May 3, 2021. A friend and I were chatting in the kitchen when we got the message: an inReach SOS from Mason Stansfield and his girlfriend, Tessa. Soon came the news: Mason, 28, had died in a crevasse fall on the Eldridge Glacier in Denali National Park. The following hours, days, and weeks were a blur of tears, anger, and depression. Mason, an excellent climber and consummate guide, was a beloved member of the Ouray community and one of my closest friends. He was family.

Fast forward to January 23, 2022. Mason was to be inducted into the Ouray Ice Park climb- ers’ memorial at 4 p.m. Steven Van Sickle and I decided this would give us enough time to scout an area up Arrastra Basin, southeast of Silverton, for new route potential, and still make it back for the induction ceremony.

After two hours of skinning and bootpacking, we were standing beneath the north face of Round Mountain. While the peak itself is mostly a large snow hill, the northern aspect holds a wall of steep and—for the San Juans—surprisingly good rock, varying from 800’ to 1,200’ in height. From our research, there were no known routes on the face. Steven and I identified an obvious line on the right side. It was 1:30 p.m. Mason’s spirit was in the air, and we both knew this was an adventure he would’ve wanted to be on: a late start, no real plan, just going for it. We shared a knowing glance—we wouldn’t be making it back for the memorial.

We started soloing up a steep snow gully guarding our intended line. Above was a narrow slot choked with a couple chockstones. Steven started toward the first chockstone while I quested onto the face to the right. Halfway up our respective solos, Steven was grunting and I was breathing hard through a vertical crux, scratching on small edges and frozen mud with my tools. “Little harder than I thought!” he shouted.

After this choose-your-own-adventure pitch, we roped up and Steven started the crux lead. At a large chockstone, he made a hard lock-off, cut his feet, and powered through a mantel. Over the next hour, he continued up nearly 60m of stemming and bulges, raining down rocks and snow. I took over for the next pitch, gunning up 40m of easier snow and mixed terrain. From here, we untied and soloed a gully leading up and right, with daylight fading into dark.

On top we hugged, laughed, and choked up. The Mason Stansfield Memorial Route (250m, M6) was complete. As we descended the western flank, I gazed skyward. Mason may be gone, but his spirit remains in the mountains, stoked as ever to accompany his friends on adventures.

— Charlie Faust