Changing times

This post is a bit long and I did consider splitting it into three, but the fingers kept typing and it seemed to flow so well I’ve left it as one big read.  I have however included a sub-heading to distinguish the three sections, so it makes it easier to digest in stages so you don’t suffer from information overload.

The quiet bit (Wednesday to Friday)

Living some two hours from Perth, whenever we need to fly somewhere we have to deal with the hassle of the drive, factoring in traffic and need to pay exorbitant fees for long term parking. Then several years back Busselton airport was upgraded to take domestic flights with the promise of direct flights to Melbourne. Keen to make use of this opportunity I booked a flight for Monday 13 April 2020. My aim being to catch up with Dan, and head out for a climb in the Grampians. Then came COVID, and the promised flights kept being pushed back:

With the Western Australian boarders recently opening up, the flights finally started and I booked again for a date that was exactly two years to the day from the first planned trip.  Wednesday 13 April 2022 arrived and Lisa drove me the short 20min drive to the airport.  There we were packed in like sardines in the small departure lounge, waiting for to board the plane.  On arrival Dan picked me up from Melbourne airport and we immediately hit the road.  Our only pit stop being in Ballarat for a yummy tapas meal, required to sustain us for the final few hours of the trip to the mighty Grampians:

I’ve been to the Grampians twice before, and both times I got to experience some great hikes, but neither trip allowed the opportunity to have a climb. My first time here was when I came to Australia for a three month holiday. That was way back in the mid-nineties just a few years after I had started climbing. My memories are all that remain of that visit, as most of my photo albums pre-moving to Australia are long gone. I can still clearly recall my eyes bulged out of their sockets, stunned at all amazing rock walls:

I was so taken that I even bought a climbing guide for the north Grampians, but that didn’t come with us on the next trip and indeed has never been used.  In fact I only remembered I had it after I got back from this trip.  The second trip was with Lisa and Elseya over Christmas in 2004, during a fantastic one month road trip mostly round Victoria during which we marvelled at the waterfalls and birdlife.  This trip was however going to be quite different, with a pretty well singular focus on climbing.  That said there was also a need to temper the enthusiasm:

For those who have been keeping up with my rock antics, you will know I’ve recently taken a break to rest up and avoid a potentially reoccurrence of an old injury.  As such I haven’t climbed for some four weeks, and in truth have been ‘bumble climbing’ for most of this year.  Climbing but not doing anything too hard, strenuous or indeed much.  I’d purposely advised Dan of my likely lower level of climbing ability for quite some time prior to the trip, not wanting to raise any expectations.  But like me, Dan loves just getting out, and I knew he’d be happy with whatever we managed to do:

I had three targets in mind in relation to the climbing.  Hit trad lines, get some long multi-pitch routes in and have fun!  Dan suggested Mount Rosea as the ideal location, providing four to five pitch routes up a 120m cliff and nearly all of it trad.  It was a great suggestion and for an introductory route on the first day we climbed Debutante at grade 14 (VS 4c).  What struck me was the steepness and physical nature of the climbing.  Very different from the often slightly slabby (off vertical) more technical climbing in Western Australia.  This route was both continually engaging and sustained, it was a great line:

One climb may seem a bit light on for a day. However, it didn’t get light till 6:30’ish and time soon drifted by what with breakfast, a short drive there and back, half an hour walk into and then back out of the crag, and an equally long decent from the top of the cliff to the base after the climb. Plus we were not rushing the climbing, enjoying the exposure and scenery, siting at each belay just because we could. We stayed at a bush campsite with no facilities, a small spot but ideal and out of the way:

But places like were we stayed are at risk of being closed down. A new management plan for the park does not allow bush camping, and only designated sites are allowed. Even bushwalker will have to follow a designated paths, walk in a designated direction, and use designated campsites by pitching tents on designated platforms. While a level of control has benefits in controlling environmental impacts, the proposed changes will result in no true exploration being possible. If put in place those seeking a true wilderness type overnight experience, whether 4WDing, hiking or climbing, will have to look elsewhere:

