The Mentor and the Mentee
First Ascent of “I Left My Wallet in La Sedona” 5.12 IV with Jason Nelson
Climbing history is littered with stories of mentorship; it’s been tradition for the current generation of climbers to pass knowledge, techniques, and inspiration down to the coming one. For those lucky enough to be taken under another’s wing, you’ll learn faster, safer, and probably get opportunities you wouldn’t have otherwise had at the same point in your climbing career. But while I learned to climb without a mentor in the Southeast, since moving to Ouray, no friendship has had a greater impact on my climbing than with Jason Nelson. From sport crags to mixed lines to practically fathering the hard-drytooling mecca that Ouray is today, there’s not many who have given as much of their time to developing climbing in Ouray as Jason. Standing at 6’4”, he has a foot and a hundred pounds on my 5’4” frame. Despite the size and 20 year age difference, Jason related to my taste for adventurous climbing, choss-wrangling, and similarly vulgar humor. Since partnering, we’ve developed sport crags, mixed lines, climbed through waterfalls in the Misty Fjords, and been stormed on in the Wind Rivers. The adventures are hard to count at this point, but one route stands out as special. Late October, 2021, Jason recruited me to wrap up a project of his: a new adventure line in Oak Creek Canyon between Sedona and Flagstaff, Arizona. Started 10 years ago with some help from local Mark Geikenjoyner, the route had sat mostly untouched for a decade after Jason’s stint in the area ended. Armed with a bin of cams, stacks of rope, and a mission from God, we loaded into Jason’s truck and headed South.
Day one was eye-opening, to say the least. We navigate the approach and arrive at the base of a fairly blank face, 3 bolts leading to a right-arching hand to finger crack. I rack up, pull on, and immediately get shut down. The intro 5.12 moves are a rough warmup; the holds are sandy and the feet, non-existent. The brush comes out, holds are ticked, and I lower down for another go. I fall again, but link some moves. Pulling through, I onsight the 5.11 crack above, make it to the belay, and haul the bag up. Jason follows, remarking, “Damn, that was hard.” He hadn’t sent either. Jason mantles a 5.10- bulge, swims through the 5.9 corner, and we arrive beneath an imposing pitch. While not long, the overhanging face leads to a shallow, thin corner, and a bulge guards the sky-line. Jason hands the rack over, and I cast off. Fall. Fall. Take. Take. Bolts at the start add some comfort to the first crux, but the second is protected by a small wire in soft rock, and you can’t place another piece until finished with the moves. I sweat through it and take again at the third crux. A runout above the last bolt gets the heart pumping, and I arrive at the anchor happy for the reprieve. Jason’s similar experience on the pitch leaves us with little time left in the day, so we lower down the pitch, clean and tick holds, and dial gear beta. With the sun setting we rappel down, reality slapping us in the face with the hard truth: this was going to be difficult.
Over the next 5 days pitches are projected, 10-year old threads and hardwear are updated, and links are made. I’m able to send pitch 3, but only with the help of some try-hard screaming. Jason is frustrated: the cruxes revolve around small tips locks with bad feet, and his meatier fingers just aren’t fitting. He re-works and re-works beta, but it’s hard to climb something when only your fingernails fit in the pods. Never do we get higher than pitch 8. So far there’s only one pitch that isn’t engaging, despite the moderate grades on the non-crux pitches. The style is insecure: consistently slopey holds, bad feet, and small cams in soft rock make “easy climbing” feel tenuous. Pitch “7” is dubbed the “Flakes of Wrath'' pitch. Steep crimps and jugs weave their way up an overhanging headwall, but while the 5.11 climbing isn’t hard, the soft, wafer-thin flakes can explode at any time… and the falls can be huge.
Big-wall laboring is taking its toll, so we rest. Down time is passed through shit-talking, good food, and chatting about life. These are the times I cherish dearly. But through all of it I can tell Jason is thinking about the route. I’m confident I can send the cruxes, but Jason really isn’t very close. His fingers just won’t fit. It’s wearing on him: a 10-year project, weeks worth of manual labor to find, rig, and develop the line, and he might not be able to do it. I’m grateful just to be there; the climbing is incredible and I’ve never had to deal with the logistics of projecting a 12-pitch line. Learning the history of the route and how Jason developed it, mostly by himself, the route is a testament to his vision and work ethic. Checking the weather, it looks like the next day is prime for a full attempt on the route. We need to at least get to the top and scope pitches 9 through 12.
Racking up at the first crux, I’m calm. I plan to do a few moves, warm up, and come down to actually go for it. Left hand on small crimp, right foot stretches to miniscule edge, lunge, GOT IT! Gaston and cross through small pods, final lunge to the jug, wew! I yell through the 5.11 section and get to the anchor. Pitch 1 and the first crux is sent. Jason struggles, falls, and pulls through. The nerves are buzzing for pitch 3. Jason had broken a hold since I sent it, upping the difficulty a touch. Time to rage. I breathe through the first crux and, balancing on slopey footholds, stretch to put in the key small nut. Cursing, I realize the wire is bent, preventing it from being placed. Embracing the fear, I slap through, heart racing. Screaming at the skyline bulge, wind knocking me off balance, I catch the last small crimp with my fingernails and desperately will my fingers to curl in. Third pitch and second crux down. Pitches 4 through 6 get knocked out. The Flakes of Wrath bite back; I send on lead, but Jason breaks a crimp in the crux while following, going for a little ride. Arriving at the belay, Jason racks up and takes off, linking pitches 8 and 9. I had told Jason if we sent both cruxes, nothing would stop us from going to the top.
But at the base of pitch 11, my confidence wanes a little. The pitch looks like melting ice cream cones: sloping bulge after sloping bulge, and the bolts are spaced generously. Over the next hour, feet screaming, I creep through the pitch, questing between gear. All the falls are ledge bouncers, and big ones at that. A journey of a pitch, insecure the whole way, I hit the anchor with a huge sigh of relief. Hardest 10+ I’ve ever climbed, haha! Jason takes the last pitch, dancing through creaky 5.11 crimps. At the top, we hug, laugh, and celebrate. Team-free, we had done it. All pitches were sent on lead, and I had sent every pitch. But as we make the 9 rappels down to the valley floor, I’m wondering what’s going on inside Jason’s head… is he satisfied? Sad? Are we going for it again?
Over dinner that night, Jason thanked me. He thanked me for helping him write the final chapter in a 10-year vision. The route had been sent; WE had sent. We were a team: the visionary and the executor; the mentor and the mentee. He passed the torch, sharing his vision with the next generation. The send mattered less than the story, and I’m eternally grateful for what I learned on the trip. The working name for the route had been cheekily named BRIS: “Best Route in Sedona”. While it may be one of the best, a new name was decided upon: “I Left My Wallet in La Sedona.” Part music reference but more the character of the journey, we had gone back to finish what Jason left behind… and in the words of Phife Dawg, “we had to get it, had-had to get it.”
Route Breakdown:
Gear: One 70m rope, draws, nuts, double rack .2-3, singles of microcams, 4, and 5.
1: 5.12, mix of bolts and gear. “Bad Warmup” A bouldery start cuts right into a hand to finger crack. Bolted anchor.
2: 5.10-, gear. Slopey mantle off the belay, climb the finger-hand crack. Bolted anchor.
3: 5.12, bolts and gear. Climb the face past three bolts (crux), decipher tricky gear placements, and boulder past two bolts (crux) at the top. Bolted anchor.
4: 5.10+, bolts and gear. “HP40 Arete” Slopey and insecure arete climbing past bolts, threads, and gear placements. End at large ledge.
5: 5.7, bolts and gear. Easy pitch, staying on the arete until you hit a tree terrace. Belay off trees. To get to pitch 6, traverse climber’s right along the wall for 15 meters or so until you get to the entrance of a chimney (exposed). Climb up the chimney, topping out in a manzanita field. Cut climber’s right through the bushes to the face and start of pitch 6.
6: 5.10+, bolts and gear. Bouldery start leads to a traverse left, aiming for a hand crack. Follow this crack until it ends at a large ledge, traverse right to bolted anchors.
7: 5.11, bolts and gear. “Flakes of Wrath” Traverse hard right past bolts and gear placements, eventually climbing straight up the face. Easier terrain leads to a tree terrace. Belay off trees. Continue through the trees to the base of pitch 10 (offwidth corner). BONUS: follow the fixed lines down and climber’s left on an exposed ledge. Around the corner you’ll find an incredible corner pitch, mix of bolts and gear. It was not sent for the FA, but is estimated to go around 5.12.
8: 5.10, gear. Climb the offwidth corner, pull through some trees, continue up the corner for a few more meters before traversing left out and onto the face to a bolted anchor.
9: 5.10+, bolts and gear. Climb up the face past bolts and small cam placements. End at a ledge, single-bolt and cam anchor.
10: 5.9, gear. Traverse down and climber’s right, following a ledge to a left-facing corner system. Climb this and traverse right to the bolted anchor.
11: 5.10+, bolts and gear. “Trust the Rubber” Start up the right facing corner, then right onto the sloping face. The pitch mostly traverses right from here, questing between bolts and gear placements. Route-finding is a little tricky and some not so great falls can be had. Would not be fun in the dark. Eventually climb straight up to a ledge, climb a short face, and belay off a large pine tree.
12: 5.11, gear. Climb right off the belay, aiming for the face/arete. Tricky boulder problem to a stance, then climb straight up. Belay off a single bolt and trees.
Rappel Descent:
Traverse down and skiers right to a gully just south of the summit maybe 20' or so from the anchor. Tree with slings is your first rappel anchor. Rap 1: Tree to just below previous belay on big ledge. Look for the next anchor behind a manzanita tree. Rap 2: Rappel to the anchors at the top of pitch 10. Rap 3: Rappel to skiers left following a crack to a big tree with slings (you are no longer on route). Rap 4: Rappel from tree to a big ledge. Move south on the big ledge to where you ascended. Rap 5: Down and skier’s right of where you topped out pitch 7 along the exposed ledge is a bolted anchor. Rap 6: Rap to pitch 6 anchor. Rap 7: Rap to the big ledge below pitch 6. Walk back through manzanita and go down the chimney. Head towards to the top of pitch 5, looking skiers left for bolts on a protruding piece of rock. Rap 8: Rappel down a corner then a steep mostly featureless face to bolts on a sloping ledge. Rap 9: One final rappel leads you to a false ledge with trees, keep going until you reach the ground. Hike back down the gully and you’ll be back at the base of the route.