moving through expectations on mothmonsterman

Mothmonsterman (a newer 5.13a in Big Bear Canyon outside of Bozeman) is a towering route on slate-blue limestone; it boasts 17 bolts. Despite its height, it can’t be seen from any paved road. The forest service road used to access the crag is closed to vehicles until mid-June every year. This year, we were the first to retrace the dewy, overgrown approach trail to the climb. The abundant lupines hadn’t bloomed yet. I tried my best to hop and bob around them and not spill coffee everywhere. I remember watching Garrett’s hiking boots stride in front of me. I was excited to see the route.

Early season lupine on the approach trail!

As I tied in under Mothmonsterman for the first time, self-doubt leaked into my consciousness. Those who developed the area and climbed this route are certainly people I look up to. What made me think I was of similar caliber? What made me think I could climb this thing too? I felt that maybe I was being arrogant for even trying.

But as I worked the moves, all of that fell away. I loved solving the route’s puzzle with moves that were aesthetic and rewarding. I found the best way to turn my hips and swap my feet. My confidence was growing. I shared beers with my friends at the base of the climb. I heard thunderstorms roll in as I lowered from different attempts. I watched sunsets dip behind the horizon while considering changing beta. It started to feel possible - and honestly, I was having a great freakin’ time.

Mothmonsterman, 5.13a (7c+) - photo by Austin Schmitz

I had been working it for three days and approached the crag one night with the confidence I needed to send it. After three whips and probably too much swearing, I was frustrated. It was not going well. I was pitching off the first crux – a dead-point side-pull that you catch with two fingers – over and over. I had resigned the evening to be another progress session, but one of my climbing partners, encouraged me to get on it one more time. He knew how much this send would mean to me. He also noticed that that I was thinking about the climb as a whole and not focusing on individual moves. I was thinking about the second crux while I was doing the first.

I tied in again. I tried as best as I could to only allow space in my mind for the move I was currently doing.

I stuck the first crux. I rested and moved through the next 6 bolts as efficiently as I could. The red-point crux was found in the pump that was pulsing through my arms. I remember screaming and moving and screaming and skipping a clip. Then, sort of abruptly, I was above the hard climbing at a no hands rest – trying to catch my breath and calm myself down. Three more bolts of climbing, only thinking about one move at a time, brought me to the chains. I clipped them and immediately felt hot, happy tears drip down my face.

I think these are the moments that red-point climbers really live for and I am grateful to have experienced it.