Steve may be upset with me by sending this email so promptly, as he captured some images that show just how far I am prepared to go to get that perfect picture. Maybe I can send a few of those round another time…
We’ve been back in the country for a few days now after a three and half week stint in Europe. So what better way to get over jet lag than to get up at 5:30 to go climbing, and where better to go than the place I seem to have been drawn to for the last few trips out. Last night was the longest full moon eclipse for 100 years, but it was mostly cloudy this morning so we only saw glimpses of the moon as we drove in and then walked to the crag:
As we got closer it started raining and continued as we walked in. The ocean looked angry. Big messy waves were tumbling over each other to get to the shore, creating a single blinding mass of white water. The usual track across a small beach before the rocks was blocked by a high tide combined with the big waves. The bay shown above would normally be a clean sandy beach, but was today exposed bed rock:
When we got to Moses we ducked down to look at the line Craig and I had put up on my last trip here, Nothing too Serious. Today would have been a very exciting time to climb this one, and a wetsuit may have been advisable. Much as I tried to gently direct Howsie to have a bash at this fine line we didn’t get back to it, heading instead onwards to the main areas which we were hoping would be a bit safer:
Hand’s Up Wall was of course high and “dry”, safe from the angry white water but not the drizzle, that was easing up, nor the recent rain. The good news was that there was a slight off-shore breeze so we were not being coated with sea spray, well not as much as we might have been in different conditions. Before we decided where to climb we dumped the packs and spent some time watching the waves and checking the different areas:
Rumpole’s Rocks were on the tick list, but today while the large boulders provided a level of protection the base was sopping wet and the occasional bigger wave would have dampened the spirits of any belayer. So we wandered along, and for those that know the area we stopped at Tweddle Dee and Tweddle Dum. Even at this location some big waves managed to spray the base of the lines:
Next we checked the Zawn, not expecting to go in there but just to witness what it was like. These are by far the most extreme conditions I’ve ever seen. The boulder strewn base was visible between waves, but was swamped with every wave that came in. During the big sets the place got smashed. We saw several waves impressively crash all the way up the wall at the back of the zawn:
Back at Hand’s Up Wall we decided it was time to do what we came to do, the harness were pulled tight and Steve was first up for a lead. I don’t edit any images I provide in these emails, and today was particularly challenging with the contrast. The blinding white water making it hard to get good clean shots, but it also offered a few opportunity to capture the amazing atmosphere we lucky to have experienced:
The first line chosen, was in Howsie and my minds the worse possible choice. Gothic Streak is aptly named for its black look, which is created due to being the line where water runs down most frequently. We didn’t say anything and left Steve to it. He climbed slow and steady, looking solid and not grumbling once. As we followed up we were both glad he and neither of us had led that line:
The sun finally poked through the breaking clouds when we were all on top. Looking north and south it was bleak, but the window above us allowed the sun’s warmth through. The only problem was that it made looking at the ocean even more difficult than before. It was a slow exchange of gear and wander back to the base, Howsie in deep thought about what he would lead:
He plumped for Many Hands, and made short work of it. While this wall was still dripping wet this climb didn’t have the algae that Steve’s line had growing on it. I still felt nervous on second, but the friction of Moses pulled through despite the wet conditions. Trusting your footwork in these conditions made the lines even more of a mind game than usual:
I was, like the last time the three of us ventured here, happy to offer up the leads. So next up Steve picked an unexpected line. Maybe it was the draw of the bolts that made this feel a safe proposition, but Twist Till You Lock while a safe line still has some tricky moments. It took several attempts to get the plate and draw onto the first bolt, and then after trying the first hard move several times Steve realised that maybe he had bitten off more than he could chew:
So Howsie stood up the plate and made short work of the first crux before enjoying the much more relaxed mid-section. The top and harder crux proved a little trickier but soon he flopped over the horrible rounded top out. Steve and then I followed him up surprised at how good the rock had felt on this line, was it dry or did we imagine that? We dashed down for one last climb. I led the crag classic, Wheely Things, a route that just like Moses never disappoints:
As soon as we had stuffed our gear in the packs the clouds rolled in and it started to drizzle once again. We scooted back to the main beach, which like the small bay has also been smashed. The waves at times reaching close the base of the dunes. Large outcrops of rock, which we have not seen before, have been exposed where usually surfers, sun worshippers and the occasional person fishing would be lounging about on a sandy beach:
Moses, like the sound of the ocean today, was once again a roaring success.
Sandbagged 