Spray

*This is a write up about a climb I did over a year ago, when my mind was in a much different place. This climb its self is not by any means a complex or difficult route, however it is the most "real" thing I feel like I have solo'd and I have been processing and thinking about this day for a long time. So because of the impact it had on me, and the very memorable experience I had, I felt as though it deserved some sort of write up. That being said, I do feel slightly hypocriticalI because I believe that the worst kind of climber is one that sprays about their moderate free solos on social media to look cool. 

August, 2025

I sat perched on the ramp directly across from my proposed objective staring at it, breaking it down. The air was hazy from a fire that was burning near the canyon and I took big deep breaths of the smoky haze, trying to calm the nerves and ease my mind. This was something I had been thinking about for a long time. Ever since I had heard tale of Missoula climbers doing it, I had been inspired. Then, during an incredible summer in the Sierra I began to consider this outing as something that was within my realm. I breathed in deeply, music blasted in my ear. 

"I don't lie, I don't lie, I don't lie, I don't lie, I don't lie, I don't lie, I don't lie, I don't lie, awake at night, for a good time, because its fun."

I wasn't listening to inspiring music. I was listening to what would fuel a fire that had been burning for a long time. While I sat perched in the dirt staring, I wondered, was I there because this was something I was truly psyched to do, or was it something I was doing because I was lashing out. Upon returning to Missoula, life dealt me cards I was forced to play. Angry at the world and circumstances I couldn't change, walking ball of rage, being followed by a dark cloud. One that had been hovering and consuming me for weeks. I needed an outlet. So I went to the mountains. 

"I don't bet on the horses anymore, keeping away from the on I rode in on. Is something burning here, or is it me? Is something burning here, or is it me? Is something burning here, or is it me? 

My music raged on. Feeling anxious I realized that I just needed to get up and do this thing. I rose from my perch and didn't look up at it any more, instead I watched my feet as they levitated above the ground and carried me to what I had deep down been longing to do. 

At the base, I tried to ease my breathing. My heart was racing, a mixture of nervousness and excitement. At the big ledge that marks the beginning of the route I swapped my approach shoes for the rock shoes and took big deep breaths while I fastened my chalk bag to my waist and put my backpack on. Excitement flowed through my veins. Like a child standing in front of a forbidden door, the door he had been told never to open. 

"Don' tell me how to do my job, Don' tell me how to do my job, Don' tell me how to do my job, Don' tell me how to do my job. Maybe the sun waits for you be shown what to do. " 

I put on a fitting song, chalked up, then stepped onto the ledge that leads left and around the arete. Tip-toeing my way, slowly out until I could slip my hand into the crack on the face. That was it, the door was open. All my fears, all my rage and angst melted away and was replaced with a strange sort of calmness. A calmness that did not make me feel relaxed but instead hyper focused and aware. Hands feet, hands feet, not a single other thing in the world mattered more than where my hands and feet were, where my balance was, what I was grabbing and stepping on. I fell into the familiar rhythm of climbing on that first pitch, asides from stopping to place gear. Excellent crack climbing on good rock, what could be better. 

It wasn't long before I reached the anchor of the first pitch. In fact, that went too quickly I thought. Standing by all the anchor tat, I took a breath and looked up at the next pitch. I knew what was coming. Choosing not to stay there too long, I set off on the rest of my voyage. Slowly tip-toeing my way up and out right. I could now feel the exposure, like some strange sixth sense. There was nothing but open air below me, and between my feet, a total void of blurred out trees, dirt and rock. 

Music was still blasting in my ears, but I couldn't hear anything. The only sound that seemed to be happening on earth was the sound of my heart beating. I had successfully arrived at the crux, which is small roof pull in a little dihedral. While thinking about executing this move I realized I didn't have any other choice, because to fail was to die. I stemmed my feet on to small edges then grabbed onto a small ledge with my left hand. Then I reached up and jammed my right hand into a crack. Carefully, I moved my foot up to the same little ledge that my left hand was on and delicately stepped up and moved my hand from the ledge and grabbed onto a good hold above me. A wave of excitement flowed through me and I felt as though I were on some other planet, one were gravity was not of nature.

I climbed up to a good stance and really took account for where I was. 300 feet off the deck, untethered from the earth and separated from all the burdens, all the troubles and pain that is included in real life. I was free. Between my feet was a ramp of rock leading to the distant ground, and beyond that was the creek on the valley floor. To the waves I must have been nothing more than a speck, protruding on the canyon wall, inching my way up towards the top. To the sun and the sky, I was a beggar, pleading for answers.

The rest of the route is scrambley brilliance, with short sections of steep crack climbing. It wasn't long before I could see the open door at the top. The exit. It was there that I would shed my feeling of freedom and bliss and return to the real world. I pulled over the last little lip and was standing on the top, next to the big block I would normally sling for the last anchor. All my emotions and feelings that I had left at the base of the route were waiting up top for me and they grasped me and began to slowly disperse throughout my body. It was then that I was once again a part of the real world.