On July 7th I climbed the Nightcrawler, a spectacular five pitch 5.10+ on the Brownstone Wall in Red Rock Canyon National Conservation Area. The route is claimed by many to be the best 5.10 in this world-class climbing destination – stout praise.
5.10+ marks the inflection point between my traditional climbing comfort zone and limit thrutching. Before the Nightcrawler, I’d climbed many pitches of 5.10c on gear, one 5.11a, and one 5.11b. Safe to say, my broad 5.10 pyramid gets anemic towards the top. Since relocating to Las Vegas for the foreseeable future to pursue a career in Desert Tortoise Biology (more on this later), Red Rocks has become my backyard playground. Without any big route partners I spent the first two weeks traipsing around ropeless on easy faire, and taking a few young coworkers out sport climbing in the Calico Hills – and while these adventures scratched the climbing itch, I was left craving the electrifying sensation of pulling hard miles off the deck. Cue stage right – Jordan, a local climbing guide also in need of partners. The crux? He climbs 5.13… I climb 5.10. Fortunately, what I lack in strength I make up for in unbridled stoke, general competency, and a willingness to fail.
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For our first date we chose the Nightcrawler – an ultra-classic five pitch 5.10+ with a flawless reputation. Some claim the route to be among Red Rock’s finest. With back to back equal graded crux pitches in a vertical varnished corner visible from the parking lot, I was equal measures giddy and terrified. I’m used to being the rope gun. Today, lacking early season fitness from an aggressive spring work schedule, I’d simply be trying to survive.
The route faces east, so we enjoyed a luxurious start time of 11:00AM in hopes of afternoon shade. Two hours of sweating through 100 degree heat and relentless bushwhacking saw us to the impressive Brownstone Wall. Just as I’d imagined, the hanging corner system looked incredibly improbable for the grade, but simultaneously irresistible.
Jordan led a pleasant, albeit rambling, 5.6 first pitch, and I swung through for a long lead through an extensive 5.9 chimney system that challenged my double rack and wide prowess. From the second pitch anchor soared the neck craning crux corner, clean as a whistle and steep as all hell. The third pitch, Jordan’s lead, bobbed between a flaring fist crack and pinching tips crack with desperate stemming up a remarkably smooth chocolate brown dihedral. This Teton boy had never touched rock so clean – I would’ve eaten dinner off it. The crux was a well-protected but sustained stemming sequence protected by five shiny bolts. I tried to recreate Jordan’s effortless swagger but reverted to my typical sweaty paddling, barely reaching the anchor without falling. The first 5.10+ was in the bag, but now I was on the sharp end.
I began pitch four with timidness, promptly popped a foot, and was deposited within inches of the belay hanging by my only piece. The notorious Red Rocks black varnish was slick as snot and void of obvious features. Falling after 10 measly feet didn’t breed confidence for the 100 feet of sinister climbing overhead. I panned the wall for holds to no avail, but then I focused closer. A faint dimple here… a ripple there… a palm press here… a pinky lock there… it was possible. A few deep breaths later and I was stemming like never before, giving the immaculate varnish my full blind faith. At the apex of the corner came the crux: a difficult baggy fingers layback to a chalked slot. Grunting and puffing I committed to the layback, leaving my last piece, a #0.75 camalot, far below. The constriction was the best finger jam imaginable – and just like that, I successfully repointed my first pitch of 5.10+ trad, and free climbed my first 5.10+ multi-pitch. A penultimate 5.8 hand crack to wandering face pitch capped a clean ascent.
While rappelling the route I was stymied by the exposure of the two corner pitches. I had never climbed anything even remotely close to such spectacular stone. Furthermore, I hardly believed I actually climbed the route clean. I guess I moved decently, but the catalyst was Jordan’s insistent support and reassurance that I was capable of leading pitch four, even after I fell. I’ve only had two other partners as strong as Jordan – Chase Krumholz on rock, and Chris Hackbarth on ice. I struggle to suppress invasive thoughts of inadequacy when taking eons to navigate a pitch they’d climb effortlessly, burning my entire rack with a parched throat and elevated heart rate, slowing our pace to a burdensome crawl. However, I know the other side well. I climb most often with less experienced partners, and have supported countless friends pushing their limits on pitches I could’ve led far faster. I love watching people accomplish their impossible. Jed Porter, a close friend and tenured Exum Mountain Guide, states that having partners of lesser ability, equal ability, and greater ability is a crucial part of every climber’s development. Through partners like Jordan, Chase and Chris, I access the next dimension of my progression, touching rock which would have otherwise been inaccessible. And sometimes, like on the Nightcrawler with Jordan, Chilly Dogs with Chase, or Ovisight with Chris, that access can breed inspiration capable of shattering boundaries.
The Nightcrawler is a truly exceptional rock climb. Chris, at 45 years old with a lifetime of experience, claims it’s among the best of the grade he’s climbed anywhere in North America. The chocolate rock exemplifies perfection, and the positioning is mind bending. With at least six more months in the sandstone mecca of Red Rocks, the volcanoes of inspiration are overflowing.
Ten Thousand Too Far 