The same four of us who rolled south to Peaceful Bay just a couple of month back were back in the car heading south this weekend. Not quite so far this time, and not even intending to hit the true south coast. It was a very lazy start, allowing us to pick up a mid-morning snacks at a very average bakery in Manjimup. And I really wouldn’t recommend anyone going there, at least if you don’t want something with meat in it. Other than that the trip south was a relatively traffic and roadwork free cruisy three hours:
The mid-morning snack allowed us to fuel up, and hit the ground running when we reached out destination. Mount Frankland is yet another stunning place we are so lucky to have not that far away. I’ve managed a few day trips here over recent years, but to really soak the place in, a two day trip is best. My last two visit have been sodden, and the other couple of times we have popped in just in case we could hit a line or two it was also sodden. However, on trip south two months back Mario and Andreas had come here before meeting up with us and had a ball:
That was one of the key motivations for making us thinking a wee trip would be a good idea before the season breaks. Unfortunately, the first low pressure system of the new season rolled across the southern half of Western Australia on Wednesday, and there was some discussion about whether we would need a backup plan. The upper walls would dry quick enough, but the lower moss and lichen covered slabs don’t get any sun or wind resulting in them holding onto the moisture. After daily checks the decision didn’t change:
We had two other good reasons to get here, first Howsie was super keen to jump on Hannibal. A simply magnificent nicely balanced line that heads up the above elephant’s trunk. While not in the South West guidebook, it was one of the grade 20s he had been really interested to climb 2020 as part of his challenge. That was not to be, and on his and my last trip here 2022 the place turned into a waterpark. Waterfalls and creeks appeared almost instantaneously, as a storm cell hit us (https://sandbagged.blog/2022/03/12/cloud-watching/):
Today however, after a quick warm up on a regularly repeated route, Howsie was keen to get down to business, just in case the weather should close in on us. And as he battled with the mighty climb, a couple of Bull Ants (Myrmecia Gulosa) were having their very own tussle right by my feet. I knew Bull Ants were the biggest ants species in Australia and can get up to 40mm long, but I didn’t know there were as many as 90 different species of them. Very aggressive and often only seen solo these ants are fearsome fighters:
And with enough stings from them, noting unlike a bee they can sting multiple times, it is plausible for a human to go into anaphylactic shock. However, despite looking I can find no reason for them to fight each other. The only reference to that happening is after a new colony has been set up, and the queens that were involved in its establishment then fight to the death until only one rules supreme. Howsie didn’t fight to the death, but certainly came out with a scrape or two, as well as a beaming smile having thoroughly enjoyed the challenge:
As it was he managed to get up the original line, but was too bushwhacked to continue on the extension that led out to some rap anchors. And the way things worked out I led that bit and then managed to force Rongy into also have to lead it. Hence why, for those that know the route, or inspect the images in greater detail, it looks like he took over the leading from Howsie a few images up. Rongy hinted he was not too keen to be on the sharp end but I think he really enjoyed it, especially when he managed to get it clean without breaking skin:
The second reason for coming here was to give Sarah her first taste of true slab climbing. It is a very acquired taste, and not for all. If you check the image above of Rongy, you’ll see he is only using friction to stay on the rock. Slab climbing requires slow, controlled moves, and if just one point of contact slips you will invariable take a fall. As such you are continuously on edge, using body tension, and thinking hard. Sarah has had a real initiation of fire into climbing and is still loving it, but after one long pitch of slab was more than happy for Rongy to join us for Hannibal:
Once the three fo us came down, they went back to one of the more gentle slabs, as gentle as they come here, and are barely visible in the above image. Howsie and I headed off for a third reason I was keen to come here. The high 45m main face, on which I have only ever done one route back in 2012. A grade 18 that felt incredible challenging, which was probably due to the plus 40 degree heat that we had unknowingly climbed in (https://sandbagged.blog/2012/03/12/south-coast-trip/). Ever since then I have never managed to get back onto this wall, and that drought was broken today:
You’ll have to scroll back a few images to see the route I picked, standing on a relatively steep slab at the base of the mighty wall made looking up to check the lines really difficult. Bolts were the only real way to spot the lines and they were very well camouflaged. While we checked, and checked, and checked, and really thought we were on the right line, there was no way it was right. The final move over the overlap was on two very narrow sharp flakes, requiring a huge reach into the unknown, hoping for something reasonable. As Howsie’s expression shows above when his head came over the lip:
We came down to join Rongy and Sarah and there seemed to be enough daylight left, resulting in me suggesting Howsie jump on one of the lower slabs. Still a good length route at 40’ish meters. He enjoyed the “warm-down” climb and as Rongy got half way up on second the drought of the day broke and drops started fall. This meant I got the pleasure of reliving my last two trips here, trying to stick the slick steep rock with water trickling down the slab. But after the great line of Cowlick on the main face my mood could not be dampened:
While we could potentially have got one more wet route in, we were all pretty weary so hiked back and set up camp. This gave us time to get some food down us and have a brew, before darkness quickly descended on the world around us. Fortunately the rain moved on and while the three of them had a game of cards, my body was saying it was time to lie down. So I snuggled into my bivvy bag, not even wanting to get up when I heard then talking excitedly about something they had spotted. That from what I heard I guessed was a scorpion:
And indeed it was, being a Wood Scorpion (Cercophonius squama). Commonly found in the South West and Eastern area of Australia, and also being the only species found on Tasmania. There are six species of Wood Scorpions, and all of them like forest habitats usually being found in leaf litter and fallen branches. Hiding and waiting to ambush their prey with a sting that would cause us inflammation and pain for several hours. I didn’t know but scorpions fluoresce when exposed to ultraviolet rays, meaning they producing a bright blue green light:
They are no alone and many arthropods, such as insects and spiders, glow in a similar fashion. Why this occurs is still not clear, and there are a variety of theories. The one that seems to get the most support being it allows the scorpion to detect when it’s body is visible, and as such may be seen by its prey. And being an ambush predator that is a pretty important piece of information. The chemicals to make it glow are in its exoskeleton, and when they moult being more vulnerable they do not fluoresce. Only when their new exoskeleton hardens, do they once again glow:
I kinda wished I had stayed up, as Rongy and Sarah went for a night walk to see what they might see. There was not a lot out, one more scorpion and a wonder blanket of stars above. I saw the latter later that night, when I got up. But what would have been really cool to see were the above Canary Worms (Fletchamia sugdeni). These worms are found across Tasmania and Australia, preferring extremely wet and dark forests. They are flatworms, which can be understood looking at the top three in the image, but they can and do also stretch out into skinny worms with a brown coloured head:
Flatworms, and similarly Canary Worms, are predatory. Hunting and feasting on small invertebrates similar to the Wood Scorpion. Although, Canary Worms are also known to be scavengers if the opportunities arises. During my reading I have learnt a new word, being an aposematic coloration. This is used to describe the colour, that acts as a deterrent to predators. Canary Worms, while not dangerous to us can secrete toxins and these will cause irritation and/or a stinging sensation. So the bright yellow is a warning to predators and us to leave them be:
In the morning, before light crept into the sky I got up at my usual wakeup time of 5:30. The first thing to go on was the kettle. I overheard Rongy say to Sarah “welcome to camping with Krish”, and he later told me he thought I had got up a bit too early. The whistle of the kettle whined, which I let go that bit longer than normal to make sure everyone was awake. And as the orange glow that could be seen through the trees turned yellow, the light chased away the darkness and the timing was perfect. We only had a half day today, and I knew the others were keen to pack a few lines in so I didn’t feel any guilt:
That and any misgivings were washed away with a welcome hot brew. Back at the crag I set off up one of the lower slabs, preferring that approach to the scramble up the to the base of the main face we had done yesterday. Rongy set off on another lower route, so Sarah could once again see if slab climbing was for her. She was still unsure, but keen enough to keep trying. When Howsie and I got to the mighty main face he picked what we thought was the route I had led in 2012, Thieves like the Sun. It is listed in four climbing guides and each one seems to give a varying account of the route and each location differs, it was all very confusing:
We are pretty sure we were on the right line today, but it did not seem familiar as I came up second. So I am now left wondering what I climbed eleven years back, and sadly I have no images of that climb to try and work it out. Howsie, had a blast. He was pretty nervous standing below the 45m towering cliff. However, once he got going he relished the awesome climbing. He looked and sounded to be tiring towards to end where the pumpy overlap awaited. I hollered up words of encouragement, plus a stern bit of advice to not yoyo and wear himself out. So when he set off he powered through:
Following Howsie my fingertips were feeling the reduced thickness of skin, skin that had been left on the rock yesterday. It was an impressive lead, and made me work all the way up. Edging over the final overlap a hand hold broke and went flying downwards where Rongy and Sarah were now walk below us, as you might see above. I too went both flying and spinning into the air, bouncing off the overlap with my legs dangling below unable to reach anything to steady myself. At times like that you just have to let gravity and momentum do what they need to do, and today it was my turn to get a few scrapes and bruises:
Sarah was pretty weary from the slab route of the morning, it is a mentally fatiguing style of climbing. And also physically demanding, especially on your calves and ankles. So they joined us at the base of one last climb, which was the main event for me. A route I have been wanting to jump on for many, many years. Dickheads and Dynosaurs is an amazing looking line. The same grade as Cowlick which I had climbed yesterday but with more sustained sections and also more varied climbing, which made it feel even more special:
And to make it even more so, I had a Wedge-tailed Eagle soaring above me whenever I looked up. It was everything I hoped for and more, a stunning and very rewarding route to walk up to and just climb. Being back on long 45m routes was so good, and with now three of these long steeper routes on this impressive upper face under my belt I’m keen to get back and jump on a few others. Not unexpectedly Howsie, and then Rongy, followed up this mighty route. Both getting up it clean, after which there was a liberal dose of smiles all round, as we one by one rapped back down:
While the weather was perfect, and the rock was in great condition it was time for us to call it a day. We had agreed to leave home at a reasonable hour on Saturday and also to return at a reasonable hour on Sunday. No one seemed to be fighting the decision, maybe due to the very, very satisfying way to finish the trip. Or maybe due to Sarah’s ankles say enough is enough, while Rongy, Howsie and my fingertips screamed that if we do much more they might break through:
Before we could get back to the car we had to rap down the lower slabs. Sarah went first and she got her first taste of having to sort a tangled rope, while hanging on the rope. Rongy had suggested he should go first, but we all agreed that it was a good learning experience for Sarah. So if she ever comes across the same problem in a less comfortable situation she will have a better idea of what to do and what it feels like. I’m not sure is she agreed, but managed to keep cool all the same and it worked out just fine:
We sorted the gear as the kettle boiled one last time, and when the brews were made we went for a short walk to a lookout give out legs one last stretch and take in the views one last time. The sun was out and had a bite to it, what a contrast to yesterday afternoon as the clouds rolled in and the rain fell. It almost felt too hot and a little uncomfortable, and just like the Canary Worms and Wood Scorpions were no doubt hiding in some cool spot, we went to escape the heat in the air conditioned car as we drove northwards:
And finally to give you a feel for the place, here’s a fun video from Sarah:
Sandbagged 