The purpose, in all three cases, is the same: climbing in Red Rock Canyon. The November trip will be, like February’s, with my friend Jay. Last weekend was with my friend Eric. 

This was Eric’s first time lead climbing outdoors, which meant I — I! — had to teach him some of the logistics, such as “cleaning” a route while rappelling down. I didn’t exactly feel like an expert, considering I’d just learned the stuff myself last winter. It’s not that hard, but it’s high stakes: a mistake could easily mean death, certainly serious injury. 

“Docendo discimus,” as Seneca said: by teaching we learn. At the end of the weekend I did feel more comfortable about sport climbing logistics; Eric mastered things quickly, too. Teaching and learning have been a lot in my mind lately, which is why I didn’t think taking this weekend off was entirely work-free. How do we learn something? What kind of attitude is most conducive to learning, to taking on something slightly scary and challenging. How do we deal with frustration? All of those questions got some airing during the trip.

But, yes, it was fun, too. A blast, in fact.

Eric getting ready to rappel “Frailty.”

Both mornings, we got an early start, thanks to the three-hour time difference that made a 5:30 a.m. wakeup painless. On Saturday, we began on the Panty Wall. The wall has a number of routes in the 5.7-5.8 range; that means easy, even for us. (See an explanation of the Yosemite Decimal System.) We did four: The Last Panty, Boxer Rebellion, Sacred Undergarment Squeeze Job, and Brief Encounter. (Get the theme in the route names?) Next we moved to the relatively new Hamlet wall, where all route names are about Shakespeare’s play. We climbed an easy 5.7 called Frailty, Thy Name is Sandstone, where Eric practiced his rappelling, and a really cool 5.9 called Sea of Troubles. In fact, this turned out to be our favorite route on the trip; we returned to climb it the next day as our last one.

What was so fun about it? First, it begins in a narrow corridor/chimney, and the belayer stays in the shade the whole time while the climber gets into the hot, bright sun. The climber begins by using both sides of the corridor to get up to the first bolt. About twenty feet above the first bolt is the crux of the route: a slightly overhanging bulge where the holds are a bit scarcer and a bit worse than on the rest of the route. After that, the route continues for another 40-50 feet on friendly but fun terrain, and the views become fabulous, as they are throughout Red Rock Canyon.

Black Corridor

On both days, we also climbed in the Black Corridor, which is an amazing little space. You hike about ten minutes to get to it, and right before entering the corridor, you bushwack through and under a thicket you think will lead you nowhere. Instead, you arrive in what feels like a climbing gym: a fifty-yard corridor about ten feet wide, with dozens of routes next to one another. Adding to the surreal feeling when we first arrived was a baby’s play pen in the middle of the corridor, with an energetic baby throwing her doll around while mommy and daddy climbed next to her.

We enjoyed some of Black Corridor’s moderate 5.9 routes, although each of them had its challenges and scary parts. On the second day, I wanted to try a significantly more demanding route, a 5.10b called Burros Might Fly. In the gym and on top rope, I’m climbing routes in the 5.11 range, but that doesn’t translate to competence or, more importantly, comfort on outdoor lead routes even a full grade lower. But I wanted to challenge myself.

Well, challenge I did. I made it about halfway through the route, past the fiendishly tricky beginning and early parts — which are scary because a fall may well mean a ground fall — but ran out of gas on the second crux. Well, maybe not out of gas, but guts. It was a slightly technical, crimpy part well above and away from my last clipped bolt. I fell several times, and because I was to the side of the bolt and my body position odd, I always swung down in ways that became increasingly unnerving. So after Eric suggested a strategy on how I might bail from the route without having to leave gear behind, I did. It was a bit frustrating, in part because I think the problem was less my technical ability than my increasing nervousness about falling. That means I’ll need to return to it.

These burros won’t fly.

I had wanted to try to Burros route in part because of the fun coincidence that on Saturday, as we left the canyon area, we saw four burros. We knew there might be burros and wild horses in the area; a sign had advertised a $500 fine for feeding them. But I hadn’t seen any in February, so it was a delight to see the four guys by the side of road, munching whatever it was they found among the Joshua trees and cacti.

Eric nearing the belay ledge on Man’s Best Friend.

The most exciting experience of our weekend was a two-pitch route called Man’s Best Friend, which we did on Sunday. It was the first multi-pitch sport climbing route for both me and Eric. The multi-pitch factor meant another set of new logistics to learn. The climb was in another area of the canyon, at a place called Sandstone Quarry. The route is 180 feet, which you could just barely do as a single-pitch route with a 60-meter rope, but we wanted to practice lead switching, that is, having me lead the first pitch, then belay Eric from above, and have him lead the second and belay me from above. Technically, it was very easy, a 5.7, which was perfect for us: no worries about our abilities to climb the rock.

The climb went well. The route is quite fun and safe, with lots of bolts. The halfway-point belay ledge is right where the yellow sandstone becomes red sandstone, which added a pleasant aesthetic touch to the route. The route is quite visible from the nearby parking lot, and we had lots of people looking and calling at us. Some kid started singing the old Spiderman theme song, which annoyingly got stuck in my head for the rest of the climb.

Because the route was in the sun the whole time we climbed, the near-90-degree temps had us pretty hot by the time we rappelled down to the shady gully at the bottom. Still, a fabulous experience.

On the belay ledge of Man’s Best Friend.