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BrassNuts
Trad climber
Boulder Colorado
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Ahhh yes, the windy & sweltering sand filled car bivy - super classic! Deserves to be in the upcoming book; "50 Classic Bivies" :-) Great stories Chiloe & Philo... makes me want to be there (but it will have to wait for Spring). Cheers!
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Chiloe
Trad climber
Lee, NH
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I'm thinking about writing up a real story, concerning a route the FA party thought fun,
but all subsequent parties have disliked -- Centerfold. It could be a bad route,
but I'm not sure others actually followed the FA line, which has been drawn wrong on
several topos (one by me).
In the meantime, however, I offer some historical confusion about a different climb.
Both Joanne Urioste's and Jerry Handren's guidebooks list a route called "Action By
Knight," 5.10, FA (1974) credited to Joe and Betsy Herbst. Joanne also describes a
variation called "Mother of Knight."
I think the date should be January 1975. Some other details that need tweaking:
The "Action By Knight" route was originally named Mother Knight, a pun on the
Kurt Vonnegut novel, and climbed by Joe Herbst and Tom Kaufman. The "Action By
Knight" name might originally have referred to an easy variation to the left, which
I climbed to bypass the crux because it was getting cold and late.
Below, Joe Herbst starts up the crux pitch, belayed by Tom Kaufman, on the FA of
Mother Knight.
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Chiloe
Trad climber
Lee, NH
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After placing one bolt, a 1/4" Rawl drive as usual, Joe dances the Mother Knight crux
on a cold and windy day. Jerry's modern guidebook rates this section 5.10b.
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Chiloe
Trad climber
Lee, NH
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It was so cold that I soloed an easier escape, and in fading light took this shot
of Tom Kaufman following the Mother Knight crux.
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philo
Trad climber
boulder, co.
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Awesome pics Chiloe keep them coming. I think I did that route quite a while ago. It was stout but I at least liked it.
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philo
Trad climber
boulder, co.
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Birdland is a totally fabulous route! One of my favorite routes in RR. Jorge Urioste took our kids on a nature hike so Julia and I could relax and enjoy the climb. I don't know if my ankle-biting rug rats will ever fully appreciate what an honor it was to be tour guided by a legend, but Julia and I still break into perma-grins thinking about that day. THANK YOU Jorge! The finger crack on the fifth pitch is not to be missed! The belay stance is wild. I can only imagine the sphincter puckering that took place when whatever stood atop the triangle ledge cut loose. It is totally clean and scenic now. Jorge told me the fourth pitch while easy was unprotected. Probably because most of the hard cores just 3rd class through it. On the other hand I was able to essentially lace it up with decent gear every fifteen feet or less. Probably because I am anything but hard core. The climbing on every pitch of Birdland is aesthetic and varied. This climb is a real treat for the senses. Be careful running and pulling rap ropes around pitch three.
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Chiloe
Trad climber
Lee, NH
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Joe & I made a fine trip up Birdland last fall -- the first time for both of us.
It was all Joanne's idea. She and Jorge showed the way, as we climbed in two parties of two.
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Roxy
Trad climber
CA Central Coast
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bump
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Chiloe
Trad climber
Lee, NH
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A Red Rock story in itself: a couple of photos above show the same climber, 33 years apart.
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flamer
Trad climber
denver
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I can't even remember the year anymore....
I had purchased a Silent partner solo belay device from a friend, to use mostly when hanging out in Vegas partnerless. Since my family moved there 11 years ago I've had many great days with partners in those deep red canyons. I've also had a Plenty of days with no partner and plenty of time.
After working out a few kinks in my system here in Colorado I headed to Vegas.
It was January and I wanted something easy and long...preferably with a small gear list and few people.
I choose Crimson crysalis. Granted this is one of the more popular routes in RR, but it's fully in the shade. Mid Jan? I'll be moving all day so no biggie for me.
The other thing about CC is it seems to catch the wind worse than anywhere else in RR.
