Dark Shadows

I catch maybe two hours of sleep before my friend Nic taps on my window. It’s 4:45 a.m., and we have a big objective for the day. We stop at a gas station called Terribles, an interesting name to say the least. I purchase two cliff bars and steal a sip of Nic’s coffee since I can’t find my wallet.

It’s December 31st, 2020. It’s been a shit show of a year. I arrived in Red Rocks yesterday after spending three days traveling from my home base, Missoula. I moved there to cure my growing hunger for adventure. This trip is exactly what my 16-year-old self would dream about.

10 pitches, or 1,000 feet, of 5.8 trad climbing. I wasn’t nervous about the grade. However, the last time I stood at a hanging belay; my fear got the best of me. I wasn’t going to let that happen today. I’ve never done more than three pitches of climbing at once, so to say this is breaking the ice is an understatement.

Nearly three years ago, I climbed outside for the first time along wall street in Moab, Utah. I ambitiously hopped onto a 5.10b and after I finished the final hand jam and slapped the anchor, I looked back at the Colorado river. The sense of fulfillment, teamwork, accomplishment and pure celebration of life; I knew I was going to be doing this sport for a long time and sure enough, here I am.

My toes dig into small lip of rock, hanging only by my personal which is a series of daisy chains connected from my harness to the anchor. We are on top of Pitch 6. Just below me is enough exposure to make my head spin if I think about it too much.

The wind is beginning to pick up and as much as I tell myself, “Emma, you’re safe,” every few minutes, I have to remind the growing anxiety and butterflies in my stomach how lucky I am to be here with these two people.

Just hours ago, we hiked from the Pine Creek Canyon trailhead, as the rising sun began to illuminate the walls ahead. Sand squishing under my hiking boots with each step as I delicately avoid the various plants that I’ve never seen before. Plants dashed with green, pink, red, orange, all with sharp, cutting teeth. When I look up, there isn’t much to do but stand in awe. Sky high, multicolored red velvet, pink and orange rocks that have been gradually cemented and glued together through thousands of years of wind, water, and weather. The colors layered perfectly, lightly colored for the first hundred feet and then a solid red stripe. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen before. They start on the sandy desert floor and reach up to the open sky.

Every single tower has various holds, weaknesses, and cracks that are all climbable. Crafted by the elements and still standing strong today. They’re more beautiful than anything I’ve ever seen. I’d try to bring justice to what I see but I don’t see it happening.

As we begin the approach, the trail fades into mild bush whacking. As we grow closer to the wall, the rock slowly grows in size. I’m beginning to understand the sheer size of these rocks.

The first two pitches feel shaky and off for me, but I keep up. I’m the middleman and I have three jobs throughout the day: climb fast, belay well, and bring the highest levels of stoke.

By pitch 4, we’re sky high, and the red desert floor is no longer in sight. Directly above us is a roof pitch that surely looks impossible. I seriously have no idea how anyone would climb it. Nic is positive there is a way to tackle it, but I only see one micro crimp that you’d have to dyno to. This route is called Heart of Darkness and is graded as a 5.11, this particular pitch is the crux of the route (5.11c). Thankfully, our route peels around to the right where Marina, who I met a few months back, has disappeared as the roof blocks our view of the remainder of the pitch.

Her strength and attitude inspire me. I’ve never climbed with her outside before. As we approached the base on Pitch 1, she enthusiastically volunteered to lead the first pitch. Beautiful wavy brown hair and light green eyes. She wants to learn, soaking up anything and everything to do with climbing like a sponge. She climbs like she was born to be on rock. Always smiling and enthusiastic about every opportunity handed to her and sure enough, she would continue to impress me on this climb.

On top of pitch, I look over my shoulder as I’m belaying. All around me, I see hundreds of prime crack systems. How many people get the opportunity to climb something like this, to experience something so humbling? It’s so simple and yet people complicate the simple beauty that life can bring. One motion at a time, we tackled this climb. I am hungry, cold, exhausted, but I can’t help but smile from ear to ear.

My fingers are numb belaying, the wind begins to roar up through the small canyon we’re in, rising up the wall and bouncing off of us like a ping pong ball. I’m shaking from my head to my toes. Then, I look over at Marina and wonder when I’ll be in this spot again. On top of pitch 6, on Dark Shadows, on New Year’s Eve in 2020, in Red Rocks. It’s a once in a lifetime opportunity.

“On belay!” Nic yells against the wind. I tie in and then proceed to unclip from the anchor. Now, it’s my turn to climb. The cold, hunger, and tiredness slowly fade from my body.

Now, my only company is myself. My breathing and connection to the rock. This is my favorite part of climbing, where everything else fades away and it’s just you, a tiny blip amongst the world. Each pitch is a puzzle, hundreds of pieces all being put together with my hands and feet. My body floats up the pitch as I carefully place my fingers on crimps and jugs that magically appear as I go up. The rock is dark, crisp, and undeniably beautiful. I match my feet on a crimp where my fingers just were and then, Nic anchored into the belay station, comes into view. I reach high up, my height helping me as I place a high right foot before traversing to the left.

I met Nic in my Intermediate Climbing Class in January of 2020. He had long, thick, blonde dreadlocks. He was the only other person that showed interest in traditional climbing besides my friend and I. The day when we learned how to build trad anchors, we practically locked arms like school children to go and search for the perfect crack. Over the next 30 minutes, we learned we were both West Coast kids and bonded over placing nuts and cams in the weirdest of places. In March, we met up in Moab and climbed until Covid called for us to go home. Now, we find ourselves in Red Rock Canyon.

The canyon opens up, revealing a view of Las Vegas. We’re so close yet so far. Compared to the rocks, the city looks so small and yet so many people are crammed in driven by consumerism, partying, and sex. All things that are tempting but don’t provide the same, long lasting impression as this.

I’ve never felt comfortable in a crowded group of people. It’s out here, where I’m constantly on the border of life and death. Everything comes down to how far will I go to feel that comfort of pushing the limits. I’ve always been that way, restless and bored unless I am pushing myself to the outmost. When the outcome is unknown and the only way to find the answer is to push forward. My free spirit has driven me here and it will continue to push me throughout my life.

The final pitch is a flaring chimney that levels out into a low angle hand crack. As I stem up the opposing sides, I don’t want it to end. But, as I pull up over the edge, I spy Marina belaying off a tree. Her excitement is as contagious mine.

I cannot believe I just did that. Holy shit. My body shakes with the excitement from what my body just got me through. I’m even more proud of my friends who took turns leading every pitch. I am up here because of their passion, efforts, and strength. Two people who have no idea the amount of potential they have because they’re here for the same reasons I am.

Every experience in the wild has the power to humble any doubts you have about yourself. It is a reminder that everything you’re feeling doesn’t matter, because you are enough. Every climb is a fight, but it is damn well worth it.

As we put on our headlamps and begin the long down climb into the opposing canyon, the light fades and soon the stars hang overhead. My legs slowly began to lose their stability. If I had to walk a straight line, I probably wouldn’t be able to. Marina hands me THE apple which I swear is the best apple that I’ve ever consumed in my life. I feel a bit of energy and use it to try and keep up with Nic and Marina who are nearly running through the canyon.

We spot the trailhead that leads back to the parking lot. I pause to look back at the same red velvet and cream towers that we approached this morning. The stars hanging over them, draped like fairy lights. They’re still so magnificent. However, they don’t look as scary now. If anything, I understand them now in an even more intimate way.