Bailing isn't Failing: An Attempt to Climb Red Rocks, Nevada

Lindsay and I are five days deep into our week-long rock climbing adventure in Red Rocks—a world-class sandstone mecca of traditional multi-pitch routes. No number of days is enough days to climb Red Rocks, and we’ve been going hard for the past four, intent on climbing as many crags as possible during our short visit.

Our energy has been running a tad low, so we took the day off from climbing yesterday to spend a few hours lounging by the pool and another few hours wandering aimlessly down the Las Vegas strip—too cheap to gamble or drink. The only purchase I made was new sandals, as my nice ones (the ones I’d been scrambling in all week) split away from their soles from the blistering desert heat.

The Objective: Cookie Monster

Needless to say, neither of us feel super refreshed this morning, but we feel refreshed enough to give our last remaining energy to our objective for the day.

For our last day of climbing, we’ve chosen a three-pitch 5.7 called Cookie Monster, with an optional link-up to the upper pitches of Cat in the Hat (5.6). If we are successful, this will be our greatest accomplishment and longest climb of the trip at roughly 650 feet!

We successfully completed five pitches in our first afternoon, but I’d climbed the routes before and three of the pitches were sport bolted, whereas this climb is new terrain and all trad!

I’m always a little nervous with route-finding on new climbs. It’s not something I’m great at yet, but the first anchor is bolted (in theory) so that will help me stay on track!

The Sweltering Approach

We set off from the parking area at 8am and its already over 80 and still with barely a cloud in the sky. Additionally, the 1.5-mile approach is rather exposed with minimal shade, so, naturally, we begin sweating profusely right away and I begin worrying if we’ve brought enough water, knowing full well we’d have a tough time carrying anything more than our tiny pack up the wall.

It’s early May, which is not the most ideal time to climb Red Rocks, but it’s the only time we could come. We can see the climb in the distance and it looks very hot—the east face is in direct sun this time of day—but very beautiful at the same time!

We keep our eyes on the climb as we wind up Pine Creek, through manzanita and spiky scrub oak, hoping to avoid getting lost on the approach like we did on day two. Luckily, we find our way without any wrong turns and arrive at the base of the climb just before 9am.

We had heard the belay was shady, but we are cooking against the black rock in full sun, so we don’t hesitate for long and begin flaking our 80m rope. I make a mental note to only climb Red Rocks in winter from now on.

Pitch 1: Hot Rock and High Spirits

The climbing is easy, but my hands break a sweat right away from the dark varnished sandstone—almost too hot to grab.

Maybe I should have refilled my chalk bag this morning. The hot days have taken their toll on my supply. Too late now.

I continue up, knowing full well that Lindsay is cooking down in the oven that is her belay nook. I place a cam here, a nut there, even wrap a chicken head.

Despite the heat, I am thoroughly enjoying this cruiser climb! I’m even running it out a ways between gear placements because I feel so comfortable on the terrain. I feel as though I must be nearing the first belay, but I don’t see it.

I come across five or so bolts heading up and to the left across the face and around a corner—away from the main crack I’ve been following. I stop. I don’t remember seeing any mention of bolts anywhere on this crag in the guidebook nor on Mountain Project. Hmm.

I feel pretty confident that I should stick to the crack, but I consult my phone and the plethora of screenshots I’d taken in preparation, just to be sure. The route topo photo seems to confirm my suspicion, so I carefully put my phone back into my chalk bag pocket (highly recommend a chalk bag with a phone pocket!) and continue up.

A Little Shady Oasis + The Reason I Climb Red Rocks

A few pieces placed and a few moves later, I get a strong feeling that the belay should be right where I am. Did the bolts get chopped? Do I need to continue higher?

I pause again to consult the guidebook photos. Do other climbers pull out their phones this much to route find when they climb Red Rocks?

Doesn’t matter. I am in the right spot as per the photo, but where is the shady alcove? Will we be stuck in full sun all day?

Finally, I look up behind me to the right (I’ve been climbing a corner system) and there it is! Two nice shiny bolts and SHADE.

I tell myself I really need to start thinking more three-dimensionally as I scramble up and build a quick anchor.

