Contrasting conditions

Winter brings cold mornings that often feel all the colder at our only local inland crag of Welly Dam.  We knew the start would be a chilly one.  We were however hopeful for good conditions after a lovely warm sunny Saturday, followed by a clear sky on Sunday morning with a glorious sunrise.  While we had driven up in sunlight, from separate directions, on arrival Mikey and I were greeted to a mist clad quarry.  The grass, vegetation, picnic benches, tarmac and every other surface were wet… other than the rock faces: 

After sitting in the warm car the body hadn’t quiet energised, and the blood wasn’t circulating at a rate required to keep all our extremities warm.  Steve has a trick of jumping and running about before he starts to climb to get the blood flowing, and there is a lot to be said for his approach.  Mikey and I talked about the idea but instead jumped straight onto Pocket Knife.  For both of us on that first route the coldness of the rock sucked any heat from our fingertips, and we could feel the numbness creep up our fingers towards our palms:

The blood started to flow that bit faster after the first route, and neither of us felt as cold as we hit route number two, which is when Steve turned up.  He made the trek down from Freemantle, obviously missing the idyllic regional south west lifestyle.  For some, the city life is a buzz and full of joy whereas for Steve I get the feeling he would liken it more to the cold touch of the rock as it numbs you.  He wasn’t too keen on our second chosen route or Victim of Authority, so instead clattered about with the contents of his car boot:

Mikey and I were pulling the rope so we could both lead each route, and when we were done and ready for the next line Steve was keen to take the pointy end and insistent on using his ramshackle selection of extenders.  Before he started the routine of getting the body fired up and blood pumping was initiated.  He made short work of his favourite route here, and as Mikey led it next I could see him starting to tire only just holding on for the final reachy, thin moves.  My lead was soon done too and as I pulled the rope on Raging Torrent the fog was hanging a little higher than before:

Mikey was all too aware he was tiring so he decided to hit the route he was really keen to climb before he was toast.  As he sorted himself out I pulled out the tea kit and got things ready to make a cuppa.  The sky above was brightening up just a little and for the first time wrens and robins started to hop about the place.  Most times we come here we get to see quite a bit of bird life, but not this morning.  Their presence was short and fleeting, it seemed that as soon as they had arrived they were gone and they didn’t come back:

It was probably a good thing as I would have got totally distracted taking more images.  I’d brought my SLR today in the hope of seeing our feathered friends.  So with the camera back in its bag I left Steve to sort the tea while I belayed Mikey.  It was soon obvious that we should have called the tea break before he attempted route number four, and eventually he came back down from Taj Vs the World even more worn out.  Rather than run up it myself we had a well-deserved cuppa with Anzac biscuits, baked the night before by Lisa, and a selection of chocolate chip cookies Steve had brought down:

The tea break continued for some time until I got itchy fingers and encouraged the proceedings to recommence.  None of us had anything special in mind so wanting to jump on something I hadn’t played on for a bit I headed for the crag classic.  Any coldness was well and truly gone by now, and there was even some blue sky above us.  Which is how the place looked as Craig rocked up in the big bus with Oyukha and the boys.  Wanting to give the boys a bit of a play on rock I belayed Craig up the slabs, as Steve was desperately tried to pull the crux on Ear for Fear:

It was a little too much to ask of his body, and eventually he admitted defeat coming back down and handing the rope to Mikey.  He promptly pulled the rope wanting to try the route on lead, which I thought was pretty brave after he had been smashed by Taj.  He did however qualify his intent as being based on making use of my extensive knowledge of these routes.  So I was on standby ready to point out the holds should things get desperate.  It didn’t feel like it ever did until the final sequence, and the encouragement Steve and I offered him gave him the confidence to push through:

With the fog well and truly banished, the sun was streaming down on us.  It felt like a different world.  It is also possible that the throngs of tourists that were now coming and going had also changed the feel of the place.  Cars parked up and as soon as they left more turned up, the BBQs were fired up and the sound of kids running amuck filled the air.  Since the completion of the mural on the dam wall this place has become insanely busy, a bit like the once quiet sea cliffs we play on, this place is now sadly instafamous:

In the shadow of the walls we seemed to be in a bit of a bubble where the tourists didn’t venture.  So we stayed put with Steve all fired up and declaring he wanted to completely trash himself, as he eyed up the stiff opposition of a rarely climbed route.  He soon began to imitate a yoyo going up and rapidly back down, too many times to count.  For those following his recovery you may have twigged this was his first, second, third, fourth and so on lead fall since his treatment and operations.  He was certainly fearless in his approach and all his body parts looked to be staying in place, which was a relief:

Like Ear for Fear, the crux of Wingspan was just too much so he came back down, to another cuppa courtesy of Oyukha, and handed the rope to Mikey.  While he smashed his way up the route, proving that his earlier defeat on Taj was probably more due to not resting enough, I belayed Craig who also got a clean ascent, on Ear for Fear.  Steve was then insistent he would follow up after Mikey, and so he did with much swinging, falling and sweating.  He certainly achieved his goal in trashing himself and also did “get up the route”:

Steve swung about madly for so long that Craig and I squeezed another line.  Then to wrap things up I couldn’t resist but run up after Mikey to see what all the fuss was about.  Below us Craig pounced on a BBQ as soon as it became free, cooking up some nosh.  The tourists poured in and out of the quarry as Oyukha poured more tea, to help wash down the food.  And one by one we drifted off, after a splendid morning of contrasts starting in the cold and damp fog and finishing in the warm and bright sun: