What were you doing when you were 22? Most likely graduating university and preparing for the big bad world of finance I bet.
I spent most of mine homeless, jobless, and having mixed success and failure with my first business venture. I remember that summer well because I never had so much fun being homeless and jobless. I had finished selling my last ‘Impact Knife’ (an autoglass removal tool invention) for gas money and cash. People loved my invention, I sold every last one I made, but when my standing order for 500 Impact Knives was cancelled at Autostock (the family autoglass warehouse) because of family politics, it put me in a bind having spent all my investment on moulds anticipating production. At 22 I had planned taking on the world with my better-mouse-trap combining two proven autoglass tools into one, but someone else had other plans.
So after realizing my business was all but dead and what little money I had from it was draining fast, I drove my little Nissan pick-up across Southern Alberta until I ended in the Crow’s Nest Pass somewhere deep into the logging roads until I couldn’t drive anymore. I parked, grabbed my pack and a sleeping bag, and started hiking from there. I had no destination, I needed none. And pretty much the entire summer, I would rewind, press play, and repeat… I always ended up at the end of another high country road and would camp and hike. I didn’t even know much about backpacking or the backcountry. I didn’t care. It’s not like I had a care in the world at 22 after having my dreams dashed by family and little hope of any further investment with the death of my business partner and grandfather Herbert Skidmore.
That summer I never had a destination. It was a tough year and with little to look out for, I wound my way around the Rockies taking one winding road after another and one cragged trail to another. No destination ever, my only home was my soul which would eventually return me to my truck, most nights nestled in the bed of the Nissan under a canopy of stars falling asleep to the sounds of a crackling fire.
That summer made who I am today. Some summers I don’t even remember anymore. But that one stands out as vivid as it was 6 months ago. It set off a passion in me for several things like hiking which I still do today, albeit not as much. I used to love doing day hikes and overnight marathon type hikes covering 20km to 50km. I love the gruelling tests these hikes put on your body and mind. It not only tests your body, but puts your spirit and core through the ringer. And what doesn’t break you, kill you, or beat you back mentally into a thumb sucking baby… just makes you that much stronger.
I don’t hike so much these days because it’s an all-day activity you have to set aside the time for and I have kids, but I still very much enjoy burning up the Grouse Grind, BCMC, 5 Vistas, or any one of the numerous trails that populate our North Shore Mountains. Name a trail or peak from The Lions to Golden Ears and I have hiked it. And in any condition too, from winter trails to summer runs… there really isn’t anything I personally enjoy more.
Hypothermia on 'The Camel'
Once my hiking partner and I got caught in terrible conditions fording a swollen Lynn Headwaters and hiking up past the snowline to ‘The Camel’ in October. To make matters worse I had fallen on shale scrambling up scree and was bloodied, but we still pressed on. By the time we reach the lodge on Grouse Mountain, my partner and I both had hypothermia, we had to strip down to our underwear to warm up and dry out by the fire in the lobby at the lodge. You would think we might call it a day at the lodge? Nope. Down the BCMC to the Baden Powel and over to the Lynn Headwaters to complete one of the most gruesome day hikes ever endured in just over 12 hours.All I can say about hikes like that and what keeps me going in spite of 100% rottenness for 100% of the time… aside from the fact that stopping in the middle of nowhere would be certain embarrassment for a North Shore rescue.
What keeps me going at the worst point when all I want to do is give up? Over and over and over I repeat this phrase in my head…
“The Journey is the Prize”
I may not be having fun right now this moment fearing I may never find civilization and die of hypothermia behind Grouse Mountain in a snowbank, but when I look back and know I fought the fight all the way and didn’t quit. That I preserved during the worst conditions just to exist that day means more than just a summit of a peak. I won more than just a day’s worth of exercise. In a sense, each hike was like a ‘Right of Passage’ pushing body, mind, and spirit past what you should normally be able to endure. Each hike adds up to a collection of trials each with a different set of tests that eerily parallels life.
It is so much more than making a summit. You look back and you can see the history of your life.
It wasn’t attaining the Camel in a rainy, snowy late October day through Hanes Valley; or any other peak that I may have hiked. It isn’t even the magnificent 360 degree view giving you the feeling you are indeed on top of the world. Ruler of all. After all the summits and peaks and views. It wasn’t any of it.
It was all of it and more.
It was the journey that was the prize.
Saved by a Branch
One of the hikes of have done quite a few times and still love to do every so often is “The Lions”. It is not a hike for the faint of heart and I find whenever I go up I am free climbing areas others are roped into. At any rate, we used to drive out to Lions Bay to ascend from sea level instead of driving up Cypress and then hiking across for a photo shoot. Obviously for myself, the tougher the journey, the more satisfying the prize.
At one point we had made it to the first peak on the Lions back and were dropping down to climb the Lion’s head when I caught a rock on my toe and hurtled forward off the ledge I was standing on to the ledge directly below. I landed on my feet, but landed on loose, dry dirt and my feet started sliding off the ledge as I tried to brace myself from the fall. What seemed like hours, but must have only been seconds; my foot stuck to a pine branch not more than 18 inches long growing out of the side of the ledge which stopped my foot and my momentum from going over the second ledge I had fallen on to.
I peered over what I had almost fallen off. It was a 1,000 foot drop to the reservoir below.
It is times like those when you realize that it could all end just like that and really, if it wasn’t for a freak of nature, would have. It shouldn’t take near death experiences to ‘wake you up’ (or in my case several) and realize you were meant for more than a drop off a cliff. But I knew from that day on, after almost becoming another stat on The Lions that I could never live life in fear death knowing I am already living on some else’s clock. I should not be here. So I relish in the struggle that is placed before me because without it, it would not make me into the person who I am or who I am going to become. Since these three life altering experiences I have always viewed the world a bit differently, not in cherishing the conquest of victory, but in fighting the good fight until there is no fight left. That is ultimately where I want to derive life’s riches and lessons from, from struggle each one of us endures each day to make ourselves before our death. The struggle to ultimately make as much an impact and difference on others while living yours.
That is the real prize.
At one point we had made it to the first peak on the Lions back and were dropping down to climb the Lion’s head when I caught a rock on my toe and hurtled forward off the ledge I was standing on to the ledge directly below. I landed on my feet, but landed on loose, dry dirt and my feet started sliding off the ledge as I tried to brace myself from the fall. What seemed like hours, but must have only been seconds; my foot stuck to a pine branch not more than 18 inches long growing out of the side of the ledge which stopped my foot and my momentum from going over the second ledge I had fallen on to.
I peered over what I had almost fallen off. It was a 1,000 foot drop to the reservoir below.
It is times like those when you realize that it could all end just like that and really, if it wasn’t for a freak of nature, would have. It shouldn’t take near death experiences to ‘wake you up’ (or in my case several) and realize you were meant for more than a drop off a cliff. But I knew from that day on, after almost becoming another stat on The Lions that I could never live life in fear death knowing I am already living on some else’s clock. I should not be here. So I relish in the struggle that is placed before me because without it, it would not make me into the person who I am or who I am going to become. Since these three life altering experiences I have always viewed the world a bit differently, not in cherishing the conquest of victory, but in fighting the good fight until there is no fight left. That is ultimately where I want to derive life’s riches and lessons from, from struggle each one of us endures each day to make ourselves before our death. The struggle to ultimately make as much an impact and difference on others while living yours.
That is the real prize.
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