Clouds and marine layer clear after two days & we can see the green hills not a mile away across the salty inlet. Wind blows south over the water and trees cast shadows that seem too long for summer, giving the warmth of August a tangible temporality. The sun baked walls of the chief tell one tale; the understory of the cedar, fir & hemlock tell another, covered in thick mats of moss and woody detritus, slugs on slick stones. This is where some take shelter from either the rain - which takes a day to permeate, or the sun - which hardly ever spears through even on the brightest day at high noon.
Here are photos from a week spent at the base of the Chief in Squamish, BC. After the initial scramble to find a campsite amongst climbers and civilians from all over the globe, all went smoothly. The quiet of the forest kept us sane as we found the hardest possible way up fragments of the looming cliff above that dropped millennia ago. We drank a bunch of yerba, psyched out Goku style, and actually got on ropes for a quick sec.
Photo Notes: Playing with the lighting and mossy stones of the temperate rainforest that is Squamish B.C., a slug, nitro yerba mate on tap courtesy of Beau (and Guayaki), boulders and Sconemasters, some rope stuff with Kemp and Andrés.