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The question of where and what to climb has always been a great obstacle for me to overcome, it really takes a lot of research and dreaming to finally decide. The destination must be a place seldom visited, it must have an abundance of really tall walls, the rock must be sound enough to be sure the billions of tons of rock overhead will mostly stay there during the climb, and finally the place must have great fishing.

The place we found for Y2K was is Tasermuit fjord, South Greenland. Beneath the surface of the sea is Fishland. A half-hour of casting the tin-can, treble-hook off the shore 9 times out of ten resulted in a 5lb Arctic Char. High above the water are the now famous walls of Ketil, a 1400m monster wall sitting above the long abandoned Augustinian monastery, complementing Ketil is Ulamertorsuaq. Yes, easy for me to say. But with not without a lot of practice. To be honest when we set out for the fjord we didn’t know for sure what we would end up climbing, we knew that there were plenty of worthy objectives but from photos and maps, pinning a single wall is too difficult. As we chartered the boat we still didn’t know where our final destination was. “We’ll just wait to see what catches our eye.” We said. What caught our eye was the columnar tower of Ulamertorssuaq. We unloaded our gear on the beach and waived to the boatmen. The plush base camp located just 10 min from the beach was already occupied with a group of Danish, a pair from Slovakia and four Swedes. Quite a scene for me, being used to the complete solitude of Baffin. We were immediately drawn into the walls of Ulamertorssuaq. Especially to the unclimbed central pillar.

Each time I return from a trip, people ask the same things; when are you going to have a slide show? and are you going to write a story. And the answers are the same too. Oh, I’ll let you know. It’ll be a while. For the last seven years my regular partners and I have done a slide show here in Whistler, some times two or three. This year, it seems like it will be different. Johnny got married this summer, and now he is building a house. Jia has just left for the Grand Canyon and me, I don’t know. I feel pretty busy, I’m back welding, I need to take my class 4 drivers licence soon, I am starting a new job this winter, and the biggest thing is I am starting the gears again for next years trip.

I don’t know what it is like for other climbers, its not something we talk about, but for me at least, climbing has changed over the years. Well that’s not exactly true, the actual climbing is the same, but my thoughts about, and the activites surronding climbing have changed.

Climbing used to be my life, climbing was the most important thing, it gave direction, it led me to many really great places on the globe, it brought close friends into my life. A few years ago things changed, on the inside. But on the outside, to those around me it was a subtle change, and perhaps some people did’nt even notice it. It was a new order in my life, we all have priorities, but usually it is unrecognized.

This was the change, I put God, the God of the old and new testament first. Every decision in my life had to pass the question “Is this the right thing to do?” Secondly came climbing. What a change it meant. It made me think about, what I was doing, where I was doing it and especially, why I was doing it.

A couple of year later things were going along fine, when all of a sudden I was drawn toward a woman. Only weeks passed before she said she would marry me and spent the rest of her life on earth as my wife. Boom. Another shift of priorities. God would still be #1, but Heather would become #2. And climbing, it would drop to lowly #3. Humm. The times they are a changing.

This is a story about the third greatest thing in my life. Like the moon, Greenland is a place visited only by the very adventurous. The costs involved are similar. But the distance to a fjord in Greenland is covered by less technologicaly adept machinery. Jet engines and motor boats. When we left Ottawa our party was diverse. One Whistler tour booking agent, one carpenter, one early childhood educator, one metal fabricator, and one retiree. With such a crew we had dificulty in finding a unanimous decesion even for the simplest choices. What to eat, where to camp and when to wake were debated at length. At least we agreed on the final destination, Tasermuit Fjord.

Day one and two was Ottawa to Iqualit across the date line to Kangerlusauq, and finnaly Kangerlusauq to Nuuk. We slept five hundred meters from the airport beside the main road leading to town. Day three we flew from Nuuk to Narsarsuaq, ferry from Narsarsuaq to Qaqortoq, sleep past the high school beside the resovior. Day four. Ferry from Qaqortoq to Nanortalik. Day five. Charter fishing boat to take us and our seven hundred kilos of food and equipment up the Tasermuit Fjord toward its end seventy kilometers up. Since we didn’t know the area too well in advance we were overjoyed at seeing Mt. Ulamertorsouq towering above the beach. We pointed eager fingers toward the shoreline and the captain turned the vessel toward the beautiful tower. That was the end of day five. Unfortunatly that was the end destination for my father, as he had only booked a two week flight. He had to return toward home already. We said goodbye and he and the boat chugged back south. Six weeks later we saw my father agian. Our trip was a bore compared to the epic he endured. It turned out that he had fallen of a cliff during a hike near Narsarsuq, broken a verterbra, was rescued and eventually flown in a air ambulance back to Canada.