About 5 pitchs up and making good time, wind howling around me, I had a thought. "Hmmmmm, Goose" I said (goose is my SP's name...I'm maverick) "what do you suppose it's going to be like rappeling in this wind"?
"Well Mave, I'm thinking it might be like flying through Iceman's jet wash all over again".
"Ok Goose let's get out here".
Down I go. I developed a slick plan to rap with my ropes stacked in slings hanging from my harness. This worked great until I had to pull my ropes(duh!). They were instantly blown around the the buttress... but by some magical, lucky ass something they didn't get stuck!
"Sweet Goose we might be ok after all!"
It was not to be so easy. For as my ropes hung down from the next rappel they again blew around the corner....at least this time I was above them.
Decsending down and 50 ft to the right(climbers) I find the worst tangle I've ever laid eyes upon. Ropes are caught on knobs then they go up 10 ft to flakes, then they tie monsterous granny knots around themselves. While this mess is daunting the only way down is through it so I begin. Nearing the end I have another thought.
"Um goose"?
"yeah Mave"?
"what do you suppose is going to happen when we cut this final knob loose"?
"Gee Maverick since we're 50ft out of the fall line and hanging, I'd say we're going for a ride".
"Smart man Goose, but what about that big right facing dihedral?"
Goose "Um, ouch?"
Me..."EXACTLY"
So with no further option and wanting to get down I did what any climber would do....I cut loose.
In a wonderous arc I sped across the wall, feet peddling....and at the last second I jabbed a toe hard into the face and pushed off. Swinging wide of the dihedral and paving the way to the final rappel...which goes without incident.
Back on the Ground I find 2 core shots in my new rope.
Those wonderous knobs and flakes that are a big part of ascending in red rock, can sure be a pain when descending!
josh
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philo
Trad climber
boulder, co.
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Sweet Flamer! I could picture the scene clearly.
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Phantom Fugitive
Trad climber
Misery
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I apologize ahead of time for the long-winded story. I don't have any time to thin it out for internet viewing.
So Over the Rainbow
by Jer Collins
"It is not the critic who counts: not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles or where the doer of deeds could have done better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood, who strives valiantly, who errs and comes up short again and again, because there is no effort without error or shortcoming, but who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions, who spends himself for a worthy cause; who, at the best, knows, in the end, the triumph of high achievement, and who, at the worst, if he fails, at least he fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who knew neither victory nor defeat."
Theodore Roosevelt, 1910
“NO!” I shouted, and lit out for my bedroom. It was 1981, and I was being punished for something I said to a girl in class. My reasoning was simple for the lack of apology. I carefully explained “I am sorry she is hurt, but I am not sorry for what I said.” This stubborn story is something my parents love to bring up at dinner parties, birthday gatherings, and every time I haggle with a waiter on the bill. Whereas this personality trait won me a visit from dad’s belt in first grade, it has paid off tenfold in my adult life. Today we like to call it “tenacity”. Whatever.
Jump forward a few spankings, and a “tenacious” (hellacious?) 13 years of school. A friend handed me a stack of magazines she stole from a doctor’s office. How he got a-hold of the short-lived “Onsight Magazine” here in the midwest(Kansas City) I’ll never know. Published out of Las Vegas- its cover story was that of the recent free ascent of The Original Route on Rainbow Wall, found in the deepest corridor of Red Rocks Canyon. I read, re-read, and memorized the contents of the magazine. Salivating over the red rock pics, I wondered what it would be like to climb something like this. As far as I was concerned, I would more likely be able to dry-tool up the under-belly of the St. Louis arch. Weeks later, a friend and I headed to Eldorado Canyon with a torn out article from the publication, and started an adventure that has held my attention for almost 15 years now.
For six of those years, I spent my Thanksgiving dinners in good, albeit dirty company- a circle of kindred dreamers surrounding a fire, 20 minutes from the Las Vegas strip. I made my way through the classics, checking boxes on a tick-list a mile long. Or 13 miles, actually- all through the Red Rocks Canyon loop road, and down south at neighboring Black Velvet Canyon.
October of 2004 found me at the bottom of that tick-list with the glaring Rainbow Wall inked in broken cursive. It was naked- the only remaining unchecked box, while numerous others had been repeated, some three times over! It was time and I knew it. I had been training like a fiend all summer, but I narrowed my focus, and bought tickets for early November. My friend Josh from Boulder met me in Denver for the drive out. We warmed up in Indian Creek for a few days then headed west through Utah towards the glow of the ever-growing suburbs of Vegas. We basically got to know each-other on that drive. We were new, but fast friends, and I saw in him the same willingness to “fail trying”, instead of “fail wondering” I had. We had the same sense of humor, same food tastes, same tick-lists, and same taste in gear. {Insert obvious internet dating joke here}
Josh had moved to Boulder from Pennsylvania to start a youth leading internship through a local church. He had never climbed before, and a local quickly introduced him. His cut his teeth daily in Eldorado, and he was instantly smitten with the vertical world. Dedicating himself to training, Janes worked his way up the grades, quickly climbing the upper level classics including the “reputation routes”. He on-sighted the notorious “Jules Verne” that summer, a local test-piece saved for only the most head-strong climbers- a run out and thin sea of blankness guilty of sending many strong suitors for a forty–plus foot ride through the Colorado skyline. A lifetime achievement for some…an afternoon outing for Josh. Josh had only been climbing for a year and a half. He had found more than he was looking for in the Rockies, and he was hooked.
We arrived in Vegas to colder temps than expected. Traveling over 2000 miles, though, we weren’t going to let a cold morning thwart our attempt. After stalling for a few seasons, and failing miserably at finding somewhere locally to train for “thin, lay-back and stemming corners”, I came to the conclusion that “the best training for the rainbow wall was on the rainbow wall”.
Of course I wanted to on-sight it. Who wouldn’t? Every night I dreamt of it. I did plenty of mental training for this- visualizing myself pulling the crux coolly, and clipping the anchors pitch after pitch. The beauty of the Rainbow Wall challenge for me was that for it’s 13 pitches, at least 80% of those were at or near my onsight limit at the time!
The guidebook said the approach time with a full pack varied from three to eight hours. I rarely believe such wide estimations like these, and we arrived at the base in less time than it took us to watch Mission Impossible II the night before. Dropping the packs we gazed up at the wall in awe as the sun set behind it in a firey framed display. We traced the line with our fingertips and squinted eyes. I anticipated some level of intimidation, but felt very at ease- psyched to finally be here, and focusing less and less on the climb, and more on the full experience, the new friendship, and of course -dinner.
A short bit of scrambling led us to an eight foot deep cave for the night. We built a small fire and enjoyed two-foot long subs we had packed in from town. Neither of us cared much for elaborate, slow cooked camp dinners. Our bellies quickly filled as we watched the fire, and told stories about climbing, girls, mistakes, and dreams. The great thing about newer partners is the stories are ones you haven’t heard 30 times before. Also, if you feel the need to exaggerate the truth a bit, there’s no-one there to correct you. Josh and I yapped it up like two school girls for a couple hours as the fire ran it’s course. As the temperatures dropped, so did conversation, and my thoughts shifted to the wall above. I took some sleeping pills and faded out.
My alarm went off at 6 am, and I looked at the temperature gage. 31 degrees. My nose was cold, but I jumped from my sleeping bag to confirm. Yep. Bone cold. Unmotivating cold. Get back-in-your-friggen-bag cold. We agreed to try again in an hour. Seven A.M. arrived three degrees “warmer”. We heated up some drinks and stared up at the line. It truly was a rainbow of colors- a splitter, central line, slicing through an arching rainbow of a roof. Green, Yellow and Orange lichen screamed across the face, while exposed Red, brown and deep lavender streaks of rock peered out from beneath. I dove into my sketchbook while we realized and accepted the fact that this attempt was over. Today was reported to be the warmest day of the week.
