Okay, I’m an old guy, so what the dickens am I doing with my toes perched on a five-centimetre-wide ledge, my fingers clutching a small rock protrusion and my heart beating so furiously it might start an avalanche? I am stuck to a cliff that falls vertically for more than 100 feet onto a scrabble of boulders. And yes, I am frightened and, well, confused. In my 70s, I wonder what I am doing here in this precarious position.
I am climbing a Via Ferrata. Via Ferrata, you ask? The words are Italian for “iron road,” which traverses mountain sides using emplaced rungs, footholds and, most importantly, a safety cable. It’s specially designed so amateurs, and even geezers like me, can safely climb cliffs otherwise only tackled by experts. Via Ferratas are popular in Europe but are a recent phenomenon in North America.
I’m lucky, for this one at Kicking Horse Mountain Resort near Golden, BC, opened in 2015 and is considered the best in Canada. At 2,450-metre elevation, it offers hair-raising adventure and — should you be able to relax — spectacular views of jagged peaks, folded and convoluted, stretching to the horizon. It’s also bringing me face to face with my age.
To calm my nerves, I rest my cheek against the sandstone cliff. In the silence, a temporary calm descends, and I feel a connection with the mountain, can sense the mighty forces that created this vast mountain range. I also feel pretty silly.
An hour earlier, stepping off the gondola that brought me to the summit, I was overwhelmed by the snow-capped peaks arrayed all around. In spite of that, I felt nervous and weak. What prompted me to do this?
Nick, the guide, gathers our small group together — I am by far the oldest — and explains how we are going to climb the Ascension Route up the north face of Terminator Peak. He hands us helmets and safety harnesses and leads a practice session getting us accustomed to the equipment and how to grip rungs and metal handholds. Nick seems oblivious to my shaking and casually mentions, “Two years ago, a guy even older than you came along. He did really well.”
We pass along a sharp, narrow ridge to the start. With mountain heather and small pine trees framed against spectacular peaks, it is like hiking in heaven. Well, to me it’s more like stumbling in paradise.
“Time to rope up and have our first test,” announces Nick, pointing to what looks like two tiny strands of wire holding a two-and-a-half-centimetre board walkway, all hanging ever so daintily across a menacing gully. “That’s Hanging Glory Suspension Bridge,” he says. “It’s 60 metres long and sways a bit, but don’t worry, it’s perfectly safe.” Easy for him to say.
I clip my harness onto the safety cable and my heart is in my throat as I am pushed onto the bridge. And Nick was right, it sways. A lot.
Finally, I am across and start climbing, clinging to a sheer cliff as I work up the north face. My adrenaline is racing, and it feels like I am Sir Edmund Hillary, but was he quaking like this on Everest? Numerous iron rungs, pegs, and handholds help me manage the climb. I give thanks to the harness, which connects me to a cable anchored to the rock along the entire route. Grudgingly, I admit it is perfectly safe, thank goodness.
Most of the time my nose is inches from the gritty sandstone, and I can see the individual quartz crystals glistening in the sunshine. Or are they laughing at me? Occasionally, I lift my head and am greeted by the crenellated mountains of the Dogtooth Range. Whenever I rest — which is often — I feel humble, ever so insignificant amongst these vast summits, the western margin of our grand country. We climb in silence – my quivering is noiseless. I pray a lot, for it is like being in a majestic cathedral.
At one point, we tight-rope across the “gut” bridge, a seven-metre-long single cable. It is exposed and scary, but my fingers clench with all their might onto another cable at shoulder height. Yes, I am also clipped onto it.
Almost two hours pass, but it feels like minutes. Tiredness is setting in; after all, we’ve climbed about 200 metres vertically. Reaching up to a rung and grasping firmly, then searching and finding an iron foothold, I clamber up onto a flat area. “Congratulations,” says Nick, “You’ve conquered the Terminator.” I collapse in a heap.
We hike back to the gondola silently, savouring the misty mountains receding to the horizon. Isolated on the high, narrow ridge, and with the adventure behind me, I slowly start to recover, feeling proud, and also an integral part of this enchanting alpine kingdom.
Descending in the gondola, I am exhausted but exhilarated. Far below lies the Golden area and the Kicking Horse River. Far in the distance, I see a tiny paraglider riding the thermals, the bright red sail lit up like a lantern. Below us, mountain bikers, outfitted in helmets and padding like gladiators, careen down sinuously curving trails.
I’m elated. Not only have I had a good workout, but I’ve also experienced, up close and personal, some of the best views in our majestic nation. More importantly, I’ve learned that age isn’t a barrier in seeking out new adventures. Nothing could have been more spiritual and thrilling than climbing the Via Ferrata.
The Via Ferrata
Location: Kicking Horse Mountain Resort, Golden, BC
Getting There: The Resort is on the British Columbia side of the Rocky Mountains, about 2.5-hour drive west of Calgary, and about 90 minutes from Banff.
The Experience: The season runs from June to October (available only on weekends in September). Tickets include the sightseeing gondola, alpine hiking trails, and a tour at the Grizzly Bear Refuge.
To learn more and book your adventure, visit: https://kickinghorseresort.com/purchase/via-ferrata/
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