Truancy: (noun) the condition of being absent without permission.
Despite the apparent absence of mountains, New
Brunswick is gifted with a few key ingredients for ice climbing;
Appalachian geology, cold winters, plenty of precipitation, and most
importantly diehard locals.
On a cloudy Monday in February, Lucas Toron and I
had finished a day of ice in the Fundy Highlands when we decided to do a
little bit of recon in a nearby gully. Years before, while attempting
to find the well trodden Parlee Brook ice climbing area, I had
accidently snowshoed into this smaller gully and I saw a 50 foot hanging
dagger suspended perilously above a cave. I wasn’t an ice climber back
then and the sight of it was terrifying and awe inspiring. It dangled
40 feet off the ground – and touch down seemed improbable. I continued
to check in on the dagger over the years but never saw it form into a
pillar. Very few had heard of the dagger and those who did had never
seen it touch but. But 2010 was a weird season for ice and so Lucas and I
thought we’d check it out anyway.
Unweighted by our packs, Lucas and I skipped up the
dry creek bed into the gully and then swam through chest deep powder.
As we rounded the last bend in the rock wall, the hanging dagger began
to reveal itself. Bit by bit the dagger came into view, lengthening by
the meter until finally our eyes followed dripping water down to its
thick base. Over 30 metres of vertical ice stretched to the roof the
cave. Our jaws dropped and our exclamations trailed off into the sound
of splattering water in the cave. We stared at each other speechless as
we stood beneath the biggest, baddest pillar of ice we’d ever seen. It
felt like the immense weight of the ungainly pillar would come crashing
down at any moment. It was dusk and time to get home. We walked home
with a pit of anxiety in our stomachs. We needed to come back soon, the
Maritime climate wreaks havoc on ice and if we waited too long it may be
the last time we ever see it.
We called around to some friends. The first on the
list is Cory Hall who jumps at the opportunity. Cory’s an upbeat young
climber with the focus of a bomb squad and drive of a mule team. The
weekend before we’d watched as he attempted one of NB’s hardest routes.
His tools dinnerplated 10 feet above his last screw and he took a 30
foot whipper, stopping just shy of the rocky beach. This turned into a
mini epic as we rushed to retrieve his screws and climb frozen mud to
escape the quickly rising Bay of Fundy tides.
On Wednesday night Cory visited our friend and
local ice hero Joe Kennedy to pick up a replacement part for his ice
tool that was damaged by his fall. Cory remembers talking to Joe that
night, avoiding the topic of the pillar that we were planning to climb
the next day. None of us realized that we were about to steal Joe’s 20
year project and perhaps the Maritimes best line…oops.
On Thursday Cory skipped school, Lucas called in
sick to work, and I shrugged off my responsibilities. Ontario ice
climber Andriy Kolos just happens to be visiting his girlfriend’s family
in Moncton and is able to sneak away for the day. While photographer
Paul Maybee comes along to document the climb on film. We meet in Sussex
giddy with excitement and wash down our anxiety with cheap coffee.
Lucas and I have told the others about it, but no words can justify a
pure vertical pillar of ice that has never been climbed or even
witnessed in known history.
In the three days since Lucas and I visited the
pillar; the weather had been warming and we pray that we’re not too
late. But as we rounded that last bend in the gully, the pillar stood
blue as steel.
After some inspection, Cory and Andriy agreed that
they could share the pillar by leading on opposite sides. Lucas and I
were less than thrilled with the idea but bit our tongues and didn’t
share our morbid thoughts. Cory started first, taking the mushroomed
left side while Andriy took the gargoyled right side. Immediately the
challenge of lacy blobs and chandeliers became apparent. “It was
definitely the hardest ice line I had led, and only my second WI 5 and I
was pumping,” recalls Cory. The pump grew as he pulled out of a small
chimney 20 feet from the top. “The clock was ticking. I could stop and
place a screw, but I would definitely fall, or I could run it out to the
lip and maybe not fall.” Cory went for it, not wanting to throw away
this classic line and pulled over the lip with “jell-o arms, looking at a
fifty foot whipper.” As Cory ran it out Lucas remembers stepping to the
side, out of the way, in case Cory came flying towards him like the
previous weekend.
Meanwhile, Andriy was in his own world leading the
other side of the pillar. “As I was in the thick of things, it was
re-assuring to feel the dull thud of Cory working his way up,
out-of-sight, but alongside me. Weaving my way to the top a few moments
after Cory topped out was extremely rewarding!” Lucas and I followed up
behind, pulling the lip with lactic acid coursing through our arms.
Celebrating at the base with a bottle of whisky,
Lucas suggested that we call it Truancy Falls. It seemed fitting for a
route so elusive that it had tempted most of us to skip either work or
school to be there.
Truancy Falls stood just long enough for most of
the locals to climb it before it crashed down in solitude a month later.
It’s still being talked about a year later and many climbers have been
hiking in to check on it, hoping that they will find the hidden pillar
formed once again. Even if it only forms once in a lifetime, Truancy
Falls adds a plum to the New Brunswick climbing scene and embodies a
resurgence of ice climbing in New Brunswick. It was just one of a dozen
new routes to go up this season and it adds fuel to the fire that keeps
us searching for new lines.
Summary
Truancy Falls (WI5+, 40m), Parlee Brook, New
Brunswick. FA: Cory Hall, Andriy Kolos, Lucas Toron, Graham Waugh,
February 11, 2010.
