I used to do a fair bit of ice climbing when I lived in Quebec, before I discovered backcountry skiing anyway. Skiing has a much more agreeable fear-to-fun ratio. But I was never any good at it really and I've only been out a handful of times in the past several years. War has been described as "long periods of boredom punctuated by moments of sheer terror", and this, too, can be applied to ice climbing..."long periods of freezing-to-death punctuated by moments of sheer terror".
So I scraped the rust and cobwebs off my now dated looking ice tools, packed a thermos of hot tea, a down jacket, enormous thick gloves, a balaclava; everything I could think of to keep warm. Sean had been somewhat vague about our destination, so despite the warm temperatures in Kelowna I was prepared for the worst.
I needn't have worried. We had a fun and easy day of top roping and the greater hazard lay in overheating rather than freezing to death. One of the bigger challenges was in trying to avoid the cactii as we set up a top rope. Those buggers are not to be trifled with.
So yeah, ice climbing in the Okanagan. Not like the old days at Lake Willoughby in Vermont.
Trout Creek with our climb on the right
Me (and a much appreciated top-rope)
Sean's nemesis
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