A pot of gold

Howsie, Craig and I spent way too long pondering what to do… our hearts had been set on the long slabs of the Porongurup’s.  For three weeks it had been looking great as the 28 day rain forecast had been indicating our chosen weekend was going to be perfect.  Then once the 7 day forecast kicked in it changed to a 80-90% chance of rain with thunderstorms.  It would have been way too hard to change weekends, due to needing to negotiate that with three families.  So we came up with plan A, B, C, D and possibly E as to what to do and revisited that each day as the forecast for each possible location kept shifting.  This carried on right up till the day we were due to head off, and despite the many words and pontifications we decided to stick to our original plan:

The rationale we used was that it was the closer of the destinations we were considering; it meant we could take Craig’s bus for a bit of glamping as opposed to camping, which with uncertain weather was worthwhile; we wanted long routes but nothing too hard due to repairing aliments and long absences from climbing; it was new territory for both Craig and Howsie and while I had climbed here once before a new online mini-guide had just that week been released for the area and it looked fun.  So after five hours on the road we rolled up to the small unofficial parking area, which is conveniently located at the base of the walk-in to the crag:

As the images above indicate the drive down was mostly in glorious sun, just as the forecast had predicated.  The question was at what time the storm would hit during the next day, the forecast was for it to start raining by mid-morning.  After having checked the area out in the last rays of day light we pack our bags ready for an early start, had an early dinner and hit the sack.  I set the alarm for 5:30, reckoning that would give us enough time to be up and fed before walking in at first light:

The timing was perfect and we were trudging up the rocky slabs and bashing through patches of bush, while the morning light was hitting the mighty Gibraltar Rock.  I’ve done one great 200m route on this massive monolith, which was our original destination some four weeks back.  However, with long runouts and the reduced opportunity for retreat should the rain come in we decided to go for the neighbouring and recently developed smaller crags of Angwin Peak:

The routes on Angwin Peak were still up to 60m, so a good length and longer than any of our local crags.  There were even a few 40m single pitch lines allowing us to get completely absorbed into leading.  The climbing like much of Gibraltar was slab climbing, so easier on the arms (just what we wanted) if you know how to use your feet.  Better still the lines having been recently equipped were better protected than most of the routes on the big brother next door.  The one route I climbed on Gibraltar was reputed to be, at the time, one of the best protected routes and had +10m runouts.  That said more routes have since been developed and are better:

Howsie started the proceedings with a beautiful clear sky stretching out west, which is where the rain was due to come from.  While the sun was warming the wind was very fresh and so we were rugged up.  I took my twin ropes, which hadn’t seen the light of day for quite some time.  They were useful having three of us and also made it easier getting off, as we could do a single abseil.  In hindsight we should have taken another rope to leave set up as a rap line, but we were not in any great rush so that wasn’t a biggie:

Craig led the second line.  He was a little apprehensive as he hadn’t been out climbing for some time and it had been even longer since he had led anything.  We all agreed that this second long 40m pitch, which he bagged, was the stellar standout pitch of the day.  Beautifully sustained and interesting all the way.  It was great having three of us as I could run round to pick off the best angles for photos of which I took way too many and it was hard to culled them down to a sensible number for this email:

I took to the floppy end next and you’ll be happy to know that I handed the camera duties over, rather than take it up with me.  The first three routes inched their way up in grade, so I was a tad nervous to start with.  No need really, as I should realise by now I need a few climbs to warm up, plus you get into a different mindset on lead.  So as clouds started to appear from the west we bagged another fun long pitch, which was only a little disappointing in that the difficulties were short lived:

We took our time at the top of each climb, taking in the views and kicking back rather than rushing up and down.  Usually when there is wet weather in this area the high peaks of both the Porongurup’s and Stirling’s would attract and be clad in cloud.  However, across the broad valley the Stirling Ranges, our proposed destination for the second day, could also be seen bathed in sun.  The wind was whistling overhead and the clouds were moving quickly across the sky, but luckily for us as the morning wore on the winds shifted from westerly to north westerly.  In my mind I was picturing the low pressure system that was due to come in from the south west, and was quietly hopeful the changing wind direction would keep any rain south of us:

It seemed that my quiet hopes were being answered as each time we climbed up and rapped back down the clouds looking west were breaking up before they got too close.  Despite the sun getting higher in the sky we still remained fully rugged up as the speed was picking up.  This made for exciting leading as strong gusts would occasionally make it feel like we were going to be blown off the rock.  It’s not really a very pleasant thought to be falling on this rock, being recently developed is still possess a coarse and sharp texture that would have acted like a cheese grater during rapid uncontrolled descents:

Craig started proceedings on the first of the two pitch 60m routes.  His pitch was the same grade as his first lead and in a magnificent position close to an impressive arête.   He took his time and being so close to the edge it looked and indeed felt pretty exposed.  That with the added excitement of a strong gusty wind meant he took his time.  He slowly inched his way up and only seemed to lose his cool once, when he dropped a bolt plate.  Yes this place, despite being recently equipped, had been fitted with those quirky Australian carrot bolts:

Howsie came up third.  We worked out the order and method of transition, as the hanging belays didn’t offer the best positions to muck about with gear and rope work, especially with three of us.  Good rope work was essential, so as Howsie joined us he could grab the second rope and lead with twins as well as grab any gear that we may have spare for his lead.  This image shows what a good number of the holds were like, more like friction holds than edges.  Nothing less than we expected on a good slab, and it has to be said these were very good:

The rationale for Howsie coming up last was that we decided he should take the hardest line of the day, at grade 18 (approx. E1 5b / 6a+).  He didn’t look so confident as the pitch Craig had just led, at three grades less, had been a tough cookie.  Both Howsie and I took our hats off to Craig for a brilliant lead, it seemed that unwittingly he had bagged probably the best too pitches of the day and the second was possibly also one of the hardest technically.  The route descriptions and grading in the guide seemed a little suss at times, but they were all within our capability so that didn’t put us off:

Another great attraction of this location on a day that could bring rain is this big comfy cave.  The perfect place to retreat from either rain or sun, on a hot day.  With the threat of raining slipping away we decided we could relax even more. if that was possible.  So we took time out to have a spot of lunch.  Craig has a tradition of taking a flask of tea along whenever we go climbing, a tradition I am very keen of.  So good food was washed down with a very welcome cuppa, as we pondered the next route:

I liked the look of the first pitch and so bagged it, the start was up a corner/crack followed by yep you’ve guessed it more slabs!  It was a fine contrasting pitch and also had a couple of sections that almost made it to vertical, so provided some varied climbing that stood out from the other lines we did.  Howsie came up second, meaning that Craig was due to lead the second pitch.  As we three were at the belay he racked and roped up but hesitated before declaring he wasn’t up for it.  His, lack of, climbing stamina was finally start to take its toll so he happily let the eager Howsie take it on:

What I hadn’t realised about this climb, and this comes down to not reading the guide properly, was that the first bolt on this line was at the top of the corner/crack approximately 8m up.  The guide stated that a selection of large wires were needed, which seemed strange as out of the twelve pitches on the big slabs, not one other required natural gear.  There were some scrappy looking trad lines on a much shorter wall up to the left, but it still seemed a bit weird.  Craig just laughed, while packing the night before he was going to take a set of wires up and I suggested not to bother.   So with memories of watching a classic TV series called Lakeland Rock when I first started climbing I set about following in the footsteps of those early pioneers and used rocks for chocks to secure slings:

Back on the ground Craig regained his mojo and took another lead; we did a bit of encouraging and nudging to help him reach this decision.  The choice was helped by the fact it was the lowest grade pitch of the day.  Halfway up he groaned and whimpered, declaring he knew “this would happen” as he faced an unnecessary and dangerously long runout.  That was until he realised he had missed a bolt, which we could clearly see from the ground, and was right in front of his face.  A sure sign he really was getting tired but it didn’t stop him and he clipped the bolt  and finished the pitch off.  He was rewarded with a big comfy belay ledge, very uncharacteristic of the others we had used:

I took the last pitch, which more by luck than judgement evened up the leads for the day.  A bit different again with a traverse on steep territory, which stumped all three of us for a while.  As I belayed the other two up the clouds were finally coming in with the threat of rain.  Not from the south but north west, so we knew with the wind directions that there was no way it would pass us by.  So despite there being one more route that looked great fun, we decided it was time to call it a day and head back to the bus:

Unlike the big exhausting bush bash I’d previously done to reach Gibraltar Rock this walk-in was a mere fifteen minutes and the bush sections were short lived and nowhere near as overgrown or difficult to read.  We managed to get back down to the bus without a drop of rain falling on us, which we were kind of pleased about as the steep rocky/slabby decent would have become pretty hairy if the rain had come in.  Half an hour after reaching the bus all light was gone from the sky… we had certainly made the most of a great day:

As the darkness fell so also did the first drops of rain.  We had a cuppa as we watched the rain slowly get heavier, and agreed that we would still head to the Stirling Ranges.  If it was too wet to climb in the morning, then the place would offer great walks.  We drove northwards in the big bus, as the sky lit up like daylight and then darkened back to night time due to an amazing lighting storm.  Despite this image being a tad blurry I couldn’t resist including it as I managed to capture an image of this horizontal strike, one of the many lighting strikes we were lucky to see:

The road into the Stirling’s was rough as guts and at times we were stuck in second gear for ages.  Everything in the bus rattled as we made our way slowly to the base of our proposed climbing spot.  Hats off to Craig, as due to needing a light truck licence neither Howsie or I could legally take the wheel.  That said on these roads I’d he rather than one of us broke his bus.  We finally reached the parking bay, where we cooked up a big well deserved feed in.  When we hit the sack we lay there listening to the rain pound the roof:

The next morning the wind had grown stronger and it seemed it had blown away the rain.  I had again set the alarm for 5:30, but I was up and keen earlier so made enough noise to get the others moving.  Despite the earlier rising we somehow managed to take more time to get ready to walk in, Howsie and I had been here before and knew that the walk up to Talyuberlup was steep and tiring.  Unlike yesterday we had to drag trad gear up with us so the packs were a bit heavier.  At least we could split it between the three of us:

The walk starts up a gentle slope through tall (for the Stirling’s) trees but quickly changes and becomes a slippery scramble up the steepening hill until you arrive at the base of the cliff face that can be seen in the top image.  With all the rain we were expecting to get there soaked and also half expected the steep sections to be a tad dodgy.  Amazingly we didn’t get wet and never stumbled, the only reason we could fathom being the wind had dried everything up:

As we made our way up we got to see the Stirling’s wake up and marvelled at the lenticular cloud formations that capped one of the best peaks to hike up, Mount Toolbrunup.  It wasn’t quite a sunny today, and while clouds abound what worried us most was the wind.  It was pushing in from the north and we were going to climb on the northern faces.  I’d played is down saying the climbs I had in mind would be protected, but there was a niggling doubt in my mind:

At the base of the routes I had in mind, two absolute Stirling classics established in the early 70s, there was a bit of discussion about who would lead.  I was all up for the first lead but in the conditions we were not convinced that we would get two lines in so I didn’t want to bag the only lead, plus I’d done both routes before.  That is my interpretation of the discussion, but Howsie seemed to think we ‘encouraged’ him to take the lead as the conditions were less than ideal:

I resumed mountain goat duties and scrambled to get a variety of angles of this mighty rope stretching line.  It was hard to tell how he was going, usually he climbs at a good steady rate, but this time he seemed to be double checking everything and taking much more time than usual.  I liked to think he was just enjoying the line, but as it transpired he kept rethinking his gear to make sure he had enough for the rope stretching 50m route:

Manicure provides a very clean direct line up this very impressive feature.  We had decided to take the twin ropes, but at 50m we were not entirely sure they would be long enough to allow the leader to top out.  I had a vague recollection that the last time I was here we used 50m ropes and it had worked okay.  Luckily that was the case and eventually Howsie topped out and set himself up on the ledge underneath the big capping roof:

As Howsie was climbing Craig and I were very conscious that dark clouds were looming over the peaks just to the north and, every once in a while we could see wisps of clouds cross over the face above us.  Craig was getting a little nervous that we may get dumped on, so started to talk his way out of going up to save time.  We agreed that the conditions meant we were not likely to do the second route, and so I used this to encourage him to go for it and he was stoked he did:

Finally it was my turn.  I had to warm my body up, as it felt stiff and achy.  The rock was in great condition and the route was every bit the classic I remembered it to be.  Wicked positions and exposure, and for the most great rock and certainly ample gear.  I was however quietly pleased I didn’t lead it, while it was tucked into a corner the wind was certainly biting and the last steepening section seemed to cop the full brunt of the wind:

Howsie had not been brave enough to belay from the very narrow ledge at the top of the corner while Craig climbed, due to the wind.  However, when I came up he shifted position so he could get the birds eye view down the crag.  When I got to the top, not surprisingly, he was grinning from ear to ear.  When we scrambled to the top of the peak we realised that the climb had been somewhat protected, as the wind almost blew us off our feet.  The second climb being on an open face would have been even more exposed, so there was no chance any of us were keen to lead that today:

Once we got to a larger platform of the peak and felt like we couldn’t so easily get blow off it was time for a quick photo.  The dark clouds that had engulfed the peaks to the north obscured the vista we had when we first arrived.  Despite the wisps of clouds still occasionally coming across the peak we stood on, there seemed to be no sign of the bigger cloud banks coming our way as we scrambled back down to the base of the cliff:

We found a protected cave and sorted through the gear, while sipping a hot cuppa courtesy of Craig’s ever trusty flask.  Well… Craig and I sorted the gear while Howsie took a well-deserved seat to rest and reflect on the great line.  The walk down seemed quick and easy, and soon we were back at the bus where of course the kettle went on and the food came out.  Then before the journey out we put the kettle on again, and finally hit the heavily corrugated road that provided a slow but scenic drive through the eastern half of the ranges:

Once we hit tarmac we realised just how noisy the dirt road had been, and as we drove along in what felt like silence ahead we could see darkness.  Sure enough when we got to Cranbrook which is the closest town to the Stirling’s the heavens opened up.  The rain poured down on and off most of the way home for another three to four hours, with debris strewn across many of the roads.  The adventures were not quite over, as on one of the longest and quietest stretches of road with no phone coverage the fan belt partly shredded.  Being a mechanic Craig was prepared for such events and soon got us going again:

It had been an awesome trip and made all the better by the unpredictability of the weather that had worked out very much in our favour.  Then as I drove the last leg of my journey back into Peppy Beach a double rainbow appeared in the sky, telling me what I already knew and that was where my pot of gold is…  it felt great to be home with my girls: