Risky business

With the way the world is going I felt that the great trip down to Mount Frankland last week may have been the last climbing trip for some time to come.  I did touch base with Howsie before this weekend to check if he was still keen, it was a silly question really.  But despite our initial keenness we decided that with the strong recommendation not to socialise we would not head out.  While Western Australia will, as of Tuesday, put in place inter-regional travel bans, so far we are not in full lockdown.  As such I decided to head out while still self-quarantining myself:

The forecast was a mixed bag with fresh south westerlies, the chance of a light shower and a rough to very rough sea.  Whichever way you looked at it that it meant wetness in some form, whether from the sky or the spray from the ocean.  I was however not worried about that as the conditions offered a great atmosphere in which to empty the mind and just live in the moment and enjoy the setting.  It rained as I drove down but brightened up as I walked in, clouds were however dark, ominous and moving relatively fast towards the coast.  I sheltered briefly in the toilet admiring the secret stash of gold:

It cleared up and I could see a break in the weather coming my way.  Shouldering my pack I headed to my chosen destination, a place that I wouldn’t be surprised if I have climbed at more than anyone else.  Short routes but quality lines.  It is away from the crowds on a busy day, in fact I have never seen anyone else ever climb here.  The Organ Pipes also offers the opportunity to find new lines and before today I had already been on two that I was keen to one day lead.  As soon as the anchors were in and the static rope was ready for action the next wave of water, from above, started to descend on me:

I wasn’t put off and my spirits were far from be dampened.  At some point they will put us into lockdown and then opportunities like these will be gone for some time.  In a way, while I think it is something I do nearly all of the time, it is at times like these that you really have to live in the moment and appreciate even the small things that make you smile.  I rapped down to be greeted by the wet corner of Spraying, at least the rock under the capping roof provided dry handholds.  A blessing as the slopey and smeary feet for the traverse under that roof were sure to be soaked, and they were:

I was back in top-rope mode and that meant ascending each line twice.  The first to get a feel for it and for some lines to remind me just how tricky there were.  The second usually feels much smoother.  Maybe because there is something in knowing what is coming, that plus the fact that you’ve just done it relaxes the mind and makes the movements flow that bit smoother.  That was certainly the case to start with, after Spraying I moved rightwards and it was time for Knocking on Heavens Door.  It is worth checking the route description, as on the first lap I didn’t knock hard enough and sure enough the door opened as a decent sized block came off in my hand:

I’m not sure that anyone else has led that route, and it felt a little testy.  As I rapped back down the sun was starting to poke it’s face out.  The next route to the right is one of the original lines and the crag classic, Heaven Calling.  This route is recorded as being one grade lower than my route Knocking on Heavens Door.  I had put my route up with Wiggins and recall umming and ahhing about the grade.  Now having climbed, and walked up, Heaven Calling immediately afterwards I am wondering again.  It’ll be great to get a second “on-lead” opinion about the grade:

The last time I climbed here was with Andrew, just over a year ago and also in March.  I reread that post and it includes an image of this creature at the end of it.  I now know that this little fella is in fact the caterpillar of the Tower Case Moth.  It uses sticks of equal length, attaching them parallel to the axis of the case.  As it grows it attaches the next set of sticks to make the conical house longer, up to a usual maximum length of 3cm.  It is open at both ends, and no prizes for guessing why the narrow end is pointing down:

It was now time to move right to The Reaper Man, this route of mine made it into the guide despite not having led it.  I hadn’t claimed it, putting it down as a top-rope, and have on numerous occasions come along all bold as brass expecting to send it.  But it is a tad run out and the top head wall feels very sketchy and blank.  As such I was very surprised when I managed to cruise up it without a worry on my first lap.  Had I overestimated the holds and sequence, and if so why haven’t I led it before?  On my second lap I was brought back down to earth, as I struggled to link the upper moves and slipped of numerous times:

I couldn’t blame the rock conditions, the gneiss here is quick to dry and with a south westerly and clearing sky you couldn’t ask for better conditions.  I was a little surprised that I wasn’t been hit by salt spray, but was certainly not complaining about that.  The time had come to move the line to a new section of the crag.  While I had a plan in my mind I changed it at the last minute and decided to try another project of mine.  This is one that I tried ground up with Andrew and failed.  It’s a little contrived but still fun, and today it felt pretty easy.  I’m a little confused as to why I hadn’t got it last time:

I then got back to my original plan, time to check out another potential new line.  One I have looked at numerous times from afar but never inspected.  I had hoped that Mikey was going to try it when I brought him here.  He was however after meterage and had stuck to the easier lines.  As I got the rope setup I got a shock when I discovered a ring bolt that I can’t recall ever seeing before.  It does surprise me where you find these single bolts popping up, making me wonder if I am really finding new lines.  As with many other bolts I have come across is the lesser visited places this one too was right next to great trad placements:

This route, when I eventually lead it is a climb of two halves.  A lower coarse granite slab with a upper headwall of the more usual less textured Wilyabrup Gneiss.  For some reason I have never got round to trying it.  One aspect that has maybe put me off is that it just didn’t look like there was going to be much gear in the top headwall.  That and the flakily and blocky look of it has also made me wonder just how many of the holds are secure.  Today was however the day for it, I rapped down and as I went down I found a large loose flake that came away relatively easily:

Behind the flake and still holding onto the rock I saw what I believe is a Marbled Gecko, Howsie let me know if that is right and if you can break it down into a sub-species.  This image is taken from below looking up, and I felt really bad that I had just destroyed it’s home.  For that reason I made myself secure and attempted to pick it up to relocate it.  I needn’t have worried as it escaped my clumsy clutches and scampered across the near vertical face literally jumping across sections.  Finally it disappeared into a wider vegetated crack several meters to the right:

The route was great and everything I hoped for.  On the first lap I accessed the slab as Mikey had done for his line 10K.  For the second I approached it via a hanging flake which added a fair bit of spice to the line.  The upper wall was great but thin on gear, as I had suspected it would be, would I ever lead it… who knows.  As the start to get to the slab was so good I decided to have a bash at the pillar to the right as it looked to have a more a defined and protectable crack running up it.  That too was great fun and had more gear that I was willing to trust.  So if no one else beats me to it that is now four routes that I need to polish off with a clean first ascent:

The damp and gloomy start to the day, weather wise, had turned into a perfect conditions.  I was keen for more.  For those who like to tally my routes and make sure I keep an even keel, yes I had climbed seven lines today.  I would normally I’ll aim for six when I tope-rope solo, but the last line was just too good to pass by.  However, seeing I did each line twice made it feel like I hadn’t ended in an odd way.  It was regardless of my urge to keep climbing time to pack the bag, and as I pulled out the phone to check the time I realised it was definitely time to go:

I had told Lisa that being by myself I would probably be finished quite early and the very latest I would be on the road would be midday.  While I didn’t feel like I had dillied and dallied I had spent four hours at the crag, if you include the walk-in/out.  It was midday when I got back to the car, which was still in self-quarantine as it had been when I arrived.  I’d had the place to myself and my guess is that this may well have been in part due to the forecast.  The regional travel bans may also have had some influence, but on the road back there were plenty of cars and cyclists zipping all over the place:

While I had managed to not meet a sole and certainly kept within recommended social distancing guidelines, the riskiest part of the trip was yet to come.  Lisa had, upon request from Elseya, put in an order for pizza.  So I had to pop into Busselton and pick up the order.  On the flip side the order was also helping to keep the local economy going.  Such confusing times are ahead…