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Penitente Canyon

By Susan Oloier

Found in: | Outside | Climbing | Rock Climbing |

A lone antelope stood within the tufts of sagebrush and suntanned grasses along County Road G in La Garita, Colo. The Cash Store and the restored and converted church (also known as La Capilla de San Juan Bautista) were the two tell-tale signs that the blink-of-an-eye town existed. Located in the San Luis Valley, La Garita serves as a gateway of sorts to the sport climbing area referred to as Penitente Canyon.

We had first heard of the spot back in 2008 during a stay at the Ronald McDonald House in Aurora. We lodged there because our youngest son, Zane, attended a series of outpatient clinics at the hospital. A father from Del Norte - a town south of Penitente Canyon - was there for an indefinite time. His infant daughter had cancer. Aside from the common link of having children with health issues, we also shared the climbing experience.

So, two years later, we found ourselves bumping along a gravel road and arriving at the BLM campground. We tucked ourselves into one of the limited spaces and set up camp just before the sky unzipped its gray vest and dumped out stones of slushy hail, unleashing a thunderstorm that disappeared as quickly as it arrived. We met another family there - one like ours - with two kids under the age of seven. It was time to climb, a venture we rarely embark on anymore now that we have kids.

While the ratings at Penitente Canyon reside in the higher tiers of the climbing grades, the area remains kid-friendly. With a less-than-ten-minute approach from the parking area, we were able to haul in the usual stuff: climbing gear, kid necessities such as snacks and wipes, the Pack 'n Play, as well as the two boys (one on foot, the other in the carrier) with relative ease. Although the area is prone to rattlesnake sightings, it still affords kids the opportunity to explore and play, which is precisely what Justin and his two new friends did while we climbed.

Despite owning a harness since the age of two, Justin has never been much of a climber. Yet, Jeff and I attempted to get him on a low-angled route (low ratings are a rarity in Penitente). With a virtual push up the rock, he stranded himself shy of the first bolt and demanded to come down. It didn't help matters when two climbing instructors - one who wore his gelatinous frame inside the stuff sack of a t-shirt and the other the owner of a ceaseless commentary on everything - entered the area to teach six novices how to climb. They dumped their rope near the base of our route, then proceeded to step all over it. The two must have broken every rule of climbing etiquette while covering the topics of knots, belaying, and lead climbing in one crash lecture. My plan was to ignore them until I heard they taught kids. At that point, their safety faux pas became glaring.

"It's good to be aware of the size of your climber," said the little guy of his hefty leader. "Because if he takes a good fall, I could wind up up there." I searched the trunks of the dew-licked trees for an anchor that would prevent him from being torn from the ground. There was none. Meanwhile, the lead climber threaded his rope directly through the bolts to set up the climb: a lazy and inconsiderate technique that causes needless wear on the anchors. "Nice modeling up there," the smaller one shouted. I felt grateful that Justin had already descended the climb, untied, and bounded into a game of hide-and-seek, so he didn't have to witness that particular type of modeling. The prospect of any child - or adult - "learning" climbing from those two was disconcerting.

Zane started to fuss as the dampness from the ground permeated his body: our cue to take off and separate ourselves from those others. We ventured back to the car, recuperated with a quick lunch, then meandered back to a new route: a 5.9+. In the days before children, 5.9s were relatively easy. Not so anymore. I dusted off my climbing shoes and put my rusty joints on the rock. As I reached the top and kissed the carabiners, I caught a glimpse of my old climbing self: a person I realized I had missed. But in that moment - with the warmth of the sun waxing and waning behind the tightly zippered slate sky, with Zane cheerfully entertaining himself in his Pack 'n Play, and with Justin playing untethered from the climbing rope - I had that past life back for a just a moment. Then the sky curled into darkened cumulus clouds and unleashed spitballs of ice and rain on us. We tore down and quit for the day. While we may not have ticked off many climbs during our trip to Penitente, I felt grateful knowing we were not a part of the na�ve and misled climbers from earlier in the day and happy that we were able to climb even a little.