Ash has been a little quiet on our climbing chat group, but was keen to get out on Friday this week. A day that suited Howsie, Rob and myself for a quick not too serious morning session. And the best place for such situations is Castle Rock. It wasn’t a crazy early start, but the forecasted cloud cover made it feel early. Not a whisper of wind was in the air and the bay of Castle Rock beach was a millpond. This term comes from England, referring to the pool of water used to power a mill wheel, often referred to as a water wheel:
These pools were often artificial and large compared to the normal channel of the waterway that fed them, and the use of term is reflective of the relative still and calm nature of the waters held in the pool. There was an added effect to round off the “pool view”, which we were lucky to be seeing this morning. Approx. twenty Pacific Black Ducks (Anas superciliosa) were bobbing about just off the shoreline. Normally found in freshwater environments, they do venture into tidal mudflats and on occasion into the ocean, having been recorded a considerable distance offshore:
Despite their occasional use of the ocean they are not listed as one of the 15 species of sea ducks, for which a Sea Duck Joint Venture has been operating since the early 90s to improve the understanding of the ecology and conservation of sea ducks. Back to our morning and the clouds looked to be lifting and breaking up. The sun came out allowing for the usual stunning images. The climbing here is short and limited but the setting, like so many of the crag we have the fortunate to have in our small patch of the world, is very specky:
Sadly, Ash was once again in a dilemma. Friends of his had just tested positive for COVID and he had woken up with a headache. While he did not know if he had once again caught it, thinking of us he made the decision to stay away, which all three of us were very grateful for. We still have a long road ahead of us before our daily life won’t be at risk from suddenly being interrupted by COVID. Don’t ask me why but I looked into it and it seems that the world has been affected by just under 250 recorded pandemics, dating back as far as 1,200BC:
As I had been at Welly Dam yesterday and we only had a few hours to climb, I was happy to offer the leads to Howsie and Rob. Something they were more than happy with, and more so Howsie as it has been a few years since Rob has led any trad lines. Howsie gobbled up Lou’s favourite climb, before jumping on a sneaky but worthy route that Craig and I had put up. One that had surprisingly been overlooked until we bagged it in 2018. It was on this line that it started to sprinkle, and looking across the bay claggy weather was rolling in despite there not even being a breeze:
It has dawned on me that this is the fifth time I have used the term claggy in a post, but have not explained what I mean by this. The word is claimed to be a Scottish or northern English term meaning thick and sticky, and is more commonly used to describe clayey soil. It is however also used to describe when the air feels wet and thick, i.e. humid conditions, which can be extended to mist or light drizzle. So my use of it was only appropriate for a short time as, even by Craig’s standards, what fell on us as Rob and then I followed Howsie up the second route was definitely rain:
The conditions may put some off, but the rock on this side of the castle is well featured and the excellent friction is not diminished by a bit of moisture. And so Rob took on his first trad lead with us, having been drawn in by the aesthetics and appeal of the short but enjoyable corner crack. One Nana may recall from six years back almost to the day as her first lead, unless I’m am wrong as I didn’t write that trip up so can’t check. Rob thoroughly enjoyed the climb, as Nana had back then, but time was now catching up with us and we only had time for one more route:
We popped over to the other side of the castle where there were options for both Rob and Howsie. I was down first and threw the rope to the ground without checking first and it landed within a foot of a King’s skink (Egernia kingii). It was lazily basking in the sun, which had come back out just as quickly as the rain had hit us, and was unperturbed by my carelessness. Sadly once all three of us hit the deck it scampered away. While Rob was keen to do a bit more leading the time pressure would have made it a less than enjoyable experience, so Howsie was up:
Before the trip he had considered pushing himself on a stiff grade 22 on offer here, but like Rob the ticking of the clock niggled away at his mind. So instead plumped for a few grades less, but a no less challenging line. One that all three of us got up and, like our quick morning out, thoroughly enjoyed. Not just because of the climbing but also the many other treasures we spotted during the morning, too many to include in this post. But I have to include this Southwestern Crevice-Skink (Egernia napoleonis) that was cautiously keeping an eye on me, as I watched it:
Sandbagged 