Back at the base camp, Jia and I re-studied the maps, topos, and photos and tried to put everything in its place. The most astounding feature in the area was the West face of Ulamertorsouq. It was already the home of at least five routes. There is obviously plenty of room for another line but were not interested in squeezing and pushing a new route in between already classic lines. Before dinner our eyes were drawn to a wall just to the right of the West face, we immediatly called it the central tower. Although not as striking as the West Face the other wall was longer and a bit less steep. To some they might see that as a disadvantage but to us weak freeclimbers we saw it as an advantage. The wall had been attempted before and rock was reportedly lacking cracks. The other information we read about and could well see was the fact that the wall was protected from the masses by a huge gully that divided the West Face and the Cental Pillar. Rock and ice fall were real hazards preventing the exploration of the wall. We weighed the options. A full day hike to the next closest wall Nalumasortoq? Two days hiking to Ketil? Three hours to Ulam. By dinner we decided to have a go at the Central Pillar of Ulam. In the morning we did a carry to the base of the wall, we stopped often to gaze about and snap photos as well to video each other. We have always well documented our climbs but this year we had the added responsiblity of filming the trip for the movie; Beyond Gravity. When one looks straight up at a wall is so deceiving. Each time I looked up I needed to check the urge to say the ill fated, “it doesn’t look high”

The fact is that the wall is high, very high, 1200m, we plan on climbing mostly free so we figure on the ascent taking three days to fix and another six to summit. The next day Jia and I are on our own. Heather and Christine are eager to get going on thier own project, they took twelve days of food and fuel and headed out on a hike known for some of the worst bush and boulder crashing on the planet. It will take them nine days and two pair of worn out pants to complete a hundred kilometers of “hiking”. That day Jia and I make another carry and fix a couple of ropes on the easy snow and mixed ground below the hanging glacier. Next day the weather was poor, we moved slowly, packing, carrying, and climbing, we fixed one more pitch, the next day was more nasty weather, back up we went and fixed another pitch. At that point we were quite close the the danger zone of the gully, we did not want to spend any more time in the fall zone than we had to and returned again to the valley. We took a serious look at the wall, we thought about the amount of elevation we had gained, how fast would we climb? Who wins the race? Slow and steady or fast and light? Our confidence was not particulaly high I guess. We carried more food and fuel to our high point, we boosted our rations so we could live on the wall for two weeks. So heavy.

July 6. “Finally we make a break for the wall. Three leads across the glacier have us across the objective hazards. But our mouths are dry. We have not carried any water as we have too much to carry already. We have to pack and repack everything because we cannot haul on this ground, everything has to be moved on our backs. Back and forth we go. Its hard to belive how hot it can get in Greenland. Sweat rolls into my eyes. It burns” That day we kept pushing each other, we wanted to get higher beneath an overhang where we would be protected from the elements as much as possible. Two easy pitches led to a cozy semi-shelterd site. From that camp we were able to fix ropes and collect water. We needed to gather two liters of water, per person, per day, lets see that’s 2x2x14=112 liters, thats 112 kgs or 230 lbs. Phew! Add to that our 200lbs of equipment, well we sure were to be slow, but would we win the race?

