You can read the full tribute to Climbers We Lost in 2023 here.

In the late hours of November 11, I learned that a climber from Squamish, British Columbia, had died in an avalanche while ice climbing in Kananaskis, Alberta,. I immediately thought of Marcus. I wanted to text him to see if he was okay, but was scared of not getting a reply. I checked his Facebook to see when he was last active—nothing. I soon found out what I so badly wanted not to be true: Marcus was dead.

 The next night some of Marcus’s close friends came to my apartment in Canmore, Alberta, to tell stories, laugh, and cry. In true Marcus fashion, we drank White Russians—his weird drink of choice, often made with one or two ingredients missing. We scoured our phones for photos and videos of Marcus, each trying to find the funniest clip of him goofing off.

*** 

I met Marcus while studying at Thompson Rivers University in Kamloops, B.C. We were both taking the Adventure Guide diploma, a program designed to set you up for a career in guiding. He was easily distinguished by his piercing blue eyes and a smile that never seemed to leave his face. His exuberance for anything mountain related was unmatched. While most of us spent the weekends partying, Marcus would make the four-hour drive to Whistler Friday night after class, ski on Saturday and Sunday, then drive home late Sunday night. I’m not sure how or if he found time for homework.

Marcus and I became close after we graduated from school and both moved to  Squamish. He was a more experienced alpinist than me and he had a passion for teaching. Each time we climbed there was a “learning moment” where Marcus would put the day on pause to give me a lesson. It was sometimes annoying but, in hindsight, always appreciated. He became a mentor, but more in a big brother kind of way. I think he enjoyed embarrassing me just as much as he liked to teach me things. 

He was also a master persuader—but not in a malicious way, more like in the way a puppy can convince you to play fetch. He was always trying to convince me to come on his next grand adventure.

“Okay I’ll come. But I don’t want it to be an epic. I have to work tomorrow.” I would say.

Twelve hours later I’d find myself walking back to the car by headlamp thinking “How did he get me to do it again?”

During the winter of 2021, a cold snap had formed several rare ice routes in Squamish that hadn’t come in for many years. Marcus was scheduled to work during most of the cold weather and the ice was going to melt in just a few days, but he had to climb those routes before they were gone.

“If we get up at 2:30 in the morning, we can be at the base by just after 3. It’ll only take us a few hours to climb it, and then I’ll be able to be at work in Whistler by 7:30,” he said over the phone.

“Dude, it’s 10:30 at night. No way.”

He spent a good chunk of time trying to convince me. I told him his chances of finding a partner to wake up in three hours were extremely unlikely.

He called me after he finished work the next day.

“It was so awesome. We climbed the whole thing by headlamp, we were back at the car before the sun came up, and I was only 10 minutes late for work!”

I was amazed he convinced someone to join him, but also not surprised.

***

Marcus was very driven in his pursuit of becoming a mountain guide. His progression was extremely motivating to witness. He moved to the mountains from Ontario in 2017 having barely any rock climbing experience and within two years was already an apprentice rock guide. He spent so much time preparing for exams: winters were spent chasing ice and his summers in the alpine. We never understood how Marcus had any money because he was always training for exams and never working; when he did have money he would often spend it on gear. Marcus was enrolled to do his apprentice ski guide exam this winter. He was an apprentice alpine guide and well on his way to becoming a mountain guide.

All of his friends considered Marcus to be one of their closest. He gave so much of himself to so many different people. He was always late because he was always offering his time to others. I would get countless phone calls from Marcus, just because he wanted to know how I was doing. You’d finish talking with him and feel warm, and cared for.

Faith was a large part of Marcus’s life. He was a Christian and volunteered his time at the local church. I believe his relationship with God was a big reason he was such a loving and caring individual. He was sometimes met with difficult questions about his beliefs, but Marcus enjoyed having hard conversations about that sort of thing. I take solace in knowing that Marcus had someone to talk to in those last moments of his life.

On November 11, Marcus and his girlfriend, Laura, went to climb Lone Ranger in Peter Lougheed Provincial Park, a two-pitch WI 4 one hour south of Canmore. Lone Ranger is at the base of a large snow bowl and the pair brought avalanche equipment. It was Laura’s first time ice climbing. They only went up part way up the first pitch and top-roped it a few times. While walking out to the valley bottom, an avalanche initiated above the climb, partially burying Laura and fully burying Marcus. She was able to dig herself out but Marcus did not survive.

The reality is—apart from the memories we’re left with—Marcus is gone. The mountains, the same ones that give us purpose and a sense of belonging, killed him. That’s difficult to make sense of.  The friendships we make in the hills are forged rapidly, and, in some ways, it is the risk involved that allows us to connect so profoundly. The reason I know and care for Marcus in the way that I do is because of our time together in these formidable environments. That helps me make peace with his death.

Marcus, I’m really going to miss you. I wish we could share one more laugh, one more drive along the Duffy, one more jam to Dusty Blue, one more dance (probably involving some sort of crack climbing motion), or for you to call me and tell me that life is good. You were an amazing human, and I feel lucky that I got to know you. Rest easy, brother.

You can read the full tribute to Climbers We Lost in 2023 here.