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| Capturing better times, N. swaddled in good spirits (Chasm Lake, Rocky Mountain National Park) |
PROLOGUE
It's been eight weeks, and my toes are still numb from nerve damage.
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THE so-called Casual Route is a technical rock climb up the iconic Diamond wall of the 14,259' tall Longs Peak in Colorado. My partner N. and I bade for the summit in late July. I debate whether to write about our adventure, afraid I can't do it justice and embarrassed to confess to my savage experience despite a perfect day with perfect weather. Ah heck, here's what I got anyways..
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| A climber and their headlamp charging onwards (Long's Peak, Rocky Mountain National Park) |
In the alpine, "normal" is surreally redefined. A pathetic soul squatting on a ledge mid-climb, barely tethered in and expelling their bowels, maybe will get an eyeroll at most. Looking off to the sides of the sheer cliff as you're hanging up there evokes visions of medieval warfare: fellow escaladiers left and right methodically siege upwards on their own lines, scaling the castle walls. There are those mission-oriented and pushing their limits. Others are gaily scampering vertically about and having just an absolute picnic. Who were which? All I know is that amongst all our parallel compatriots, we occupied the easiest path up, and it took nothing less than psychotic determination to keep me from giving up.
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| In the witching hours the devil frolics a lively scene (Long's Peak Trailhead, Rocky Mountain National Park) |
I.
2:30AM - Trailhead
WITHIN the inky blackness of Rocky Mountain National Park at night, all you see are stars. Their glowing density clusters and forms a viscous stream across the sky making actual sense of the moniker Milky Way. From that lofty dwelling stands the hunter Orion, one arm raised high waving for our attention, the other hand concernedly pointing away from Longs Peak, confused why we would head towards that looming obstacle. In vain scavenging for a morsel of greatness, we defy his directions. I lower my gaze from the heavens to the earth and see hikers in the distance, their scattered lights creating in cheap imitation their very own constellation. Even closer still—whirling in the wake of the dust clouds those hikers kicked up—suspended particles of mica twinkle from the light of my headlamp like stars again, stars within reach.
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| An imminent sunrise shyly peaks above the ridgeline, nervous about its upcoming performance (Roaring Fork, Rocky Mountain National Park) |
6:03AM - Chasm Lake
I'm breathing heavy and my heartbeat feels dull and unhealthy. Jetlag and logistic demands kept me awake since yesterday morning and my sleep-deprived balance teeters me off the wobbly boulders we're hopping across. How mortifying to feel this lousy before any difficulty even starts! The final stretch of the approach is an uphill talus field from Chasm Lake to the base of Mill's Glacier and it's already demanding the effort and mentality I reserve for the home stretch of a long mission. In deep apology I confess to N., "I want to at least make it to the base of the snowpack, but I'm not sure I can go much further than that."
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| Adrift in the talus sea (Mill's Glacier, Rocky Mountain National Park) |
6:46AM - Mill's Glacier
Snow in July, imagine that. Catching our breaths, N. reassures me, "We can bail at any time. I'm just happy to be out here." Surprised, I look over to read his neutral face. His timbre registers no notes of disappointment. Yet almost defensively I respond, "Well, we made it this far. Let's just get to the top of North Chimney since it's supposed to be easy climbing. Then, if it's a mess at the start of Casual Route, we can bail." Little did I know, the sentiment of just one more step—first to the snowpack and now repeated—will prove to be the torturous refrain throughout the rest of this journey.
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| The upwards angle is foreshortened but perched center on the rock you'll see a person (Mill's Glacier, Rocky Mountain National Park) |
7:33AM - North Chimney (3 Pitches - 5.4)
We free solo past climbers on North Chimney, zig-zagging over and under their ropes like weft threads weaving a mountain tapestry. At times we stop and cling to our stances, shoulders hunched as loosened volleys of choss come careening down, clack!-clacking! with half-hearted warnings of "rock!" from the climbers above. With raised hairs and raised pulses we scurry onto Broadway Ledge. There are only two parties on Casual Route and they are moving efficiently. Am I eager or disappointed that the circumstances encourage us upwards? Wordlessly, I begin flaking our rope.
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| Climbing shoes are not designed for snow (Mill's Glacier, Rocky Mountain National Park) |
II.
8:46AM - Pitch 1 (5.4)
UNDER the spell of sunk cost fallacy I commit upwards. Pitch 1 is more scrambling giant stairs than rock climbing. To my chagrin even this easy effort has me out of breath. Both N. and I harbour the thought, "If this is how it's feeling, how much worse will the rest be?"
