Raphael Slawinski

Last Saturday, Wiktor, Jerome and I headed back up to The Peach . While Jerome and I had a blast reclimbing the route, Wiktor hung it out there, jugging up lines fixed to anchors consisting of equalized pins driven into decaying limestone. "Try not to weigh the rope," I advised him as he lowered out from a station to begin a free-hanging jumaring session. But not even the yawning void under his ass could make his hand tremble. After all, you would not want the footage marred by camera shake, would you? The result is a fine video of a fine route. Wiktor hanging it out, camera, multiple lenses and monopod in tow. Photo: Jerome Yerly. Second go at The Peach from Wiktor Skupinski on Vimeo .

March 2008 . In between overnight alpine outings, Pierre Darbellay and I took a break from big mountains and big packs to head up Storm Creek. We had already enjoyed a couple of good days up there, climbing some fantastic, weirdly-iced new ground. We wanted to see if there was any more hidden further up the valley. As we skied along, an imposing hanging dagger with an overhanging scoop of yellow rock came into view. We found our objective. In fact, we found more than we had bargained for, and we retreated from below a radically overhanging crack with our tails between our legs. March 2011 . After a three-year absence from Storm Creek ice, I head back there with Grant Meekins. With all the recent snow the track has disappeared, but the snowpack is supportive and we make good time up the valley. Two and a half hours after leaving the car we drop our packs at the mouth of a small rock cave and crane our heads back to gawk at the climb. Pretty but kind of short, says Grant. I rem...

Perhaps as a result of the current La Niña episode, it has been a cold and snowy winter in the Rockies. This, combined with generally lean ice conditions, had me looking for mountain adventures that would keep me warmer than hanging around at a belay for an hour. Ski mountaineering was the obvious choice. Below are some impressions and snapshots from a few recent outings.   Cathedral Mtn (3189 m) A few minutes into the skiing I glance at the temperature display on a watch clipped to a pack strap. I do a double take at the -46 C reading. It takes me a few moments to realize that the watch is in difference mode, and is reading the temperature difference between the inside and outside of the car. An unsupported snow slope gives us pause, visions of being carried over the cliffs below dancing in our heads. We bypass it by booting straight up to a level bench. However, on the way down we carve turns down the slope we avoided on the way up. What has changed in the meantime? The sigh...

I find that these days my interest in drytooling waxes and wanes. What a contrast to the golden age of putting metal to stone! In the late 1990s and early 2000s, along with a crew of similarly dedicated friends, I spent my winters first figure-fouring and later heel-hooking across cave roofs, arguing about whether the latest test piece was M11 or only M10+, traveling to Colorado and Quebec to compete... It was a lot of fun but it could not last. Drytooling as it was practiced back in the 1930s or so, before colour photography was invented. Learning to figure-four on Power to Burn , Waterfowl Gullies. Photo: Robert Rogoz. For me, the fire went out on a late-winter day in 2003, ironically one of my best days of drytooling. I had been spending a lot of time at the Cineplex, unlearning the figure-fours that had been such a staple in the dark ages of leashes and big boots, and learning the fine art of hanging from heel spurs. On the day in question, having freshly redpointed Musashi , I ...

I have always said self-righteously that I am saving skiing and aid climbing for when I am old and decrepit. I suppose I must be hitting that certain age, because recently I found myself skinning uphill with not much more than a thermos of hot drink in my pack, only to turn around at the top and ski back down. Even worse, I caught myself having fun. Who would have thought it would ever come to this? Hanging from gear and calling it climbing cannot be far behind. Mt. Whymper along the Radium Highway. By the time eponymous Edward made its first ascent, he was far less fit and drank far more than when he made the first ascent of the Matterhorn that made him (in)famous. Juan Henriquez putting his head down on the way up, with the delights of Haffner Creek far below. I have heard it said that ski mountaineering begins when the skis come off. If so, then Eamonn Walsh is a ski mountaineer par excellence. Scott Withers skinning across the sastrugi on the summit plateau. Juan ha...

Otto von Bismarck, the founder of the German Empire, was fond of saying that "The less people know about how sausages and laws are made, the better they'll sleep at night." Had the iron chancellor been an ice climber, he might have added, "and the less they know what lies above the routes they climb." It has been an interesting start to the new year. After a protracted cold spell (which, however, never saw temperatures dip below -30 C), warmer weather arrived together with long-overdue snow. The fresh snow overloaded a horrible, thin snowpack that seemed to consist mostly of depth hoar, and initiated the biggest avalanche cycle in decades. Two of the many, many slopes that went big were the ones above the Bourgeau ice climbs ( the Right Hand with a bit of help from Banff Park safety specialists ). I climbed these routes most recently last winter, when Katsutaka "Jumbo" Yokoyama and I had enjoyed a day of climbing up and down and up and down. Of course...

I like to believe I can be in control in the mountains; that if I make all the right decisions I will come through unscathed. Sure, at times I do take calculated risks. For example in 2006 three friends and I traveled to Pakistan to attempt the southwest face of unclimbed Kunyang Chhish East (ca. 7400 m). The face is both huge (it rises two and a half vertical kilometres from the glacier) and beautiful (a subjective assessment, but I for one find it intensely compelling). I might also add dangerous, as the lower part of the face is threatened by multiple serac bands. They do not calve very often, but when they do the resulting avalanches are truly apocalyptic. A serac avalanche sweeps down the southwest face of Kunynag Chhish East. We made two ultimately unsuccessful attempts, stopped by illness the first time and by excessive heat the second. Both times we left basecamp at midnight and scrambled over giant fields of avalanche debris in the dark. Both times we retreated in daylight...