We pouted for only a brief moment, realizing weather was weather, and there wasn’t anything we could do about it. Good partners can deal with it and move on. Great partners find another objective quickly, and squeeze life out of what could have been a waste of a day. Josh pointed down canyon at a favorite of mine- Cloud Tower, and said “how about that instead?” We quickly racked up, and filled our pockets with hand-warmers. Rainbow Wall would be there next season. Neither of us wanted to ruin our on-sight in the cold because of our impatience. We met friends on the strip that night, and I buried my woes in a gluttonous birthday feast at the Bellagio Buffet.
Winter passed, and late March brought a climber’s festival hosted in Red Rocks. Josh and I quickly made plans to meet at the event, both affirming that our winter training regime had gone well, and neither of us was in a state of injury. The week’s weather was a bust- every day arrived wet and gloom-filled. I dreaded every morning. Sixty mile an hour winds tore the festival tents to shreds; hurling them out into the desert like some biblical curse. We attempted to stay optimistic, but assumed the worse. The weather dissected into our psyche and attitudes quickly exposing our darkness. A biting word here; an inconsiderate comment there. Last seasons serendipitous relationship was in strong contrast to where the friendship was headed now.
A fit, cute, brunette at the event intrigued Josh, and I despised him for it; feeling abandoned in “my” project. She was also a friend of mine, which didn’t help. I had invested so much training and mental preparation, and here he was staying up late, and going out for “fun climbs” instead of packing up, and focusing. Josh had already let go of the climb, and accepted the fact that weather had again beat us.
I hadn’t. My stubbornness, err…tenacity wouldn’t let me.
The day of our projected climb rose cloudless, and sunny with
reports of 70 degrees by midday. I approached Josh’s tent at Four A.M. and whispered- “the weather’s good, let’s go for it”. I heard a rustle inside, and smelled something sweet- not the standard capilene-ish funk I was accustomed to.
"She" was in there.
He paused, then said, “I don’t think so, Jer”. I quickly snapped “this is our last chance, Josh, and the last time I am going to attempt this with you”. I instantly regretted it and felt a jab like a nut tool through my ribs. I said it as one final jab from a few days of annoying each-other.
Guess neither of us were much of morning people, as his response quickly confirmed. I was a consumed man, which lead to a tunnel vision of my goals and plans. In my mind, Josh’s distraction and accepting the weather was clearly a sign that he was not as committed as I was. Heck, he’d only considered this objective when I promoted the idea. At first he thought I was kidding! I was done with him. My self-absorbed focus and unrelenting attitude squelched the momentum we had as partners.
I packed up and headed across the desert alone, knowing of two parties planning on aiding the route the next day. Maybe I could rope gun. Heck, the best training for Rainbow Wall was Rainbow Wall, right?
I plugged in the tunes, and drowned out my thoughts in a fevered push into the canyon. I spent the afternoon stretching and watching Ammon and Gabe McNeely attempting a second ascent on an A4 line right of the Original Route.
I crawled into the cave we had inhabited six months ago. Josh’s bed was still hammered out of the dirt, and our fire ring was set up exactly as we left it. It felt empty as I did. I had placed a pin in the ceiling of the cave to hang food from. It was still there. The cave was very dark that night, as I wrestled with dark thoughts.
Lined with a few inches of snow from the week, it was a fitting, frozen place to hash it out inside...
What was important to me? This route? Why? Where did it fit into my life schedule and priorities? What was Josh going through right now? Did he even care? I felt horrible.
Finding a good, compatible climbing partner is sometimes harder than finding a life mate.
I had just cut off a limb from my family tree of climbing pals.
Dark thoughts indeed.
I lay awake listening to the ping-ping-ping of iron being pounded into the rock, with the occasional rock fall from 600 feet above in the abyss of night above my head. Ammon and Gabe climbed all through the night by headlamp, using the good temps to their advantage, eventually succeeding. Mine was a sleepless night reviewing my motivations and mistakes. I wished I were up there, enjoying their company, laughing at the absurdity of it all.
Morning was warm and clear. The two parties quickly arrived from the base, and I helped the friendly strangers hump loads up the first easy pitch. I offered to both parties to be a rope gun, and after a half hour of hemming and hawing, they both declined. I let go. I replied with an honest “Cool”.
What a release.
I sprinted out of there, wondering what was next. I had enjoyed my day and night of solitude, but I was over it, and looked forward to spending time with friends. Maybe even Josh.
I ran into a third party on their way to aid the route. We looked through binoculars at the two groups train-wrecked at the first belay, with two haulbags each and an octopus of ropes and haul systems. I convinced them to climb a route with me on the other side of the canyon instead- in the sun!
We had a good time in shorts and t-shirts, running up a few perfect corner pitches…then it began to rain. We blasted out of the canyon watching the teams attempt to bail from the route, still stuck on the first pitch, soaked.
I smiled.
Release.
On went the tunes, and I struck out for a tour through the desert, with my camera, and a pack full of unused gear and food.
Josh and I eventually met up and each coughed up a weak, forced apology, but things looked dismal for any future. I dropped him off at the airport, and we both flew out of the airport to different destinations, in more ways than one. Josh moved back home to Pennsylvania, and my wife and I committed to life in Kansas City by purchasing a home.
Although the experience left me sour, my time alone confirmed that attempting the route was still important to me. I hadn’t even been able to touch any of the true climb yet. I quickly recruited Ben Williams, and we made plans for late September, when I knew the temps would be warm.
The week we chose was plenty warm- mid 90’s for highs, and 70’s for lows. As the date grew closer, I dreaded being hosed again, but did my best to focus on the important things- time with friends, time in nature, and embracing the slow, and patient process of pursuing something beyond what I thought possible. Ben felt the same way, and if the weather beat us down, we could go somewhere else. Simple.
For the third time, I hiked into Juniper Canyon.
For the third time I looked up at the wall.
For the third time I set up a bivy at the base and fell asleep under a cloudless desert sky.
Everything was falling into place. I felt a peace about Josh and I’s sour trip. I was excited to be here with Ben, and the vibe was strong. We received many “send it!” emails the week leading up to our attempt, and there was a definite presence of friends in the canyon, although there wasn’t a soul in sight.
We had decided to haul our sleeping gear up the route to bivouac on the huge ledge half way up- to both savor the experience, and up our chances. Total overkill, but the highlight of this portion of the trip was the food. We joked that it was “an eating trip where we took hour-long breaks for climbing”- which wasn’t far from the truth.
The day was full, as were our bellies. At each large ledge we lightened our load of mango slices, GORP, peanut M&Ms, and canned peaches. We were living large, and I was relieved to finally be on the route.
Oh yeah! THE ROUTE! It was worth it. Although challenging, it went smoothly, and the on-sight was ours. It came quite easily in the end- a perfect "last tick" to the area. My dreams were realized, and we sailed up the thing just as I saw it in my mind. The mental training paid off, as did the waiting.
-I learned what it meant to let go of a dream, but not too much.
-I learned a lot about the nurturing of new friendships, and how personal timelines can easily get in the way.
-I learned that dried mango slices should be kept at the bottom of the bag, or your partner will eat too much of them at belays.
-I learned that victory could also be defeat if you allow yourself to become too attached to the objective.
-I confirmed the truth behind Roosevelt’s words. Failure IS success when one dares greatly.
Josh and I are still in contact, and have mended the friendship, but have only climbed once together since then.
Ben and I howled like monkeys on our way out of the canyon, giddy with our success, but quickly building a new tick-list for the next season…and the next. I guess it WASN'T the end of my red rocks list.
The wall faded behind us as we hiked out, but hopefully not the lessons learned at its base, and in its multi-colored-corners.
We came back the next year and did Rainbow Wall, Cloud Tower, and Chrimson Crysalis all free in a twelve hour day.
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Phantom Fugitive
Trad climber
Misery
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philo-
the above is mostly for you- since I so thoroughly enjoyed your posts and this thread. Thanks for the good reads.
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flamer
Trad climber
denver
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Awesome story Jer.
