going to break". 

Sandstone is one of the most beautiful and picturesque kinds of rock to climb. However, it’s a delicate type of rock and it becomes extremely friable when wet. The rock will seem dry, but if it has rained recently the inside of the rock will still be damp and any small hold will easily break.

It had been over 48 hours since a big rain storm had come through the area. Ordinarily, this would have been plenty of time for the rock to dry. What we didn’t realize was that this part of the canyon only got 4-5 hours of sun per day before the sun hid behind the surrounding mountains. With daytime highs only reaching 1-3 degrees, the rock had clearly not had enough time to dry. The nail on the coffin was time. It was almost 1:45pm, and there was no way to climb this and be back at the car by the 5pm cutoff.

Rappelling in the dark.

So now we were stuck in the alcove, contemplating how not to lose the three cams in our anchor for us to get down. With an ease and confidence that has made me immensely grateful for Étienne's mountain skills, he casually said "I'll just reverse lead climb".

Étienne lowered me down to the ground and with a demonstration of serious climbing skill, climbed back down to the ground without falling. 15 minutes later, we were all safely down, packed up and ready for beer. We got back to the car 7 hours after starting having climbed one and half pitches.


Tomorrow, we’d have to try again.

Door Prizes!!!! (a newsletter update)

WARNING: This post contains a bunch of cool stuff you can win. Don’t read this if you don’t want cool things. Like, homemade, awesome, ultra useful things. If you’re triggered by door prizes, meat draws and raffles, do not continue reading.

Last February, I started an email newsletter. The idea came about while driving to a rehearsal with my friend Austin. He mentioned how shitty it was trying to promote anything on social media. Facebook, instagram, and all those other sites will limit how many people see your posts. The only way to reach all your fans, followers and subscribers is to buy one of their less than ideal promo plans. One way to get around something like this Austin said, was to have a newsletter. This immediately spiked my interest. The idea of being able to send stuff directly to those who were interested seemed logical, sensible and kinda fun.

I’ve always enjoyed writing on my blog. It’s a great vessel for me to tell my stories and share the photographs of what I’ve experienced. However, after many years of guiding and outdoor instructing, I also wanted to tell people about all the little tricks that made my life easier and the blog didn’t feel quite like the right platform. 

After humming and hawing for months, I put together a couple winter camping tips, wrote up a recipe for my favourite snack and talked up my newest album. Just like that, the Great Olivier Newsletter was born! The first newsletter was sent to 14 people (my roommates, immediate family and a couple of friends) and I quietly wondered if this project would ever make it to another month. Nine months later, I’m up to a whooping 69 subscribers!!!!!

It’s not much and I won’t be quitting my day job anytime soon, but it does feel special to have that many dedicated newsletter readers. No one’s unsubscribed yet, and on average over 90% of people who receive the newsletter will open and read it.

In my last newsletter, I wondered if it would be possible to get up to a hundred subscribers. It’s a big number and a true classic if you ask me. What other three digit numbers feel so big and so high. Back in kindergarten, we’d all take turns going in front of the class to count out loud. Those who made it to one hundred (to us, the biggest number ever) were crowned champion and got a sticker. It was glorious.

Kluane National Park - a picture to keep this post interesting

So here’s where you might come in. If you haven’t read the newsletter, check it out! You can read the current edition as well as all previous newsletters here. If it’s something you think you might like, sign up! You’ll never get more than one email a month and it will never cost you anything.

Ok ok, I know that if I’m going to get you to sign up, I gotta give you a little something in exchange. Let me introduce you to my little friend over here called door prizes. When I hit 100 subscribers, I’m going to enter everyone into a draw for some cool homemade stuff that I’ll ship to your doorstep. Homemade stuff eh? YAH! Homemade awesomeness!!!

Waterproof’ish Pouches

I’ll be making one or two pouches to give away. These things are made out of HyperD 300, a super tear resistant, almost waterproof fabric and are topped with a YKK waterproof zipper.

Depending how much fabric I have left, they’ll have a one to two litre capacity. I just made one to use as a first aid kit and it’s awesome!

Custom Print

Door prize number two is a 12x18” print of your choice. Frame it and throw it up on your wall for some living room artwork, chuck it on the ceiling above your bed for some inspiration, or glue it to a piece of cardboard, cut it up and make yourself a puzzle.

You can look at some of my prints here, but the winner will get to pick from of my catalogue of over 100 000 pictures (spoiler, 80% of them aren’t great).

Bejewelled Tote Bag

The final door prize is a sweet, custom tote bag. These bags look great, feel great and excel at carrying the daily things. They even come bejewelled with a cool label of your choice.

Bejewel it with your initials, your favourite kid’s initials, or whatever else you want (caveat: simple shapes only).

Sign up today, tomorrow, or in the month or two and get a chance to win one of these items for free, shipped right to your doorstep and made by yours truly. Best yet, nothing is branded, so you don’t even have to plug the newsletter if anyone compliments you on your swag. I hope you continue finding the newsletter enjoyable and helpful and let’s all hope we get to a hundred subscribers soon :-).