I knew once I got to the cedar where the thicker ice started things
would be ok but it took about 30 minutes to make that height. The
tree (previous picture) was the best positive foothold I could get at the start(5ft up), my
left pick was in a tiny hole, and my right higher up in a tuft of moss while my right
foot was making sparks trying to get a better purchase in the thin ice below.
This route was probably no harder than M3, but I will say I was fairly
scared. I have not climbed mixed anything without bolts or a secure
toprope, so this felt difficult. I tested the tuft of moss feeling my
handles flex as I yanked. I trusted it enough to commit and did so moving
my foot up onto a positive hold on top of a flake. I scratched my way up
on small edges and finally got a thin stick in some ice. A few more thin
sticks and some committing foot placements later and I reached the tree
sweating. It felt great to sling that little cedar and great too look up
and see white ice and not a clear thin layer over black rock. So I started up.
30 feet later I got a 10cm screw in. The ice was shattering badly which I
think was from my mangled and dull picks from scratching/banging up the first
section. 20 feet later I got my final screw, a 12cm Grivel. I tried a 15cm
screw but hit rock and I only wished I could somehow bore right into it. The
last move moved from the ice to a hollow moss lip at about eye level. I got
a tool in the moss, pulled, looked right to a small tree and hooked the thing.
A few pulls later I was on top, throwing the rope around the tree and cleaning
the route on rappel as it was now dusk and Blake and I had to get back to town.
I got down and got a hug from Blake and we laughed our way to the car
quoting Super Troopers and Anchorman.

On the way home back to Jill’s we grabbed some Guiness. We got to Jill’s,
made up some French bread pizza with kielbasa and cheese and ate the rest
of the Vito’s Special while watching Anchorman. It was a great night with
2 of my close friends.
Sunday we woke up late to start our way home but not after a greasy
breakfast at a packed diner, a trip to MEC (again) to take care of some things,
and a lost bet (apparently I can’t tell a Quebec accent from Irish….) which
cost me a biner.