It was time to head back to an old favourite, and Rongy was keen to join in the fun when Alan and I started to lay the plans for a morning foray at Moses Rocks. The times got mucked about with, and there was a bit of banter as the plans were rearranged via WhatsApp. This led to a bit of a mix up with me waiting in Capel and Alan and Rongy waiting at the bottom of our driveway in Peppy Beach. The departure wasn’t delayed by too much and as a plus it resulted in us not needing to pull out the head torches. First light was breaking through when we started our walk to the crag, instead of as we started to climb, which had been the plan:
Despite the last few days of easterlies, a rough swell had resulted in the crag being pretty wet. But unlike the rock at Wilyabrup, the next cliff to the south and visible from where we were climbing, Moses can cope with moisture and the excellent friction makes it possible to climb even in wet conditions. The reason for a trip to Moses was mainly to head somewhere different with low to mid-grade routes that would be suitable for Alan to continue getting back into leading. It felt a bit rough to throw him onto the sharp end for the first climb, both in view of the wet conditions and different rock and hence climbing style here:
So Rongy was the first to see just how wet it was, he led us up the left hand side of Many Hands a climb that offers up two independent lines. While never too hard it did require us to pull out and dust of our slab techniques, trusting nothing but friction for some of the footholds and many of the hand holds being slopey. A far cry from the more positive holds that are usually found at Wilyabrup. This certainly made Alan work that bit harder, he has not had a huge amount of slab climbing experience but was going to have to learn pretty quickly:
I led the second route up Gothic Streak. This is the first climb I ascended on my arrival in Western Australia. I soloed it as Lisa was reading and Elseya, at not quite 3 years old, was sleeping in the car back at the carpark. Today it lived up to its name, the black streak a sure sign of where water runs down the crag on a more regular basis. The black patches were feeling slimy and a little nervous, but there were plenty of opportunities to work round the worse areas. Alan had intended to lead this route, and seemed thankful not to have after following up after me:
It was however his lead next, and we encouraged him to have a bash at the right hand side of Many Hands. As we rapped down he was checking the line for gear, claiming there was none. It didn’t take much for us to convince him to just try it and that he did. Still learning the required slab techniques, he slipped at the crux and took a decent lead fall onto a bomber tricam. After that he seemed to have greater confidence and he polished the rest the route off, placing no less than seven or was it eight bomber pieces of gear on the ten meter route:
The conditions did not seem to be improving, the wind had turned to a northerly from which this face was protected. Great to keep us out of the blustery conditions while climbing, but not so good for allowing the rock to dry. It did not deter us and we kept climbing, Rongy opted for Johnny Fartpants, a line that I personally feel is over-graded and after bagging a few lines of similar grades today I would still hold that opinion. It is however a great consistent route that offered more slab practice for Alan, at several grades higher than the first three routes:
Rongy made short work of it, gliding up the rock effortlessly, which is exactly how you should climb slabs. It is all about balance, technique, body position and control. There should be no slapping for holds or yarding on crimps or jugs, it’s all in the footwork and very different to just about all other styles of climbing. I think Alan surprised himself when he managed a clean ascent, keeping his focus at the crux and controlling his nerve just long enough to avoid losing his balance and simply slipping off. Then for my second route I had to pull my big boy trousers on and went for Victor and His Boa Constrictor:
Now you may be wonder where some of these weird and wonderful route names come from. Many but not all of the routes on this wall are in fact names of characters in an old UK comic called Viz. Definitely not a politically correct comic, but one I used to read in my misspent youth and I still think it is pretty funny today. If you are not easily offended and like some slap stick humour I’d recommend you check it out online. The first gear on this chosen route is a bolt 4-5m off the deck. It is probably fair to say that you have to tackle the entire crux sequence before you can reach it. Regardless of that it does work, and today it felt really good:
Alan indicated that he wouldn’t follow up the line, but we convinced him he should and he manage it without any trouble. This did mean that his noodle arms were starting to feel the five routes, and this made him nervous as we were keen to throw him on the crag classic Wheely Things for his second lead. This offers true crack climbing, and if you can’t climb cracks it feels soooo much harder than it should. Alan confessed to not being very adept at jamming, but he definitely got stuck into it on this route and did really well considering the conditions. As we come to expect he was never in any danger, with gear that you could hang a car off being placed all the way up this magical line:
It felt just that bit too early to leave, and so we decided to hit another very good crack climb called Cornish Nasty. The name is a bit unjust, as this route is clean, beautifully sustained and is, despite appearances, well protected. To climb it in the best style, by which I mean efficiently and without expending lots of energy, you have to embrace the crack and bury yourself in it, making use of all of your body. This allows you to make the most unlikely reaches and moves in a relatively stable and comfortable position:
There are of course times that it is not possible to bury yourself in the crack, i.e. where it narrows, which is also where it starts to overhang. The jams are still there if you take the time to look for them, and by using these the grade holds. Like slab climbing, crack climbing is an art in itself, one that some climbers would call the dark arts. Rongy showed us the path through this dark passage, but really there is nothing dark about this route and like so many others here it is worthy of far more attention than what it gets:
The crack ends below a steep final headwall, and the finishing moves on this route put you right out there. With gear below your feet, slopey holds and a featureless top with nothing you can pull yourself over with. It wasn’t until the very last move that Alan’s noodle arms finally gave up on him. But he had certainly shown some true grit and thrown himself at both the slab and crack climbing that some of us relish at Moses. Others are known to shy away from this place because of the climbing style, but if that keeps the place a bit quieter that is all good with me:
Despite feeling like his arms could do no more, I weighed up whether to jump on Fat Slags or Hands Up. The former would have been the hardest route of the day, and Rongy and I felt that would be pretty unfair on Alan, so I went with the latter and being a slab didn’t require arm strength. Hands Up is however probably the most continuously flared crack you will find here, gear is interesting to place and even more interesting to trust. There are no really positive holds and you have to stay focused, which we did to finish the day off. Although I thought I heard Alan mumble something about probably not ever attempting to lead that last route:
Rongy was very happy to take and keep his climbing shoes off, his feet had been complaining for the last few climbs. They are not cragging shoes being a bit too technical and tight in the wrong spots to keep on for long periods. Alan was also happy to call it a day his arms, legs and body in general were telling him it was time to quit. So we sorted the gear in the howling wind, and watched the crashing waves for a little longer. The others were probably, but I was certainly, hoping to see a dolphin or two. But alas despite regularly looking out to sea it never did happen, maybe the swell and waves today were just that bit too rough for them to come in close:
The tide certainly seemed high, and the main beach and little bay that we walk along were all the evidence we needed that the sea had been hungry today and probably over the last few days or weeks. The water reached further up the beach than usual and had washed away massive amounts of sand, and had stripped almost all of it away from the usually sandy small bay (above). On the road back there was a need to replenish the energy levels, so a pit stop at the Carbanup River store was in order. This resulted in us continuing the journey home munching on well-deserved pies, chips and pork crackling, which boys washed down with fresh coffee:
Sandbagged 