With a long weekend upon us it would have been rude not to get out twice. The ocean conditions were not the best for snorkelling, so the climbing won out and I found myself driving back out to Wilyabrup. This time with Craig, who was on a timeline to get back before the strike of midday. No surprises this meant we had an early start, arriving at the car park in darkness at five. Walking in while first light battled to break through the cloud fill sky. These started to part within an hour, allowing light through and the moon to show its face:
Today I drove, and Craig had brought his car diagnostic tool to allow us to monitor what was going on. This was required as I needed to pin down whether it was a sensor fault or an actual over heating issue. My car does not have a temperature gauge, a dumb omission in my view. Sadly in the darkness of the night we didn’t manage to get the diagnostic tool talking to the car, so we drove down without knowing what was happening under the hood. I had my fingers crossed it would all be OK, like the last time I drove down so early:
The car made it down, although the thermal fan kicked in to cool the engine when we pulled up. Probably disturbing the people camping in the carpark, but we heard no noises to indicate they were unhappy with us. At the crag, just like not knowing what was going on under the hood of my car, we need to trust in the rock not always knowing what lies underneath. On the third climb, one of my own creations, I put faith in a hold I had trusted several times before. Next thing I knew, I was flying through the air and the fingertip undercling hold followed me:
The climb is called Knocking on Heaven’s Door, and on the first ascent I tapped on each and every hold on the upper wall to see if it sounded hollow or loose. Knocking with more intensity as the gear got further and further below my feet. I don’t think it would have given me any extra insights today. The small hold was securely attached, but only by a small area shown by the light coloured patch. Luckily the gear is bomber and held just fine, as the ropes stretched to bring me to rest six meters lower than where I had been:
It’s been a while since I took a proper whipper, and this was certainly one of them. It of course did not stop us, and we continued to enjoy the climbing at the Organ Pipes, as this place is known. I even took the dislodged hold home with me to add to my rock collection. In addition to a good tennis ball sized ecchymosis, bruise, on my upper thigh were I swung back into the rock. It is questionable as to which is more colourful, the bright orange gneiss on the outer surface of the rock, or black and purple created by the damaged and leaking capillaries:
We poured a cuppa after bagging six routes, and sat back to watch the sea and spotted dolphins. As we sipped, the colours of the sky were dulled by a front heading landwards. Rather than pack up we sat, drank our tea, and observed the way the wind was pushing the clouds. As luck would have it, they were not coming our way. Allowing us to rap back down for another route. Yet again one of my creations and Craig was happy I led this one, as it was again a little run out and sporting the occasional loose hold waiting to surprise you:
The holds didn’t surprise me this time, managing to get a clean lead in. Craig was however on high alert, especially when I started to run it out and then spend ages trying to find gear. I often wonder why this area doesn’t get much attention, maybe it’s in my face as to why. For me these aspects of traditional climbing are all part of it, so they don’t put me off but others are more easily discouraged. Spying a second front come our way, one that looked menacing, this time we were discouraged from trying to get another climb in:
While the idea of any more climbing, even though the clock had only just reached nine, was washed away, we were rewarded on the walk out. Seeing a tiny froglet, possibly a Quacking Froglet (Crinia georgiana). And also having time and daylight to allow Craig to figure out how to get the diagnostic tool to talk to my car. Allowing me to drive with confidence, as we monitored what was actual happening to the coolant temperature. It wasn’t behaving but we could tell it wasn’t at critical levels, and gave us some clues as to what to try next:
Sandbagged 