Fortunately the management plan is not finalised nor enforced yet. So we were able to enjoy our campsite, away from crowds and with only the bird song to wake us in the morning. I won’t try to recount all the birds, but I was very happy to once more see the Gang-gang Cockatoo (Callocephalon fimbriatum). In our photo album from 2004, we called them the creaky door bird and I recognised their distinctive call immediately. Despite not having heard it for seventeen years and only being found in south-eastern Australia it is unmistakable. My identification was proven when I spied them in the trees, but too far to get a worthy image:

The area was full of greenery, but not many flowers were out at this time of the year.  Still for the sharped eye there were things to be seen.  On our hike back up to Mount Rosea on the second day, Dan spotted the above larvae.  I’ve had no luck in identifying it but assume it is the larvae from a beetle, as it reminds me of a cockchaffer larvae with its bulbous head and stumpy tail.  Below we also caught a fleeting glimpse of a deer with its young, the only sighting we had of them.  I’ve now read that there are many types of deer found here including Red, Rusa, Chital, Sambar and Fallow species, all feral animals and there is a hunting program to control them:

Today was Good Friday, and with a long weekend there was a good chance we might see more climbers. However, Dan thought there would not be too many, and he was right. Despite having very classy routes it seems trad multi-pitch climbing, at least in the Grampians, doesn’t attract the attention it used to in the past. A lot of established places in the Grampians have been closed to climbing, cultural reasons being indicated as the reason in the yet to be finalised management plan. This could also have resulted in climbers being more drawn to Arapiles, which was only about an hour away:

Good news for us, and we had the place to ourselves for the first two pitches on our chosen route of the day.  We bumped the grade up a tad taking on Last Rites at grade 19 (E1/2 5b), a magnificent route with four wonderfully sustained and consistent pitches.  A very cool mix of roofs, cracks and corners with lots of great movement and again steep and physical climbing.  My head was in the game now, and I had an idea of what the rock might throw at me so I was certainly up for the challenge.  As we finished pitch two we watched another couple rock up and then starting to climb a route not far from us:

Every pitch on our route was very good, and the final one was stunning.  A steep corner that kept going for forty meters, never allowing you to fully relax.  While you could stem, by putting one foot on each side of the corner, and keep the weight on your legs, the climbing here seems to require your core to stay engaged all the time.  If you allow your core to relax your weight transfers from your legs to your arms, which would soon pump out.  Needless to say I was buzzing on this route, which we climbed in a similar time to the route on the first day getting back down at about 2pm:

Time for some lunch, but this time afterwards Dan was keen to jump on the first pitch of another route.  The Accension, grade 21 (E3/4 5c/6a), which the other party were climbing.  It was a great pitch, very technical and also very, very pumpy.  While I got up it I found it too pumpy at the crux sequence and was promptly spat off, but I did enjoy it.  This climb had anchors at the first pitch and here we met Glen and Karen Tempest, as they abseiled from finishing the two pitches above.  Glen is one of the great Australian climbing pioneers, not that I’m huge on keeping up with who’s who in the climbing (or any) scene:

The noisy bit (Saturday to Sunday)

I’ve been in touch with Glen in the past, as he runs an online bookshop and was the key outlet for the climbing guide I wrote for Central Australia.  So it was lovely to meet him in person, and as we chatted Karen shared their snacks with us including very tasty home grown tomatoes.  Way more flavoursome than our supermarket bought ones.  They were the only other climbers we saw that day, but on arrival at our campsite we saw more people.  Eight people had rocked up, and had set up a mini tent city:

We had a bit of a chat with them, but after a long day out I was keen to hit the sack way before they did.  Dan provided me with some earplugs, he comes prepared for such occasions and being Easter it wasn’t overly surprising that we didn’t have the place to ourselves.  The chatter and laughter carried on for some time.  The earplugs dampened the noise enough to allow me to get some sleep and in the morning, not surprisingly, we were up before anyone else.  As was this Swamp Wallaby (Wallabia bicolor) that sat there, occasionally growling and hissing as it observed Dan and I for a good quarter of an hour:

