Conquering these rugged peaks gave this newcomer to Canada confidence, strength and purpose
In early 2010, wheezing from the exertion of carrying my two 30-pound suitcases—which contained all of my worldly possessions at that time—up a couple of flights of stairs, I walked into my new home in Squamish, British Columbia. Arriving here from Ireland, my bulky frame weighed more than 300 pounds from many years of being sedentary. Now, as I stared out at the snow-capped mountains rising up around me, the sight of them filled a hole inside me I’d been unaware of before. Although I had not come to this place with an interest in mountains, I was suddenly bitten with the desire to touch those shining summits.
Living in Ireland, I did not grow up in a culture of athleticism. I was never very coordinated, so any team sports I tried I usually failed at. The circle of friends I kept would kick a ball around on a Sunday and then follow it up with a trip to the pub to gain back any calories expended. No physical exercise would occur again until the next Sunday, and if it was raining too hard, which it frequently does in Ireland, we’d skip soccer and head straight to the pub.
Eventually, through a poor diet and a complete lack of exercise, I looked down at the scale and realized I’d passed the maximum weight of 280 pounds on it. I stopped weighing myself after that, ashamed at the thought of having to buy a scale with larger numbers.
After the Irish recession in 2008, though, I got an itch to move somewhere different, as progression in my career stalled. My wife Spring is originally from Alberta and, while living in Ireland, we’d always talked about starting a new life in her home country. On a whim, we decided to move to the small town of Squamish and left Ireland behind.
I can’t explain what changed when I got here. Maybe I’d been idle for too long, but like a siren on the rocks, the wind blowing spray off those high ridges and summits beckoned me. Mountains no longer looked like scenery but rather an arena in which to test myself.
I’d never backpacked before, so I needed to learn about tents and sleeping bags. I’d never climbed before either, so I read about climbing knots and harnesses. Words that I previously had never said aloud, such as “crampon” or “crux,” became a daily part of my lexicon. My thirst to understand how other people were getting to these summits was insatiable.
As I pushed myself higher and further, not even slowing down in winter, I finally realized what my talent was. I could suffer longer than others around me. I could endure the cold; I could endure the sleepless nights inside a tent being beaten by the wind; I could smile while being swarmed by clouds of mosquitoes as I pushed through the dense rainforest of British Columbia—and I could get up and do it all again the next day. I didn’t need a couple of weeks’ rest to forget the tortures that led to reaching that summit. I could always see the next summit rising up behind the one I was currently reaching.
It is said that the mountains have gifts for those who wrestle with them and I believe this is true. The mountains have taken my self-doubt and over 130 pounds off of my body; in return, they’ve given me confidence, strength and purpose. While there, I found a passion for photography and writing, and for that I will be eternally grateful. As author John Muir once said: “Climb the mountains and get their good tidings.”
—by Leigh McClurg, Garibaldi Highlands, British Columbia