Rising well over 2,000’, the Painted Wall is a chaotic vortex of psychedelic granite that has embedded itself in the dreams and nightmares of Black Canyon climbers for nearly six decades. The history of climbing on Colorado’s largest cliff is permeated with tales of horrific choss, rope-eating flakes, and belay ledges that disappear overnight. First climbed by Jim Disney and Layton Kor in 1962 via the Northern Arête (V 5.7 A2), the wall had not seen any new activity since Jonny Copp and Robbie Williams freed Journey Through Mirkwood (2,000’, V 5.11b/c) in 2001. In his Black Canyon guidebook, author Vic Zeilman wrote, “For the up and coming generation of hardcore Black Canyon climbers, the Painted Wall is the arena for the boldest of climbs—some of which have yet to be discovered.”

With hype like that, my friends and I wondered, Why have so few routes been climbed on this wall? But the better question turned out to be, Who is dumb enough to put up the next one? In late October 2021, I volunteered Lane Mathis and Dakota Walz to help me find out.

On October 21, we trudged down the SOB Gully lugging haulbags stuffed with five days of supplies and dogged by the oppressive fetor of fear. Thankfully, as with most big walls, the ceaseless onslaught of manual labor kept our anxiety at bay. We collected water from the Gunnison River at dusk and then clawed our way up the 90m approach pitch to gain the hanging talus field at the northern end of the Painted Wall. (This approach is also used for The Dragon, its free variation called The Serpent, and routes to climber’s right of them.) The next morning, with fresh eyes, we scanned the shattered pane of granite above us for possible weaknesses. Between the Beyer Route (VI 5.10 A4+, 1988) and the alternate start to the Northern Arête lay a series of monstrous corners, chimneys, and overhanging roofs. This would be our line.

Lane climbed a massive pegmatite pillar off the deck, onsight and free, which led to steeper terrain above. I tackled this section with nearly a dozen beak placements. Those two pitches ate up all of the daylight and deposited us below a sheltered overhang, where we made camp for our first night in the vertical. Hungry for more, Dakota pushed the rope into a chimney above, as Lane and I prepared dinner down at the bivy. The chimney puked pebbles and dirt into our meal as Dakota free climbed, hammer at the ready, pounding beaks for pro. The next morning we moved our kit up to the high point, and I tackled what would become the aid crux of the route, which we dubbed the Inverted Staircase. This 80m lead took me the entire morning. It began to rain as I navigated a 5.10 R vertical gully on the pitch above, but thankfully I found shelter below a series of roofs at a slabby belay. We shimmied in seven micro-cams to make a belay anchor and prepared ourselves for the soul-crushing hauling experience to follow.

After a rainy night, Dakota took the lead into wildly steep and loose 5.11 terrain. Lane then tagged in for an athletic offwidth pitch. I was up next: I trundled my way up a 60m pegmatite chimney that had walls that crumbled like a Nature Valley granola bar when touched. At the end of this pitch we took an inventory of remaining supplies and morale. Two days of food? Check. Three mostly alive humans? Check. Water? One gallon.... Emboldened by the fact that we were not dead—and far enough along on the route to know that bailing could be as difficult as going up—Dakota put up a heroic pitch into the darkness above, determined to find us a better spot to sleep. After an agonizing rope length of chimneys, steep choss, and cruel amounts of vegetation, Dakota arrived at some semi-flat ground and brought us up to a peaceful bivy.

We awoke to a brilliant sunrise and began surveying our surroundings. To our surprise, we determined that we had finally reached the Northern Arête and that the summit was a mere 70m away. We thrashed our way up the final pitch and stood on the summit of the Painted Wall by noon.

All in all, we were on the route for five days. We placed seven bolts, all at belays. We called our route Act I (2,260’, 11 pitches, VI 5.11 A2+). It feels possible this route could go completely free at 5.12+ R/X. For repeat ascensionists, a sufficient rack would consist of triple cams from 0.2 to 4 inches, a single 5-inch cam, a single 6-inch cam, and a large assortment of beaks. 

— Sam Stuckey