I was surprised, and very pleased, to see the wallaby and even more so that is stuck around, all the others we saw in this area were very skittish.  Saturday morning came and with it came a cloudless blue sky, with the promise of twenty four degrees.  Not stupidly hot, but Mount Rosea gets full sun for much of the day so we did question our choice once we got there.  We had left our gear up at the crag for the last few nights, to make the walk in and walk out that bit easier.  So by the time we walked in today we didn’t feel like hiking straight back out again to find a shadier crag.  So we picked a line and went for it:

We knock it back a bit, not only due to the warmer day but also as we were both feeling the last few days hikes and climbs. Heretic at grade 17 (HVS/E1 5a) provided yet more fun on steep corners and cracks, with nice long pitches. The rock here is a sandstone, and the history of how the amazing rock formations of the Grampians came to be is a worth a few words. The area was once a shoreline with oceans to the east, and the sand and mud deposited by the rivers from the mainland washed in along the shoreline. These have long since been compressed and folded over the ages to create the rock we see today:

The rock varies from layered formations to what looks like solid sandstone.  Quartz nodules can be found, and in some areas where it was once tidal there is evidence of ripples, worm burrows and some small fossils not that we saw any.  We did find quartz nodules and they reminded me of the pebbles found in the UK gritstone.  The difference here being that there was rarely a need to use them with as much commitment as required on that UK formation.  This rock provided not only great features but also good friction, which was especially useful on the steep corners:

I’m not sure if it was due to the sun being out today, but below in the valley there was an almost continual hullabaloo.  Sulphur Crested Cockatoos were screeching, flying in flocks here and there providing speckles of white in the dense green canopy below.  The deer were also grunting away like fury, it was rutting season and all the males were puffing out their chests.  The sound bounced up the steep walls, and neither of us recalled hearing anything like it on the first two days, and nor did we hear on any subsequent days:

As we worked our way upwards a slight wind kicked in helping to reduce the intensity of both the direct and reflected sunlight.  This made it a very pleasant day, but we were glad that we hadn’t gone any harder today feeling our upper backs mostly from the steep climbing of the last few days.  While not hard, again every pitch was really worthy and I was getting to really like this crag.  On the previous two climbs Dan had been the one to top out, but on this route I did.  It was nice to kick back hanging over the edge looking out, as he made his way upwards, knowing that I wouldn’t be putting my climbing shoes on for another pitch:

All my outdoor footwear had decided to fall apart at the same time. So one reason for being so keen to free my feet of my climbing shoes, was that I foolishly had brought a new pair with me for this trip. Breaking in a new pair of shoes can be a tad painful, but they were not too bad all things considered. I had also brought along a new pair of hiking boots and was also breaking them in. But they fitted like a glove and were comfortable from the start. We carried our shoes up for the walk down, and the person coming up each pitch on second carried up a small rucksack with snacks and water, which we dipped into at most belays:

After polishing off the last of the snacks it was time for the lovely walk along the ridge with views of Victoria Ranges to the west.  This is also when we saw most people, lots of walkers trudging up to and back down from the peak of Mount Rosea that was barely distinguishable from the rest of the ridge.  We didn’t go to the summit, instead veering off to take the Giant Staircase back down the crag.  The decent route we took was the original hiking trail to the summit, which I understand was constructed by the then Melbourne hiking club.  Glen had told us that it was soon going to reach its 100^th birthday and it is holding up very well:

Back at our bags we came across another couple of climbers, and watched them while we had some lunch.  It was too hot to hit another climb, plus we had a bit of food shopping to do so we packed the gear up and shoulder the pack to take it back down.  We headed into Halls Gap a couple times while we were here and each time it was mayhem.  Cars and people everywhere, so it wasn’t our favourite place to hang about.  However, we felt like we deserved a treat after yet another wicked multi-pitch trad line, so we popped into a quite café for a sweet treat:

When we got back to our camp the party of eight had set themselves up for a night round the only infrastructure of the site.  A ring of rocks that marked out a fireplace, where they had placed a big stack of firewood that indicated it may be a slightly later night for the crew.  Before dinner Dan was feeling pretty toasted, but I felt the need to have a little wander first.  I left him with his massage gun, which was a big hit with the others campers, and went for a walk to check out the proposed destination for tomorrow.  Not making it quite to the crag, because I didn’t know the way it was still great to watch the hills changing colour as the sun dropped below the horizon:

Back at the camp we made dinner, and munched on that while the others started to prepare their food and get the fire going.  I like to allow my natural circadian rhythm take control of when I hit the sack and get up, when camping.  But there was little point in getting to bed too early tonight, earplugs alone wouldn’t be able to block out all the stimulants on this night.  So we stayed up and joined the crew round the fireplace for a while.  They were a fun and interesting crew, well-travelled and loving the outdoors.  Dan even got a Hobbiton meal out of them, as they passed his massage gun round giving it a go:

And who would have thought one of them had also worked for several years in Basingstoke in the UK, where I had grown up.  It’s way too small a world.  Dan and I eventually left them to it and hit the sack for the latest night of the trip at ten o’clock.  The next day was forecast to be the hot one, which was partly why we had decided to move onto another crag.  I reckon I could have climbed at Mount Rosea for a week or two and not got bored, but today we headed to Bundaleer as it got shade by mid-morning.  Single pitch climbs, but the crag had a good height reaching 50 meters and more in places:

Bundaleer is an aboriginal word meaning among the trees, not that this crag was any different in that regard to Mount Rosea.  But what is worth a mention is that under one of the caves artefacts had been found.  Back in the day the way to afford protection to this cultural site, was to create boardwalks to avoid people walking on the site.  As part of the review of the new management plan this was deemed insufficient, so a portion of this crag has now been closed.  This partial closure only applied to the area of significance seems a far more reasonable approach to that of the plan to ban all bush camping:

There are still heaps of great routes on offer here despite the closed portion.  The rock was similar to Mount Rosea, but the routes we picked off didn’t have the same level of intensity being more slabby in nature.  The first route we ticked being Island Cruise a nice 30m grade 18 (E1 5a/b), followed by the above classic Pathos at grade 21 (E3/4 5c/6a).  A very fine fingery seam that follows the left edge of the paler rock.  I almost managed the on-sight, with my arms only giving out on the final moves of the crux sequence.  The forearms felt like tree trunks after that route:

So handing the rope to Dan and encouraging him to try something he hadn’t done before, he went all out on Genesis at a lofty grade 23 (E4 6a).  Safe to say it was a little optimistic for me to think I’d follow up that one clean, but it was only the last few meters of the corner that I’ll admit to being completely unable to master.  A super smooth overhung corner, with only friction available to make the moves with.  I did however manage the scramble out after Dan’s pitch, up the gully.  But not without a fair bit of huffing and puffing:

While Dan had done very well on his route, today it seemed he was taking on a bit of a back seat.  So for the last route I tackled the rather strange Basilisk Direct, above.  A meagrely graded 16 (HVS 4c/5a) compared the last route, but with a gnarly 4m body squeezing roof crack.  Too narrow to accommodate a harness with gear and even my helmet wouldn’t fit in.  So all this had to dangled below me, as I grunted and screamed my way out.  Unsure which way to face, what angle to put my body at, and almost getting wedged in several times to the point I thought I wouldn’t get out:

To add to the so called pleasure of the experience, I was completely stuffed.  I was also foolish enough to climb this one in one pitch, when it is written up as a two or three pitch route.  So I had some 40m of rope out below me when I got to the roof and the drag was getting pretty challenging.  Then it started raining and to top things off I finished the line by heading right to a final slightly overhung headwall.  Adding both length and steepness.  The last part you might ask why, and the rationale in my head at the time was I could see there were bigger holds there.  Not that my mind was really thinking very coherently at that point.  A route I will certainly not forget in a hurry:

Needless to say, with the rain showing signs of coming in, we were done.  I doubt I had anything left in me anyway, and Dan was also feeling that way.  So we hoicked back down to the car, which was a thankfully shorter access path than at Mount Rosea.  Back at the camp someone spotted a small Echidna (Tachyglossidae) cross the track after we had rolled in.  so we all watched it, while oohing and ahhing.  It was lovely to see everyone in the crew get equally excited about seeing wildlife.  These creatures along with platypus are the only living mammals that lay eggs, and I think they are very cute:

To celebrate a great four days of climbing I even decided to have a beer, so we grabbed a couple of cans and headed up to Tower Hill.  A distinct rock feature that looks like two towers, just a short drive and walk from our camp.  The clouds were rolling in so there was no sunset to watch, and indeed the drops soon started to fall again.  Back at camp we made a quick dinner as the rain fell and soon after I hit the sack.  Despite a fresh pile of wood the crew were heading to Halls Gap for a feed at the tavern, and it was pretty clear they wouldn’t be lighting the fire later as the rain got heavier:

The wet bit (Monday to Wednesday)

That night while it rained we were expecting a shower, as a cold front had been predicted to cross the Australian bight over the Easter period.  For those who recall the climbing guide I had bought way back, was for the north Grampians.  That area is lower lying and flatter in nature than were we currently were.  We had started our trip in the middle area, which being hiller is more likely to be wet when the weather is a little inclement.  So we were prepared for this wet spell and intended to go north:

Dan’s partner Jo happened to be in the northern area.  So when we had packed up the soppy tents and said our goodbyes to our campsite companions.  We headed to Halls Gap to pick up some more provisions, and gave Jo a quick call to see what it was like up there.  The report was not good, it had been chucking it down all night and still was.  Everything was soaked, and our plans were scuppered.  While it seemed drier where we were it was still all a bit soggy.  I however convinced Dan to check a local crag near Halls Gap that he had never looked at, but even I agreed it looked scrappy and uninviting:

There was only one option and that was to go for a walk, for which we liked the idea of avoiding the masses that were milling about the trails round Halls Gap.  We turned back to technology and checked the weather radars and the decision was made.  The best option was to go south to Mount Abrupt, a 6.3km grade 3 hike, with spectacular views and not a hint of any rain on the radar.  It cleared up as we drove down, but as we approached our destination that as the name indicates abruptly appears in the landscape, it too had its own weather cell over it.  Unperturbed we ascended the almost 500m to the summit:

Both of us were feeling our legs, after four days of fairly solid climbing they were a little tired, and the steps on the path were a killer as we went up. The view from this peak is a 360 degree vista across the surrounding plains, but we saw none of it. We didn’t even get to see the peak from the ground, as we approached or left. Shrouded in mist for the entire time our spirits weren’t dampened and it felt good to be out. I was hunting for plants of interest, but sadly not being the season for it we only saw the Common Heath (Epacris impressa), for which there is an image above:

While it didn’t rain on us everything was covered in moisture, and the beads of water on the webs made them look like pearl necklaces.  We found quite a few webs from the Leaf-curling Spiders (Phonognatha graeffei).  The spiders were no doubt cosy and dry in their homes made of the distinctive curled leafed in the centre of the web.  The only spider I saw that was braving the elements, with us, was this very wet looking spider.  But with all the water beading over its body I haven’t been able to identify what it was:

After our walk in the clouds we made our way back to Halls Gap to decide what we would do next.  It was still wet and claggy, with clouds lingering on the hill tops and dampness hanging in the air, the sort that chills the bones.  So we treated ourselves and went to the ‘locals’ café.  Here it felt luxurious sitting at a table, being indoors and having a hot meal.  Here we inspected the radar to see what more was to come, the forecast now indicated rain might continue till the wee hours of the night ahead of us but should abate in the north.  So after the meal we went north to the Mount Zero campsite, where we had secured the last remaining available site:

Being Easter Monday we thought the campsite might have emptied out a bit, but there were a lot of people about.  We made use of a shelter to get the climbing packs ready for the morning.  Our intention was for a half days climbing at a relatively small sports crag.  The quick and easy access being ideal for our midday departure back to Melbourne.  As the rain continued to fall that evening everyone else seemed to be of like mind and we got an early night.  The only sound being Bollywood music blaring out from the middle of the campsite.  Fortunately that soon stopped, voluntarily or by request we never found out, after darkness descended:

I woke at my usual early time, and heard the rain continue past the forecasted 3am. Resulting in the morning being that bit more damp than we may have hoped for. Dan frantically inspected the guide and The Crag for wet weather options, and in a reversal of roles from the day before, today I was the one to say let’s just go for a hike. This is what we did, and it seemed the right option. Water ran down the runnels carved into what is call Flat Rock, something Dan said he had not witnessed before. Although what is more likely is he doesn’t come this way when the weather isn’t ideal, we just happened to get caught out:

The moisture had turned the lichen from its dry grey to a more lush green, and the rock was a bit slippery in places.  The 4km walk up to Mount Stapleton was however very lovely, both in landscape and rock architecture.  Large boulders were scattered about the landscape, with varied textures.  Some almost looked like they had been purposely carved into ornamental features, and the one below really caught my eye.  Looking like a hollowed tree trunk.  No one else was about as we checked out the various crags, most of which looked not surprisingly very damp and uninviting:

There were of course the steeper or should I say overhung walls, which looked dry.  But these were well beyond my, and even Dan’s, ability.  While we had a kind of rest day yesterday, our legs and shoulders were still feeling the after effects of the climbing we had managed to get in.  At least on this walk we were not covered in mist, and we got to observe the vistas as we went higher.  We also came across three very kind Sulphur-crested Cockatoos (Cacatua galerita), who posed on a tree low enough for me to get a great view of them:

I was pleased to get to see these up close.  On the previous day up at Mount Rosea, when the birds below were going crazy, they were so far below that it was impossible to really know what they were.  My first guess had been corellas but they are relatively small and I was a bit surprised to have been able to see them so clearly from up on high.  There are four subspecies of these birds, but it is a fair bet to say these were the Greater Sulphur-crested Cockatoo (Cacatua galerita galerita).  Native to the eastern side of Australia, and their height and weight puts them up there with some of the largest species of cockatoos:

The marked hiking trail seemed to end before the summit, but faint red markers still existed to show the way for the path up.  A path that is probably from the older days, when society wasn’t quite so risk adverse.  I had walked this track on my first trip to Australia and the landscapes were still etched in my mind.  Back then I hiked the trail from here and then onto Hollow Mountain, and it was one of the most memorable hikes I have done.  Keen to summit, I followed the faint markers.  While Dan was content to stay below and find an area sheltered from the wind:

The ascent required a little scrambling, and the above traverse across a slab with a nasty long fall awaiting anyone who wasn’t surefooted enough.  This risk had been recognised by someone, and they had placed a single glued in machine bolt to allow people to rope up.  If you look carefully at the left hand edge of the image above, you might find it.  I feel safe in saying this was unlikely to have been installed by the park managers, as they would have placed a ringbolt.  Despite the conditions, I was unperturbed by this slab and summited to spend time enjoying the 360 degree view from above:

One of the reasons the hike I did all those years ago stuck in my mind was where the path went at Hollow Mountain.  There was an opening at the top and I had to scramble inside.  Here a series of interlaced rock shelves allowed me to descend, eventually popping out part way down the peak to continue on the hike.  Dan wasn’t aware of this part of any hike and looking on the web I can find no reference to it.  I can only guess that part of the trail has been closed off some time back for cultural reasons.  It also seems that, from more recent posts, the loop walk has been neglected for many years and it is certainly not listed in any current official walking guides:

As we walked back down Dan pointed out the above cave, which I had somehow walked past on the way up and not noticed.  It had rounded surfaces with pockets and ledges perfect for birds to perch and nest.  While only a few birds were about, we found the familiar nests of Swallows (Hirundinidae).  Continuing down it felt like the rock underfoot was starting to dry up, and we came across boulderers trudging up the trail with their bouldering mats slung over their backs.  This place is visited more by boulders than climbers, a sign of the times and the transition of climbing.  Maybe as a result from the popularity of bouldering gyms, over taller roped climbing gyms:

I am not sure if it was the seemingly drying rock, or the appearance of the boulderers that rekindled Dan’s motivation to get a climb in.  It was as we walked towards the big cleft in the cliffs directly ahead, in the above image, that Dan started to hatch a scheme.  Suggesting that there was a great route up the left side that was ‘right up my alley’.  He talked it up, and his energy levels were getting more intense as we approached the car.  But my levels of motivation were not on par, as a result of the weariness of my body and also resolving myself to not climbing any more.  He didn’t let it go and kept saying this route was so worth it, and would end our time in the Grampians on a high:

I tussled with my mind, and gave in to his building energy.  This resulted is us having to resort and shoulder our packs and walk back up Flat Rock, which felt that bit harder with a pack on.  The destination was Germinal, an old grade 17 (HVS/E1 5a) route that is described online as ‘an old classic with a tough crux’.  Read into that steep, physical and exposed.  I’m not talking this route up, but it was very good and I really did rate and enjoy it.  As I approached the top, I forgot Dan’s earlier words of save the big cam to avoid a big final runout.  So not placing that I ended up climbing the last section with an exposed and exhilarating a 6m runout.  While it was steep the holds were mostly generous, which was a good thing as my body was aching all over:

From the top I had a great view across to the mighty Taipan Wall.  This wall, currently closed, had put Grampians climbing on the world agenda.  It’s a very impressive sight, but it was not where we had intended to climb on the Monday.  Our original plan was to hit the walls to the left, called Grey and Green Walls.  Way more slabby, which would have been good after all the steep stuff of the first four days.  But today, and no doubt yesterday the green was way more visible than the grey.  The saturated moss and lichen, along with seepage lines down the wall, would have made climbing on there a very serious proposition:

The above sight has however made me keen to revisit the northern Grampians one day, and maybe I’ll pull out the old guidebook that I bought some thirty years back.  While I wasn’t fully prepared for the last climb of our trip, it was brilliant.  A long forgotten trad classic, and I feel there are many of these.  Probably as a result of the transition to sport climbing and now bouldering.  Even on such a popular weekend, all these trad areas are generally quiet.  We had only climbed trad and every route we had climbed was so worthy.  If there weren’t so many others to choose from I would happily repeat them if I came back.  But for now we had to pack up and make our way back to the car.  As we drove back south we passed the terrible looking, supposedly iconic, giant koala without stopping:

Continuing south the rain started up again and stayed with us the whole way into Melbourne.  I’m definitely not a city person.  The built-up environment and traffic surrounding us, along with the cold and damp 13 degree temperature, certainly didn’t change my mind.  But I can see the benefits when you consider lifestyle.  Jo and Dan live in an apartment in Richmond with a view of the City and, for Dan, a short cycle to work.  I felt a bit guilty as we trouped all the wet camping gear into their apartment, taking up almost every possible space.  But as they both love their trips away I was told not to worry as it is not an unusual occurrence for them:

Another benefit of the city is the very accessible, varied and, in Melbourne, good quality cuisine.  I’m again not one for eating out, but I am a sucker for a good pub and they have quite a few of them close to where they live.  So after sprucing up, which merely involved finally having a shower and putting fresh clothes on, we went to a great pub called the Carringbush Hotel.  It was rustic and dimly lit, and had live music, no pokies or TV screens, a boasted good range of beers on tap along with great food.  It also had the biggest sauce selection I’ve seen in any pub, however I felt the food didn’t need any spicing up.  It was a great way to wrap up the trip:

On the final morning both Dan and I had to get to the airport, as he was heading north for a family foray. We left Jo and the apartment in darkness and caught an Uber to the airport. On the way hot air balloons flew not just above, but seemingly through the city. Dan explained that this was a regular sight, but it looked dicey to me. It was a fantastic trip and I have to say a huge thank you to Dan, and Jo. It is however always lovely to get home to Lisa and Elseya. And as the plane approached Busselton, at the end of the flight we flew over our previous home in Capel, which we moved from some ten years back, and then Peppermint Grove Beach. The water looked a fantastic aqua blue suggesting the season might allow me another snorkel or two, which is where I am heading now that I‘ve finished this post: