The Sacred Canyon by Nathan McBride

Since moving to Colorado in March of 2005 I have had the opportunity of climbing in some of the most inspiring places this state has to offer.  These experiences always seem to start late Friday night, or early Saturday morning before the sun has come up.  The foggy circle in the center of my windshield from a hot coffee, the glare of dim lights from the dashboard, and an engine humming at high speed.  I almost vibrate with anxiety for the adventure ahead... or maybe it's just the coffee.  All the “what-ifs” circulate in my head as I sip my coffee down to the murky soot at the bottom.  Is today the day I send that climb?  Will I be able to find the gear?  Will the skies stay clear when I'm 7 pitches up the Petit Grepon?  Ultimately, will the mountains grant me a safe return?  I've always felt if you take care of these places, respect them, in return they will respect you.  I have never felt this connection more so than I have in the Poudre Canyon.

In May of 2011 I took a job working at Beaver's Market.  It was here that I met a man named Bryan Beaver.  Needless to say Bryan is one of the owners of the market, and a climber who spends a generous amount of time in the Poudre Canyon (this is an understatement).  Bryan is a wirey guy in his mid-30's who, aside from the scattered grays in his hair could pass for a guy in his 20's; he has a hidden energy that is reserved until he steps out of a car beneath the walls of the Poudre Canyon.  Bryan lives just North of town with his wife Kathy and their child, a pug named Thor – the most portable crag dog ever.  

I have climbed a handful of times in the Poudre before, but my first time climbing with Bryan was this past summer.  It was mid-week on a Wednesday and Bryan wanted to show me a place called Triple Tier, a place I had never been.  From the road, we hiked up a winding trail through scree fields and up past 3 towering walls that each sat behind and above the other.  These are the Triple Tiers, with the most prominent one in the back, Upper Echelon.  As it was still early in the morning with a chill in the air, Bryan decided to head back behind Upper Echelon to a formation of rock called the Sail.  The majority of climbs on the Sail face south, towards the sun.  We started on a 5.10 and Bryan gave me first lead.  As I stood trying to count the bolts before my climb, Bryan offered “I think there's about 8 bolts”.  Plus the anchors, makes 10... I brought 12 draws... just in case.  Right off the first bolt lies a heel hook to a reachy move above, which gains you the second bolt.  Above this are somewhat thin, but very positive holds up an angle that ever so slightly implies a slab.  This brings you to the crux, a reachy side-pull crimp that sits out left from a comfortable flake.  Pull through this, reaching across to some small edges, and it brings you to the final panel before the anchors.  The climb, Velvet Brown, is a beautiful climb in a beautiful area.  Sure enough it was 8 bolts plus the anchors, I asked Bryan who put the route up and he replied “I did”.  With over 50 established Poudre routes under his name, I quickly learned that Bryan's advice and instruction were undoubtedly valuable. 

From that day I spent the entire Summer with Bryan, climbing routes, and scouting new ones.  Saturday, Sunday, and Wednesdays, without missing a single week.   We lived in the Canyon.  It became a ritual; the Smashing Pumpkins album on deck, Thor perched on the center council leaning with the curves in the road as my dog Charlie, panting in the back.  The morning sun and the sound of the river.  Zig-zagging through  talus, remembering all the rocks you step on.  The pigeons, hawks, and canyon wrens, the damn rattle snakes and the occasional bear or moose.  The canyon always seems peaceful, especially up high above the road when the day is late and the light in the air takes on a golden warmth.  Everything seems clearer after a day of adrenaline pumping through your body.  Your halfway up a climb catching your breathe, you turn your head in towards the wall and  streaks of green and orange lichen come into focus.  You can smell a mixture of soil and chalk as you bite the rope to bring up slack to a draw.  And the sigh of pleasure as you reach the anchors.

I've always tried to leave as little an impact as possible, and maintain the areas that we use.  It's a constant humbling feeling that allows me to feel safe and welcomed, each time I enter the canyon.  It has become a place for celebration, a place for challenge, a place for remembering, and a place to let go.  When I lost my mother to cancer in August of 2011, I never expected the constant rhythm of a canyon and it's climbing to keep me level and remind me to accept everything as an experience.  And a friend to knock on your door and say “lets just climb”.  A friend once told me to always live in a place that is sacred to you, and naturally, you will want to take care of it, as it takes care of you.  You first have to experience a place, for it to become sacred.  So head up the Poudre and let the canyon advocate for itself.  I still find myself today either up the Poudre or in the Beaver (there's my cheesy pun quota for the day), and the possibilities for new experiences are endless.  The Poudre Canyon will always be sacred to me.