I rationalized that Jim and Mike didn't have Aliens or Offsets and they probably had to lug a ton of iron along so maybe it wouldn't be that bad. I ignored that they were probably in much better shape than me and better climbers to boot. Dreams don't need distractions. 

It was cold and windy Wednesday morning and Inez offered to go along and assist on my planned load carry to the base of Rainbow Wall. What a bonus! Not only would more gear get hauled but also, time always goes faster when you have someone to talk to. We made good time and it took a little over 2 hours for the two of us to hump 60 pounds of gear and water to the base of the slabs. We'd hoped to carry on to the base of the route but it was snowing when we arrived at the dripping slabs, so we stashed the goods and zipped down. 

Marty arrived late Thursday evening. He spent Friday with Karen and the boys while the rest of us worked on Epi. Saturday, we took Marty out to warm up on a few sport routes, then bought food for Rainbow Wall. As we geared up, we were sobered by the reality of our massive load. Inez and Ken stopped by as we packed, remarking about the shiny new cams I'd just bought. Naturally, I broke into song: 

"My car is fast, my teeth is shiny, 
I tell all the girls they can kiss my heiny" 

Thank God that Greg offered to help us carry up to the slabs on Sunday. If the haul bag was able to sing, it probably would have popped with: 

"Hitched a ride on a monkey's back 
Headed west into the black" 

And Greg probably would have done the chorus from Beast of Burden. Unfortunately, when we arrived at the slabs, Marty and I had to split Greg's load plus the 60 lb. of gear Inez and I had stashed. As Marty and Greg repacked the pig, I ran a rope up the lower slab, not trusting the tattered fixed line hanging there. All too soon, Greg was gone and Marty and I were left to our own little private hell. Actually the slabs were not as bad as I'd feared. I started with the small bag containing all the dense stuff. We swapped midway and I found the going easier with the big bag. Unfortunately, I went too far left and climbed 100 or so feet too high before realizing it. 

All during the slab grind, I'd watched a climber rappelling the Original Route and when I reached the base, he was beginning to rap the last pitch. 

"The mystery man walked over and he said 
'I'm outta sight' 
He said for a nominal service charge 
I could reach nirvana tonight 
If I was ready willing and able to pay him regular fee 
He would drop all the rest of his pressing affairs 
And devote his attention to me 
But I said: Look here brother, 
Who you jiving with that cosmik debris?" 

I found Dave to be a really fun guy. He'd soloed the route as his first overnight big wall. His beta were very helpful to us. He really appreciated the beer we offered and in fact, I think he grabbed another when we weren't looking - I can hardly blame him. As Dave ferried his loads down the slabs, I wondered if I'd ever get around to soloing such a wall. I lay down and soaked in the unreal world we were visiting. 

"I don't have the guts to go back there alone 
Knowin' what I know 
So I'll just telephone to them 
Hello! hello from Venus" 

After Marty arrived at the base, we quickly fixed the first three pitches. We'd planned to fix four but laziness set in and we were happy with only three. As I finished the last rap, Marty was setting our bivy. We had dinner, warmed by a twig fire. 

"I can cook a little but it's not alot to shout about 
It's kinda mean cuisine, so I eat out." 

We drained the rest of the sixer, rationalizing that it would make the hauling easier if we reduced the mass. Laying in my sack, I marveled at the wall above. It is much more concave than it appears from below, much as is the Diamond on Long's. The swallows sang and flew bombing raids well into the night as I drifted in and out of sleep. I awoke at about midnight as a couple of climbers were approaching Sgt. Slaughter by headlamp, cursing wildly. 

As alpenglow drifted into sunrise, we made our first mistake. We dawdled way too long and didn't get our asses into gear until a late hour. Initially, we watched for the other pair to make their move, then finally guilt-tripped ourselves into action at about 9am. It was nearly noon before we topped out the fixed lines. I set off up the 4th pitch at my usual lethargic pace. Twice I thought I was stumped at a blank section. Each time I considered having Marty pull the pins out, only to find a better solution, such as a crack or jug off to the side of the dihedral that would allow progress. For the most part, the placements were solid and I was happy to have brought plenty of small gear. Near the belay, I freed a short section and soon Marty was headed up the 5th pitch. While he lead, I absorbed the color that gave the wall its name. 

