I’m sitting on a belay ledge halfway up Travels with Charlie (5.8-R), contemplating the nature of climbing R-rated routes. Somewhere above me Todd is contemplating the R-rated route itself but it’s not him I’m worried about. What he’s doing, he’s at least doing intentionally.

I’m worried about the guy to my right, the one leading Strictly from Nowhere (5.7). This guy ran it out from the big belay ledge with about six people on it to just under the roof, then accidentally lifted the single piece under the roof out with his foot as he climbed past it. I figure he’s looking at a sixty foot fall as he wrestles with the route’s crux. I don’t want to watch him die. Tangentially, I’m worried that if he falls I’ll instinctively tighten my own belay and pull Todd off.

The guy pulls the roof and I sag back against the ledge with relief. I think about the YOSAR dictum “Did you plan to solo today?” and wonder if this guy planned to climb an R-rated route today. Then he calls down “off belay” while standing on the lip of the roof before placing a single piece and I decide he’s not worth worrying about. When I hear about Steven’s accident on Monday I want to find this guy and shake him.

Todd is in some kind of R-rated mood today. We started with Drunkard’s Delight (5.8), not actually rated R because the potential for damage comes so close to the ground. We call that “a bouldery start”, which means “at least we won’t have to lower you down on a litter”. Todd sketches on it. Then Travels with Charlie. And now, for some reason, Welcome to the Gunks (5.10). After feeling jittery on 5.8R, I personally would stay away from Welcome to the Gunks and its 5.9R section. But there it is, the difference between Todd’s lead head and mine: he’s trying to get his lead head back by pushing it, not by babying it.

It’s like a circus here, starting with the topless woman who raps down to our left as we’re gearing up.

“Don’t stare,” I say. I saw her first and have already thoroughly checked the situation out, so I can afford to take the high road now. Eventually she puts a shirt on and we’re able to continue.

Todd dithers up and down through the first roof. We’re constantly distracted by ropes and rocks coming down on us from a nearby rap station. First the hail storm of rocks, then a single rope, followed by “rope!”, then a long pause. What are they doing? Finally, the second rope comes crashing down. It’s a nice clean throw apparently. Every party manages to land their rope in our midst in one dramatic burst.

Now Todd is facing the single 5.9R move on the route, trying to find a sequence he can commit to. Up and down, up and down. I don’t really worry about him in situations like this. Todd doesn’t fall off when falling off would be a bad idea, a skill I don’t have.

Whap! Another set of ropes arrives with a flourish, this time bringing a battered, bloody body with them. A leader fall, not serious but not pretty. The guy has road rash across his back and a lump the size of an egg growing on his elbow.

“Why don’t you come down?” I say to Todd. Even if he pulls through this section there are still three more roofs to deal with. I’m tired of belaying at attention. I’m nervous from seeing warning signs everywhere I look. I don’t want to be the timid, nagging girlfriend but enough is enough.

“One more try,” he answers and I think I hear relief in his voice. Maybe enough was enough for him too. He traverses off to an anchor on the right and Andrei and I at least get a chance to work on the first of the Welcome to the Gunks roofs and later we all take a try or two on the Laughing Man (5.11) roof, directly below this anchor.

The onslaught of ropes and rocks continues. People we know, and people we don’t know, rap in, wander by, grab a ride, and stay to watch the show. Welcome to the Gunks.