December 2009

He could only have shown up in one way. Climbing up solo, the steepest part of the same icicle I was struggling on at the same time. I was cold and miserable, a little scared, while he was moving up as if it wasn't worth mentioning. With his precision and determination he unadverently pushed my psyche into far corners of my self confidence.

A few years have pased. Self confidence got cured from travmatic encounters with ice reality of the past and begun, slowly, to understand. I met him again in a Quebec canyon as he was monitoring climbing performance of competitors. He still stuck out with his appearance, calm authority. Our ways touched when he slipped a word to Bubu, saying "that was a good climb, He's a very good climber", commenting on performance of an unknown climber, who just got back from his second try on the ice. I listened, still catching my breath, those words being the one thing I needed most. If Guy Lacelle says so...

In the following years we've met here and there, at the Gorzderette meeting, Festiglace in Quebec, for the first ascents in Pont Rouge or above the norvegian fjords, for a dinner at Musashi, in airport queues, on the ice and mixed grounds of Colorado, in Arctic cold, cooking pasta in motels, and watching Sci-fi movies deep into the night...

...more I could ever wished... less than I hoped for. Every ice climbing trip carried a wish to meet him, if only briefly. Up until this moment. Now Guy has left for good. We won't be swinging ice axes on this world no more, nor making ticks to top 100 ice fall list, nor shall we ever again search for solutions to icy problems. But each year, hundreds of his ice falls will form, telling tales of a long-haired Canadian, somewhat resembling an Indian, who really knew the ways of climbing ice.