Beer and Boasting in Wild Places
“We can’t stop here, this is bat country,” I read to my thengirlfriend sitting shotgun on our way to the Nevada desert. The words are those of Hunter S. Thompson from
We were indeed heading to bat country, but we fully intended to stop. The deserts of the southwestern U.S. are a favourite destination of climbers around the world, but especially snowbird Canadians who like red rock. And unlike Thompson who escaped the sandy plains with pellets of mescaline, acid and a galaxy of multi-coloured uppers, downers, screamers and laughers, we escaped up the walls.
It was my first trip to the arid landscape around Vegas that so many climbers call home. It was February 2002. Our budget was lean and we were keen to get on top of some famous walls and peaks. We had no idea where we were going or what the experience outside of our mail-order guidebooks would be. Having never climbed on sandstone or been to the state, I read everything from the local guidebooks to Hunter S. Thompson to prepare us.
Our trip was pre-social media and even internet forums were few and far between. Our plan was to arrive and ask locals what to climb. Our first climb was Solar Slab in Oak Creek Canyon, a nine-pitch 5.6 trad climb. The crux 5.6 third-pitch had me wandering around wondering where to go. The stone was well featured. I was looking for a finger crack. With no protection below, I edged into the groove and realized that I liked climbing sandstone. The next route was Crimson Chrysalis, the area’s classic 5.8+. It climbs a nice line in Juniper Canyon. One crux is a reach-dependent bulge on the ninth-pitch which some climbers feel warrants a 5.9 grade.
On our final day, I tried The Fox, a clean, right-facing corner on perfect desert varnish. At 5.10+, it was at my limit at the time. Near the top, the crack widened fatter than my number-three cam could protect. I panicked and fell. My skin was bloody. Another climber had to rescue my gear. In the evening, we’d reconvene in the campground with other visiting Canadians and out-oftowners to drink beer, boast about our achievements (and near achievements) and compare wounds.
It was my first of many road trips to the deserts of Nevada, Utah and California. They’re wild places where all climbers should go, at least once. It took another two visits before I climbed The Fox. That was 16 years ago and I can’t wait to pile everyone in and head back again. As Thompson said, “Buy the ticket, take the ride…and if it occasionally gets a little heavier than what you had in mind, well…maybe chalk it up to forced consciousness expansion: Tune in, freak out, get beaten.”
It’s weird times in the world, and sometimes the best thing to do is head to bat country, climb sandstone and chill.