After spending the summer sport climbing in the Rockies, it was time for something different. Time to get away from all the crowds and all the bolts. After spending a number of evenings scouring Fairley’s well read guidebook our objective was set: The Camel, a single pitch gendarme near the summit of Crown Mountain, on the North Shore of Vancouver.

Although Crown Mountain may be climbed with no technical difficulty, all the routes on the Camel have at least some 5th class climbing. The southwest face of the gendarme offers numerous single pitch routes, while the northeast face drops off sheer for nearly a thousand feet to the slabs below. The plan was to hike up to the top of Crown on Saturday, find a suitable site to bivy, then spend Sunday climbing on the Camel and hike back in time for a beer at the chateau atop Grouse.

about to rappel out of a chimney below the summit of Crown

Saturday dawned its usual Vancouver Gray, and my headache reminded me of the long, though enjoyable, night before. A quick phone call to Jamie and it was settled - back to sleep for a few hours. At the crack of noon, Jamie showed up and we tossed our gear into the jeep, but the weather had not changed a bit. We had decided to do the hike in in good European style, taking the tram to the top of Grouse Mountain to avoid doing the 800 vertical meter Grouse Grind with 40 pound packs. Besides, we reasoned, there was a race up the grind that day and we didn’t want to deal with the crowds.

The top of Grouse Mountain, a ski hill in the winter, was a circus, with runners and tourists milling about everywhere, reminding us why it is we get out to the mountains to get away from it all. A short hike to the north, however, and the madness was out of sight and mind. Despite a forecast for the weather to improve, as we started out on the trail head the fog was so thick we could hardly see 30 metres in any direction. Without a map and having never been in this area before, we were thankful for the recent markers added to the trail.

The trail from the top of Grouse to Crown mountain winds its way through the the thick forest of the north shore mountains for a few kilometres without much change in altitude, weaving its way past the summits of Dam mountain, Goat Mountain and Little Goat Mountain. These peaks are relatively popular hiking destinations, though aside from the view of Vancouver, they offer little reward. After passing Little Goat Mountain, the trail descends into Crown Pass, losing all the altitude gained from the top of Grouse and then some. At the lowest point of the path, we met a few hikers returning from Crown who assured us that our goal was only a couple hours away.

Aside from a couple easy third class sections, the trail up Crown posed no difficulty until we reached the ridge just below the summit, and realized just how little we could see. Without knowing where exactly our goal was, we just kept plodding up the ridge until we finally arrived at what appeared to be the summit. From this point however, we still could not see the Camel, which seemed a bit strange, as this huge granite gendarme had appeared right beside the summit when viewed from Vancouver. As we searched for what the guidebook described as an ‘incredibly exposed but easy ledge’ which led to the base of the Camel, another party appeared out of the fog having just left the Camel and pointed us in the right direction. The ledge we had been looking for led us across a 50 degree slab, and was not wide enough to place both boots beside each other. In the fog however, we could not see much of what was to come, and just plodded across. At the end of the ledge, we had two alternatives, either 8 meters of frth class down climbing, or a rappel out of a chimney which split the northeast ridge of the summit. As we could not see much of what was below, we opted for the rappel. From the base of the rappel, the great mass of the Camel was just barely visible through the fog.

Rappelling into the void. The fog was so thick that the summit of Crown, about 50 metres behind me cannot be seen.

Finally at our destination, we dumped our gear at it’s base and set about to find the easiest way to it’s top. A few minutes later, we had roped up and started off up the ‘regular route’, a stiff 5.2 with only one hard move. Perhaps it was the hiking boots, or the mist swirling below in the abyss, but it seemed to deserve more than it’s easy 5th class rating. Never the less, we soon had reached the top of the Camel, and after spending a few minutes peering over the edge into the fog below, set about to find the rappel back to the base. After a few minutes of searching, we finally found a mess of tattered rap slings, only one of which looked anything close to reassuring. As I was about to weight the anchor however, all that reassurance was lost when I noticed a date scribbled on the newest of the slings, ‘may 91’. But, somehow or other, that 7 year old sling did it’s job and soon we back at the base of the Camel.

 As the sky began to turn a darker shade of gray, we set about to find a good bivy spot, but the best we could do was to pile a bunch of good sized rocks into a semi flat surface just large enough to accommodate our sleeping bags. After a hearty dinner of stale bagels and cold split pea soup, the clouds looked as though they were about to lift, and we got a brief glimpse of the lights of Vancouver before the fog rolled back in.

The view we were greeted by waking up Sunday morning. Not a road, building or sign of civilization for as far as the eye can see

The sight waking up the next morning was one of the best I have ever woken up to. As the sun hit my face I looked up to see misty valley after valley to the north, without a single sign of civilization. Not a single road, clear-cut or building for as far as the eye could see. And, to boot, not a cloud in the sky. After a quick breakfast of more stale bagels and some cheese, we climbed back up to the top of the Camel. Peering over the north side of the, the exposure was incredible, dropping sheer away for nearly a thousand feet to the rolling slabs below.

After enjoying the view from one of the highest points in the North Shore mountains, we headed back down to try our luck at a couple more difficult cracks on the Camel. Two lines in particular piques our attention. One was an off width which was just the right size to cam a pair of hiking boots into for the most solid foot jams I have had. The other was an incredible 5.9 hand crack. Dead vertical, the crack offered fantastic hand jams with the occasional edge on the face for the feet. Had this crack been found at any popular crag, it would have been an instant classic. After a few hours of playing on the rock, it was unfortunately time to head back to the school and work and civilization.

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