Rocks in our heads

Some would say we were a little nuts while others might say we had rocks in our head, the latter being maybe a little true but the former not so much.  Admittedly when we had set the date for this camping and climbing trip, many months back, we had not envisaged that we would have one of the wettest July’s on record.  We were however heading to the Wheatbelt and that place is renowned for being dry as a bone, and the closest weather station is some 100km to the east so surely couldn’t be heavily replied upon:

The six hour, five hundred kilometre, journey took us through many storm fronts.  Rain came and went, but the wind was constant.  The landscape was very different to my memories of the Wheatbelt, normally a dry and mostly brown or at best dull green colour.  On this trip water flowed everywhere.  The rivers were swollen and had burst their banks, floodways on the road that you would normally laugh and joke as never having water did today, and the paddocks were filled with lush green crops of wheat or canola with their brilliantly coloured yellow flowers:

That said on arrival we were greeted with glorious sun, but the wind was still strong, cold and biting.  So we set camp up on the leeward side of Eaglestone Rocks, which is where the “official” campsite happens to be located.  I say it that way as it is merely an open area, it used to have a drop toilet but word is that it was built without permission so they took it away a year or two back.  That is somewhat strange as this place gets busy, so it is probably sensible to have one.  And not just with climbers, many tourists and four wheel drive fanatics, who like to do donuts on the salt lake, come here:

There was however a bench in our little rock alcove, and I can only guess that permission wasn’t needed to put that there.  After making camp we racked up and walked over the hill to the main face, only to be thwarted by rain.  It was coming from the west and therefore we had no vision of what was heading our way when we were tucked away in our rock alcove.  Within minutes water was streaking down the rock.  That and the cold wind made us decide we should expect more inclement weather, so we headed back down and battled to put a tarp over the bench.  We managed and we then stayed under it for most of what was left of the day:

Steve had driven from Perth to meet Mikey, Howsie, Rongy and I there.  In his usual way he had a car full of stuff, and having got there ahead of us he had started to sprawl his wares across the alcove.  Normally Steve’s clutter and chaos would mess with my head, which has a need for organisation and clarity.  It may sound great but it can be a real pain and difficult for me to switch off.  On this trip however I, and maybe all of us, embraced Steve’s stuff.  For one he had brought the tarp, and that certainly was very useful:

I had to include the above image of my trusty tent, which I bought it in 1995 or was it 1996, so it has done me well.  With the only repair having been replacing the elastic along the ridges, which I did just before this trip.  It looked like we were in for a wet time, all around dark clouds and grey bands of rain could be seen falling.  But you can’t just pack up and drive home when you’ve just arrived, plus Saturday was forecast to bring better conditions.  Steve provided the needed distraction when he pulled out a fishing net and mini basketball, what does the man not have in his car you may ask:

While it rained on and off, at times pretty hard, we did wander up to the crag to check out the lines.  Howsie and Rongy had been here once before each, it was however a new place for Mikey and Steve to explore.  Some of us had a few lines in mind to have a go at, and for Rongy the gnarly off-width crack with an inverted start his mind, which he and Steve are eyeing up below.  For me it was my fourth trip here, and so I was keen to try a few of the runout trad lines that rarely get looked at:

We stayed hopefully the conditions would improve in the morning, but for now it was time for a reasonably early dinner.  Howsie again had taken charge of meals and organised the menu and food, with Mikey providing all the cooking gear.  In fact it felt like I had an easy time of it this time only providing the chauffeur service to and from the crag, which when you have cruise control and are on the long straight and open roads of the Wheatbelt is pretty easy going.  Steve also threw in a meal, lots of additional snacks, including chocolate digestives (yum), and an assortment of items you would never think you’ll need:

With rain falling we didn’t light a fire as no one was keen to sit in the rain.  So Steve and I crashed early, and I could hear the others play a game of Skulls soon after which they headed off to their respective tents.  The rain continued overnight, with a couple of heavy showers but by midnight’ish the clouds blew away and a clear, crisp and cold morning greeted us.  I doubt the morning temperature was much above four degrees.  Mikey was up first, as he needed a brew due to feeling very cold.  In fact most of them felt the cold overnight:

Like my trusty tent, I also have a great sleeping bag that is good to below zero and an extra thick thermorest to keep me insulated from the ground.  Camping in the United Kingdom, year round I soon learnt that you spend most of your money on your sleeping bag, next on your tent and then on the mat.  Needless to say I was snug as a bug in rug, and as the others huddled round the stove to make the most of the heat not being absorbed by the kettle, I had a wander to watch the morning light over Lake Brown:

The salt lake had a fait bit of water in it, and there was not a hint of the white I have seen on previous trips.  In fact on this trip it really did look like a brown lake.  As I returned to camp a cuppa was brewing and even Steve had started to stir.  Like me he too was snug and warm overnight, probably as he had slept in his car.  It is kinda funny that he had come camping and brought just about everything imaginable other than a tent.  This was however very much in his favour on this trip:

After our cuppas were made, and eagerly sipped to warm us from the inside, breakfast was on the go.  While others were busy under the tarp I got the climbing gear out ready to be sorted, but the motivation to do that was slow in showing.  We had limited phone reception so couldn’t check the weather radar, instead we checked what was coming by walking a short distance round the rocks and looking west.  The wind was still pretty strong but the sky was looking clear and mostly cloudless out west, this meant we could at least get a climb in during the next hour or so:

It wasn’t until the sun came out and started to creep over the landscape that there seemed to be motivation to get moving.  Once it started things speeded up, and we were soon putting our harnesses on and shouldering packs of gear and rope bags.  It is less than a few minutes’ walk to the crag from whichever side you camp, and we were soon eyeing up the climbs that were looking in much better condition than yesterday.  Being granite the rock was already dry, despite the drenching it received the day and night before and every route looked to be ready for the picking:

We started on the west face, which is in the shade and also on the windward side.  This may sound like a dumb idea, but these routes are more of a moderate grade so better to start on.  Mikey and Rongy went up first, with Howsie and I sheltered from the wind by the boulders behind us.  Steve was still at camp, as it takes him a little longer to sort his head and gear out.  Almost as soon as the two leaders touched the rock they both started to complain about the cold, and halfway up they both said their fingers were numb and toes in pain:

Howsie and I still relatively warm below made the occasional remark about how we climb for fun and enjoyment, but after a while kept quiet as we knew it would be our turn next.  Being sport routes, the leaders rapped back down and we pulled the rope so the next person could lead the routes.  We didn’t do this on all lines on the trip but for most of them we did, so it was that Howsie and I then went up.  While it was cold, once on top in the sun and with the vista of Lake Brown and surrounding nature reserve to take in, all was forgiven:

Rongy really doesn’t like the cold, so when Steve rocked up the two of them went to the sunny side.  I was however keen to run up the line that Mikey and Howsie were on before heading that way.  The timing worked well as the cold had slowed Howsie down, allowing me to watch him climb as I rapped down, and then lead the route straight after him.  This face while looking steep, is a bit more gentle than most other areas with generally better holds and less fierce moves.  So while it was cold it was a good way to get the body moving:

As I topped out a second time I unexpectedly spotted Steve climbing up the other side.  It was great to see him jump straight on lead, and he had lapped the climb up and as smiling ear to ear.  While we had been all rugged up for our first climbs, he was in a light shirt soaking up the warm sun while sheltered from the wind.  The difference between the two sides was incredible, and I still had to go back down cold face before enjoying what Rongy and Steve were experiencing:

I cleaned the route I had just led, and then literally hung about on the rap line watching Mikey.  The contrast between the shaded face and landscape in the background, which was aglow in sunlight, was too much for my point and shoot camera.  But there will be more images to come of all that lush greenery, which every time I saw looked strangely and out of place.  I watched Mikey get up and then left the Howsie to it, deciding it was time to join the others.  In fact I was sneaky and managed to get on every route that was climbed:

Rongy kindly offered Steve a second lead straight up, as he had come down buzzing with enthusiasm.  The obvious choice was a trad crack line, allowing Steve to get his tricams out.  Rongy was obviously still feeling a bit cold and was happy to slow things down and soak in the warmth, while Steve pottered about trying to figure out what to take with him.  So left in limbo for a bit, I pulled out the big camera.  I had brought it along, as being five of us I knew I’d get a chance or two to spend some more time taking images:

Mikey and Howsie popped into the light, as Steve battled the crack.  His cluttered mind started to get the better of him, as he procrastinated with this tricam or should it be this cam or maybe this wire.  That and placing probably a few bits more than was necessary.  Thinking back the bolted sport climbs were probably better for him on days when he is easily distracted, as there is no decision to be made about what to place.  You simply clip the bolt and go.  He is however a determined fella and got up he route enjoying himself immensely:

Mikey, Howsie and then I climbed the lovely arête that Steve had started on, and I even somehow managed to follow Steve up the crack climb.  With Rongy being thoughtful enough to leave all the gear in for me to get out, as I followed up third.  They all popped out fine, bar a pesky pink tricam that was a well and truly solid piece of gear.  Once we were all back on the deck we pondered whether it was now time to take on the obvious challenge, a route that Rongy, Wiggins nor I were able to get clean on a previous trip here:

I haven’t mentioned any route names thus far, and will refrain from listing every route we did but these next two are worth a quick mention.  The Lesser of Two Evils appeared somewhere between my first and second trip here.  It is a mighty fine line with what, at the time we tried it, seemed to have a powerful and reachy crux move.  Needless to say we were unable to get it clean back then.  This time Rongy went first and was ooohh so close to making the big move, while we all watched.  Howsie and Mikey also did really well, but that long move was just too much:

I managed to get it clean, and put it down to all the trunk exercising I have started doing (as well as having the draws in).  On the last trip I could only get it by lunging the big move dynamically, but this time I could get it statically and while in control.  Having felt so good on this line, it made sense that I should try the other line on offer on this section of the wall.  Ithica, a route that is steep, sustained, powerful and intimidating.  The name of route we just did, which shares the same first bolt, is spot on.  Despite how well I had just climbed that route I was still pretty nervous taking on Ithica:

All I can say is that I haven’t hung in harness quite as much for a very, very, very, very long time.  It felt brutal, and I had to work each sequence one section at a time.  Mikey was very patient belaying me, as I asked him to lower me numerous times just enough to allow me to link sequences, and I must have been on the route for about half an hour.  When I finally got up I felt utterly spanked, and was happy to hand the rope to others.  During all of this Steve had wandered down to make a cuppa, which was waiting for me after I had finished and was very gratefully received:

Rongy and then Mikey had a bash, each of them having intently watched the sequences and which holds to go for, making the moves more refined.  Sadly neither were able to link all the moves, and also neither were keen to try on lead after watching me battle so hard.  Howsie, attempted the start by wasn’t feeling it and Steve well he just sat this out and enjoyed the show.  It certainly felt like it was time to dial things back for myself, so Howsie and I wandered round to other side leaving Rongy to attempt a climb that required a jump start across a not so pleasant drop:

Steve was feeling a little weary from all the shenanigans of the morning so he headed back for a kip, while Howsie and I enjoyed the slightly longer and more mellow face again.  With eight routes on this wall, plus one project that I tried with Craig a while back and simply couldn’t figure out, this face is definitely the centrepiece of the crag.  Grades from 17 to 20 mostly, it was in the perfect range for us and we cleaned quite a few of these lines during the day.  While it was still partially shaded everyone was sufficiently  warmed up now:

Even Rongy, after bailing on his jump start route, climbed on this face without a word about being cold or numb.  The clock was ticking and we had passed ten o’clock.  This was relevant as we had guessed that if anyone from Perth had considered it worth coming out, we expected they would arrive about this time.  The last couple of times I have been here it was been busy, and I get the feeling it is a popular place.  But today we were the only mad fools to risk the unpredictable, cold wintery weather:

We managed one route each and then a belt of rain snuck up on us.  It had looked so far away, but the wind was blustery and relentless, and the grey mass of falling droplets hadn’t taken long to reach us from what seemed a very long way away.  Like Friday afternoon we were once again huddled under the boulders at the base of the crag staying, as best possible, out of both the rain and wind.  We stayed there for a while, but it didn’t look like it was going to let up too soon.  There was only one thing to do… have lunch:

The gear was stashed under the boulders and we headed to the protection of the camp, where the hill and boulders prevented the wind from biting and tarp kept the rain off us.  The kettle went back on and food came out and then we woke Steve up.  We all kicked back enjoying the break.  Another thing that struck me on this trip was all the bird life, no doubt attracted by all the water in the landscape and food that followed.  When I came here with Wiggins and Rongy, admittedly it was April so pretty warm, I made a point of mentioning in my post how little birdlife we had seen:

While we saw plenty of birds including swifts, honeyeaters, miners cockatoos, parrots and a range of smaller ones I’m not brave enough to name my focus was primarily on the rock.  After all we are supposed to have rocks in our heads.  I also didn’t really pay too much attention to the flowers, not that were too many natives to see.  A few shrubs and some bush tomatoes were out, but most of the groundcover was being provided by weeds.  There were soooo many weeds, and looking back at images from my trips in October 2013 and April and August 2019 I’m sure there are way more now:

Sadly, when a place does get popular us humans tend to change the place, and not for the better.  Weeds where probably the biggest sign.  On the most part I was happy to see the place was litter free, but we did collect a bit here and there.  The other sign was of course all the cleared areas where people have been driving and camping.  Still having the place is stunning and even more so when you get it to yourself.  Other than for a couple of small groups of day trippers, who came for a quick look and then went on their way, we were alone:

As these day trippers wandered about, keeping a safe distance it seemed, we were heading up and down the face getting our fill of routes and more.  Steve joined us after lunch and I had the perfect climb in mind for him to scuttle his way up.  A wide slanting crack in which you have to wedge yourself in and then worm your way up.  A technique that can be secure and efficient if down well, or feel insecure and strenuous if done poorly.  Steve did it well.  It was however still enough exertion to fill his desire for climbing for the day, and he left the four of us to keep trucking as he went back to pottering at camp:

Rongy and I were still keen to jump on the sharp end, but Mikey and Howsie were starting to tire.  It was a bit of a mix and match of leading, seconding, watching and of course photographing, as we knocked off a few more lines.  The lush green paddocks still striking me at how out of place they seemed, but equally no doubt making the farmers very happy while also hoping that the wet winter dries out in time before any of the crops start to rot.  As we climbed the day was slowly crept onwards and with it the warmth was also dissipating:

We had one final line in mind, and as we climbed that the pain in the fingers and toes were starting to come back with force.  This time it was not however due to the cold, more so the punishment they had endured to allow us to climb.  The granite is abrasive and sharp, and not very forgiving.  On the steeper lines you really need to bear down on your finger tips to stay on, while on the slabs your feet stick to small edges focusing all your bodyweight onto the tips of your toes:

On the last line Howsie followed Rongy and then Mikey followed me.  It was probably fair to say that we were all feeling weary and ready to call it a day.  The rocks on our heads could possibly have been persuaded for another climb but our extremities had the bigger say now and the day’s climbing activities were drawing to a close.  Atop the crag for one last time the cold biting nature of the wind started to cut in again, and the whooshing sound was almost deafening:

With the last route under our belt, a rainbow came out as if to signify it was time to stop so we did.  Back on the deck we could hear ourselves think once more, as we packed up the gear and coiled the ropes to head back to camp.  We wandered round to check out Fidget Gene, which Rongy had not felt up to during the day.  He did however work out the first move and managed to invert himself to get at least one foot in the crack.  We just stood and watched, and while we did walk to the base of the crack none of us attempted it:

I also hadn’t considered the two run out and sketchy trad lines I had wanted to play on.  Like for Rongy, the conditions were not the best and the never ending wind and occasional drop of rain were enough to put us off.  Maybe in the morning it would be a bit better and we might be more inclined to try them.  Howsie, Mikey nor Steve had set their sights on any particular routes for this trip.  As such all three were fully content with a fantastic day, as to be fair so were Rongy and I.  Back at camp it was the usual drill of sorting the gear before we packed it way ready for the morning:

With the promise of a drier evening Steve had, in addition to other things, got the fire going.  His pre-prepared veggie hotpot was in the middle of it and we were all looking forward to a well-deserved and hearty feast.  The kettle went on as we felt the need to keep our core warm, as the cold air drew in and our bodies started to cool down as we became more sedentary.  Both Steve and I had brought a stack of split jarrah, probably a little too much to get through but enough to make sure we didn’t run out over two nights:

As it was mine stayed in the car and we didn’t even get through all of Steve’s stash.  The jarrah burnt hot and slow and we huddled round the fire, not even complaining when what smoke it did emit blew towards us.  Some people would collect wood locally, but that really isn’t appropriate.  As with the amount of visitors this place gets, evident by all the cleared areas and fire places dotted about, collecting wood locally would reduce the habitat for the local ecology, change the soil matrix and can result in more erosion occurring:

The clear night promised for it to be a cold one, maybe more so than the first.  However, the others were prepared this time and had made use of any additional clothing layers they could to stay a bit warmer.  As such I was first up.  And before there was any light in the sky, the kettle was on.  As I rummaged about on the cluttered bench lights started to appear in Rongy’s, Howsie’s and finally Mikey’s tent.  It was an earlier start, as we were keen to get a climb or two in before the six hour drive back:

Tea, breakfast and breaking camp were all sorted before we headed up to the crag.  This time we went straight for the sunny side, but the wind direction had shifted and it was near impossible to hide from it.  That and the fact that our fingers were tender from yesterday meant Rongy and I didn’t even contemplate the more physically and/or mentally challenging lines, instead jumping on a couple of short sharp routes.  Even on those our bodies were telling us these routes were stiff enough:

Meanwhile Mikey and Howsie had plumped for the trad crack Steve had enjoyed yesterday, and then the crack to the left.  While the image above indicates we had scored again, being bathed in sunlight, the clouds seemed to sprint above us and rain could be seen to the south speed marching towards us.  Rongy and I packed up, as Howsie topped out, and we made it back to camp as the first drops of rain fell.  So it was a quick scramble to get the tents away, which had been left out hoping they would have time to dry:

The boys weren’t too far behind us and Steve, well he had again pottered about at camp getting his car packed up.  He somehow managed to load it all in and still have room for him to sit behind the steering wheel, how we still can’t quite understand.  So he was all loaded up before the rain started to fall and got a head start driving out just before us.  We had intended to make a cuppa for the trip, but best laid plans don’t always work out.  Despite the rain I did have to stop as we drove away, to take an image of the pimple on the landscape that Eaglestone Rock forms:

You also shouldn’t be fooled by the height of the lush green wheat, which it stands no more than a foot high.  It was a quick getaway and even though we had only managed a route each before leaving it felt enough, our bodies still sore and tender from the big day on Saturday.  We had packed a lot in considering the conditions, and I had managed to squeeze fourteen routes in so I felt justified in feeling sore.  We settled back for the journey, and I was keen to get a fair way before stopping which we finally did when there was a break in the clouds, both to sort the gear and make a brew:

At some point the mapping reading and directions went astray, but we kept going and a short kilometre before getting back on the main drag a huge fallen tree blocked the road.  I wasn’t convinced about driving round, but others felt it was fine to get round.  I should have listened to my inner voice, and prior knowledge of Wheatbelt clay, as sure enough we got bogged and getting out was proving a little tricky.  Luck was however on our side when Errol from the Shire of Corrigin came along in his loader to remove the tree, shortly after we got bogged:

So while I admit I got a little grumpy about it, it all ended well.  After the loader seemed to hardly break a sweat pushing the huge tree to one side.  Errol backed up and then made light work of pulling us out from the bog, and then we had a uneventful rest of the trip with plenty of rain and water over the roads to wash away the mud.  Errol had a bit of a giggle at us when he saw what we tried to do, and maybe sympathetically said quite a few people had come unstuck in similar ways caught out by what 400mm of rain would do to the landscape.  Mind you I’m sure inside he must have also thought we had rocks in our heads attempting to drive round the fallen tree: