Scrambling around as a kid, I always wanted to climb bigger trees and boulders. My parents always found me climbing the fence, playground equipment and snow banks with yellow nylon rope. I have been a climber as far back as I can remember. It was in my early teen years that I saved gift money to get a proper rope and gear. I recruited a few partners from school and fumbled around until meeting other climbers who tough me about rigging and rock-craft. It was the regular climbing trips that deepened my respect for the outdoors.

Needing to climb and train through the winter, I built a very modest climbing wall in the crawl space of my parents' house. I spent hours sweating in the poorly lighted dungeon, challenging tendon and style. I worked on my poor finger strength, and moving fluidly in spite of the intense movements. Slowly I started to tick off more difficult climbs in the guidebook. After a few seasons I started doing out of town trips with Mark and others. These little adventures were uncomfortable -- sleeping in cramped cars and sharing what little food we had, but was all part of the fun climbing in places like Jasper (Alberta), Popes Peak (Central BC) and Squamish (South BC). I often think back to these trips, and still feel there are the highlight of my (able-bodied) climbing days.

In 1994 I was my first year of computer science at UNBC and working on a new, very exposed multi-pitch route on Popes Peak. That October, right before midterm exams, a car accident would see me totally reborn. I clearly remember lying helplessly against the steering wheel, sixty metres from the road above. My first thoughts were that I would never climb again.

The following two months were spent staring at the ceiling of Vancouver Hospital, and another six months in rehab. My mountains were now sitting up, feeding myself grapes, moving colored pegs on a board -- mundane tasks. Rehab was about teaching myself tricks to compensate for my lack of function. The hardest thing was to try to forget all that I was and concentrate on getting back to school. So after leaving G.F. Strong, I went back into computer science at Langara College: although, gross academia could never satisfy my need for being outdoors. It wasn't long before I started to question if it was possible to get back to the rock.

Some talk turned into a small rappel, and then grew into a much larger adventure. We will finish what Mark and I planed years ago -- to climb the Chief, a 650 metre wall in Squamish. Developing custom gear for quadriplegics has been a long and expensive process, but each new revision brings us closer to our goal. To get equipment custom made to get the most out of every little bit of my strength is the crux of the project! After that, only my health problems can continue to delay us.

The reasons why I climb haven't changed, they continue to inspire me to return to the most inaccessible of places. This project has required more time, effort and funding than we first thought; however, finishing this climb has become a promise I have made to myself. This endeavor will be a world's first for someone with my high level of disability and will set a precedence for even more daunting challenges.