We were in way over our heads. Perched on top of the Upper Ramp in Eldorado Canyon, my partner and I had one thought in mind … bail!

As far as I was concerned, Justin and I had already climbed a full pitch when we roped up for the fourth-class approach pitch that rose to this airy ledge. Boulderites had soloed nonchalantly around us.

We had been overly ambitious. While visiting my best friend in Boulder, whose house is approximately 10 miles from Eldorado Canyon and even closer to Pearl Street’s copious bars, I find this an easy thing to do.

“Rosy Crucifixion, bro, that thing is going down tomorrow,” I'd blabbered.

In the safe and hazy confines of the Sundowner Saloon, anything seemed possible.

“It’s only 5.10 anyways,” I added before sauntering to the bar for another pitcher of PBRs.

And now here we were, crouched on the ramp like mice who know that a big-ass cat is around the corner. We wanted out. Off.“What are you guys gettin’ on?” a deep voice sounded from our left. Justin and I turned to see a figure topping out onto an adjacent ledge via another route.

Clad in a straw cowboy hat, T-shirt and shorts, he plopped down on the ledge, clipped in, and dangled his legs as he reeled in his partner. Despite his attire, it was not warm outside. Justin and I were both wearing pullovers and beanies, trying hard to ignore the springtime wind that whipped past. But the cowboy appeared to be comfortable. He was relaxed and gregarious as he turned to face us.

That’s when we recognized the cowboy. With the long black goatee and the gravelly voice that thundered from within a ripped physique, it was Jonny Copp. No mistaking it. We had heard the tales, seen the photos and films, and now we were face to face with this hard-as-nails alpinist. 

“Well, we were gonna try Rosy but I think we might bail,” answered Justin shyly.

“What? No, dude, you guys got it!” Jonny was immediately engaged. It seemed like it was his mission to see us start up the route.

“Come on, Pilsner!” he yelled, noticing Justin’s shirt, which displayed his love for Pilsner Urquell. “Grrrrrrrrr!”

He was like the climbing version of Tony the Tiger, trying to get us psyched.

Justin and I shared a look of fear. We knew what we had to do.

“All right, man,” Justin called over to Jonny. “I guess we’ll go for it.”

“Right on!” he yelled back, smiling. “You guys are gonna love it! It’s so killer!”

And Jonny was right. We totally had it. Despite both at first squealing “take” on the initial traverse-crux pitch, then looking at the potential pendulum and deciding to hold on a little longer, Justin and I managed to onsight the route. Jonny had somehow convinced us to believe in ourselves and confront the doubt that often sits between you and success. A lot of times all you have to do is try.

I wish I could say that everything was hunky dory after that, but that’s just not the way life is sometimes. Justin and I topped out, celebrated, felt bad-ass, and then tossed our ropes for the first of two rappels. After arriving at the hanging belay atop the second pitch, Justin heaved the ropes into space just as that nasty springtime wind kicked up. Our ropes blew far to the right and tangled around a horn. Between the horn and the start of the route was a couple hundred feet of thin air. We were screwed.

Eventually one of those Eldo-savy Boulderites answered our cries, climbing up, freeing the ropes and saving our asses. But that’s also the way it goes sometimes. You can do everything right, or not, but sometimes you need a little help from a friend.

Jonny Copp was an inspiration to many a climber. He left first ascents all over the world. In 2009, while on an expedition in China, Jonny, 35, Micah Dash, 32, and Wade Johnson, 24, lost their lives in an avalanche.

[Photos courtesy of The Jonny Copp Foundation.]