The Hut
The Elizabeth Parker Hut
The small store stood on the main street of Squamish. The sign above read “Climb On” in bold white letters bordered in red. The man sitting behind the large desk looked at me with smiling eyes and spoke with an Eastern European accent. A tall brunette busily shuff led things around the shop. There was a small crowd of men laughing and speaking loudly. The shop was a cornerstone in a community filled with passionate people who shared some kind of connection, which I wasn’t yet part of.
It wasn’t until much later that I understood the scene I had witnessed. By then, it had changed locations, but everything else remained the same. A group of men sat around drinking coffee and listened to each other’s stories of adventures from past days on The Chief. The hard-core climbers still came in almost daily to fill the sheets of the old route book, which was open on the shelf. There was a small climbing wall in the back where climbers would train when the heavy rains came. The owners, George and Birgit Hanzal, didn’t mind, they welcomed and cultivated a strong climbing community. While George was usually found behind the large wooden desk giving discounts to the locals, he would occasionally close shop to go climb, which explains his impressive list of first ascents. George is a legend.
In 2006, George retired f rom Climb On and his successor, Montreal Dan Butler, and his border collie-mix, Dex, moved in. From an outsider’s perspective, Climb On had not changed much. The store sometimes missed the organizational touch of Bridget, but to make up for it, Dan left his own mark in the chaos behind, and on top of, the front desk. Locals still hung around the store for hours, the new route book remained on the front desk for public viewing and the store would sometimes close for that exceptionally sunny day.
Occasionally, I worked behind the desk at Climb On. Dan, with his quirky and interesting ways, would pop in sporadically and the customers would immediately f lock to him to ask about the most random and obscure approaches and beta for various climbs. They seemed to think that the answers to all of their questions were right there in Dan’s head.
Dan sat in his chair behind the desk, which was next to the front window, looking out at The Chief for about six years, until he decided big changes were in order. The tiny shop moved next door into Outwest Gear Exchange, which was owned by Ashley Green. Both businesses were struggling and the merge was essential for the two shops to survive. The move not only helped offset rising rent prices in Squamish, but allowed both owners to have time off for more important things like climbing and road trips. Eventually, Dan followed George’s cue and sold Climb On to Ashley and she merged the two store names together into Climb On Outwest.
It was a big change. First of all, Ashley wasn’t scruffy like Dan and George. She was a young, clean-cut, petite blonde who, in terms of business skills, was at least visually more on the organized side of things. Climb On had a new look to it, something that any
long-time local would quickly notice. The shelves weren’t lined with mismatched items, there were no open guidebooks scattered on the long wooden desk and Dex no longer sat at the entrance to greet customers. The selection of products grew and was hanging in an organized fashion with obvious price tags. It was brighter and more open. The stale old gear that sat on shelves for years was discounted to make room for the newest and best items.
Not everything had changed. From a business point of view, yes, things were different. But, from the core of what Climb On represented, it was the same. It was still owned by a passionate climber. When Ashley was 19 and with almost no concept of what rock climbing was, she moved to Squamish with her parents intending to save money for her next adventurous road trip. Shortly after, however, hard-core local climbers, Al Douglas and Harry Young, took her under their wing and showed her the ways of the rock. Twelve years later, Ashley is a seasoned climber. When not spending time on the local granite, she can be found at Climb On Outwest, where she combines her passions for climbing, community and business under one roof.
The new Climb On Outwest embodies what the old Climb On represented, which is a community of people who share a passion for climbing and the outdoors. The plastic chairs have been replaced by a wooden bench, but the daily visits by climbers like Harry Young remain the same. The old route book is still around, but has been replaced by newer guidebooks. The same climbers from around the world, who frequented Climb On, still call for special orders or to ask about the weather and to find out if, indeed, it is raining.
I recently visited the new Climb On Outwest. Johnny Cash was playing through the speakers in the background and the sounds of conversation and laughter by customers and staff filled the shop. The room smelled familiar and the nostalgia brought me back in time to the old Climb On. The history of the tiny shop is entwined with the lives of climbers who, at one point or another, passed through the front doors. It still represents the spirit of the community, which needs to be experienced first-hand. So, next time you’re in Squamish, walk into Climb On Outwest and tell them about your day climbing and ask them something random, for old time’s sake.