Who could have guessed that after an unseasoned dozen years on this planet, a defining moment would blaze the trajectory of my existence to one day become a van-dwelling cab driver in mountain town of Canmore? When moments of such significance arise, he who is subject rarely realizes the gravity of the instant until one’s persona is symbiotically attached. More so now than ever am I filled with pure amazement as to the pure joy that rock climbing has brought me. For years, when people asked me why I climbed rocks, I struggled to find an answer that truly depicted my feelings towards this sport. A couple of months ago, while climbing alone in the gym no less, I gained a deeper understanding of my attachment. I was using the self-belay machine, running laps to gain some fitness before the outdoor rock season when it hit me. Rock climbing is the most beautiful “thing” I have ever encountered. The places, the people, the movement, the views, the routines, the equipment, the steadfast commitment it requires. What more could you want to guide you across this planet than the profound magnetism of beautiful rock faces?
After graduating from University, the grip that rock climbing had upon me tightened. I was forced to find an occupation that would allow for me to climb as much as possible, and save for future climbing trips. This made getting a “real job” a near impossibility. I narrowed my job search to the Bow Valley, the limestone Mecca where I cut my teeth as a sport climber. Environmental Science jobs here are far and few between. Supplanted into the shoes of a professional, university-educated immigrant looking for greener pastures, I too left my parchment in the drawer and decided to go behind the wheel of a taxicab.
Why a taxicab you ask? Well, the all hours nature of the job, in combination with my ability to function at a relatively normal energy level with 6 hours of sleep per day allow for rock climbing any day of the week. This tight schedule has taken a little getting used to. For the first week or two, I was only getting out on my days off. Even the call of the mountains weren’t enough to spur my vertical addiction after a 12-hour night shift. My cozy bed on wheels was all too enticing. Having realized the error of my ways, after an après-work mission to Planet x with Marshal, my summer of climbing is looking up. Canmore is rife with climbing partners raring to get out, now the hardest piece of the puzzle is where to fit rest days in.
This space will serve as a record for the most memorable Cabby moments of the summer. Entries may be sporadic, but based on the uproarious profligacy I have been witness to in my first three weeks of employment, the limiting factor is likely be my commitment to putting pen on paper (or fingers on keys).
Ciao,
AQ
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