With a total solar eclipse skimming the edge of Western Australia I sat at work on Thursday wondering why I hadn’t thought about heading out for a climb on such a special day. However, as we approached 11:18am when the maximum coverage was due to occur for where I work, there was approx. 68% coverage of the sun. So not surprisingly, while the day darkened a little it wasn’t by much so in a way I feel my decision to be in the office was right. At our house the solar system recorded the gradual reduction, and then rise, of solar radiation hitting our panels on the cloudless day. Indicating just a little over a 50% reduction:
I recall in 1999 standing outside the office in Bishop’s Stortford, in England, watching a partial solar eclipse that reached approx. 95% coverage. Even then it still remained relatively light. You would think there may be a simple chart that provided an indication of the relationship between the percentage of coverage of the sun to the reduction in light radiation that reaches the surface of earth, assuming a clear sky. But I was not to be able to find one, at least anything that made sense in layman terms:
This morning with all intentions of heading back out on the Cape to Cape track, for a hike that would lead me past some rock formations I was keen to see, my plans were changed when Rongy asked if I would be up for a quick Welly Dam sessions. We both have shoulder niggles, so it may not have been the most sensible of destinations. It is however convenient when time is limited, plus heading east allowed us to time our outward journey so we could enjoy the light display that the increasing solar radiation of day break provided:
On arrival cloud hung in the valley below the dam so we headed to the lookout for a peek. Knowing the sight before us would not last too much longer, as the sun could be seen tipping over the horizon. As we climbed we could see the sunlight flood across the valley, but due to the orientation of this place we resided to staying in the shadows. Moving into autumn, the leaves of the trees were falling and the grass was damp underfoot from the night-time dew. And with the generally cooling temperatures the rock also felt slightly damp and cold to touch, adding to the wonder of how we might fare today:
No matter, we had no expectations, and were just out to catch-up, clear our heads, and enjoy a few climbs during the process. I did however suggest that maybe it was time for Rongy to attempt the new climbs here, a tall order based on how often he climbs and also that we needed to be at least a little bit sensible. He had a successful bash A Storm in a Teacup, which I have to say felt a lot harder today. And I was even more elated when he had a crack at Peanut Brittle, which no one else has attempted other than myself. It lived up to its name and rained brittle bits of rock, something that will reduce with time and more ascents:
It was also a little too tough for Rongy to finish, with the top sequence flummoxing him. Maybe in part due to his level of climbing fitness. This meant I had to jump on the pointy end, which was the third time I’ve lead it. For some reason, each time it has felt slightly harder and I know it is not due to holds falling off. So much so that I wasn’t able to get a clean lead today, thwarted by the final crux moves. There is however no need to remain dark about such experiences, and we both felt so much better for the short but very enjoyable morning out:
Sandbagged 