Heart Mountain Scramble

In April 2007, at some friends’ urging, I tried my first-ever scramble -- an "easy" scramble to Heart Mountain near Canmore. A scramble is a steep hike, on and off-trail, not quite mountain climbing, but more than hiking. Our day’s destination was the top of a mountain distinguished by a heart-shape close to its peak (or perhaps that’s a different – female - body part, which my mom was savvy enough to suggest when I once indicated the heart to her).

With an experienced co-coordinator and several other Calgary Outdoor Club members in tow for my maiden scramble (many of them also being first-timers), I set out with too much hope and too little fear of what the day held for me. Everyone else on the trip had a lovely time and couldn’t wait to do more scrambling. That, however, was not my experience. Instead, let me tell you the true story of what happens when an acrophobe goes on a scramble.

You see, I have an intense fear of heights. I was assured by a few people who've done Heart that I would be OK on it... no serious climbing, no serious exposure. Apparently these people do not have a proper appreciation for just exactly how intense my fear of heights is (and, you may rightly say, I did not have the proper respect for it myself when I undertook this adventure). Of the 10-kilometre total distance I was scared out of my ever-lovin' mind for approximately four of those kilometres and clinging to the frayed ends of my comfort limits for another approximately two kilometres. I cried on Heart Mountain that day. I even hyperventilated a little. To everyone who has told me that I should at least try scrambling before I write it off as an activity, I have met your requirement and proved to myself, and six lucky companions, why I should not scramble.

Shortly after you start the Heart Mountain trail, a sign warns you that the rest of the route is a scrambler’s route and to be sure you’re prepared. Sure I was prepared with gear and knowledge. Emotionally, well, not so much. As the climbing got steeper and steeper, I knew I had passed my opportunity to sissy out when I lost my ability to look behind at what I had just climbed which looked remarkably abyss-like from where I was clinging to the rocks. Rumors of me attempting to smash my encouraging friend’s head with a rock at the summit may or may not hold nuggets of truth.

At least I had completed the hard part for an asthmatic like myself, the climbing. Alas, the worst was yet to come. Those who also have an extreme fear of heights will appreciate some of the odder symptoms of that phobia. In general, I am not able to get closer than eight feet to any kind of drop-off, and am not able to watch someone else get within eight feet of one without getting uncomfortable. If I do happen to get within the eight-foot limit, I get dizzy. My feet tingle. The world wobbles back and forth. I get butterflies in my stomach and have vivid visions of flinging myself over the edge. Incidentally, a friend who is also afraid of heights says it's her butt cheeks that tingle rather than her feet.

The route down included a fair amount of time spent walking down a narrow ridge (nowhere near my requisite 8 feet… on each side) snaking away into the distance ahead, made narrower, and more treacherous, by the remaining slippery snow patches on top. This is where the crying and hyperventillating occurred. The only thing that kept me going was an even stronger fear of staying up there.

Completing this scramble burns approximately 2,000 calories. I burned about another 4,000 just from sheer terror.