I once heard someone saying that there’s a fine line between bold and stupid. That thought undeniably ran through my mind as my foothold broke away and I took the slow motion barn-door swing to my right. I managed to save the fall by catching a suspect crimper with my right hand but looked through my legs and saw the 30 foot runout over a DMM Offset Micro Brassie. I had spent time placing the piece and had told myself over and over that it was solid. But at this point in time, those inevitable doubts were creeping into my mind. Even though I knew it was good I couldn’t help but think, “how good can any micronut be in sandstone?” I knew I had a clean fall below me – no ledges or leg breakers, but I could not shake the vision of the yard sale that would ensue as I rolled, scraped, and bounced down the 60 feet of slab below me. I saved the fall, reached up and clipped a bolt just above my head and yelled down to my partner “jesus what does a climb have to do to get a R rating around here?!”
We were on a climb called ‘The Rock Warrior’ in Red Rocks, Nevada. Although its nothing to impressive, bold, crazy or remarkable, it was pushing the limits of a flatlander like me. It wasn’t just a runout climb, I run stuff out on occasion and kind of get a thrill out of it. But this was 900 feet of sustained 5.10 climbing with regular 20 – 30 foot runouts between thin pieces; it was a test of mental endurance.

I’m not a badass. I don’t free solo hard sh#t or push the limits of gnarly aid. I’m a recreational climber with average skills. So for me, this climb was a real test in keeping my cool.
I initially picked the line because of this quote from the guidebook. “Sometimes runout but seldom really dangerous, the route quickly became a renowned test of trad climbing skills.” At the time it seemed like a really good challenge, but once on the route I kept wondering to myself about the word “seldom.” Seldom implies infrequently or intermittently dangerous – not ‘never’, which is usually how I like it. The route itself was phenomenal, though I’ll probably never do it again.
We had five days in Red Rocks, before heading up to Zion. We did some of the longer classic climbs like Prince of Darkness, Rock Warrior, and Birdland as well as a couple days cragging in Calico. We had fun, success, a wonderful time and beautiful weather – whats not love about the desert?
I was climbing with some friends who are newer to multipitch traditional climbing. They had been up Devils Tower a few times, but had never really done anything too serious or committing. We thought it would be fun to scoot up to Zion and climb a “big wall”.
We learned upon getting there that almost everything was closed due to falcon nesting – shitty timing. Our criteria was slightly limiting as well. We had a party of three so that meant we needed a big natural bivi ledge. We wanted to find something that was mostly free climbing; since I was going to lead the entire route I wanted my partners to enjoy the climbing as well instead of just jumaring for two days. Climbing the route Tatoween was brought up, but I had climbed it this fall with my brother, so that was out. We picked a route called ‘The Big Lebowski.’ It met our criteria and was called one of the best long free routes in Zion by the supertopo book.

Now I don’t want to rag on such a proud line, but holy shit! The approach hike was rough, the climbing was quite runout in places, and some of the gear was a little shaky. All of the bolted anchors (which are nice big new bolts) are slung with old frayed tat. The hauling was a pain in the ass. The holds were sandy, and the rock was loose – I mean really loose.
We got to the bivi ledge and I looked up at the next few pitches and saw more of the same loose looking climbing and basically said ‘f*#k it.’ I was done. I had led and hauled all six pitched up to the ledge and was completely worked. There was no was I could lead and belay two seconds up the remaining 12 pitches of 5.10-11.
I had never really been defeated on a climb like this before and it sort of bummed me out. The horrible feeling in my gut didn’t last long though, as the sun set over the valley and we shared dinner on the amazing bivi ledge. Even though I was exhausted, disappointed in the climbing, and defeated, I had to admit that this was an amazing place to spend the night. I didn’t make it to the summit, but I had a great night of ‘vertical camping’ with some good friends.