Photo of Hamish Fraser, 1994 The Grand Wall, Squamish, BC
Photo credit: Peder Ourom

5 a.m.: As we leave home the game plan decision is reached. A little sleepy, the early morning coffee hits are just starting to take effect. The caffeine will have to carry us until the endorphins take over. The skies clear and the parking lot is empty, so we run to the base. Hamish slips on his shoes and leaps on the rock, his psyche has been building for this one for years.

Photo of John Rosholt, Bugaboos, Nelson, BC
Photo credit: Peder Ourom

Sometime in the now somewhat blurry mid-seventies I first met John. There were two climbing capitals of the world in North America at this time, Eldorado in Colorado, and Yosemite Valley (sorry Henry!) in California. Being a Squamish climber, the magnet for me was the big walls, as they had been for the previous generation of Canadian Valley climbers. For John, the pull was the free climbing.

Photo of Hamish Fraser, Genius Loci
Photo credit: Bruce MacDonald

PEDER OUROM, THE "BEAR," was so burly that he could probably remove a grown man's head with one swat. This strength proved handy for those runout climbs when he operated power drills high above his head. During the winter, he was a ski patroller at Whistler Mountain. One day, the Bear skipped work and started hitching down to Squamish for a little new-routing. Rope over his shoulder, he got picked up by his boss. The Bear soon redeemed himself with some excellent first aid work, and he received "employee of the year." In 1991, as the resort season winded down, the Bear was keen to bite into a new Grand Wall route.

Yosemite Valley, California, El Capitan, the Nose

How a Scottish base jumper needed all his strength and skills to survive both a failed base jump in Yosemite, and the rescue and desperate retreat that followed. His name was Billy Glasgow, and he climbed the hardest pitch ever accomplished on El Capitan.  Here is the real story of what happened over the next two days and nights, and what our rogue Canadian rescue team pulled off. I know, because I was part of the team.

Photo of Mt Rexford
Photo credit: Peder Ourom

Back in the summer of 1980, Canada was in danger of falling apart. A constitutional crisis had arisen, and an agreement was needed to be reached by all of the provinces and territories. If 50% plus 1 voted to separate from any province, the existence of Canada as an independent country was over. Pierre Trudeau then went into full crisis mode, as a vote for separation that would meet this low threshold would land directly on his shoulders. This was definitely not the legacy that he wanted from his term in office.

Mt Rexford
Photo of John Howe
Photo credit: Peder Ourom

The first segment of the commercial to be shot was scheduled for the summit of Mt. Rexford, I believe in order to have the rugged beauty of Mt. Slesse (the Matterhorn of the Coast Range), in the background. So we got in the limo and drove up the logging roads to the trailhead, located outside Chilliwack in the Fraser Valley. Most of the production crew were not with us on this prep day, as they were organizing the helicopter filming, and probably trying to come up with a story board. They were not mountain savvy, and appreciated our advice and help now that we had moved into the mountains.

Photo of Dave Harris, Nightmare Rock, Murrin Park, Squamish, BC
Photo credit: Ryan Shellborn

The mountain expedition complete, we now changed direction and travelled north from Vancouver to Squamish. To this day, I still have no idea why the production company wanted to film a frightening rock climbing stunt. All I can think of, is that the footage would be used as an example of the technical prowess that the company was capable of. After all, this footage would be more likely to shatter the country into pieces, than provide the glue that would hold it together.