Mia Climbs

The approach

After 9 days straight of guiding, over two crowded Spring Break weekends, Red Rock on a Monday morning felt uncharacteristically calm and serene. The morning light was gentle and quiet as we made our way across the desert.

The air was still, and the vastness of the landscape stretched out before us, creating a sense of peace and anticipation. We ambled along, playing around with our new phone cameras. We felt at home, capturing photos of different mountains and cliffs we’d climbed on this season.

The climb

We took the climb nice and slow, enjoying a mellow pace since we had all day and were comfortable rappelling and hiking out in the dark. The initial two pitches of 5.8 allowed us a gradual warmup. Then came the 5.10a hand crack. For me, this was a joy. Perfect hands! I felt strong and confident, moving smoothly through the pitch.

Crux #1: The pitch 4 diheral

The crux, a 5.12-, was a different story. This pitch demanded everything I had. The starting moves, slabby with some small crimps, finger locks and footholds, were flowy. I moved cleanly through it, enjoying the movement.

Then, I found myself at the base of the dihedral. The crack was smaller than even my fingertips (which are usually a cam-size smaller than the typical male climber), and required tiny micro cams to protect, with fiddly, time-consuming placements in the crack. There were very chalked-up holds to the left, but I spent precious energy trying to find a way to move up the crack instead. Ultimately, I accepted I had to make strenuous, overhung moves using all the holds on the left. They were all chalked up for a reason! Eventually, that series of holds ended, and the crack got wide enough my fingers, which required a strenuous layback. By this point, I was absolutely exhausted and only made it a move or two up the crack, before placing a piece, resting, and trying again. I could have pulled on the cams (this is called French freeing, when you assist your movement up the climb by pulling on gear), but I was determined to pull all the moves myself.

I made it up the pitch, probably sitting around eight times, and got to the top, sheepishly looking down at all the pieces of gear, and wishing I’d pushed myself harder, to the point of falling. It was a real mental struggle, as I was hesitant to fully commit to climbing above gear, the tiny cams inspiring little confidence. I told myself it was to avoid getting gear stuck or damaged if I fell, but really, it was just a continuation of my long-held fear of falling.

Crux #2: The pitch 7 crack

The final pitch was an Indian Creek-style splitter hand crack, sustained and powerful. I went for the final move, arms pumped and hands sweating with no time to re-chalk, and took a fall on gear! It felt committing and powerful, and I’m proud of myself for pushing through and giving it my all.

In honesty, that was the only fall I’ve taken this season, which is actually not something I’m proud of. I wish I could push myself to the point of (safe!) falls more often. When guiding, there’s such a mentality to not be able to fall (for a multitude of reasons), and it’s hard to turn that off, and accept that falling is allowed. I took the best whip possible: around 10 feet, on bomber gear, into space so I was free-hanging and didn’t impact on the rock.

The rappel and hike out

The rappels went smoothly, thanks to the re-bolting a few years prior. It’s great to know that what used to be a sketchy descent with webbing on small trees and bushes is now straightforward and safe with bolted anchors. Our rappels were super fast, and we reached the base of the climb just as the last light disappeared.

We always joke that it’s not dark if we don’t need headlamps, even if we’re just stumbling around, squinting in the moonlight. This time, it was almost that. As we made our final hike out of the canyons for the season, the area was uncharacteristically quiet. We didn’t see any other headlamps. There was a profound sense of peace, empty of people and quiet, save for the surround sound of frog song. The full moon, combined with the glow of the Vegas lights, illuminated the mountains after our eyes adjusted to the darkness.

It wasn’t lost on us that this was our last hike out of the canyons until the fall, and what a lovely goodbye Red Rock gave us!

Reflections

I’m so glad that we climbed Cloud Tower. We had a beautiful full experience for our last day in Red Rock for the season. After nine straight days of guiding, feeling the mental and physical fatigue, I knew it was important to reconnect with climbing for myself. I also have felt down on my climbing ability, feeling bummed that I haven’t gotten to climb as much as I had hoped, or climb as hard as I think I should be climbing. So, it was great to just go out there and do a climb I wanted to, even though I knew I wasn’t in the climbing shape to lead the pitches smoothly.

Now, the morning after, Ken and I are so sore, even more sore than we were after our 20-pitch day on Inti Watana / Resolution Arete earlier in the season, since we were pulling harder moves on this climb. It’s a great feeling, knowing that after we recover, we’ll be this much stronger. Cloud Tower was a reminder that climbing is about the whole experience: the beauty of the place, the partnerships, and the satisfaction of pushing your limits.