This story begins with Braxton Rodgers. I moved to the Red in August of 2020 and heard his name within the first couple of days of living there. A young kid always hopping on routes way out of his league. We met later in the season when we both ended up washing dishes at a local restaurant. Interestingly enough, I was not sure if I liked him much from our first day working together. At the time, my own climbing was going pretty poorly, and my ego interpreted his psych as condescending.

After tales of his various mega projects resonated through Miguel's, Brax set his sights on Soul Ram. His most ambitious project yet. A 100 ft, technical, mind-numbing, sandbagged marathon of a route. I heard a lot of hate during his first few weeks on the route. I'm sure he heard it too, but he soldiered on with a determination that forced you to either be impressed or disdainful. His first session he could not do 34 of the moves, and it took him several sessions to do the crux on lead. As he worked it, we became close friends in the dish pit, connecting on more than just climbing during our long hours under fire from hungry climbers and hikers. His psych was contagious, and it was a joy to be the best dishpit that restaurant had ever seen together.

For a while I resisted going out to the route with him. It was his route and I didn't want to "compete" with him. An apt description of my mentality at the time. It definitely was not a healthy mindset and not a recipe for long-term climbing partners. Upon finally relenting and trying the route, I liked it but it certainly was not love at first sight. In my mind, the main objective was just giving Brax a catch and checking out the route.

The Tipping Point

That all changed soon after. The aforementioned hate reached a tipping point after two of his friends went to try the route with him. After redpointing the route that day, they immediately began spraying about how soft it was. They took to posting online in multiple forums, telling anyone who would listen in the pavilion — absolute spray. It was obnoxious, and I felt betrayed for Brax. I can only speculate how he was feeling, but I knew it hurt. To this day, I cannot fathom the motivation for their actions.

As I have mentioned, this came at a time when my frustrations about my own climbing were boiling over. My season goals were slipping away and I desperately wanted to stop caring so much about my own climbing. That night, seeing Braxton send Soul Ram became my goal, and I stumbled into one of the most meaningful decisions of my climbing career.

Putting in the Work

We put in the work. I decided that the best way to support him was to join him in diving into this route. And the more I climbed on it, the more I realized I too loved the route. Every move is meaningful. Up until this route, I had a pretty spoiled outlook on climbing. I felt like I deserved to send. Nothing is given to you on Soul Ram, you have to work for every sequence. It is a relatively featured face, so it is surprising how bad all the options are. The path of least resistance is tough to find, but eventually we found a way through.

Braxton did end up sending that season. I was so proud of him. It hurt my soul, but I did not get to belay the send. I had already left for the season, but luckily another good friend who knew what it meant was out there with him. I'll never forget our last day on the route together. The day before I left, we geared up for one last-ditch effort, ready to seize our destiny and vanquish our foe. Alas, Soul Ram did not give us anything easily.

I fell on the last and hardest move of the crux on my last burn. My best burn up to that point. Braxton fell after the crux, on the last move before he was home free. That fall hurt. The cry as he came off was heartbreaking. No anger, just the realization of a missed opportunity. The entire crag was silent as I lowered him, and then — after a brief moment of mourning what could have been — he broke out in a huge smile and gave me a bear hug.

"I stuck the CRUX!"

The mental fortitude that got him to this point never wavered, even after that gut punch. It was only a matter of time.

What He Was Chasing

Braxton truly offered his soul to get rammed that season. Mine would have been. Not many people believed in him. I'm not even sure if I believed in him after hearing about his first session. He never lost sight of the goal in the face of about as much adversity as climbing can bring. I didn't quite follow his psych at the start, but now I realize what he was chasing. That route would never have been possible if he had not given it every ounce of physical and mental strength. And in the end he delivered a perfect performance to send. More than perfect. He grew into the route and turned the improbable into the possible.

Two Years Later

I also ended up sending the route two years later. I had hardly even been back to the route in those years. As much as I loved my time living in the Red, almost all of my best memories have more to do with the people than they do the climbing. Climbing became something I had to do, instead of something I got to do. Leaving the Red, it was obvious something needed to change and I broke everything down to the studs.

Ditching my robotic and tense climbing style caused my grades to drop, but for the first time I was ok with showing that supposed "weakness." Over two years I began to completely rebuild my mentality and relationship with climbing. When I finally went back to Soul Ram, I had grown to accept that falling was not a failure, but something that made the send that much more meaningful. The purest climbing experience occurs after submitting yourself to the route and its whims. I felt at peace for the first time in my climbing career.

The send was unlike any experience I have had to date. Fully locked out of my own brain, with my only memory of climbing the crux in third person. My body was trying hard but my mind was floating. The post-crux climbing was the most joyful climbing I've ever done. Watching myself climb, somehow knowing I could never fall.

Turning the Page

I'm writing this so I never forget the feeling of looking out over the golden canopy of leaves after a surprisingly dry fall. Disbelief at what I had just experienced and the bittersweet joy of turning the page. Committing to a rebuild was a daunting prospect, making clipping the chains even more satisfying. Overwhelming. I'll never be an elite climber, nor will my name be in any history books. But lowering from Soul Ram to celebrate with some of my best friends was worth all the work I put in.

Having partners at the crag who stuck with me through all my most frustrated, terrible-attitude days was a golden conclusion to all of my hard work. What started as a quest to support a friend ended a surprisingly personal journey. I could have never comprehended this route becoming such a powerful life experience, as Soul Ram shifted the spectrum on which I saw victory and failure. There will be more highs in my climbing career ahead, but it wouldn't surprise me if the Soul Ram chapter remains my best memory the whole time. And I'm content with that.