The McGivern Route

“I’m thinking about doing the McGivern Route.” Bob says in jest, but it sticks me like a dart.

It had been raining for days and had turned the snow to ice. The roads were wicked beyond belief and walking required crampons. The skiing sucked, but Bob couldn’t ski because he was laid up from a recent knee surgery, depressed and whining about the long recovery an old climber and skier deserves. But he coined the McGivern route, though there is no question from our small little group of friends that Bob did not have the cajones to attempt such an audacious climb.

Dave McGivern was way past his prime, as were all his buddies. Old climbers have this tendency to still think they’re climbers even when they haven’t climbed for years. This epitomised McGivern, but he still had the hard head and the determination which shaped his early climbing and he was determined to make this ascent.

Strangely enough, the McGivern route is not in Alaska, it’s in Oregon. Charlie was part of the support team and offered to belay him. He really had no choice. Dave McGivern saved his life on Mt Johnson and he had to be there for Dave on this monumental ascent. Plus, his mother told him, “Make sure you take care of David, Charlie.”

Charlie shows up in his Sprinter van. Dave hates Sprinter vans and had been way grumpy for a few years now. Charlie loads up Dave, Marie, his life long partner, Sydney, his care giver and assistant and drives to the Oregon coast. It is a cool lovely day. It is slow going, but they get Dave down to the wide sandy beach. Charlie tells him to take off his shoes and walk in the sand. Dave says, “It’s cold.”

Charlie says, “Why, are you worried about catching a cold? You’re going to be dead in a few days.”

Dave walks barefoot and digs his toes in the sand. Charlie brought a little stool for him to sit on. They clown around, take pictures and don’t take Dave’s grumpiness seriously. They are way past that time and his grumpiness was commonly joked about between his old climbing buddies. Dave is fixated on his mission and has a good team around him

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A few years before Dave’s final climb, Dave and his old buddy Bob take E bikes from up Timberline Road down to the bike path which runs from Girdwood to Bird on a beautiful summer day. Bob and Dave don’t like bike riding, but this wasn’t riding and they race around like punk kids and don’t have to pedal. Everything is great until on the way back Dave’s battery dies and he’s humping fifty pounds of steel up the bike trail. Bob offers to ride home, grab his car and drive Dave and his bike back up the long hill to where Dave and Bob have lived most of their lives. There is no way, no matter how weak and bad Dave looks and feels, that he is not going to ride on his own power back up the hill.

After their day on the beach, Charlie loads Dave in his van where he set up his bed so Dave can lay down and look out the windows at the forest and fall colours while he drives. They head over the Cascade Mountains to say goodbye to another of Dave’s old climbing partners, John Bauman in Sisters, where they spent a couple of hours visiting.

Dave’s two brothers, Bill and Peter and his two sisters, Mary Ann and Julia arrive at Marie’s house in Eugene to support him. Julia believes the cancer is from agent orange that he was exposed to during his time as a medic in Vietnam.

Bob misses Dave everyday and imagines he will for the rest of his life. Old climbers tend to have a sarcastic deranged sense of humour and I’m sure Dave would appreciate Bob naming the McGivern Route and that’s why I wrote this story

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The climb happens at Marie’s house. Dave’s completely sober and dignified. The seven years of pain, struggle and when Netflix is not enough, are behind him. Everything is. He heads up this climb alone. It’s opioid based and Dave drinks the potion. After ten minutes, his eyes close and his breathing slows. 90 minutes later he’s reached the summit and quits breathing. Charlie hollers into the void,”Off belay”.

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