Over the festive period, which seems so long ago now, I would normally pop down to the south coast to get out for a climb with Kym. However, just before the school holidays last year, he took a fall of his skateboard and badly sliced his wrist on a broken bottle. Needless to say that put paid to any climbing, as well as skateboarding, playing the guitar and most other things he enjoys. I’m glad to say that he is sufficiently on the mend now allowing most things to resume, which includes climbing:
We did however need to make sure we didn’t do anything too hard. This suited me as I continue to take things relatively easy on the climbing front, to allow old injuries to again settled down. So at just after 4am Saturday morning, I popped a cup of tea next to Lisa in her thermos mug before leaving the house in the darkness. There were a few reasons for not driving down on Friday. It’s a long weekend and the roads would have been horribly busy. Driving down when I did, I hardly saw another soul on the four hour’ish journey:
Other reasons being that Kym was working nights and we were not going too hard, so there was no need for us to get to the rock for a silly early start. I arrived just before 8am, surprised to find out that Meg, Tessa, Claire, Beau and even Sonny, the pooch, were not there. Normally by this time the house would be a hive of activity and noise, but instead it was eerily quiet and Kym was already all packed up and ready to head out. I found out that Meg and the kids had made use of the long weekend to visit family, but Kym had to work so couldn’t join them:
With such a quiet house Kym looked a little lost, which I can understand. When you are used a busy household, it seems a lovely idea to have the house to yourself. But when it happens, after an hour or two it doesn’t seems like it is so much fun after all. So in a way it was a good weekend to go down and get out with Kym, and fun was what we were after. We’d already discussed our destination. A place Kym had only been to once before, over a decade back. And a place that Howsie and I have been wanting to visit for ages:
While Howsie didn’t make it this time, his rope did. To make the access easier we needed a couple of 60m ropes, Kym has one but I don’t and Howsie kindly lent us his. Family Rocks, is a strange name for the crag that requires a 2km, off the beaten track, bush hike and does not poses one aspect that I would call family friendly (check out the video above). But this out of the way and forgotten crag is a towering 150m from the ocean to its top. A gentle angled slab, with nothing too hard on it but also not a lot of gear options. The slab is enormous and it is hard to get a good idea of it when you are so close to it:
So we decided to repeat the only route Kym had done before, as this allowed us to get our bearings and also a feel for the rock. It provided 120m of climbing, and is the only bolted route here. A line of bolt heads is all that shows you the path. As we rapped down we had real problems spotting them. Eventually we found it, with the base being at the end of two long raps one being a full 60m. The belay anchors were a healthy distance about the ocean, but the roar of the waves was ever present reminding us of our situation. And the need to be careful:
I was up first, just a bank of rain looked to be coming our way. While the grades were not silly, we still had to rely on friction and some very small edges numerous times. A shower would result in water streaming down the rock, and nearly all friction would be lost. Something Rongy and I experienced on the granite slabs on the south coast on another trip: https://sandbagged.blog/2021/03/10/battling-the-elements/. Knowing what might happen I went for it, climbing quickly and fortunately as I looked up the bolts were easy to spot. As it was I could have taken my time and enjoyed the first pitch a bit more:
The rain headed out to sea and all we got were a few drops. Kym’s wrist seemed to hold up OK. Although down palming, which stretches the wrist just where he had injured it, was uncomfortable. Regardless of this he was happy to take the next lead, this time stretching the rope on a monster 60m pitch. It was no unexpectedly more of the same, following the bolts and padding your way up. It was a fun line, and there is no disputing the setting was stunning. But what Kym and I were really after was some adventurous trad, so after a snack we went back down:
The granite slabs along the south coast generally tend not have a huge amount of features. This makes trad climbing a little trick, as you need to have flakes, cracks, pockets and/or breaks in which to place gear. Added to this, and for a crag that is so vast, the route descriptions are a little vague. So this time we rapped all the way to the huge square cut slab, allowing us a better view of where the routes may go. Even then some were not entirely obvious, as we looked up at a mostly blank slab rising above us:
We decided on a weakness that resembled a crack line. It got pretty thin in places, but looked like it should provide opportunities for gear. The initial belay station from our first line just happened to be at the base of this feature, so we again set up there. The climbing was never too hard, but it was engaging and the crack provided sufficient gear opportunities. If I had taken my tricams along, which were in my pack at the top of the crag, there would have been even more. I set up a belay ready to allow Kym to follow me and he shouted up to make sure that the belay was on good gear, which it was:
His main reason for asking me that was the next pitch. From the base it looked like whichever line we took, it may be run out with less options for gear. I did not lie about the belay I had set up it was great, but I feel like I would have wanted Kym to climb the first pitch regardless of the belay as it was a lovely route. He enjoyed it as much as I did, in fact so much that any thought of his wrist, as he climbed, had vanished from his mind. He met me at the belay buzzing, which changed a little as he eyed up the two options for the next pitch. These were, continue along the disappearing crack to the left or go up the featureless slab:
Not having been out on rock for a while he wasn’t too keen to push things, so he offered me the lead. While the continuation crack looked like a lot of fun I was also conscious that being a rising traverse it would probably not be sensible. If it was thin on gear that would really mess with Kym’s head. On a traverse a fall will result in penduluming onto the closets piece of gear. And both the leader and second could experience this if they fall, so instead I decided to go upwards. That way Kym would have a rope above him, and any fall potential would be reduced:
It was a good choice that I went first, at the start there was a 10m plus runout up the slab. Not even my tricams would have helped. There were a couple of delicate moves the hardest of which being quite high up. As such I needed to double check every small edge, some were loose. It was just what I hoped for and I loved it. I was fully focused and relished the runout, need to control my thoughts, and make precise well considered moves. It was another rope stretching pitch, and we both really enjoyed it. This just left us a short final pitch, which I was pleased to see Kym step up to and romp up confidently:
Because you are continually on your toes, slab climbing will test how comfortable your shoes really are. And after two long multi-pitch routes we were both keen to get our shoes off and keep them off. So while we could have easily got another route in with the daylight left, both of us were content and preferred to leave while riding on the high of the great trad line we had just bagged. More food was consumed before sorting the gear and shouldering the packs. The 2km hike out seemed to be much longer than the hike in, another sign telling us that we had climbed enough for today:
The hike is very picturesque and follows a ridge that goes up and down. Looking north we got the occasional glimpse of Albany across Frenchman’s Bay. Ahead to the east The Gap and further in the distance Peak Head came in and out of view. They seemed to be continually basking in sunlight. Then when we finished the bush hike and reached the short circular walking trail that takes in Sharp Point, there was a great view back west of Family Rocks with the turbines of the windfarm in the distance, almost obscured by the salt spray drifting up the steep cliff line:
It was a storming day out with a great hike, an amazing setting and really good climbing; as it usually is when I head out with Kym. Back at the house it again felt a little strange without the rest of the Hartley clan being there. Although we did take advantage of it and had a feast of fish and prawns, as we watched The Alpinist. The stunning scenery and scale of the ascents in the film eclipsing what we had just experienced at Family Rocks. But it is all relative and we were both still reeling from the day we had just had. While it is not everyone’s cup or tea, I’ll definitely head back to Family Rocks to explore the other trad lines on offer there:
Kym was back on a night shift that night, so as he headed off to work I hit the sack. He did try to tempt me with a morning trip to the Blowholes, but I refrained not wanting to push things at the moment plus I was feeling pretty worn out from the adventure we had just had. In addition I might have another big day next weekend, and need to make sure I pace myself. With an empty house, and not needing to say any more goodbyes, I got another early start to head home on Sunday. As I drove round Frenchman’s Bay the only light came from the street lights in Albany, and I was already half way home by the time the sun poked over the horizon:
Sandbagged 