I feel like I might have jinxed my early morning encounters by mentioning them, in more detail that I would normally, in my last post. Today I sadly came across a lifeless young roo and, just a few hundred meter along, brush-tailed phascogale. Fatalities from the night. While at times the animals do just come out of nowhere, with limited chances of breaking and avoiding them. Many of the night time drivers don’t take as much care as they could, and when they do hit animals they leave them in the road like this:
I stopped and moved both of their limp bodies off the road. The main reason for doing this is to avoid any scavengers becoming the next fatality as they take the opportunity for a an easy feed. And yes I did take a gruesome image of the phascogale, but have refrained from including that. Chatting to Howsie he mentioned that while the brush tail variety aren’t listed as a priority, threatened nor endangered species, they are not that commonly seen. I feel lucky to see them as often as I do, and would rather share an image of a live one with you:
Today Steve was a live one, as he came running along the soft sandy beach to catch up with me. He had stuff to do, so I wandered ahead of him taking in the morning hues and just loving being out here. We left a bunch of people back at the carpark sleeping in their tents and cars; campers from the night before who were yet to rouse. I have been seeing more and more carpark campers, which surprises me. The rangers are usually pretty onto illegal camping but personally I feel that if you leave the place as you found it, it isn’t an issue:
That said walking through the dunes to get to the beach today, we came across numerous things that really shouldn’t have been left like that. And in times of desperation when you just can’t hold on, they should in the very least have been buried. Steve too was finding it hard to hold on today. But not in the same way. In part due to the early start, also his core strength is not what it used to be and on Friday night he had taken Marnie bouldering in Perth at Blackwall Reach, and packed in a lot. A limestone wall up to 10m high right on the Swan River, which one day I will have to visit:
We started on a route call Nothing too Serious, and when I posted about it I said ‘be warned it may be a sandbag’. I’ve led it since and 14 may be a bit mean, but not too far off. Today however Steve didn’t like the route in part for the above reasons but also as he struggled to get his feet to stick to the holds. Claiming that the route was a completely pile of rubbish, as he handed me the rope. Then after following me up he didn’t change his opinion. Although he was smirking when he said it. We then looked at another route of mine, The Plough, but the base was awash when the bigger waves rolled in so we decided to leave that for another day:
While our intention had to be to climb on Handups Wall high above the water, I noticed the classic line in the Zawn was dry. The waves were also not quite reaching the small corner of boulders from where you belay, as shown above. I was surprised to hear Steve had never climbed in the zawn, so we changed plans and headed down. While he enjoyed the route, just like the slopey traverse of the first route we identified something else he is not keen on. Confined spaces where the noise of the ocean bounces off the walls, which seems to play with his head. He had also experienced this during a recent trip to Smiths Beach, but today he was keen to test if it was the setting or just one off thing. Sadly it proved to be the former:
Despite his head rattling inside, he managed a clean ascent. He ran it out on steep section above, and seemed to struggle to get into good stances, find the right gear or stop his legs from shaking. When belaying someone in this situation the belayer needs to keep a level head, so you don’t add unnecessary stress for the climber. I’ve put belayers in similar situations while climbing, it’s all part of climbing. While he was climbing I was also watching crabs feasting, and I couldn’t resist a quick video of the crabs eating. As I followed up I found the above crab crawling right over Steve’s placement. When I appeared it quickly slunk underneath the tricam and I managed to remove the gear without harming the no doubt terrified creature:
It was time to hit some slabs. The echoey setting of the last route, just like the traverse of the first climb, simply was not Steve’s cup of tea today. So we found ourselves back at Handsup Wall. There are some fun full trad lines and some that require bolt plates. I was keen on a bolted line, but we hadn’t brought any bolt plates. While Steve did have wires, which we could have used to hook over the heads of the glued in machine bolts, I instead put my fearless gritstone head on and led the above bolted route on trad. It gets a little more run out but the gear is bomb proof. So the roles reversed and this time Steve had to be the cool headed belayer:
I had thought to possibly bring my snorkel gear today, but was glad I didn’t bother. The waves were full on wintery barrels, making for spectacular viewing. While I avoided the use of the bolts, Steve decided to have a lead without taking any camming devices. I would normally think this is fine, but today as he was tired I wasn’t so sure. There was a lot of fiddling about with his tricams, when a camming device would have just slotted in no fuss saving him much needed energy. But he loves his tricams and eagerly took on the, at times, challenge of getting them to set:
He managed another clean ascent and was buzzing having thoroughly enjoyed the classic of the crag. It seemed he was all fired up again and was keen to follow me up Cornish Nasty, another fine crack climb and I was surprised at how he floated up the route with ease. That was until he got to the final steep section which made him work a bit harder, with a top-out that resembles an elephant’s arse. This is a technical climbing term, we used in England, for a rounded top devoid of any features or edges that resemble a hold. Leaving nothing to rely on but pure friction, which can feel a little nervous which we both felt:
While tired Steve was keen to put his tricams to use one more time before we packed up, and he picked, in his words ‘an easy route’. Steve lives by his tricams and has complete faith in every placement he makes with them. On this line however, he muttered that he wasn’t feeling confident with his gear. Climbing slowly and not looking like he really didn’t want to test them with a fall. Resulting in him be extra cautious on each hold and move. Following him up I inspected each piece with a more critical eye than usual, but it was clear they were all bomber. When you are getting tired the nerves can certainly get the better of you something I, like most who climb, experience at some point:
The climbing for the day was over, but we still had a fun boulder hopping venture to get back to the beach. Maybe it was because he was weary that he blindly followed me, while I took a very convoluted path back. Attempting to keep as close the water as possible. But it did mean we came across some interesting rock features that he inspected with interest. The final stretch on the soft sand was a killer, and we were both feeling it. Steve was no longer ‘a live one’ and was certainly not running along the beach, as he had at the start. Back at the car he looked grateful to sink into the seat, with the air conditioner pumping out cold air. Depsite the weariness taking over, which isn’t surprising when you’ve been up since 2:30am, and as Steve would say it had been ‘a jolly good morning’:
Sandbagged 