Ash has been absent from my posts for a while, and for good reason. He has been a bit of a national and global trotter, but is now back in the sleepy south west of Western Australia for a bit. Some months before he reached the shores of this island, he had reached out and suggested we should hit the road and head south for a trip. With a particular climbing spot in mind that he is somewhat partial too. Rongy would have joined but you may recall that while he should be travelling himself, he is currently stuck in Perth working:
And the initially considered fourth member was Howsie, who could make it. In fact I doubt if wild horses could have held him back. And it was a good thing too, as Ash had been battling some bug the week before the trip. Advising us just days before the off that he would head down separately, allowing him a later departure on the Friday. The intention being to optimise his chances of being healthy and enjoying our destination on day two. Howsie was happy to take his rig, which I was thankful for as mine has a gremlin at the moment:
Being picked up from home on Friday morning he told me his rig also had a gremlin, one that he had hoped would have been fixed on Thursday. The choice was to take my rig and risk it over heating, or take his for which there was a chance it may not start. A case of six of one and half a dozen of a another, and Howsie drove. Our first stop on the south coast tour was Blindmans Bluff, a small but fun crag hidden from sight and just a stone’s throw from the Peak Head carpark. Short single pitch slabbing on smooth south coast granite:
Rain had fallen every day in the first half of the preceding week, but the forecast for our four days down here were nothing but glorious. Twenty degrees, mostly cloudy with hints of sun, light to moderate westerly winds, and a small swell. The last too being particularly important for the crag that Ash was super keen to get too. We racked up a stack of great climbs during the afternoon and the conditions could not have been perfect, and even the Australian Common March Flies (Tabanus australicus) didn’t seem interested in taking our blood today:
The image of the fly was while it sat on my climbing shoe, not caring to move as I took aim and snapped an image showing its strong straight proboscis that would normally be used to pierce the skin and suck out some blood. But not today, and the only soreness we had after climbing here was a tingle on the fingertips. Resulting from the coarse sandpaper like rock steadily removed layers of skin. I’m not going to recount every line we did, but for those who are keen and as I have for some of my longer trips, there is a route list at the end of the post:
One thing we had previously agreed was that this trip was all about mid-grade fun, no aiming for high numbers other than in the meterage we covered. The hardest route being grade 19 and there was only one, on the first crag and the very worthy crag classic shown two images up. We had intended to camp at the Panorama campsite for the trip, but Friday was the one and only day of the year that they were closed due to an ultramarathon event. So we instead met Ash at the campsite at Cosy Corner:
It has been many a year since Lisa, Elseya, and I have campedat Cosy Corner and much has changed. That includes our previous site being closed, needing to now pay, and there being a camp warden on site. At times well-meaning camp wardens can be a little annoying, but today we were grateful to have them about. On the short 1km, or so, gravel road approaching the camping area some schoolies were hooning in and out at stupid speeds. ambivalent of other road users and frustration levels they seemed to leave at most places they went:
Some of the people already camping there were preparing to leave, not willing to put up with the schoolies antics. But the camp warden put their foot down and the schoolies were sent on their way. Fortunately it was the only encounter we had with them during our time down here, and as it grew dark Ash rocked up. Soon after he popped his tent up it seemed everyone at the now peaceful campsite hit the sack, as did we. The other campers were still tucked up in bed when we got up, packed up the tents, and drove out:
It was 5am but the sun was up and it was bright. We left Ash’s car at the national park entrance and lowered the pressure on Howsie’s tyres, in preparation for the drive into the mighty West Cape Howe. This was the place that Ash really wanted to get to, he loves it here. Dark cliffs fall into the Great Australian Bight, and with the wrong wind direction and higher swells this can result in sea spray making the rock feel greasy. It was however perfect today, although before we sampled the rock to test it we had breakfast and a cuppa:
Ash was happy to follow up with the safety of a rope above him, and Howsie and I already had a bit of a route list mapped out. Mid-grade fun on lines that we had not been on before bar one, or so Howsie thought. Then I checked his guide and he had also marked up the first two lines during our trip here in 2012, when he climbed them with Andrew. Any memory of the routes was long gone so he was happy to jump on them again. Each route offering long pitches on quality and sustained lines, bliss:
This is however a pretty serious place. It is off the beaten track, the setting is for some intimidating, and due to the nature of the rock and situation there can at times be lose rock. Safety is always first and foremost when we climb, and here it is that bit more first and foremost. Double checking everything you do, staying tied in at all times, and climbing with confidence but equal amounts of caution to check each hold before committing to it. Regardless of all that it is still easy to see why Ash loves it so much:
Four wonderful climbs in and it felt like lunch time was here. The carpark is very close to the cliffs, so it was just a few minutes to get back. Here the food came out again and the kettle once more went on. We had the place to ourselves, and despite the great climbing here in the seven or so times I’ve climbed here only on one of those occasions did I see anyone else climb. Possibly it is due to the access and situation that keeps some away, being that bit more of an effort physically and mentally:
As we munched our lunch, a silent visitor crept up on us. Howsie spotted it first and Ash gave a shriek, and only then did the Bobtail Lizard (Tiliqua rugosa) seem to notice us and take a slightly deviated path. By which time he was within half a meter of me, and seemingly unperturbed by our presence. Fed and watered we were back on rock, on a multi-pitch route that happened to be the first route Ash had ever climbed here. It was a storming line, with a huge belay ledge at half height on which all three of us could have laid out and star fished:
The next route was unexpectedly the final route of the day. A line that Howsie had attempted to find with his brother Mikie a year or so back. They had rapped into the wrong area so didn’t get to climb it, as such we took our time to make sure we found the right location. It looked steeper and more intimidating that the other walls we had climbed, and Ash opted not to come down. We did however still required his services, when we foolishly left the guidebook on top. Looking up the wall we were not entirely sure where to go:
The guidebook is being lowered on the end of the rope in the above image, and even with the topo in the guide it was misleading. Resulting in me going slightly off line, and Howsie having to work his way back on line for the second pitch. We may not have climbed the route entirely as intended but it was still fantastic. All the mucking about had however meant we spent twice the time on this route than any of the others, maybe we were also starting to tire. So while we went off track it was still a great way to end the climbing on day two:
Howsie’s car started without a hitch, phew. It is probably not the best place to get stranded, but it did have a bit of a turn when we stopped to pick up Ash’s car. Howsie does have a trick when it doesn’t want to start, and for now that seemed to work. That night we stayed at the Panorama campsite, stopping in Albany on the way to grab dinner first. After the tents were pitched we made use of the communal area to sort the gear ready for the next morning. The next place would require a bit more of a walk in, so food, water, and gear had to be sorted:
At night we were reminded that it was schoolies week, as we settled down for the night. Just like at Cosy Corner the campsite fell silent soon after darkness descended, and as the wind eased and picked up we could hear the doof doof music from some distant place drift off and then get louder. Not so loud that it was clear but audible enough to be like the sound of a mosquito, not quite allowing you to enter that perfect deep sleep. But it didn’t stop me from getting up early. It seemed to get light earlier and dark later here, compared to back home:
Indeed it looks like first light arrives some quarter of an hour earlier in Albany compared to where we live. But interestingly last light is more or less at the same time. I’m not quite sure how that works, but my circadian rhythm was in tune and cups of tea were awaiting the others as they rose from their tents. Today’s destination was Peak Head, a place that Ash was yet to climb at and Howsie had only been to once before to climb. It was my fourth trip here, and there is a climb that one day I should jump on, today however it was one for Howsie to consider:
