Josh was keen to get to Castle Rock, in part so a mate of his who lived relatively close could join us. One day this elusive friend of his will join us but today was not that day, and not for the first time he bailed. This of course did not stop us having a great morning, nor Kellie who joined us but also didn’t join us. While we played on rock she headed off for a ‘short’ thirteen kilometre run and then did a few laps up and down the bay in a kayak. While we decided what to do Josh’s memory was playing games, and mine was also a little hazy on the facts:
He could not recall playing on what is described in the guide as ‘a number of fun 6m chimneys and jamming cracks, some of which you need to traverse out over the water to get into. None are harder than grade 14’. With a low tide and very few of the mass of flies that often lurk in these cracks we played on for of the lines they offered. I had a bit of a blank and for some reason felt they were in the grade 6 to 8 range, but that was certainly not the case and it was also not true that Josh had not climbed any of them:
Here is the proof https://sandbagged.blog/2022/07/05/waving-goodbye/, although back then we only managed to access one. Even that was not from the ground but by stepping in from a boulder due to the higher tide. So missed the tricky start. I have encouraged a few people to have a go at climbing these lines, and nearly everyone I have record of trusting my suggestions didn’t enjoy them. Rounded holds, slick rock, tight squeezes and all up quite physical and at times insecure climbing. Sounds delightful, but it is not everyone cup of tea:
Today we lapped them up, at only 6m high they are short but they felt like they packed a punch and we could feel our bodies working hard. On my side, being that this style of climbing didn’t require the big overhead movements, I didn’t aggravate my shoulder. I do not make New Year’s resolutions, but have made a commitment to do some proper shoulder rehabilitation this year. And reading up on the way to manage a SLAP (Superior Labrum from Anterior to Posterior) tear, they say not to stop everything:
It is about climbing smarter to avoid movements that are not favourable, or at least not doing them too often. This is a good thing as I am sure I’d get a tad irritable and cranky if I couldn’t go climbing. After leading for the first four routes I was happy when Josh said he was keen to have a lead. It meant hitting a couple of easier and more sedate lines, which I was not going to complain about. He racked up one repeat and one new lead, and for the first time ever set up the top belay anchors without a watchful eye guiding him:
In my usual way, while I could see he was a bit nervous I encouraged him to give each climb a go and then to keep going when his mind started to play games. I tend to forget Josh does not get out too much, in fact he didn’t even hit is target of a climb each month this year. And in addition he leads less frequently than that, so all things considered he did really well today. Even more so after having drained a lot of mental and physical energy on the first four lines. In part due to the building heat we were both happy to call it:
The winds were fresh and whipping along the coast line from the south. This was great to help cool us down while we were climbing in the sun, but it was chopping up the water. Still it looked pretty clear, so before we wrapped things up we went in for a dip. As soon as we were underwater we were surrounded by thousands of juvenile fish, often called fingerling. The water swept over the rocks filling the water with bubbles adding the sight. The waves were being driven by the winds and not a swell, so it felt quite comfortable bobbing about:
It even felt like it wasn’t going to push us against the rocks, as I followed fish here and there. This was fortunate for another reason. Being New Year’s Eve the bay was full of boats and jet skis, whose wash added to the chop from the wind. So venturing too far out was likely to be perilous. The people in control of the vessels were highly unlikely to be observant enough to spot us. The whine of engines and propellers became background noise, unlike when there is only one vessel which makes you pop your head up to check there the danger lies:
My focus was squarely on the fish, with such an abundance of species. Above are Stripey (Microcanthus strigatus) with the common name and scientific name coming from the pattern, with the Latin word strigatus meaning furrowed, grooved, or strigate. The latter word meaning ‘streaked with different colours’, something I had to look up. Below are Grey Drummer (Kyphosus bigibbus), not to be confused with Silver Drummer (Kyphosus sydneyanus). Distinguishable by the clear small black spot below the pectoral-fin base:
I was not trying to take photos of the Grey Drummer. It was a single and small wrasse that I liked, only just visible in the bottom right of the image and quick to hide in the weed. I believe it is a Castelnau’s Wrasse (Dotalabrus aurantiacus), a fish of many names including Castelnau’s Parrotfish, Ornate Wrasse, Pretty Dolly, and Pretty Polly. All the fish I have mentioned, including the below Zebrafish (Girella zebra), with a McCulloch’s Scalyfin (Parma mccullochi) sneaking in to photobomb the image on the left, are in the order of Perciformes:
This order includes about forty percent of all bony fish, and is the largest and most diverse group of fish. Making me wonder what fish, if any, I see that are from a different order. But I’ll end this post with one sighting that is definitely from a different order, being Myliobatiformes, which comprises rays from eight families. This one being a Southern Eagle Ray (Myliobatis tenuicaudatus), which I daren’t follow out into the bay in case I drifted into the path of boat or jet ski. So I continued to hug the rocks:
Sandbagged 