In a year when snow has not tumbled from the skies in a volume typical for Northwestern Ontario, skis and snowmobiles have sat idle. When skis aren't sliding and engines aren't humming, sport addicts get restless. But for ice climbers, agile folks who seek out and scale the frozen matter of winter, low snow doesn't mean no-go. All that's required is low temperatures, warm gloves and the constant trickle of water down steep sweeps of cliffs.
Thunder Bay, which lies at the head of the Great Lakes, is decidedly rugged as far as Eastern Canada is concerned -- the Norwester Mountains and the hulk of Sibley Provincial Park's Sleeping Giant dominate the southern skyline. Water finds a way to drop to the level of Lake Superior, and during a winter chill, freezes in place until springtime. Icicles grow and by early winter, entire cliffsides are covered in ice curtains. Sometimes free-standing pillars form, anchored at the top of a cliff, but the ice-climber's medium is the ice smears or hanging daggers.
Using ice axes and crampons attached to their boots, climbers either strike sharp metal forcefully into the ice, or delicately "hook" using rugosities (rough, wrinkled surfaces) in the ice to claw their way skyward. Ropes, in addition to carabiners, ice screws and other metal gadgetry, as well as an attentive partner act as a brake in the event of a fall.
Although some notable climbers have visited Thunder Bay and returned home raving about the quality of the routes and the vast potential, the area remains an untapped well. The local climbers are a relatively small contingent compared with ice-climbing circles in Canmore, Alta., or Boulder, Colo., but there are a few dozen high-quality climbs within the city limits, and hundreds of ice climbs a short drive away. Take a trip along the north shore of Lake Superior, and there are thousands -- making Thunder Bay a prize ice-climbing destination.
In recent years, however, word has been getting out. Sean Parent, a local ice-climbing outfitter currently based farther east along the shores of Lake Superior near Sault Ste. Marie, has made a business of introducing people to the wonders and challenges of climbing frozen waterfalls.
His business, which also operates the annual ice-climbing festival in Orient Bay (1.5 hours east of Thunder Bay) brings large numbers of climbers from the U.S. Midwest and from as far away as Europe and Israel.
While there may not be peaks rocketing skyward, there is more than enough relief in the landscape to provide world-class climbing. One of the things that makes the area so attractive is the proximity of good climbing to the community. In many places, such as in the Canadian Rockies, you often trade alpine ambience for hazardous approaches up avalanche slopes and multiple-hour hikes to get to the routes.
Here, you hop in a minivan, drive to the site, and look up at the route through the windows of your vehicle. If it doesn't look good, just keep on driving.
If you ask climbers or outdoors people what makes the area special, they say it is the beauty and rawness. From the perch of a climber, like that of an eagle, you can see Lake Superior's waves curling landward in the distance, the foam rippling and collapsing. Trees sway lightly under the diffuse brightness of the winter sun, their movements hushed in the distance. Volumes of space separate a climber from treetops below.
In winter, leafless vegetation hides little of the Cambrian Shield's undulations and character. Hanging out on a frozen cliffside, you can take in the patterns and shapes of the topography and discover relationships between land and water as well as the natural and the man-made.
Beyond the climbing is the city of Thunder Bay itself, an aging community struggling with a vision of what it wants to become. The Hoito, a pancake house tucked into the heart of Port Arthur's ethnic district (Thunder Bay is the amalgamation of the cities of Port Arthur and Fort William), is a must-do introduction to Finnish culture in Northwestern Ontario. A rare treasure, it is filled with old pictures of the Finnish loggers who built this community.
With guidance from locals such as Frank Pianka, a 49-year-old high school teacher during the week and a devoted climber and climbing educator in his spare time, visitors can find treasures like Kangas' Sauna, a public sauna house, or eateries such as the Hoito to get a taste of the city's culture that will enrich their outdoor experiences. Ice climbing, like canoe-tripping in the summer, gives visitors an opportunity to experience the region's remarkable landscape.
Pianka, who works with the Thunder Bay chapter of the Alpine Club of Canada, invites people to look him up for an introduction to either the sport or the area. On any given weekend, he can be found either introducing people to climbing through one of the club's clinics, or out giving a visitor a tour.
To Pianka, ice climbing is not about any single motivation. "It's the sum of the parts -- the fresh air, pushing our own personal limits at our own paces, and being with good people."
Struggling to provide a rational explanation for wanting to climb frozen waterfalls on a cold winter day, Pianka cites a quote from a book he recently read by Nobel physicist Richard Fineman: "It's the spirit of doing things, not the reason for doing them that is life."
While the ice in Thunder Bay is ready for climbing by November, nothing beats a bright spring day when the ice is "plastic" and the hands stay warmer. A visit when winter is waning is probably the most enjoyable time to climb. A check on weather and ice conditions is the best way to maximize the experience in Thunder Bay.
For more information contact Frank Pianka, Alpine Club of Canada, phone (807) 577-7950, e-mail: . For more information and inspiration on ice climbing, visit the Web sites at ; www.norlink.net/~alpinecc ; ; .