And consider it he did. I lost track of time, as he stood looking at it then sat down continuing to stare at the steep finger crack. It looks down at you both inviting you in and making you feel daunted at the same time. There was even some head holding, rocking, and for a while the child’s pose was assumed. Eventually weighing up many factors, including the intent of sticking to mid-grade fun, he decided to leave it for another day. I was quite literally spat of this line on my first visit here in 2006, and in 2015 the start of the climb baffled Dan and when offered the rope I simply didn’t have the energy for it:
So I could fully appreciate the quandary that Howsie was battling with. On the plus side there is another magical route that takes you off the ledge, where 50m of open space awaits below your feet. A curving traverse crosses the big face and eventually leads to a series of ledges and cracks. All of which Howsie gobbled up with great delight. Having so much fun that he passed the belay ledge and kept climbing until there was no rope left. He then had to down climb several meters and as the rope went slack below him something unexpected happened:
Ash and I waited patiently, and when we heard the shout that we were on belay and could climb when ready we knew something was amiss. As Howsie had down climbed the twin ropes had slipped into a vertical crack, and as he went to pull the slack in to belay us they had locked against each other. The issue being this occurred midway up the 50m pitch. We managed to avert the mid-wall crisis, when I self-belayed myself up the rope until I reached the offending crack and freed the rope. Problem solved and we continued up the pitch, followed by two more with nothing but air below us and smiles on our faces:
The wander back down to the bags brought up the dilemma of what to do next, it was early and there was plenty of time to squeeze another route in. But the grades only went up and as Howsie pondered his choices again I looked about and spotted a native bee that was also in a pickle. Having overindulged in nectar and being covered in pollen it was tangled up in the stamen of this Coastal Pigface (Carpobrutus virescens). I’ve since discovered there are over 2,000 native bee species in Australia, with 800 of them being found in Western Australia:
Meanwhile, Ash laid down. He was shattered. Climbing for me is a great way to disengage the brain and soak up the surrounds. Ash’s brain isn’t wired that way and his buzzing brain combined with other factors had left him feeling very weary. So much so he was considering heading back that afternoon. This aided Howsie in his decision making and unlike the unlucky bee, Howsie was released from his tangled web of options at Peak Head. We trudged out, stopping along the way to provide advice to a couple from Oregon:
They were over for a week long climbing trip seeking worthy multi-pitch climbs, and had come up behind us on the route we had just done. We sent them off with some pointers on places to go and lines to climb. Then back at the campsite we saw Ash off. This left Howsie and I to head back out for the afternoon to explore, plumping for one of the crags at the Blowholes. No multi-pitch routes awaited us here, but at 25m tall the climbs felt a good length. And to boot we were right next to the crashing waves, which provided a great atmosphere:
Main Wall was developed in the 80s, and you could immediately tell it was developed by old school climbers. The lines looked imposing and even the lowly graded ones visually looked tricky. Later that evening when we caught up with Kym, Meg, Tess, Claire, and Beau, Kym said he had been seriously sandbagged at this crag before. Making us feel somewhat justified in our thoughts, as we stood below the face. Being my lead I plumped for a wicked rising corner, a line Howsie had shown interest in also. But first in, best dressed and all that:
It was amazing, and didn’t get a single star in the guide or even a line to say that it was a worthy route or anything. At our local crags we both agreed it would have had stars splashed all over it. Making us keen to get another climb in, and Howsie chose based on aesthetics as opposed to grades. Aesthetics is something that the cove we were in had all over it. In addition to great granite walls there were stunning sections of conglomerate rocks. Car and even transit van sized boulders poked out, and the floor below was littered with round boulders that had over time popped out:
Howsie picked a beauty, providing a style of climbing we do not get too much of over our way. Both he and I were tiring now, after three days of climbing and a few good walks. We managed the line, and thoroughly enjoyed it. Marvelling, and also being somewhat jealous, of all the hidden gems that the south coast has tucked away. And while there were certainly more lines to tempt us, we felt it was time to head out. Kym was sadly unable to join us during this trip, but we simply had to have a catch up so we headed over for a cuppa or two:
Sunday night was peaceful and maybe that is why I was up extra early in the morning, way before first light. Having a camp kitchen was handy allowing me to brew a cuppa without making too much noise. I sat and watched another sunrise, which made me wonder how Tomski was going in Israeli as I hadn’t heard for a few days. Howsie was up in time for when I was making my second cuppa. Today was the day we would drive home, so we had a decent breakfast and then made a third cuppa for me and second for him, ready for the journey out:
While we like to get home at a reasonable time after a decent trip away, we were up early and had already decided it was time for a tree change. We are talking towering karri trees, which could mean only one place… Mount Frankland. A two’ish hour drive from where we had slept the night, yet we still managed to be at the base of the climb by eight. Not being greedy, our plan was to sneak in one route that would summit out and allow us to take in the landscape from the top. And again I handed Howsie the rope:
I get out heaps more than he does, and I have also led the climbs at Blindmans Bluff, Peak Head, and Mount Frankland that we had on our radar. The last one we had in mind is another beauty, and one that does not get much attention. The first pitch being the meat of the climb and offering a long 47m delicate path up the slab. A cool crisp morning and superb dry rock made it all the more special, as he tippy toed his way up. Occasionally shaking out his calves, when there was a slightly more forgiving foot hold on offer:
I was happy stood at the base. Surrounded by a feeling of serenity that the greenery around me seemed to instil. Standing on a pile of leaves that had collected against the granite dome over years. Making a perfect compost and no doubt a home for many critters, although I struggled to see any. The one spider I did see, and attempted to get a close up of, was bright green and less than a three millimetres in size including the legs. Wandering about on the rock, looking like it was checking its webs for anything tasty that may have been trapped:
With mere meters left in the rope Howsie reached the belay, and was rewarded with a view from above. It was my time to pad up the steep granite dome and leave the spider, which I have not been able to identify, to its own devices. I didn’t stop too long at the belay and made my way up the much easier second pitch. So easy that I body-belayed Howsie up after me. Being conscious that he would be moving fast, it was easier to keep up with his rapid pace by using the old school belay technique. One that some, in this day and age, may frown upon:
Looking out at the tree canopy stretching into the distance we could make out the wonderful ocean that laps, or more like smashes, against the amazing playground of the south coast. For this trip at least our climbing was done, and we were extremely satisfied and also appreciative of Ash for suggesting a wee trip away, so thank you. With five areas visited, and eighteen awesome mid-grade routes comprising twenty three pitches climbed in perfect condition, who wouldn’t be happy. And it made us think an annual South Coast jaunt isn’t such a bad idea. For now however it was time to head home, back to our creature comforts and understanding families:
The route list
Blindmans Bluff
Birdbath (8m, 15)*** (CH lead, KS second)
Currawong Crack (15m, 17)* (KS lead, CH second)
Captain Goodvibes (15m, 19)*** (CH lead, KS second)
Frogmouth (10m, 16)** (KS lead, CH second)
Blue Cheer (10m, 17)** (CH lead, KS second)
Birthmark (8m, 18) (KS lead, CH second)
So lo (6m, 8) (KS/CH solo)
Lo too (6m, 10) (KS/CH solo)
West Cape Howe
Mo (35m 15)** (CH lead, KS/AG second)
Curly (35m 15)** (KS lead, CH/AG second)
Shitsky (35m 17)* (CH lead, KS/AG second)
Punkin and Hoonin (35m 17)** (KS lead, CH/AG second)
Andromeda (50m 15)** (CH/KS alt lead, AG second)
Wired Flake (50m 16)*** (CH/KS alt lead)
Peak Head
Albatross (105m 15)*** (CH/KS alt lead, AG second)
Blowholes, Main Wall
Just in Time (26m 14) (KS lead, CH second)
Obelix (23m 10) (CH lead, KS second)
Mount Frankland
Purveyors of Matters Large and Small for the Masses (77m 18)* (CH/KS alt lead)
Sandbagged 