"This is not a black and white world 
To be alive I say the colors must swirl 
And I believe that maybe today 
We will all begin to appreciate 
The beauty of grey" 

Why does it always seem like you are moving as fast as possible on lead but that your partner is dawdling when it's his lead? I was bumming out for not pulling my pile out before Marty started up the 5th and got way too cold. I cleaned the pitch in a flash and got some warmth back. I pulled the belay seat out for him and my pile for me as I passed, then headed up pitch 6, worried about our slow progress. We were hoping to get to the top of pitch 8 and bivy on Over the Rainbow Ledge but I was now having my doubts. The first section of pitch 6 was a blast but the last section to the anchor on Faith Ledge was a grunt. Marty arrived at the anchor displeased with my rate of ascent and the lack of comfort provided by the Pika belay seat. 

I mentioned that dark was fast approaching and that we needed to shag ass if we wanted to make it up to Rainbow Ledge. Unfortunately, pitch 7 went slowly. When rope drag exhausted Marty, I asked him to set an intermediate belay and I basically pushed the bags up the blocky ledge. It sucked. I tried to lead the rest of the pitch by headlamp but upon reaching the crux with no big gear left, I fixed the rope and went down, resigning ourselves to a night in the Bat Cave. Sorta claustrophobic. 

"No sun comin thru my window 
Feel like I'm livin in the bottom of a grave." 

After a half hour of flinging critter feces into the crevasse, I was left with a fine bed that provided for a low head and foot with a high pelvis with a nice spike one could use to message the ribs and elbow. Marty's spot was like a broken-down recliner chair that causes one to continually slide forward. We munched a silent dinner, hypnotized by the glow of Vegas. The sun had set so fast we'd not been able to enjoy it so we had to rely on memory. 

"And if the fire of sunset rose behind the earth 
And the clock is finally dead" 

I wondered how so many people could continually migrate to Vegas to gamble away their hard earned cash. 

"Everybody knows 
That the world is full of stupid people" 

Ho hum. They'd probably think 50 bucks for a cam is pretty stupid too. 

Given the lack of comfort, we had no problem getting out of the bags early the next morning. I completed the lead up the 7th pitch and carried on to the bolt midway up pitch 8 before setting an anchor and hauling. I then led on up to Rainbow Ledge and we sulked when seeing what a comfy site we'd missed out on. The top looked tantalizingly close but with 5 pitches to go, we knew we needed to hurry. Marty led the 9th, which goes free at 5.7 except for one tension move. The face climbing above the traverse is fun and along with the upper part of pitch 8 was the first time we'd seen the type of climbing I typically think of as Red Rocks. Now the upper dihedral loomed to the summit roofs and I could tell the last four pitches were relatively short. Marty mentioned how foul our stench had become and I mentioned that the inside of my mouth had become a slime mold test facility. 

"I found myself my dental floss 
My favorite kind - unwaxed!" 

The rock quality changed as I took off up pitch 10, becoming more granular and softer as is common towards the top of many Red Rocks multipitch routes. I kept expecting a piece to blow and got a little paranoid about the quality of the placements. Fortunately, I could use old pin scars to help balance into the top steps on occasion as the awkward in-your-face dihedral tried to toss me off balance. Finally, I pulled a brass nut and was caught by a quad cam that had 2 cams in contact. Worried about speed as much as falling, out came the hammer. 

"I'm goin to the hardware store 
Gonna buy you a really big hammer 
Girly won't you pull these nails 
Out of my heart" 

I placed two Lost Arrows over the remainder of the pitch and got fairly good gear towards the top. It is a cool pitch and although I'd wanted to do it clean, no tears were lost. Once I set the belay, I faced out and had a spectacular view of the colors of the wall literally glowing beneath us. 

"So many fantastic colors 
Are here in a wonderland 
... 
Got that rainbow feel 
But the rainbow has a beard" 

Marty nearly got up pitch 11 clean but finally resorted to using a Lost Arrow in a rounded pocket. I couldn't get a hammer on it and tried in vain to funk it out before deciding to leave it fixed. As the pitch progressed, it looked progressively beat out. Throughout the climb, I'd been looking at what features were available for free climbing. Many of the pitches looked grim. The upper pitches looked acrobatic. 

Rec.climbing and Onsight had discussions about the retrobolting of the route and they no doubt caused me to continually look at the route with a bit of an ethics slant. To my eyes, the route is not overbolted as a free climb. It is true that the retrobolts reduce the difficulty and risk of the route as an aid climb. Up to this point, I had seen little evidence of bolt choppage. The 12th pitch was different. About 20' off the belay, there is evidence of a former double bolt belay. Other empty bolt holes are found above. The 12th pitch is rich with pin scars so it's not like the chopped bolts are the only eyesore on the pitch. In fact, it was my favorite pitch. The slant of the dihedral makes for some interesting moves and I was excited to be nearing the end. I back-cleaned much of the pitch to reduce rope drag in hopes of linking it with number 13. By the time I got to the cave, my pro looked more like that on a free pitch than an aid one and since the rope drag was low, I continued on. Exiting the cave is a choice bit of work, then the free climbing above rapidly gets easy. At first I missed the double bolt belay and nearly set my anchor on the dead tree stump, which probably would have been a mistake. 

Hauling was a real treat. Most of it went snag-free and soon the bag was at the lip of the cave waiting for Marty to nudge it along. The harness that had been comfy for 3 days was now ripping at my spine and biting at my nads, reminding me again of the tune that wouldn't get out of my mind: 

"I guess it's still hooked on but now it shoots too quick". 

We still had a fair bit of daylight left as we converted the packs from hauling to backpacking. I fixed a rope up the gully and we lugged the gear up to the summit plateau. It is gorgeous. Our plan was to try and walk out that night but as we headed towards the red domes, the wind rose from a stiff breeze to a howling gale. Walking with the big pig was nearly impossible. I'd guess the gusts were running in the 60 to 80 mph range. We found a bit of a wind break by one of the domes and set up our bivy. The winds peaked at about 4 am and had backed off a bit by sunrise. 

I dispensed with the descent beta given by Swain and others and followed my nose. It is basically trivial. Walk to the North side of the red domes until you can traverse slabs and talus to the pass between the final two. The last one is less red and more orange than the others. Cross the pass to the south and contour on slabs towards the WSW to reach the white talus ridge. Cross it towards the SW and drop into a slabby gully that deposits one in the upper section of Oak Creek. None of the slabs to this point are at all scary. There are a couple of spots lower in the canyon where the slabs are a little slick, but no biggie. The upper canyon is beautiful and I can't believe how many people recommended me to rap the route and reverse the approach. No way! The washes at Red Rocks are too cool to miss. 

"There's an angel on my shoulder 
In my hand a sword of gold 
Let me wander in your garden 
And the seeds of love I sow" 

We were feeling a little trashed by the time we exited the wash onto the spur road trail: 

"Beat me till I'm black and blue and I'm hangin' by a thread 
Then I can get back up and we can do it all over again" 

The last mile of the trail to the spur road found us surrounded by flowering cacti and sage. I wish I could say their beauty buoyed me to energetic heights but the truth is that I wanted that dead-ass pack off my back and that ice cold brew on my tongue. Karen had also brought pizza and we shoveled and poured like men in need. 

Before leaving Red Rocks, we took our usual last drive around the scenic loop. 

"Turned the volume up this morning 
Till it was ringing in my ears 
I haven't felt this good in years" 

I got quite a buzz looking up at Rainbow Wall. That's where it's all at for me. Over the years, it hasn't happened to me that many times but when it does, it's good. I guess I'd expected it to be harder and scarier but I'm not complaining. It's sorta nice to do a route every now and then that only partially scares the shit out of you. 

"I said you ain't so bad 
You're just tall, that's all." 

All thru the drive home, one song echoed over and over: 

"Give me one reason to stay here 
And I'll turn right back around" 

Some routes tend to push partners apart. One or both of you feel you got the raw deal. Either you got the boring pitches or the runout pitches or you had to do more work than your partner. At other times, the route tends to pull the partners together. This route was good for Marty and I. We each had to suffer for the team and the synergy gave us each back more than we'd expected.