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| Settling in to nap whilst belaying. The gri-gri is auto-braking, right? (Broadway Ledge, The Diamond) |
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| Transitioning at pitch 2. At least our rope management is A+ (Casual Route, The Diamond) |
9:30AM - Pitches 2 & 3 (5.9 & 5.7)
A mountain guide named Nick catches up to us. I met him earlier in Staunton State Park, when I was coddled in the low-commitment trappings of single-pitch climbing. I sent grade 5.13 that week, yet 5.9 today (ostensibly 14 notches easier) bares such sharper fangs. Nick's positivity reignites a yearning for the familiar comfort and good cheer of sport cragging. I mildly wish I wasn't here.
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| Nick and his irrepressible good vibes coming up pitch 3 (Casual Route, The Diamond) |
N. gives me the signal to go. I ruefully leave the conversation with Nick and head up towards two slender daggers of finger-width cracks slithering back down. In the middle of my business, a bulldozer named Skyeler charges up beside me. With a smirk on his face and arrogantly aloof to Nick's greetings he snidely remarks at me, "You bivouac-ing on the wall or something? Just look at the size of your pack!"
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| Homing in towards N. from the traverse at pitch 3, big pack be damned (Casual Route, The Diamond) |
10:35AM - Pitch 4 (5.8)
Squeezing into a short-lived chimney is a foreshadow of the real deal later on. My backpack, oversized as I was kindly informed, stubbornly wedges itself in every dimension up the wall.
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| Preparing for the chimney (Casual Route, The Diamond) |
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| Tighter than shoulder-width. Don't let the wide-lens fool you. (Casual Route, The Diamond) |
11:47AM - Pitch 5 (5.8)
Heavily feeling the effects of thin air and lack of sleep, I try my best to appreciate the movement on this sustained dihedral of a star pitch. All I can think about instead is how to keep my pounding heart from exploding.
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| From the belay of Pitch 5 (Casual Route, The Diamond) |
1:36PM - Pitch 6 (5.10a)
For the first time, our progress is stymied by the party ahead. The wind picks up as we're waiting in the shade, so I put on all my layers and flap my arms vigorously to stay warm. Mountain bluebirds swoop about to watch, skeptical of my technique. On the next climb over, I see a party in sunglasses, t-shirts and shorts swimming up the wall.
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| Festooned in gear N. racks up for the crux (Casual Route, The Diamond) |
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| Bidding Nick goodbye, starting the crux pitch (Casual Route, The Diamond) |
In contrast to sport-climbing where you mainly pull downwards, trad-climbing techniques such as hand-jams are not my strength nor style. Even deeper, more insane, and esoteric into this discipline still, is the off-width squeeze situation I'm now in: a relentless upwards battle won inch by wriggling inch. Suddenly my knees, palms, and elbows are endlessly more useful than the iron fingers I work so hard to strengthen. Surely the climbing gods are entertained by my struggle because I manage to get through without falling. As if to highlight a matter of perspective, never have I been happier to perform a "basic" trad-climbing hand-jam at the end to gain a restful stance.
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| Squeeze chimneys are a great way to feel completely stuck and yet so insecure at the same time (Casual Route, The Diamond) |
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| The hand-jam towards the end of the squeeze chimney (Casual Route, The Diamond) |
Squirming free of the chimney's vice-grip, I head into the hardest part and grade-defining crux: ironically a few easy moves if you're accustomed to sport-climbing. Did I already mention the matter of perspective? Then, with one hand on the finishing hold, my progress shudders to a halt. I look down to see a stuck stopper nut that I somehow missed taking out. Despite my best efforts to downclimb without falling, I defeatedly let go and hang on the rope to free the piece. Finally, surmounting the last ledge, I congratulate N. on an incredible lead and am glad the hardest part is over...
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| Reunited with N. after the crux pitch (Casual Route, The Diamond) |
3:48 PM - Pitch 7 (5.7)
Foolish, FOOLISH, FOOLISH!!! Staring down a scary traverse and by now disabused of the goal to free climb everything, I cheat by pulling on the camming device N. plugged. He was dubious of its security but hung on it fine so why not follow suit? A shattering KER-CRACK! in my left wrist and I flip sideways in sudden downward acceleration. Before a chance to process the unexpected airtime my askew falling body gets twisted even funnier by what must be some rocky outcrop, detonating through my right foot. Delayed white-hot pain shockwaves outwards from my ankle.
The cam I pulled on is still gripped tightly in my hand. I stare at it stupidly as it blankly meets my gaze, refusing to admit fault. Then looking up, I see myself dangling from the next piece up the wall: a rusty piton hammered in 40-odd years ago, still doing its job.
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| The only photo evidence of the fall. The popped cam is by my rope. Inspecting my bruised wrist and nursing my ankle (Casual Route, The Diamond) |
My left wrist is sore but functional. My right ankle feels dreadful but seems unbroken. My backpack had offset my center-of-gravity and spun me like a tomahawk during the sideways fall, jerking my lower back into a tweaky mess.
I mechanically pull back on and auto-pilot towards N., knowing that I am only temporarily fortified by adrenaline and soon the real pain will come. The climb's difficulty was well within my ability. If I had just climbed the rock shelf normally (the one my wrist had hit), I would have only been scared but easily gotten through. Why, O why, did I try to cheat?
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| Can't say this was the most beautiful view but here we are (Longs Peak Summit, Rocky Mountain National Park) |
5:41PM - Summit of Longs Peak
At the D7 rappel station we face a dilemma. Do we return down, risking a slippery slide off Mill's Glacier in my condition? Or do we "bail upwards" through the top of the mountain? We choose the latter. Sucking in air through clenched teeth, I shamble my way up the 4th class terrain and soon see the sunglasses-and-shorts party from before relaxing by the summit. I limp over to take my 14,000ft selfie in Pyrrhic victory.
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| Forcing a bloodshot smile by this geodetic brass. (Longs Peak Summit, Rocky Mountain National Park) |
III.
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| Starting the infinite rappels (Cables Route, Longs Peak) |
6:42 PM - Cables Route
EVEN when uninjured I'm notorious for punting the descent. Just focus on the next step. The Cables Route rappels are sold as an efficient way to get down Longs Peak. Two rappels through steel eyebolts puts us at the start of the hike out. That is, if we didn't conservatively reset four extra times. Thinking we'd arrived at the next station at every eyebolt we saw, utterly confused by every descent beta we had read, we re-thread over and over fearing we'd lower past the last station if we didn't. We miserably pull and pull at least 300 meters of rope at this unforgiving altitude.
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| Re-threading at every eyebolt (Cables Route, Longs Peak) |
We're in the Boulderfields. Just focus on the next step. Just get back to the hiking trail. N. expresses concern about finding the trail before dark and thus I watch his shrinking figure hastily forge ahead. I wince with every step and tears involuntarily seep out. Slowly downhill and sometimes back up and slowly back down and through and over the rocky battleground.
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| Looking back on the Boulderfields. We had come down from that sprawling apron at the right vertex of the Diamond face (Boulderfields, Rocky Mountain National Park) |
Just one more step. Just get to Chasm Junction. Stumbling onwards against the backdrop of the setting sun. Switchbacks in twilight start playing tricks on the eyes. Kaleidoscopic bursts shimmer in my peripheral vision. The rattle of my hiking poles and painful syncopated footsteps form a maddening rhythm.
Just one more step. I counted only one rock cairn hiking in, but I've passed four by now. This log bridge I swear I've crossed three times already. I'm going in circles, trapped in some fugue state backwoods of liminal purgatory. Gnarled roots intentionally twist and stretch to trip me. Somehow, my sprained ankle fell out of my attention span and come to think of it, it's actually gone completely numb. I feel nothing beneath my right shin.
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| I have no real pictures anymore [AI slop] (Goblins Forest, Rocky Mountain National Park) |
Some Time After 10:00 PM - Goblins Forest
Just one more step. I've caught up to N. in his red shirt. My heavy eyes callously fixate on the diffuse glow of his red headlamp. I'm dissected by tendrils of delirium and an eerie, resigned acceptance comes with this conclusion: he was obviously the crimson Devil this whole time. I finally understand now, following his warmth-less lantern forever downhill to my eternal place in Hell.
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| I have no real pictures anymore [AI slop] (Goblins Forest, Rocky Mountain National Park) |
I HEAR VOICES!! Relief is a warm splash of water upon my damned soul. Just a few more steps! Through the canopy I can make out streetlights; at last we must be close to the parking lot and the congregating hikers therein. I pick up my pace, certain of solace around the corner. Or surely the corner after this... or this? The voices grow louder... No... The voices coalesce... Splash of water indeed!! They are the sounds of a babbling brook. No streetlights are to be seen. I hazard a glance at the GPS. We're still two miles from the parking lot.
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| There are no such things as pictures [my own slop] (Goblins Forest, Rocky Mountain National Park) |
1:21AM
Car. I've been up for 41 hours now. We gulp down water and crumple into our seats. Convulsions of hypothermia wrack our bodies. I whisper an apology to our neighbours as we idle our engine to blast the heat—it really feels like a matter of life and death. One last blink of waking life, and then exhaustion's torpid embrace fades the world to black. Did we make it? Was N. even real this whole time? Or was this all just a dream?
| July 27, 2025 Ticklist | |||
| North Chimney | Free Solo | Rocky Mountain National Park > Long's Peak > Lower East Face | 5.4 Trad, Alpine (3 pitches) |
| Casual Route | Follow | Rocky Mountain National Park > Long's Peak > The Diamond | 5.10a Trad, Alpine (7 pitches) |
| Kiener's Route | Scramble | Rocky Mountain National Park > Long's Peak | 4th class (From Table Ledge) |
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| Rest day activities. It's hard to believe our climb ever happened (Gateway Park Fun Center, Boulder) |
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| A cool perspective that fit nowhere else. I am not designed for free soloing. N. in hot pursuit below (North Chimney, Long's Peak) |
