the Original route on the rainbow wall

It’s good to be a little nervous.

I was certainly nervous that morning. I kept my phone on long enough to hear my alarm but switched it to airplane mode right away - Always a sign to myself to fully tune into the day. i was nervous when i pulled onto the first pitch of The Original Route on Rainbow wall.

I had been in las vegas for about 3 weeks at that point. Sleeping in Scarlet JoVANsenn - my red, 1991 Ford Econoline - on colloquially named “skid row”. the climbers, guides, old friends, and new friends residing on skid row together made for a memorable time. We returned after our days in the canyons to make dinner, drink pbr, and talk shit. but mainly… we were just genuine around each other – something I’ve found to be a scarce commodity in this world. i appreciate it just as much on skid row as I do high up in the canyons.

Red rocks held residency in my heart long before I ever drove the scenic loop road, knelt by the wildflowers, or ensnared cactus needles in my approach shoes.

In the summer of 2013, I was between my undergraduate and graduate degree in structural engineering and I helped design two of the bridges that loft traffic over the Red Rock Wash and the Sandstone Quarry wash.

In 2014, the bridges were constructed and it was the first time something I engineered was ever built.

I specified each iamb of rebar, hung the drawings on my fridge in Colorado, and never had time to go see it for myself.

“Oh, you should go and climb there!” I remember a colleague proposing. But between getting my masters degree and working a full-time engineering job for four years after, I never had enough time off to go.

There was something difficult to describe about the first time I drove over both of those bridges in 2021 – a year after quitting my engineering job, starting Project Direct, and finally having time to spend in this place. Describing it was like catching smoke. Ironic? Comical? Meaningful? DId i detect a smidge of spite in my grin? Or was I just excited that I took the leap of faith and it worked out?

At a minimum, it felt very full-circle; a manifestation of the way life dips, weaves, zigs, and zags. The way we find ourselves in places or back in places under new circumstances and we take a minute to reflect.

The first time I drove over those bridges it was a Tuesday in March 2021. All I had going on that day was climbing with my friend and enjoying the place. It was surreal to imagine my old life juxtaposed against this new one.

“I would have been at the desk right now if I hadn’t quit,” I thought as I edged left to avoid a cyclist.

this experience would also not be near as meaningful if I had not come by the path behind me.

I never found an adjective to describe that first day in Red Rocks…

I prefer Spring in red rocks – the microclimates of the canyons provide homes to cacti, ferns, and (to the shock of my partner and I one day) mountain lions. The spring holds more color, too. orange and purple blossoms dollop approaches and creek bubbles gather under rounded sandstone.

I climbed many classics on this trip. But I was mainly down there to become a more efficient and experienced trad climber. Dipping my toes deeper into those waters, I walked away from each day with a soul smile. The kind that sits deeper and holds more than what I can show on my face.

On the morning that we climbed the original route, I felt physically prepared to give a good onsight attempt, but also nervous – at 14 pitches, it would certainly be the biggest wall I had climbed in a day.

“It’s good to be a little nervous. You show up when you’re a little nervous. You give full attention when you’re a little nervous. My nerves bring me closer to the experience that I am actually trying to have up there. A full one. A present one.”

The Original Route on The Rainbow Wall, Juniper Canyon

The nerves and excitement had me bounding out of the van. I tried to slow my pace to a dull patter as we bounded over the cacti lined trail.

The approach felt easy (a 90 min approach felt normal to me at that point) but I think it flew by because of how excited we were. we arrived at the base of the route around 8:20 AM.

I took the first lead (the 11c variation that combines pitches 1 and 2) and was reminded that sandstone route reading still wasn’t second nature to me. Slowed by my route reading, I pulled a funky move above two black totems (all hail the black totem!) and reached the first anchor. but hey – I made it work and made it clean. Casey followed up more quickly and we transitioned to P3, a 5.11+, and Casey’s lead.

Casey has significant trad climbing and big wall experience. I was happy to climb this route with him. watching him climb taught me a lot.

You can read more about Casey’s experience in this realm in Rock + Ice and Evening Sends.

He also is the go-to coach at Project Direct for trad head game!

you can reach out to casey by sending an email to casey@projectdirectcoaching.com!

I was certainly glad he led P3. Power lay backing with somewhat blind placements transitioned to a face climbing portion that ended in a powerful move. Casey hit it (later mentioning the ‘fear of god…’) and I fell on the follow. The amount of time I spent in route reading mode was flaming out my forearms and I didn’t have the juice to grab that hold.

I made a mental note to myself that I didn’t need to judge my route reading so harshly. That in comparison to limestone and granite, I’d climbed sandstone less than one-twentieth of the time. the whole point (seriously, the whole fucking point) of me spending time in Red Rocks was to learn about it. Learn how to read it. Learn how not to read it. Learn how to crack climb with more skill.

Going up and not sending was certainly going to be an important part of that. I am in the trenches of this transition, the value is found in the fight, the lesson, and the stone. falling on that pitch didn’t take one inkling of that value away.

Now, with the onsight attempt out of my purview, and trying to stay open to learning, I switched into support mode. Casey could still, and likely would, onsight. It’s funny though, in all the reading I did about that climb, I was focused on P11 and P12 – not expecting P3 to pack the punch – but hey, that’s why you go climb the route and don’t just read about it right? To go find out for yourself.

we climbed the next 3 pitches without much trouble, and I turned my focus to onsighting as many of the remaining pitches as possible and supporting Casey.

Pitches 7-10 were generally traversing and perched you right under the money pitches in the dihedral.

We paused for a moment, ate snickers and almond joys, and let a party pass us that was attempting a rowdy link up of their own accord.

I led up P11, figuring I’d at least get the draws on the crux for Casey to onsight if I didn’t solve it right away. Smeared on divets I could barely see, my middle finger in the sloping-half-pad-mono-shenanigans, I tensed my core for what was feeling like the most tensiony move I’d pulled in a while… and my other foot popped.

I lowered and Casey went up, I remember feeling happy that I had gotten the draws on for him.

I really, really wanted him to get the onsight and gave him a first bump as he started to climb. Utilizing a palm smear that I didn’t use, he popped up to the hand-sized ledge above the crux. I smiled a real big one, we knew he had just one more hard pitch to go to bring it home.

I headed back up and found myself starfished in the dihedral again, but this time I used the palm-smear. This made my foot move much more manageable, but still grunt-worthy.

A deep grunt turned to a “oh, yay!” when I caught the ledge (a dyno for me) above the crux and smiled my way up the rest of the pitch. No onsight, but I was stoked I could make the adjustment quickly and send it on the second go. It meant I was learning.

Both full of stoke at this point, Casey raged up P12. After insecure moves off of the belay, he was back in what looked very much like his comfort zone of powerful locks and pods with smeared feet in the notations of the dihedral.

He certainly sent it. He sent the fuck out of it. We were both amped! I was ready to give it too, still full of energy from sending the pitch below.

Starting up P12 was the most energetic I felt all day. mental momentum is a real thing.

After I was through the first cruxy bit, I paused and looked up to the next pod in the crack system. Again, unsure of how to move my feet around as well in this terrain, I looked and looked.

I felt the pump building and estimated I had about 20-30 seconds to pick something and just go for it.

I hit the pod, engaged my right shoulder as fucking hard as I could, but was a little too low in it and I felt my finger lock slipping out…

But fuck man, I was screaming for it. I was psyched. I gave it everything in that moment and my smile wasn’t going anywhere.

I rested for a few seconds and hit it pretty quickly after I pulled back on. I moved up the rest of the climb and decided to give myself a treat - a deadpoint to a crimp (I had to get in a comfort-zone-move of my own, right? =D) near the top of the pitch when it wasn’t necessary. I did it just because I knew it would be fun to latch a crimp and feel strong enough to do so after 12 pitches of climbing.

P13 and P14 felt difficult due to fatigue, but we still both made moved through them cleanly. I remember being amped that I was able to so comfortably hand jam my way out of the roof at the start of P14 – something I had been working on improving over the last year.

At the summit we peered over Levitation 29 and watched the light from the dipping sun stream sideways over Oak Creek Canyon.

it was just sunset at the summit and dusk deepened as we descended.

We both commented a couple of times how difficult the pitches looked from above. Laughing and mummering, “what the fuck, that looks hard!” the wizz of rope streaming through our devices brought us to the ground.

it was dark by then. We slammed another PB&J and took off down the slabs.

Still smiling, I thought to myself that I’d be back to do it clean.

And, what a dope route to get to climb again. I was happy to support the onsight, happy to be high up on an amazing route, happy to be pattering down the trail in the dark, happy to send all but 2 of the pitches, and reminded of all the sensations, nerves, beauty, movement, and commitment that makes this thing we do on rocks so worthwhile.

Summit for a moment!

Gear: single 70m rope (Trango agility 9.5), DMM halfnuts, BD stoppers, double rack of totems to purple, single totems to green + red, BD #2, coupla z4’s, a dozen or so draws/runners, Tenaya Iati’s, Trango horizon harness, Trango halo helmet, Trango vergo, Trango ration pack. note: I really liked having doubles of the smaller cams!