Howsie will be heading off for a bit on a road trip, and time was running out to squeeze a final foray at our local crags. It is not that we haven’t got out once or twice in recent months, but it is 2023 and he has as yet not kicked off his challenge for the year. Friday gave us an opportunity both to get a session in with just the two of us, and also to encourage him to attempt at least one 23 before heading off. During the chats today I was surprised that he could only recall ever being on one 23 before:
That was a feisty sport climb at Welly Dam, which he seconded some time back and that wasn’t even this year. For today I was happy for him choose where we went and what we did, and he suggested Wilyabrup. In part, I am sure, due to the longer climbs although I suspect also due to a certain climb that I have been suggesting he really should have a bash at. Before we contemplated that line, it was time to warm up. As he wouldn’t get much climbing in for a while, I was happy for him to take all the leads today. This allowed me to kick back and relax a bit while belaying, in my usual fashion:
In these changing times of what is and is not appropriate and/or tolerated, I have to admit to considering my words as I type. That is in relation to whether I should include the names of the climbs we did. Most climbs are a reflection of the experience of the person that put the route up, whether the journey to get there which can take some time especially on trickier climbs, or the final glory moment as they got that sought after first ascent. I’ll risk the first couple, and Howsie can be seen sitting down on the job in the first image as he leads Thunder Thighs:
And yes Howsie it is given a grand grade of (in bingo lingo) legs 11, which is probably just an unfortunate coincidence. The second route he picked was a line that he had never been on before, called Slapping the Fat at grade 17. A tricky start on somewhat greasy holds, which I made oh so much harder when I spotted the above Tower Case Moth (Lepidoscia arctiella), starting to pupate. I held on to these holds, as sweat seeped through the skin on my fingertips making them more and more greasy. But I was intent on getting a few images, even if they were a little blurry:
The life of a case moth is mostly as a caterpillar. These creepy crawlies can spend between one and two years in their intricately built homes, depending on the precise species. More interestingly the females never leave these homes, so I knew this one was a male. While it may seem unjust that the females remain trapped, the pupating stage can take anywhere from a few weeks to months in part dependent upon the weather. Once finally released some species may only have days to find a mate, which are still hidden in their house of sticks. The male of some species do not even have the ability to feed, so they need to be quick:
For our third line, and without any coaxing from me, Howsie realised that it was now or never. If he did any more leads before jumping on this spectacular line he would feel too weary. As the image above show it has a strange start requiring a stick clip onto a very, very old bit of tat that has been there as long as I have been in Western Australia. Tat, being the name for a bit of insitu rope or sling. The idea being that you pull yourself up to the tat, called a batman start. Then you look up and contemplate the above looming corner, capped by a reasonable roof. That is only the first half of the route, and the longer you sit there the more trepidation can seep in:
After you leave the tat, it is all trad and all on. So I wasn’t sure how he would go, but after a nervous start and as he got into the rhythm of this mighty route he looked down and had a big ear to ear grin on his face. Unlike the male Tower Case Moth, Howsie was not in a rush. It was however impressive to watch, being his first grade 23 lead and a very intimidating one at that. At the roof there is a stance, which allowed him to rest up a bit. Eventually however there is a need to go near horizontally to be able to see what holds await you above the roof. At this stance nervousness, and probably a bit of weariness crept in, and I could sense the old Howsie trait come back as he started to yo-yo on the initial moves over the roof:
With each attempt he weakened that bit more, without fully committing and needing to down climb back to the stance. So when he finally did got for it, he gassed out and went sailing through the air falling a considerable distance. Lifting me off the ground by over a metre. Even though for this route I was standing right below him, not kicking back in some prone position. This was repeated another couple of times, and I captured the start of one of his rapid descents above. After his third fall he had nothing left to offer and came back down. Leaving me to finish the route off, which I have to say I thoroughly enjoyed. Howsie, had however given it everything when he was leading, which had lasted close to an hour. So much so that he was unable to repeat the initial hard moves through the steep corner even with a rope above him:
That isn’t necessarily a bad thing, and I suggested he can experience the top half of the climb on lead when he returns from his road trip. More than satisfied with what he had achieved, and before we called it a wrap, there was the need for one more climb to get us out without needing to walk up the track with the packs. The obvious climb being Hope, which Howsie led while I offered to carry both packs up on second. I hear you ask “don’t you ever got bored of that climb?”, and the answer is no. I have probably been up it close to a hundred times and have enjoyed every ascent:
We were hoping to see the Carpet Python, but it was nowhere to be found. While a little sad, we did spot this juvenile Western Bearded Dragon (Pogona minor minor) as we walked out. Like other Pogona species they are known to wave one of their fore legs to trigger a response from a potential rival or mate, and males are also known to bob their head possibly as part of organising social order. We didn’t however get to see these traits. Howsie didn’t see the little fella and almost step on it. As such, and after it escaped Howsie’s footfall sprinting into the adjacent vegetation, it simply froze:
Sandbagged 