The plan, as usual, was to head straight up to Squamish for the weekend as soon as work was over Friday.  It was mid-March, and despite a forecast of incessant rain, Eric, Shane and I were going to get out of the city.  Climbing was secondary, a bonus, being outdoors and in the companionship of good friends was what is was all about.  This meant in the event of being rained out we would always have a good time and discover some sort of adventure.  This weekend would have a twist that came in the shape of a hapless Czechoslovakian woman named Stanka.

     Stanka was working as a nanny and had been in Vancouver only a short time.  Stanka had climbed precisely three times, all indoor including the day we met.  She seemed to have genuine interest in the sport and was impressed by the prowess Shane, Eric and I showed pulling plastic.   Eric struck up conversation and quickly found out she had always dreamed of climbing on real rock.  The rather accommodating Eric quickly invited her up to Squamish with us for the weekend.  She eagerly accepted and left to get packed.  Eric, beaming with pride, walked over to Shane and I and announced the news.

     I wasn’t going to get out the gym that night until 10:30 so I told Shane and Eric that I’d meet them up in Squamish and get a lift with Stanka. Later that night Stanka came to pick me up in her clunker 1974 Toyota Corolla.  The car rolled up to the gym, lurched forward, backfired profanely and shuttered to a stop.  I dashed out to the car in the torrential downpour, tore open the door and jumped into the musty, ripped up front seat.  In broken English, Stanka apologized and said she’s been driving about as long as she’s been climbing.

     By the time we got out of the city and onto the Sea to Sky Highway I was ashen and searching for a vomit bag.  My hands have become permanently fixed to the door handle and the seat cushion.  I ask repeatedly if I may drive, Stanka declines each time and mumbles something about insurance.  The rain is coming down harder than I’ve ever seen it, and the windshield wipers are useless. There is a rock cliff scraping by to our right and ocean thundering hundreds of feet below on our left, this winding road is not nicknamed the Sea-to-Die for nothing…I’m terrified.

     At midnight we rattle into Squamish, pull off onto a dirt road at the foot of the Squamish Chief and wobble to a stop.  “Sorry”, says Stanka timidly.  Eric, damn you for inviting this person, and Shaner, I hope you bought a lot of beer.

     Stanka and I gather our things and make our way through the soaking forest to the sound of guitar and to the light of a fire.  “Hey guys, how was the ride?” cries Eric enthusiastically.   I say nothing and Shane tosses me a beer.  “Rob was little scared,” says Stanka with a little laugh.  Shane sees I’m not too amused and tosses me another beer.  “We waited for you”. I quickly drain the brew and crack another. I’m starting to relax and forget the past hour and half. Stanka declines the beer, but does decide to join us as we decide to make the most of the night and take journey through the forest beneath the Chief.

   We kept pounding the beers, and I couldn’t help but wonder what she was thinking as the three wholesome climbers she had met only a few hours earlier were transformed into hysterical Indiana Jones’s.

     Somewhere in the middle of this journey I completely forget about the nights epic car ride and was start enjoying myself immensely.   We discover a little pond sometime in the second hour where we become trapped.  We couldn’t go back we had to continue the journey.  I notice some clumps of ground in the middle of the pond connected by fallen logs.  With a lot of concentration, some precision footwork and luck, Eric, Shane and I make it to the other side of the pond and across the slick logs.  Stanka, on the other hand, unfortunately slips off somewhere in the middle and has to wade through the waist deep muck to shore.  Tough luck.  After a little more bush whacking we miraculously make it back to camp and fall asleep.

     We awake the next morning to the steady downfall of more rain.  Disappointed, but not surprised, we regroup at our favorite diner in Squamish and discuss a plan of action.  Looking up from my coffee, through the rain, my gaze settles on the Apron of the Squamish Chief.  “We could do Banana Peel?” I suggest in an offhand way.  Shane and Eric look mildly interested.  “What’s that?” asks Stanka.  I explain it’s a 6 pitch 5.7 slab route up the Apron, dead easy…when dry.  The idea gained momentum and soon we were racking up at the base of the cliff.  A short scramble through the trees leads from the car to the start of the climb.  Usually uneventful, this particular approach was marred by Stanka not looking where she was going and smashing her face into a rock and knocking out her two front teeth.  There was little blood and the brave girl insisted we carry on and do the climb.

Impressed we carry on.

     A short while later, I am forty foot runout on the crux second pitch and am contemplating the shrewdness of our decision.  The climb is usually a cakewalk and I am amazed at how my climbing shoes stick to the soaking granite. But now, still ten feet from the first bolt, I’m having my doubts.  It’s pouring rain again and the water is running down the rock and into the sleeves of my Gore-Tex jacket. I hated that feeling, the cold water running into my jacket, along my arm, into my armpit and down my sides.  I haven’t had anything to hold onto this entire time on the rock, friction is keeping me here.  I looked down at my feet and marveled at the little wakes forming around my shoes as the water ran by.  I begin to wonder if the effects of last night’s debauchery were indeed over.

     I look between my legs and see Eric and Shane huddled around Stanka on the ledge inspecting her mouth.  I’m not sure who’s belaying me, not that it matters at this point.  I look up at the bolt and gingerly take another step towards it, careful to avoid any algae on the rock.  Two more moves and I’m there. Right on! What a day!  With my confidence restored I quickly finish off the pitch and belay the others up.

     The rest of the climb is easier and even Eric can’t resist wanting to lead a pitch.  It’s still raining as we walk off and say goodbye to Stanka.  She’s off to Vancouver to do some shopping…$500 worth of new teeth.  Shane, Eric and I head back to our campsite and crack a few beers and play some guitar.  Tomorrow’s our last day in Squamish for another week and we planned to make the most of it.

Stanka never came into our climbing gym again.