Straight Outta Squampton

I’ve got a confession to make: I haven’t’ seen “Straight Outta Compton” yet. Like many hip-hop fans I’ve been excited about this movie since the project was announced, but when it was released I was up north in the land of Drake, not Dr. Dre. That also means I was out of town for the Gold King Mine accident and watched from afar with the rest of the world as the wrath of the Old West still affected us in these modern times. Thanks a lot, Teddy Roosevelt.

But back to Hollywood. I can’t recall the last time I was this excited about a movie, shedding light on the role N.W.A. played in the development of hip hop, as well as bringing a larger awareness to what was happening in Compton, and other urban areas in the United States. Yes, N.W.A. kept it real before that was a phrase.

While hip-hop fans in the United States were turning out by the millions to see “Straight Outta Compton” I was in Squamish, British Columbia, otherwise known as Squampton. I don’t really know where the name came from, Squamish is a far cry from Compton, and at this point I’m way too close to deadline to do any sort of research. Maybe the people of Squamish just are big hip-hop fans too. After all, the night we arrived was the end of a three-day music festival, in which no other than Drake himself, the Canada born star of the rap world, performed.

I’d made a trip up to Squamish last summer, and after only three days we got rained out, forcing us back down to the States. We did some magnificent climbing on that trip in Washington and Idaho, but nothing as good as Squamish. For the last year, I was Squampton dreaming and made sure my summer travels included a visit to our friendly neighbor up north.

There’s something about friendly people that is both welcoming and contagious. (Plus their accents are just so damned cute with their “ehs,” “abuts” and “soarries,” and their money – loonies and toonies – are you kidding me?)

I can see why they are in such a good mood, for a brief stretch every summer the rain typically slows down and the place is basically a paradise. Seemingly every good looking woman across Canada descends upon Squamish, the temperatures never get too hot or too cold, there’s enough trails, mountains and rocks for everyone. And there’s The Chief, a massive granite buttress overlooking Howe Sound, where the ocean meets granite cliffs that dominate the skyline. Blackberry bushes are everywhere and the salmon are plentiful and cheap, really cheap if you’re patient enough with a fishing pole (I’m not). Those few sentences are just the beginning of the beauty that unfolds, and to be a part of it is transformational to say the least.

Now I’m just a simple man with an average athletic prowess, but beautiful places like this stir a yearning and desire deep in my soul. All of a sudden. I don’t fully appreciate my days unless I give a 100 percent effort into what I’m doing, and all I was there to do was climb. It’s a simple equation, but your desires must align with someone else’s, because climbing tall walls is a team sport. Luckily we assembled a small posse of Colorado climbers there in the campground and lived out our days on the walls.

For me, this dirtbag lifestyle is a constant boiling and simmering. The intense effort and fear coupled with the aftermath: hardcore chillin’. Each day in Squamish begins with a mellow start, one in a hundred climbers get up before 8 a.m., and every day ends at the communal picnic tables with people from all over the world getting together to cook simple meals, share drink and smoke.

With so many people living out in the open, there’s bound to be problems, and the main issue in Squampton is theft. At least one car was stolen when we were there, likely the result of Vancouver being so close (though I imagine the thieves would be polite if you caught them.)

However, I did have one weird encounter there, while walking the streets one day. I really had to go to the bathroom, and I spotted one at a nearby city park. I opened the door to the men’s room only to find it was occupied by a female drug user that appeared to be an extra in “Breaking Bad.” Without hesitation, she slurred, “Oh, I’m so sorry, come on in.” I took one look at her and ran away as quickly as I could.

The climbing, the trails, the people, there was so much that was so sweet about Squamish, as sweet as the perfectly ripe blackberries that you can greedily eat without guilt because there’s more than enough for everyone. But I’m only given so many words here, so I gotta wrap it up with just one more Squampton bit.

We had one big party night, as a friend was arriving and another was set to leave. Somewhere in the midst of delicious sushi and drinks, we met some climbers and learned of a karaoke night at a local dive bar.

The karaoke DJ was an energetic short and stout woman who had bleached blonde hair and sang 1990s hits at the top of her lungs in between patrons taking their turns at hits from the pop charts. It was the perfect mixture of talent and hilarity; everyone in the bar was having a great time.

I did my old standby of “You Can’t Touch This,” by MC Hammer, and as the drinks flowed and I got more and more buzzed, I signed myself and my buddy up for “You Are So Beautiful” by Joe Cocker. At the last minute, I realized we were going to be “those people” at karaoke, drunk and missing all the right notes. In a strange twist of fate, we got up to the stage and they had “It Was A Good Day” by Ice Cube of N.W.A. fame queued up. We both knew the words well and went into karaoke hero mode on the microphone. A good day indeed.

Speaking of which, I think it’s time to get out and go see “Straight Outta Compton” tonight, while it’s still in theaters.

– Luke Mehall