It rained all the next day, its sad when it rains. Everything gets wet and yet its nearly impossible to collect the drops. Even with dromedary bags and ziplocks the water gathered is small compared to the amount taken in by opening doors, by running up the sleeves and transfering water from container to container. Needless to say we did not leave the ledge all day. Sleep is always the elixer for long hours waiting for the sun. The next day Jia led off delicatly, balancing over some of the loosest flakes either of us had the misfortune of climbing. Higher after a tension traverse Jia attempted to freeclimb a wet corner chocked with moss. I was startled by the rope yanking at the gri-gri.”That’s not like Jia. To fall. Better pay attention!” On his second attempt he used our nut cleaning tool to excavate the moss prior to placing either fingers or protection. His pitch ended with a decision that I had to make. I took the left fork and plugged cams under more loose flakes. I was hoping for A1, but no such luck, it was so early on the climb, and being directly over a ramp I did not want to fall, and besides its so embarassing pulling gear and breaking your bones. The traverse took me about twenty feet directly out. Good photo oportunity Jia thought and began clicking stills and eventually even shooting some video. I was less than enthusiactic about the “acting” I was involved in. I was all involved thinking about the gear, I wasn’t even testing it, at times like that I concentrate on the esoteric aid-climbing arts like positive thinking, staring at the piece in question and finally my favourite trick used not only in climbing but also in crevass negotiation “thinking light”. The flake eventually made a turn and got smaller and looser. As I began hooking I thought about the bigger picture, I quickly became an enviro-criminal and drilled a 1/4 inch bolt. Its funny how such a tiny piece of stainless steel can bring peace. I was happy with the accomplishment for the day and lower back to Jia. We raped to the ledge and close the doors. Into another world.

At night I think long about Heather. I wonder why I choose to be apart and embrace such tasks as wall climbing rather than 9-5 regular lifestyle that would have us together each night? I pray for her safety and fall into a cramped, painfull sleep.

The morning was fine, it was warm and the sun lit up the fjord and surronding peaks. Our breakfasts were not enviable, granola and oatmeal. The granola was heavier so we ate it first, such are complexities of wall life. I gained my highpoint and continued upwards, slowly and carefully. The crack was uncomfortably small, insufficient for proper gear, only the special equipment of an aid climber there. The RURP, beak, #0 rp, and the copperhead. It was far too early in the morning for my heart to be racing because of fear, but after a mid-sized copperhead I moved up through a succession of three hooks, as the wall was beyond ninety degrees I suong uncomfortably as I reached for a placement. Thoughts of distant places came to mind, and also things like comfort, happiness and laughter flooded my consciense. Another bolt. “Ahh, thats better”. I headed up with renewed energy. Higher, a crack was full of moss, rocks, and tiny flowers, without the proper gardening tools I placed and tested several pieces of gear which all pulled. In time I found that a hook was made quite secure, with light testing, I climbed higher up the aiders and the hook pulled as I fell hopelessly downward until the rope came tight twenty feet later. I tried the move again, I found a decent nut and climbed unevently on to the belay. The brand new Maxim rope was to get stuck in a crack only to be chopped up and used as anchor material.

Each day at 8am and 8pm we switched on our vhf radio to have a chat with a group of Danish and Norsk climbers. They were establishing a new line on the West Face of Ulam between Moby Dick and War and Poetry. We really had nothing to say but it was nice to contact anyway.

July 10 At 1am it began to rain. At first lightly, then with more fervor, thunder, wind, soon it was a full downpour, the wind drove the water under the flaps and through the zippers. Drip, drip onto our faces. We moved into the center, away from the walls the water was finding its way (of course) thorugh a seam that I had missed sealing. The water pooled beneath our bodies, we had to keep moving and working the water out through the less than adequate holes in the fly. Our ledge must have looked like a two nippled oozing udder as the water flowed out into space. We turned on our radio again and said “Hi”. To our suprise and my delight it was Heathers voice they were about ten km away and expected to be back at base camp the following day. I was happy to hear from Heather, but I wondered how they could be back so soon. We were still at our camp one, and a long, long way from the top. I was torn over rapping down or on the other hand getting out climbing so we could have the wall done. Strange I felt that way, I had planned all year for those few days where Jia and I could spend living and climbing up that remote, lonley piece of real estate, and I wanted to give up so easily. Jia wasnt so sure it was a great place to be either, he also had lost the drive to push on. Its amazing how the rain and clouds can drain the motovation levels. We told each other the climbing would improve and the sun too must come out to stay.

We were finally ready to move our camp, reluctantly the bags were inched toward the blue sky. It felt so good to be at last in the first of the great corners. We had seen this corner with the naked eye, even from base camp. I had hoped that it was clean and had a good sized crack to jam, and it more than pleased us to climb up the three pitches of 5.9 jamming and laybacks. On the top of pitch 14 we placed camp two, under a 15 foot roof we felt totally protected from raining rocks.

