My feeling of triumph has evaporated, leaving a dull sense of stupidity and dread I stand at the base of the Brown Wall, looking up at the twin slanting cracks of Captain Kronos, studying the route and gathering the nerve to try leading it again. Lured to try it as a first gear lead four years ago I backed off, spent; Matt finished it and declared it more like 5.9 than 5.7, another Joshua Tree sandbag. Two years later, a better climber, I returned to try again. I got further but again found myself in over my head: reaching a point where I could find no secure purchase, I clung to the rock as long as I could then fell. My neck saved by the rope, a finger-width cam, and…