Lindsay must be well done if not burnt and ready to leave her oven at this point. Guiltily, I radio down from my shady oasis that she can take me off belay, quickly pull up the slack, and put her on belay.

She climbs quickly and shortly we are both celebrating our sliver of shade as we eat a snack and gaze down at Pine Creek Canyon below.

We could happily spend the rest of the day in this spot. The reason I climb Red Rocks is to hide away from the crowds and enjoy the breathtaking views like this that only a handful of people ever get to see.

Unfortunately, in the past five minutes the sun has encroached on our shady nook and we decide it’s time to continue up.

Pitch 2: A Cool Breeze Turns Ominous

As soon as I step out into the sun, I immediately feel a bit lightheaded.

I reach deep into the interior of the crack, sinking a nice cool jam where the sun’s intense radiation can’t penetrate. I place a piece to protect the pendulum from the belay.

Right hand, left foot, the holds are all there. A hint of a breeze makes the heat a bit more bearable.

Left hand, right hand, swap feet. I thread a sling through a fun little sandstone arch.

I can take my time. Lindsay’s in the shade and the breeze has become a welcome companion.

I reach a deep chimney and reference my trusty phone yet again. Three different cracks diverge here and I don’t want to take the wrong one. I realize the correct path is behind me yet again, so I down-climb a couple moves and traverse right into the correct crack.

The breeze has become a sustained wind, but I barely notice as I near the tiny tree at the top of the pitch.

At this point, finding shade is a comfort rather than a necessity, but I take full advantage as I begin to build my anchor. As I pull up the slack, I begin to hear a distant rumbling.

Before putting Lindsay on belay, I scramble around the tree and across the ledge to get a better view up into Pine Creek Canyon, and notice dark, ominous clouds forming in the distance. I don’t like the look of that.

I clamber back to the belay and begin to pull Lindsay up. I begin to weigh our options: quickly continue up another pitch and towards our goal or play it safe and begin our descent.

An Impeccable Bail

I deliberate as I belay.

The wind gets noticeably gustier and the thunder gets louder at an alarming rate, making my decision easy.

By the time Lindsay reaches me, there is nothing left to decide. Our final long multi-pitch adventure will be coming to a close after only two beautiful pitches.

She quickly flakes the rope as I break down the anchor. We watch another party descend past from the upper pitches of Cat in the Hat. We scramble over to the rap station as soon as they pull their rope.

Working efficiently, we are focused on our goal, but with two rappels between us and the ground, we begin to notice the smell of rain. It’s actually quite nice after a hot, dry week, but it encourages us to move swiftly.

We toss the rope and a gust of wind takes it sideways, but it’s plenty long enough so I start down, detangling as I go.

We both arrive at the top of the last belay—the thunder echoes off the canyon walls around us. I thread one end of the rope through the rings as Lindsay pulls the other.

I begin the final rappel. Our 80m rope is only just long enough to reach the ground as I aim for the high side of the slope. My feet touch the sandstone.

I scramble down through some scrub oak to ground level and quickly direct Lindsay to aim for the same location. With the stretch of the rope, her toes barely touch the ground before the first raindrops hit our helmets.

What impeccable timing!

Bailing = Failing Successfully

We are damp by the time the rope is flaked. As we begin the mile and a half walk back to the car, I laugh to myself at the mornings anxiety about running out of water and chalk as I am now thoroughly drenched.

We enjoy the red dirt and spring flowers, brightened by the unexpected rain, like someone doubled the saturation. The cool shower is just what we needed. The smell of damp earth is as soothing as the gusts of wind across our burnt, raw, and now wet skin.

As we arrive at our car, it’s only about 1PM, but we appreciate the serendipitous end to our adventure, noting how lucky we were to have bailed at the perfect time. Maybe it was a little luck, but maybe also good situational awareness and no fear of failing.

However, I would argue that bailing isn’t failing, or rather it is failing successfully. I think knowing the right time to bail is one of the most important skills of them all.

Even though we didn’t complete all the pitches, the real success lies in being able to return home safely to climb another day, and trust me, we will be back to climb Red Rocks another day—once the sandstone dries out again that is.