After exiting the Subway in Zion, I headed west back toward Las Vegas. All around me were mesas layered onto the horizon with the furthest having a purplish tint. The sun was low and the walls to the north were cast in an orange glow. A lot of this trip had been driving alone, which I didn’t mind. I savored moments like this: between the tail end of an adventure and at the cusp of a new one to look forward to.
I was on my way to Red Rock Canyon, where I had booked a campsite for nearly a week. I pored over the nearly 400-page Jerry Handren guidebook in the weeks leading up to this trip, studying approaches, memorizing the names of the walls, and making backup plans in case popular routes were taken. Going into this trip, I was looking forward to this section leveling me up as a trad climber. For the first two days, I’d have my friend Eyal sharing the campsite with me. He invited Max as well, who I hadn’t yet met but was apparently a bold and strong Gunks climber.
I arrived late to the campground and listened to Eyal and Max talk about the routes they had done. They were exhausted from an attempt at the uber-classic 700ft, 9-pitch route Levitation 29 (5.11b/c IV). Despite being the first to the entrance of the park at 6am, by the time they arrived to the base of the route, two parties were ahead of them and one was lining up behind them. Even though the route was below their limit, they weren’t able to complete it and bailed off halfway through.
Fortunately for me, they needed a rest day and were eager to get on easy climbs, routes that were more my speed.
Since we were a group of three, it made the most sense to do single-pitch sport routes. This would be the first climbing of the trip for me. When it was my turn to climb, I was a hot bundle of nerves desperately trying to move gracefully on what was essentially warm-up terrain. I overgripped and my heart rate peaked. I knew the guys could tell I was a sloppy mess based on their quiet “nice work, dude” and lack of eye contact when I lowered down after making it to the chains. At the second route, I shook off the awkwardness and focused my mind. Eyal wasn’t subtle about noticing this: “Good, you’re back!” That acknowledgement sealed it for me and made it official.
While climbing, I heard a familiar voice below and realized it was my friend Cody who was guiding a few routes over.
I met Cody in Red Rock when as a client a few years ago and we’ve stayed in touch. If you’re interested in learning how to be more efficient and safe while roped in, check out his tips on IG @thecodybradford.
Eyal’s excitement was hard to describe. This was his last climbing trip in the US for a while.
Eyal and I met in the Gunks and I loved his attitude, friendliness, and boldness, although I also did see him take a non-critical ground fall when a piece of gear popped that day. The week after this photo was taken he would be heading back to Chile after completing course-work at Columbia University.
There are very few people I’ve met who shared my enthusiasm for climbing history, training, movement, and exploring the alpine. Eyal was one of them.
“I want you to send me all of the photos. Even the shitty ones! Especially the shitty photos.
Those are actually even better you know.”
When either Max or Eyal were climbing, I avoided belaying duty by taking photos of them.
While grocery shopping that evening, Eyal repeatedly kept asking me to send him the photos, which wasn’t possible until I returned home after my trip. He eagerly wanted to show his girlfriend, Cami, back in Chile the climbs he had done and what a good time he was having.
At the campground, it was still fairly windy, but we used our cars as a makeshift barrier. We were committed to making a fire and sitting around it that night. Both Max and Eyal were leaving the following day. Thanksgiving was around the corner and they had loved ones to be with. Eyal invited me to join him and his uncle’s family in Phoenix for the holiday, but warned me there would be “loud, happy Latinos” and I would need to keep up. There was snow in the forecast starting just before noon and they considered themselves lucky for the timing. Even though I had the campground for several more days, I decided to head south to Joshua Tree the following day, where the integrity of the granite rock wouldn’t be affected by precipitation. All those daydreams from studying the Red Rock climbing guidebook would amount to nothing, at least for now. I did feel proud of myself for adapting to a new plan though.
That night we talked about our families’ work-hard ethic that got us to a point where we can climb on rocks for fun. We talked about whether the next generation of climbers would lead the next leap forward in performance or if there’d be a plateau in ability. We talked about not understanding the hate that fueled some people to make judgments about others who looked or seemed different. We joked about how the cloudy night sky was ink-black except for the permanent, bright glow above Las Vegas a few miles to the east that resembled an alien invasion about to pierce through the clouds. I was too distracted to notice the fire starting to melt the edges of my shoes.
The following morning we decided to climb ahead of the storm.
Most of the routes on our wall were at or above my limit, but I gave them a try anyway. From where we stood, we could see the mountains and valleys far to the west slowly become obscured by clouds that carried a heavy dose of snow. We were climbing on a timer.
While climbing, we could see Yaak Crack (5.11c) with quickdraws hanging off the steep face out of the corners of our eyes. Max and Eyal were exhausted, but remarked at how cool it would be to try it someday. It was far above my pay grade so I didn’t even bother entertaining the idea. Just as we were slated to leave, Eyal decided to go for it: “It’s my last time climbing in the US! How can I not at least try?” It was a joy watching him work the route; I could tell he was fully locked in, focused, and was leaving nothing on the table. With a good fight, he made it to the top just as the first pellets of snow started to coat the ground.
We pulled the ropes and headed back to the parking lot. It was my final goodbye to Eyal. He had been entertaining the idea of going completely off of social media and disconnecting, and I asked him how we’d ever find out if he was still alive or if he was ignoring us. “That’s a good point. Maybe I will check in once a year!”
It was still early in the day. The brunt of the snow storm was yet to come. I had a long drive south through the Mojave Desert ahead of me. I parted ways with the guys and before long I was on the road to Joshua Tree. Rain or snow, I was sure to climb there.
