August 16, 1996

It was on a visit to Vancouver to see my family that this amazing story took place. I had to write about it was such a stunning experience.

It had been a good day! John, Lando and I had an amazing adventure. Our climb up the Chief, a local attraction in Squamish, will be a significant memory for my entire life. The hike up was very strenuous; after less than 20 minutes I was feeling that I wouldn't be able to make it, but I couldn't let my little brother know. With a few rests along the way, we went up the trail. I wasn't familiar with the place and it was very difficult to follow at times. Once we thought we were on the main trail only to discover, after reaching the top, that we had made a wrong turn. We were on the smaller peak. Turning around, we literally ran, jumped, and scrambled our way back down till we reached the fork that led to the other summit.

The ascent wasn’t bad at this point as our bodies had fallen into a rhythm; as we went higher the trail became steeper and more treachorous. I was racing up ahead; I had to be the first to the top. Reaching the top, the view was amazing. There is one part that is rather flat and crawling up to the edge on our bellies, we looked straight down a cliff. I don't know how high we were but there was no doubt that it was a very long way to the bottom; straight down!

Inching back, getting up, standing together, admiring the view, my eyes kept being drawn back to the ledge. It defied my logic that I couldn't sit on the ledge with my feet dangling down over the edge. I can sit on a counter-top. I can sit on a table. I can sit on a roof with my legs dangling over. I can do all of these things without falling, so why not sit up here on the ledge with my feet dangling over. I mentioned it to my brother and Lando. They both looked at me with looks that said, "Are you stupid?"

Nonetheless, I walked closer to the edge, squatted down to my bum and sat down with my feet edging slowly toward the precipice. I gingerly inched my way up to the edge so that I was sitting with my knees hanging fully over the side of the mountain. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't sit up normally. I hung on tightly to my thighs and leaned slightly back while my brother and Lando watched, both of them freaking out and telling me to get the hell away from the edge.

Instead, I sat there for a few minutes admiring the view and trying to see down over the side between my feet. Then I turned to my brother and asked for the camera. I wanted to take a picture. He took a quick snapshot of me; the damning evidence that shows I'm leaning away from the edge in fear. Passing the camera over, he quickly backed away. I took the camera and experimented with the viewfinder to figure out what shot would do this view and this seat justice. I got a great photo looking down with my feet in the frame. Great shot! I passed the camera back and scrambled backwards away from the edge.

We sat around up there for over an hour. We snacked, smoked a couple of joints, and laid down on the top of the world. Watching the clouds go by we found ourselves pointing out faces and fantasy characters. Then we had to explain the formation because, inevitably, each of our imaginations saw different things. Eventually, huge black clouds rolling in over the mountain range promted us to get on our way. We didn't want to get caught in the storm. It would have been a slippery descent.

Once we were sure of the direction for our descent, my brother began racing. I'd be damned if I would let my little shit brother beat me to the bottom. We were running down the trail at breakneck speed, regardless of how steep and oblivious to all the rocks, tree roots, and other obstacles underfoot. On a number of occasions, each of us felt too much pressure on our ankles as we came close to twisting them. I think our speed and the need to move so quickly prevented us from any serious sprains.

At one point, I was dangerously close to losing all control. I had raced down very recklessly to catch and pass my little brother, John. Where he crisscrossed on the downward trail, I trail-blazed straight down! I had to literally jump down from boulders my own height, but also land safely among rocks and large gnarly tree roots while still having my forward momentum ready to hurl me over the next precipice. After passing him, I chose a difficult path with many very small stepping places among a twisted mess of tree roots which created a sort of stairway down a very steep and narrow section of trees.

Hitting this section at the speed I did, when I realized the danger ahead, I could not slow down. I could do nothing else; I was committed and downhill I raced. The reality of what would happen if I lost control hit me at that moment. Realizing that one trip would have my momentum fling me face-first down the mountain or into a tree caused an involuntary cringe. I would hit, maybe roll, but with a might big bounce continue my descent in a very ungraceful manner; legs flailing, arms twisting, or vice versa, landing on boulders, and the possibility of being paralysed. I concentrated very closely on each step which I took at breakneck speed. John and Lando were freaking out.

They thought for sure I would lose control. The thought was dismissed from my mind as soon as it entered; losing control was not an option. Step after step, as each foot touched the ground, it left it before the dust underfoot was disturbed. Everything seemed to be in slow motion as I concentrated and cleared my mind of all other thoughts. I saw everything and experienced everything, right down to the tiny puffs of dust that burst from the ground after each footfall. It was an exhilerating experience.

On our way down we stunned a number of people with our insanity. They had been watching our crazy descent and as we reached them we managed to slow down so we could pass safely. As we passed, they commented to us that we were "hardcore" running down the way we were; the way it felt, I guess you could say that’s true. We stopped at a stream on the way down and washed up a bit. We were sweaty, dusty, and grimy; worst of all, very thirsty.

The next day, I woke up to discover that I couldn’t walk for the most part. I was awkward, crippled, and insanely in pain. The legs suffered for the torture I had put them through and now I was paying the price. The worst part being that I had to walk down a steep hill that morning to meet up with a cute young lady for a lunch date. Oh God! How would I manage. Somehow, I did make it. Even so, the pain lasted for days.