Your Rainbow wall, cloud tower, CC day gave me motivation for a long time goal of mine in Red rock. One that had slipped through my grasp a season before and was finally sent within a couple of weeks of your tremendous climbs. Good stuff dude.
I'm thinking one of these days you and I should rope up.
cheers,
josh
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Chiloe
Trad climber
Lee, NH
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Jer, that's an epic story. Did it inspire any artwork?
I agree that Phil has started and sustained a cool thread here. May it continue.
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Phantom Fugitive
Trad climber
Misery
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Chiloe- I was certainly drawing all along the way, and yeah- all those experiences end up inspiring in some way.
One of those trips, I rode my bike in from the campground with a
canvas strapped to my back to the Oak Creek trailhead, like some sort of desert sailboat. I painted the canyon at sunrise, then stashed my painting, and ran in to Solar Slab. My fingernails were crusted with hints of red, yellow and green paint.
I climbed Solar Slab Gulley to Solar Slab, then down climbed the old rap line down the dark chamber to the right. That was interesting... other parties were rappelling, and I was trying to navigate under their lines. Back to the bike, back to the campground... then back to "normal life".
Josh- yeah man, yeah!
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Chiloe
Trad climber
Lee, NH
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Your mention of the Solar Slab rappels, and Phil's much more serious story, bring
to mind one of my curmudgeonly issues. I'm probably the only climber in the country who
wishes that Solar Slab had never been retrobolted, so that it still had an element
of commitment, and climbers had the experience of moving self-contained up this long easy
route -- relying on their own judgment in starting up, knowing they faced a night out if
they called it wrong.
But I doubt many others agree.
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philo
Trad climber
boulder, co.
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Jer, Man I LOVED that story! The way you brought around and tied it to the opening Teddy quote was terrific and made for a very insightful look into the mental and emotional evolution familiar to many who struggle and strive to ascend.
Thank YOU muchly! Please sir may I have another?
And dude bib BIG kudos on an impressive link up. All that IN A DAY! Blows my doors off.
This thread was motivated by having been asked and honored to pen up an add-on essay for Joanne Urioste's upcoming feature article in Alpinists. That request gave wings to the "MAD mad mad mad MadMan story. But when Alpinist swam upside down I was left just sitting on a story I really liked. What to do? Share it with you all!
Who better to appreciate and understand climber prattle than climbers.
For years I have fired off reminiscences like doodles on a napkin. Perhaps it's the debilitating effect of creeping codger-ness but I have recently been gathering them up along with my cartoons, maps, topos and artwork. Maybe I will notice a pattern or theme for a project maybe not. But it has spurred me to write more. So if y'all don't mind I will keep using ST as a venue. At least there isn't and ad space conscious editor limiting word count or rewriting and rearrange flow and context.
Straight from the horses orifice so to say.
I should have another "blast from the past" story soon so check back.
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Phantom Fugitive
Trad climber
Misery
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Chiloe-
I think the best rap routes generally don't follow the ascent line, but the line for the best pulls. Not sure if the gully is that or not. I do remember stacks and stacks of slings and tat.
Philo- Funny man, I was lined up to do the map for that Allpenis't article. I was excited because I had always wanted to do one for Red Rocks, but had never got around to it. Maybe I should do it anyways...
The only time I got on resolution arete, it took us a long morning to find the starting pitch. Four pitches up we decided we had started too late. The rappels were... interesting. Later, we did "Dogma" and really enjoyed it.
I'll see if I can pen some more to help keep the momentum. Looking forward to more from you.
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flamer
Trad climber
denver
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To funny....Phil I think you know that Joanne asked me to pen a story about an adventure I had in Red rock, for the same Alpinist Article.
I'm still sitting on it....wondering if now that Alpinist has been purchased...
Anyway I'm enjoying this thread tremendously!
I'll have to see if I can't put together a "real" story, as opposed to the quick little writing's I've posted.
Jer...I'll be in RR for most of March. Handren's new guide has inspired me with new, good routes and revision's to some old classics!
josh
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