Can One Faff on One’s Own? A Triple Crown Attempt

While I often try to minimize the faff, I must say faff seems to follow me around. Maybe this is because I am a fan of bike trips, and as my roommate, Gabrielle, likes to say “There always be faff on bike trips, because bikes always be faffing”. 

Ever since I read this iconic trip report I have had dreams to doing the North Shore triple crown. After two (?) ski seasons messed up by COVID and an ACL surgery in between, I decided this was finally my moment. I wasn’t very sure that I would be fit enough to complete it, but I am very stubborn, and that usually plays in my favour. 

Based on previous accounts of this trip, I calculated it would take me somewhere between 18 and 20 hours. However, it seemed to me that the crux of this trip would not be the fitness, but rather, the faff. If every transition took me 30 minutes, that would amount to an extra 3 hours of pure faff. Add to that the food faff and the inevitable surprise unaccounted for faff, it seemed like a lot of extra hours unnecessarily added to my trip, and that’s not even counting the preparation faff of the previous day.

Alas, one question remained unanswered. Is it truly faff if one is faffing on one’s own? According to the VOC wiki, faffing is “Wasting time by doing absolutely nothing, see also Clusterfuck. Technically you have to waste the time of others on your trip; just wasting your own time is not sufficient. Arriving at the trailhead with nothing in your pack and most everything scattered in your car is classical faffing”. This definition sparked a lively debate in my kitchen, but the answer was not agreed upon. 

And so, at 5:22am on Monday morning, I set off towards Mt. Seymour. Three hours later, my toes were frozen solid but I was at the parking lot. The skin up to Brockton Point was uneventful and windy, but it was more of a hike than a skin since that trail is notoriously awful. Skiing down was fun as always, and soon I was back faffing at my bike. I biked down and had another faff break at Cobs Bread, where I bought $16 worth of mini pizzas and chocolate croissants. Next, I headed up to Grouse via mountain highway, thoroughly enjoying the quizzical looks and whispers of people as I rolled past them. Eventually, at around 780m, I hit my first solid patches of snow and transitioned again. Gabrielle had written encouraging messages on my burritos so that was keeping me going. 

Now, this is when time seemed to slow down. I skinned on a flat section of mountain highway for what felt like forever, and when I made it to Grouse I realized the resort was still very much open. I tried skinning up a solitary black run to avoid the skiers and ski patrol, but halfway up decided that this was a silly idea. Many hours had gone by but I still had hopes of making it to the top of Cypress, which I thought would be decidedly easier both for skiing and biking. 

After skiing back to my bike and yet another faffy transition, I slowly made my way down the bumpy gravel road, passing many confused mountain bikers on my descent. And then … I got a flat. And then I realized my brakes were out of whack. After dealing with the inevitable unaccounted for faff of fixing them, I decided I was done. This was the faff the broke the camels back. Maybe it wasn’t the faff, maybe I was just exhausted. Regardless, I settled for completing a double crown and going back home. In total it took me around 14 hours to do the two mountains. 

I still have dreams of completing the triple crown one day. When the time comes, here are some lessons I learned. First, start earlier so you’re not doing the last mountain fully in the dark. Second, wait until a little bit later in the season so you can do that mountain highway slog on a bike instead of skis. Third, maybe wait until resorts are actually fully closed so you won’t have to weave around skiers on steep runs. Fourth, get stronger and try to go faster. And lastly, embrace the faff, but maybe find some ways to streamline transitions. In the end, I concluded, it is in fact possible to faff on one’s own. But what do you think? 

And lastly, if you’ve made it to the end, does faff still sound like a real word?