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Each swing of my ice axes send frozen debris flying. A fist-sized chunk ricochets off my forehead, another fragment finds its way down my neck and melts against my belly -- under three layers of clothing. I'm 20 metres up a frozen waterfall called "The Junkyard" just outside Canmore, Alta., in the Canadian Rockies. At the base of the 60-degree slope, Steve Holeczi, my guide from Yamnuska Mountaineering School, controls the rope I'm harnessed into and shouts encouragement.

But I don't want to go any higher. My forearms burn from my death grip on the two ice axes I'm using to pull myself up, and my calves wobble as I struggle to secure my crampons in the icy slope. I try to remember Holeczi's coaching: Crampons need full contact with the ice to be effective; ice axes need to be solid, like an axe in a block of wood; and "body position is everything."

These words mark the beginning of Yamnuska's introductory two-day ice-climbing course, which costs $250, including equipment, and covers all the basics from learning how to walk in crampons to scaling sheer slopes of ice. Other offerings include women-only courses, advanced ice-climbing and the latest craze -- mixed climbing -- in which participants transition from rock to ice on the same climb.

Ice climbing has grown steadily in popularity, to the point that it is now offered by guides across the country, from Whistler Alpine Guides in B.C. to Quebec's Mont-Tremblant ski resort.

Wearing crampons makes me feel like a clawed monster from The Lord of the Rings, the sharp spikes protruding from my feet like talons. But it's this awkward equipment that makes the sport possible. With its roots in 19th-century mountaineering, ice climbing has evolved considerably since the days of chopping steps into a frozen slope. In the 1930s, Frenchman Laurent Grivel designed front-pointing crampons. Then in 1966, Yvon Chouinard, founder of the Patagonia clothing line, developed the first reverse-curve ice picks, which enable climbers to get purchase on vertical ice.

When I finally reach the top of the 30-metre rope, I turn around for the first time. I'm frightened at how high I've come, and at not being able to see Holeczi over the cauliflower-shaped slope.

I call out and am reassured when I hear his reply. I lean back and take in the view: Across the ice-covered Bow Valley, the snowy peaks of the western Rockies glisten in the waning afternoon light. Looking closely, I can see tiny white threads dangling off these mountains. More frozen waterfalls.

In all, there are more than 1,000 ice-climbing routes within a two-hour drive of Canmore, making the town of 14,000 one of the best places in the world for the sport. Each winter, Canmore plays host to an ice-climbing festival and is the scene of a vibrant ice-climbing community.

I rappel to the base of the falls, where Holeczi is waiting for me with a high-five. "How was that?" asks the lanky, bearded 28-year-old, who has been guiding in the Rockies for seven years.

"Felt pretty good," I reply.

"How do your hands feel?" I don't notice them until he asks. But then I realize they're hot and cold and tingly. And they hurt like hell.

"Hah! You've got the screaming barfies!" he says. When warm blood returns to your hands after gripping ice tools in cold weather, he explains, the effect is so painful that you may want to vomit. It's a common side effect of ice climbing and will go away, he assures me.

After a few tips on footwork, he sends me back up, but this time with only one axe. Now I'm forced to put all my weight on my crampons to swing my axe. I tremble at first, not trusting the fang-like protrusions coming out of my boots. But I don't slip; my feet are rock-solid. I try other movements with my crampons to give my ankles a rest and shift my weight from side to side. I swing the axe fluidly, and feel the hold it's meant to provide. It goes much more smoothly, and I'm up in half the time.

Being a beginner rock climber -- I've tried the sport maybe a dozen times, mostly indoors -- I had thought ice climbing was a more extreme version of an activity I was not very good at to begin with. But when I heard that almost anyone can get out and climb ice, I had to try it. My biggest concern was the ice itself. Unlike rock, ice melts, cracks, breaks and is otherwise a lot less stable than granite. When I asked Holeczi about accidents, he explained that the sport has a very good safety record. "The equipment is at the point that it far exceeds what we'll put onto it."

He told me that the ice screws used for securing ropes can hold 1,000 kilograms or more. Even so, there are a handful of ice-climbing fatalities each year, mostly involving avalanches. Since the best ice routes tend to form in narrow canyons and gullies, which are also prime avalanche territory, an understanding of the backcountry is important. "The danger is in how you interpret the environment," Holeczi said. Using a qualified local guide is one of the best ways to minimize the risk.

Marc Ledwedge, a public safety warden at Banff National Park, has seen several accidents involving ice climbing in the 20 years he has worked for the park. "Many beginning ice climbers are not aware of the avalanche hazard," Ledwedge said. "It's not uncommon to see people on ice routes when they shouldn't be [there]"

The next day, a fierce Arctic storm descends on the Rockies. The air temperature is minus 24 C, dipping to minus 40 with the wind chill. From the vantage point of the Coffee Mine Café in downtown Canmore, Holeczi and I watch swirling snow and blustery winds pelt those foolhardy enough to venture outside. The local radio station reports that all schools are closed. Holeczi has heard that it may clear this afternoon. We wait a while and then decide to make a go for it.

We drive to Grotto Canyon, another ice-climbing route just outside town. With snow blowing around us, I blindly follow Holeczi through a forest. I'm soon breaking fresh tracks on a frozen creek in a steep-walled canyon. It's bitterly cold, but at least I'm sheltered from the wind. I pass a snow-dusted granite wall with bolts marking a summer rock-climbing route.

We continue up the canyon and soon reach the "Grotto" waterfall. It covers the end of the chasm in a giant jacket of ice. Like enormous steps, the falls are vertical for seven or eight metres, level to a ledge and then there's another sheer pitch.

It is my first time climbing vertical ice. The surface is wet, and I get good purchase from my crampons. Despite the cold, I move upward, slowly but methodically. I probe for good placement with my picks and stand up on my feet. I feel exhilarated; climbing ice is as exciting as skiing, less work than snowshoeing and easier than rock climbing. The clouds part and the frozen Grotto falls shimmer in the winter sunlight. I glance across and see my shadow, axes swinging, crampons kicking, ice chunks flying.

Pack your bags

WHEN TO GO

Ice-climbing season in the Rockies runs from November through March.

Canmore Ice Climbing Festival:

canmoreiceclimbingfestival.com; 403-678-1636. The 2005 instalment runs from March 3 to 6. Events include climbing clinics, slide shows, competitions and equipment demos.

GUIDES

The Association of Canadian Mountain Guides offers a listing of ice-climbing operators available for hire. For more information, visit _search.asp.

Yamnuska Mountaineering School: Suite 200, Summit Centre, 50 Lincoln Park, Canmore, Alta.; 1-866-678-4164; .

The Whistler Alpine Guides Bureau: 113-4350 Lorimer Rd., Whistler, B.C.; whistlerguides.com; 604-938-9242. Offers introductory courses from $295, including equipment.

Mont Tremblant: Quebec; 1-888-857-8043;

activities/winter/activities/ice_climbing-e.htm. Offers half-day courses for $79 and full-day courses for $119, including equipment.

MORE INFORMATION

Tourism Canmore: 1-866-226-6673; .

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