Risky Business ascends some of the BEST rock in Red Rocks – an improbable and bold traditional climb connecting discontinuous flakes and seams via runout face climbing on the impressive vertical varnished face left of the equally famous Dark Shadows (5.8). Every pitch offers R rated climbing, flawless stone, and exciting movement in a classic setting.
Risky Business: the Bachar-Yerian of Red Rocks. Perhaps that’s too audacious, especially because I have not climbed the Bachar-Yerian and probably never will (but you never know…). However, the routes have similarities. Risky was undoubtedly bolted ground up, evidenced by bolts placed at effortless stances, and otherwise absent. Long runouts on 5.10 terrain characterize every pitch, some reaching dangerous magnitude. And the line? Well, its not exactly obvious. How anyone gathers the nerve to cast into a sea of nondescript vertical rock with little more than a light rack, bolt kit and a prayer is incomprehensible. I find routes like these attractive for three reasons. First: the history. When punching a long runout on difficult terrain between bolts, I like to imagine the first ascentionist experience. Any intensity I’m feeling must’ve been compounded tenfold. At least I have a shiny bolt – salvation – to aim for! Second: the rack. Leading sparsely protected routes with a light rack is simple. When gear is unavailable, moving over stone becomes the sole focus – a meditation. Third: the head game. In a modern era characterized by training plans, green smoothies, collagen, Instagram spray and oneupmanship, routes like Risky provide the antidote. With a relatively pedestrian grade, difficulty is not the main obstacle. Instead, keeping one’s head centered enough to climb confidently and sniff out fiddly protection opportunities while braving massive falls is the barrier to success. Could you walk across a balance beam 100 feet off the ground?
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Jordan, my new partner who I climbed The Nightcrawler (5.10+, 5 pitches) with two days earlier, was on the other end of the rope. Staring up at the daunting vertical face of Risky Business, I was rife with anxiety. The 5.10b first pitch had a meager two bolts, with a massive runout into no-mans-land above the second. The work was standard slab fare. I would lead one and three, Jordan two and four, so I could have the crux third pitch. Having heard the upper pitches were more edging than smearing, I began the route in my tight sport climbing shoes, only to suffer incompressible toe pain by the second bolt. I hung on the bolt to pop into my softer trad shoes, lowered to a no-hands stance, and cast off into the crux: a technical edging sequence on bulletproof black varnish with a long reach from a two finger pocket to a jug rail. From the jug I moved right to a thin flake and climbed gingerly into ground fall territory, aiming for a weakness in the flake that might take small gear. Four nested pieces later – a brass offset, medium nut and two marginal cams – I traversed back left on jugs to a belay beneath an imposing roof. To be perfectly frank, I was spooked. I usually have a sturdy head for runouts, but my lack of mileage this season was glaring. I climbed well, but climbed scared. If I wanted to finish this bold classic, I would need to shape up quick.
Jordan’s lead on pitch two was brilliant. Moving left of the roof with one cam placement in 20 feet, he reached a very high first bolt. A half rope of intense 5.10b stemming and face climbing with incipient seams for small protection took us to a hanging belay below the intimidating upper headwall. After a winter of regimented hangboarding, and rope overhead, I felt dialed on the second pitch. Razor crimps, cryptic side pulls and technical footwork is my modus operandi. I reached the belay with increased confidence, ready for pitch three.
Pitch three is the crux – weighing in at 5.10c R. A long leftward traverse to a lone bolt starts the pitch, and the ensuing 15 feet contain the hardest moves. High-stepping and desperate crimping without any obvious protection opportunities characterize the route in whole, but this pitch especially. A few fiddly wires worth little more than bodyweight led to an equally long rightward traverse and a deep crack. After a few body lengths this easy crack fizzles, and an even longer leftward traverse – about 30 feet – zags back across a blank sea of black varnish to an incipient seam in a shallow right facing corner. This traverse, while only 5.8/5.9 face climbing on mostly positive holds, was the psychological crux. A fall here would beckon the pendulum of a lifetime. About halfway through I fiddled in three nested micro-cams between two plates, but their viability of arresting a fall was about 50/50. When I reached the seam, I was pleased to see ample protection opportunities, including a knifeblade sunk to the eye. 30 feet later, I was dangling from a hanging two bolt anchor. This particular pitch reminded of Joshua Tree’s Walk On The Wild Side – a brilliant piece of climbing requiring route finding prowess, courage, and in this case (since WOWS is bolted), savviness with placing small protection. The weaving nature of the line forces the use of long runners on nearly every piece, lengthening fall potential on an already runout fiasco. Unlike pitch one, none of these obstacles frayed my concentration. I climbed confidently, and reached the anchor grinning ear-to-ear. This is what climbing is all about.
Jordan capped off our adventure with an expedient lead of pitch four, a still runout, but notably easier, 5.10a face to a spacious ledge. A few quick rappels deposited us on the ground. Overall, Risky Business offered just about every accolade you’d expect from a four star route: epic positioning, engaging movement, a variety of climbing styles and truly flawless rock. Every pitch was exciting, memorable and distinctly different. This is a true classic – perhaps the best rock climb I’ve ever done – and shouldn’t be missed by anyone up to the task.
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DISCLAIMER
Ski mountaineering, rock climbing, ice climbing and all other forms of mountain recreation are inherently dangerous. Should you decide to attempt anything you read about in this article, you are doing so at your own risk! This article is written to the best possible level of accuracy and detail, but I am only human – information could be presented wrong. Furthermore, conditions in the mountains are subject to change at any time. Ten Thousand Too Far and Brandon Wanthal are not liable for any actions or repercussions acted upon or suffered from the result of this article’s reading.
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