The roof marked the beggining of the climb that we called “the hard part”. At least it looked hard from the bottom, there were no obvious corners or features. Jia freeclimbed around the roof and looked up and saw multiple arching corners. He climbed out of view but the rope was slowly being drawn out. “Off belay!” was just audible. On my lead I made a difficult face move directly off the belay then the climbing followed a corner for some time. Eventually I broke out left again onto face holds for an uncomfortably long distance. After some wet irreversable moves I managed to drive a couple of bad pins into a loose flake, I had to carry on above to make a full 60m pitch and nervously moved up and away from the pins, the rock became wetter and looser as I neared a large corner where I placed the next belay. Jia had some fun trying to clean that pitch, traversing and runnout. Swapping the rack clouds filled the fjord, Jia slimed his way 5m up the corner where it struck out right or straight out overhead. He chose to take the airy line and cautiously aided through it and up onto the upper wall. The crack was not nice, he reported that it was very wide and it provided many plants a haven. He downclimbed as the sky opened up. Like wet rats we scurried for cover. The following day saw no movement, the next day we climbed on, this day hauling again. Its such nasty work, the pig swinging free, knocking off loose rocks, getting stuck on the most inconspicuous little things. Around noon that day we were into the good stuff again, the upper corner which we spied from the ground turned out to be a true delight. Vertical. Clean. 1-2″. Long. That day we climbed it all, I got two glorious pitches and Jia one. Pure climbing. 5.10 and no aid. Like the split piller, only longer.

The ledge was up and the sun was shining. The ground was sure a long way down. We could not see the top of our route but the West Face was not much above us anymore. That evening, over our regular meal of noodles spiked with sausage and cheese we debated if we thought we should try for the summit the following day. Or should we just fix a couple more pitches? We made the ultimate non-decesion, we planned to climb with all our ropes, fix them and when we run out we would make a decision. I dont know about Jia but I sure had sweet dream of the summit that night. From the camp we headed far out left to a corner that led skyward and looked easy to me but Jia proved quite wrong. Not only was it not 5.6 like I encouraged him with but it was too hard for him to free. Into the aiders and out with the rack. We were making good time until pitch 4 of the day I had to aid an overhanging section of loose chockstones for about 20m. After that the climbing became a bit more contrived. We were onto sort of a summit ridge which felt like we were climbing a saw blade, sometimes it was walking, then traversing on a tiny edge over the whole wall and other times scaling a short but very overhanging gendarme. Lots of rope drag and lots of edges for the rope to rest on. The day was gone. The time was 1am and even the arctic days become shorter in August. We fought on, the west face well below us, we though our peak must just be out of view. At around 2 we came out under a huge black spire that looked all but impossible to climb. We were out of water. We were very tired. We wanted to sleep but we did not want to go down all that way just to jumar back up in the morning. So we found a pile of rocks which we leveled and threw our remaining ropes onto. That was our humble bed. I lay down to sleep and just like that, out of no where it began to rain. “OK” this is too much. “Lets go down, I dont want to be up here in a storm”, so down we went. From where we were our five ropes would just make to camp. The rain didnt last and by the time we made it back to camp the sky was getting brighter. Sleep came easily.

At 9am we awoke stiff and dehydrated, hard to swallow, breakfast was what we should have eaten the night before, pasta with lots of butter and garlic. It was my turn to jug first. For anyone who has even jugged one steep pitch they know how I was looking forward to going up 5 full 60m rope lengths After 20m I nedded a rest, arms and shoulders aching, neck and abs strained by the pack I transfer the weight to my harness, short relief, after just minutes my hips scream in pain. “What else can I do?” I force my body to climb the rope upwards. It takes about two hours to climb to our high point, but when we arrive we are pleasantly surprised by the forbidding summit pinicle. It looks much less menacing now and not nearly as high as we thought it was the night before. Jia had cleverly stashed some water bags under some tiny drip hours before. Now they were fully pregnant with fresh, free, mineral packed water. Two more pitches took us onto the summit of Ulam. It is so cool how the view changes so quickly near the summit. For weeks the view changed by minuscule incremintes, and just then in 5 minitues one is treated to a completly new and refreshing view. To the east we could see Mt Ketil still rising above us, and farther east was the end of the fjord eating up the massive glacier being pushed slowly by the 1,683,400 sq km of Greenlandic neve.

After a week of fixing and 12 nights on the wall we were not sad to see the top. A few quick photos, a short video clip and Jia happily pronounced “Half way, now we just have to get down.”