The Laurentians, Nutella and Love

Three hours of sleep, a jar of Nutella, a packet of artificially flavored maple cookies, and climbing shoes. Such were my worldly possessions at seven in the morning on Sunday. Trudging through the student ghetto, bundled up against the cold and shivering slightly, heading to the corner of Milton and St Urbain where, in theory, there might later a car of unknown description and origin whose destination might or might not be some mountains somewhere north of the city, life didn't seem all too rosy. I had signed on to a climbing trip in the Laurentians and was feeling rather apprehensive about my decision. Catastrophic scenarios ranging from mean climbers to not being able to climb anything to getting caught in vicious Quebecois weather ran through my head. Had I owned a phone, I would have probably called my fellow climbers and told them that I had come down with the black death and to go on without me.

Amazingly enough, nothing of the sort happened and what ensued was a day nothing short of magical. Beautiful multipitch routes from which it was possible to stare at the majesty of maple forests whose leaves were just beginning to change colours. Nice, very experienced climber folk who were willing to take pity on someone with limited skill and a lack of gear. French jokes that I couldn't understand. Chocolate bread. The feeling, after months, of crimps beneath my fingers and the slab through the rubber of my mythoses. The sort of graceful vertical ballet that is chimney climbing. The endless below. Good vibes. Strange music. Pleasant tiredness. It was the first time since coming to Canada that I'd been out of the city, and it was a much-needed respite.


It looks like a black widow spider, but it's actually a skinny French girl named Myriam who likes food, cigarettes and, uh, climbing 5.10.


Afternoon delight.


Last send.


Embarking home.

There were stars above us on the ride back. I haven't seen stars, other than one or two that fight through the searchlights of Montreal, for a while. There is something to be said for the vibrant orange glow of Montreal, but I had missed them.

Dobrou noc.