Road Trip! Brian Wade And Katie Powers Head West to Red Rock, Nevada To Climb

For the modern-day rock climber, nothing inspires the notion of adventure more than the two words: Road Trip. My fiancée, Katie, and I had the fortune of getting the month of February off from work, allowing us to drive 6000 miles back and forth across the country! We eschewed airplanes in order to take our faithful canine companion, Luka, as well as all our camping gear. In addition to visiting a friend in Santa Fe and climbing there, our goal was to warm our New England fingers up on the sun baked sandstone of Red Rock, Nevada. In New Mexico, however, there were problems. Santa Fe was having a tough time staying warm—as was our friend’s apartment. A tiny wall monitor designed to take the chill off was the only source of heat It did little to combat sub-zero temps. In fact, if one was to look at the path of the freezing rain and snow that hammered the country during the first few days of February 2011, it was exactly along our car’s trajectory west. We endured freezing rain for the day’s drive after departing St. Louis, and we barely dodged the wallop of snow that followed. In the days that followed, Sante Fe suffered along with the rest of the Southwest from record low temps.

No matter, we are New Englanders, and incurably proud of the weather and her unrelenting ferocity. So…we made our way to the Sante Fe Climbing Center to keep our forearms strong until it warmed up. I have climbed for more than 13 years and in that time have suffered only a bit of tendonitis, achy rotators, and the occasional pulley injury, but never have I suffered any sort of climbing trama. In Sante Fe, that all changed. Hoping off a boulder problem—yes, I had pad—I landed on my ankle and heard an unmistakable pop. Within five minutes of warming up, I had a sprained ankle! The gym offered to refund my pass. “Go ice that ankle,” they said. “You have a trip to get ready for.” Advice heeded? Not quite. I climbed on it between icings for the next three hours.

The next morning I had my first black-and-blue swollen ankle. What follows is my anecdotal advice on curing a sprained ankle in six days or less: Day 1: Ice, elevation and Tequila. Day 2: Go to a spa with a lot of naked people and soak your damaged limb in hotwater between rounds of freezing it in a snow bank. Day 3: Hike up a slippery, icy trail to a hot spring, soak for hours—more drinks. Day 4: Superbowl party! Drinking. Day 5: Drive 10 hours to Nevada. Run out of gas. (Don’t worry, you don’t have to walk on it, you have AAA.) Day 6: start climbing! We arrived in Vegas to seasonable temperatures and sunny skies. I couldn’t wait to climb. My stump felt great and I was ready. Katie was ready too. When I injured myself, I saw her look of chagrin, her thoughts of leading me up approaches like an injured dog, only to hear me whine that I hated belaying and not climbing. Our first day in Vegas was also our first day with the new GriGri 2, which I was able to get early for the trip. The day was fantastic, the ankle felt great and the new belay device lived up to my expectations. We sport climbed for many days in the Calico Hills, absorbing much missed solar radiation and testing our abilities. Even the petulant ankle got up some tough routes. One goal for the trip had been to climb the classic ‘Unimpeachable Groping’, a five pitch sport climb up one of the walls in Juniper Canyon.

After a rest day, we headed around the loop road toward the trailhead. It was the time of year where climbing in the canyons was cold, and possibly even out of the question if the climbs were windy or shaded. Although I knew that Gropings came into the shade around noon, I was nonplussed by the fact that we began 1.5 hour approach around 9:30am. New England! Upon arriving at the cliff, the climb was—surpise—in the shade. Katie fought up the first pitch, not because of its difficulty, but because she couldn’t feel the rock! Her flash ascent was interrupted by a necessary “take” to thaw her hands. It is often thought that climbing is a sport of support, camaraderie and and non-competition. However, I’d be lying if I didn’t say that I thought Katie was being a bit soft. Was the climb really that cold after being in the sun all morning? Next, I climbed. I hadn’t followed the pitch for more than 60 feet when I found myself hanging from the rope with the screaming barfies. After humbly complimenting Katie on her fine performance, we shivered as we rappelled to the comfort of our down jackets and approach shoes.

I have always felt that a good outing included spending the night in the open—or at least in a tent. The flow and piece of mind that comes about from the simplified procedures involved in climbing and camping day after day is why I still get out as much as I can. After agreeing during a beautiful rest day at camp that the Vegas hotels paled in comparison to the dirt pit we called home, we decided to camp as much as possible for the last eight days.

Mother Nature wasn't on board. The wind ravaged Nevada the following day. After we had a great morning sport climbing in the Black Canyon, gusts forecasted the previous night raged! As the car shook at the top of the loop road, we opted for a dinner buffet. And after filling our bellies and wondering how we would sleep with such a racket, we arrived at our site at 10pm to a crushed tent. She had popped like a nylon pimple with a compound fracture. The wind had arched the pole to its breaking point, puncturing both the sleeve and the fly. We hightailed it back to Vegas.

Hotels aren’t all that bad, but Katie and I have a weakness for the tables. And we found ourselves suffering from every type of gamblers fallacy. Luckily, we turned in early each night so we could climb well. After the winds gave way to sun and still air, we headed for ‘Birdland’, a great casual outing that culminates with a beautiful albeit short finger crack atop it’s fifth pitch. The route was a blast, and I guess my 13 years experience even kept me from mindlessly following the party ahead of us as they got woefully off route. On our way out from ‘Birdland’, we stopped for a bit more challenging trad route called ‘Mushroom People’. I have never put my feet on more polished stone, and the crux demanded some odd layaways of the crack mechanic in order to unlock the crux sequence. I highly recommended climbing it if you're even in the area. As the sun set that day, we pined for more time in Red Rock. After all, it was almost March, the canyons would be warming up; long routes would be possible. After one last day of sport climbing, where Katie elegantly red pointed her project ‘Glitter Gulch’ at the Sweet Pain Wall, we began the long drive home. The not so sweet ending: at 11pm, after 6000 miles of driving and a 14 hour day—only 30 minutes from home—I got a speeding ticket. Welcome home to VT. Thanks officer. Be Careful out there!