Raphael Slawinski

2002 Time flies. It had been ten years since I first climbed Robson with my father and Peter. We took the long way: driving from Calgary, biking to Kinney Lake, then hiking past Berg Lake all the way to the toe of the Robson Glacier. That whole day, as intermittent rain fell, we got only occasional glimpses of the lower slopes of the mountain. But we put our trust in a good forecast, and we weren’t disappointed as morning dawned clear. Noon on our second day found us in the labyrinth of seracs and crevasses that is the Mousetrap. After much up and down and around, we finally emerged onto the Dome. In spite of the early hour we decided to stop where we were, in deference to the snow streamers flying from the ridge atop the Kain Face. The following morning we were up well before dawn, frontpointing where Conrad Kain had chopped hundreds of steps. The rising sun and a keen wind met us as we crested the ridge. Dropping our overnight packs, we continued the last few hundred m...

“[T]he vast majority [of routes in the Rockies] are piles of crap that have few, if any, redeeming features.” – Sean Dougherty, Selected Alpine Climbs You’d think I’d have learned my lesson by now. After all, I’ve been climbing in the Chossies for over twenty years. And yet a few times every year I manage to convince myself that, somehow, this buttress or that face will be different. I envision clean corners soaring upward, splitting acres of solid limestone. In my fantasies I’m not scared, pulling on loose rock above questionable gear, but merely pleasantly challenged. Unfortunately reality rarely bears much resemblance to such optimistic dreams. Most of the time that reality is loose rock, bad protection and shitty climbing. But there’s one thing I find up there every single time: adventure. By the time August rolled around I’d done nothing but clip bolts for over two months. Sport climbing is addictive: it’s fun, athletic, and the occasional success keeps you perse...