Walking out this morning, and once we hit the coast to make our way northwards, ours were the only footprints to be seen. There was however plenty of other life about. The underside of one roof system we passed was moving, covered in hundreds of thousands of midges that once disturbed erupted into a cloud that blurred the vision. Fortunately, we were not climbing there and we walked on. As we did crabs speedily scuttled sideways, diving off boulders and ledges in kamikaze fashion without knowing what lay beneath, just to get away from us even though we were only walking by:
Meanwhile at a much slower pace the limpets in the rock pools lazily moved about, oblivious of us as we watched or maybe they think they were underneath a protective layer of water. We also spotted the tracks of kangaroos, and above I think a monitor, but none of these bigger creatures were visible. Not that we spent any length of time looking for them, as today the main focus was Sam. As previously indicated on our next trip out, i.e. today, I was going to get him on the sharp end. And the best place for that, in my mind, is The Playground:
It offers the chance to warm up on the slightly longer walk in, boulder to stretch the body, pick short easy routes with plentiful gear options, and the best part being the sandy landing should things should go wrong. But before tying into the rope to set off, there was the need for the obligatory discussion session to talk about the ins and outs of lead climbing. It involves a lot of thinking, probably more than most people realise before they set off on such an adventure. So the initial chat can take a while, describing types of gear and where and how to place them:
New terminology comes in play, such as the zipper effect, the carcass catcher, psychological gear, and others. All related to a single focus of mitigating the consequence of a fall. You would think it was easy, throw loads of gear in. But that can be counterproductive by creating rope drag, result in you pumping out due to hanging about too much, end up with running out of gear when you really need it, and/or quite simply physicking yourself out. It is a balance to reduce the risk to acceptable level, and as such ultimately a battle of the mind:
This was something Sam noticed and remarked on as he racked up one, two and then a third lead on the fun boulder of the Playground. For his first two leads I simply told him to climb a line that looked fun, but for his third climb I pointed him to the one shown above. Mainly because it is steeper, and as such it teaches you to find the positions and places that you can feel most comfortable to place gear. All the while with our arms slowly tiring, and that in turn playing games with your mind. Not just making you second guess whether you can hold on, but whether the gear is any good, and/or if the rock round the gear ok:
Being on the pointy end with the rope below him, the consequence of a fall could have been potentially more serious than previous times when he had followed me up a route. So much so that his mind and body was feeling it. And of course all in a good way if you like that sort of thing, which it looked like he certainly did. So while the three climbs Sam lead were never too hard, he felt like he had deserved a break. But before that happened I took the lead and maybe was a little mean when I took on a fun roof, just to work those arms a bit more:
Sam had brought a flask and fruitcake, and while it may seem like I probably hadn’t earned it I was more than happy to sit in the shade and take in ocean views, while munching and supping away. In part as, being the playground, I had found time to jump on a few of the boulder problems to work myself a wee bit more. Such as when it was time for Sam to set up the anchors for the belay at the top of the climbs. I had helped him set up his first belay station, after which he was able to competently apply the knowledge for his subsequent leads:
Reenergised after the short break, and importantly sustenance, we wandered across to Lost Buttress. It was time to double the length of the routes, requiring a bit more thought to make sure you don’t run of gear and also apply good rope work. The latter caught him out, but not so badly that it made the climb unenjoyable. In fact Sam relished the longer line claiming it was the best route he had led today. Fair to say I think he has caught the leading bug, although he did confess that his arms probably didn’t have enough juice for any more leading today:
To even up the number of routes I jumped on one last climb, and of course wasn’t going to make things too easy. So we took on the big roof to get a bit of exposure and work out the last ability of those arms to hold on. I am pleased to say they did managed to do, enabling Sam to get a clean ascent. What with all the instructions and things to learn, the day had been relatively slow placed and the sun was already tipping over the top of the crag telling us it was time to wrap things up. But it was to be expected, and is all part of it:
There was however the walk out to still contend with. The rock hopping back along the coast is good fun, but then we had to ascend the ridge with step, after step, after step making my legs feel a bit tree-trunky. Unlike this bee, seemingly laying on its back sunbathing, after it had over indulged in nectar to the point that it was ladened down with pollen, we had to keep moving and I was kind of pleased to finally reach the car and plop into the seat. I’m also pleased to say that while the bee looked to have had too much of a good thing, it did eventually fly off:
Sandbagged 