Last year, two days before the end of my ski-guiding season, I wrecked my knee. I wasn’t doing anything spectacular, just a freak accident – bad turn in bad snow. – Story by MEC Ambassador Joshua Lavigne
Under the thumping blades of my rescue helicopter, I screamed from the pain. And flying back to the lodge, I shed a few tears over what I was losing – my climbing season. First-world problems, sure. But it was hard to ignore the feeling that I was losing something that brings purpose and passion to my life. In that moment, the world felt unfair and uncaring.
The result of that day? Two months of pre-surgery recovery and a new ACL built from my hamstring. But I got over it. I told myself that I could use this time to maintain relationships, spend more time with friends and family and – of course – get a better handle on my training for climbing.
I have always been the type of climber who gets stronger through climbing and climbing alone. With my injured knee, I had to adapt to more traditional training methods: hangboard and campus workouts, core exercises and anything else where I could keep my knee elevated and immobile.
After five months of recovery and training (along with some ugly bouts of Netflix and spells of self-pity), I was ready for a change of scenery. I packed my van and left for one of my favourite places – Squamish, with its rivers of Garibaldi honey and endless granite.
My knee was weak but my fingers and psyche felt strong. So, my initial selection of routes was maybe a bit aggressive, but I felt good and my first lead climb was euphoric: a rush, a release, a feeling of strength in spirit and in mind. It was the absolute opposite of being sedentary. I felt alive again –reconnected with that satisfying sense of glorious struggle after so many days of slothfulness.
My trip continued from Squamish to Zion National Park and then to Smith Rocks where I reconnected with my brother and good friends. I slept in my van, covered my torched tips with balm, ate sitting in the dirt, and wore my MEC Arque Pants day-in, day-out for climbing, cooking and relaxing. I spent the dwindling days clipping bolts in the Dihedrals, finally sending my arch-nemesis, Kings of Rap (5.12d). I topped off my trip by plugging some gear at Trout Creek, and on-sighting Will Stanhope’s 5.12 finger crack gem, Winter Sustenance. I was hungry, strong, exhausted and content.
The perfect temperatures of fall too quickly turned to winter. Like all good things, the road trip ended. I headed back to work as a heli-ski guide at a remote high-end lodge. This time, I came armed with my hangboard and a token of my dirtbag climber persona – my wonderfully broken-in Arque pants. Wearing them around the lodge and at the dinner table, they were a reminder of the glorious and cathartic (though short) season I had, and that the climbing season is never really over.