Today’s plans to head out for a walk, followed by a feed, with Lisa were scuppered. When yesterday she started to feel unwell. Rather than rattling about the house feeling restless, which would not have provided a relaxing environment to aid her recovery, I aimed to get out. An unsettled forecast meant the decision of whether it would be a wander or solo climb was uncertain. After checked the radar in the morning, as well as clearing the kitchen, feeding the dogs, and of course putting a thermos mug of tea was on Lisa’s bedside, I slipped out:
The radar and synoptic charts indicated a window of opportunity. Despite being before first light, the moon was enough to show the sky to the west, where the coastal crags stood, was blanketed in cloud. Whereas inland was clear. Although, not entirely unexpected, as I entered Wellington National Park mist hung in the air. There were pockets where the mist lifted, and I was treated to great views of the valley. The valley sides covered in tall jarrah, marri, and blackbutt trees. Looking particularly green as the moisture ran off their leaves:
Unfortunately, as I looked further up the sides of the valley, the scars of the unprecedented hot and dry period we have experienced was also evident. A patchwork of brown and green canopies, suggested that in some areas as many as fifty percent of the trees have succumbed. The cooler weather and rains, which have finally arrived, will hopefully prevent any further loss of trees, for this year at least. While the tree below may also look in a poorly state, being a non-native deciduous tree it is just doing what it does naturally:
Not surprisingly I had the place to myself. I didn’t even see any cars to indicate mountain bikers were out and about. My expectations were lower today than they had been on Friday, fully expecting to do fewer climbs. Although, and purely because of what is available, the grades would be higher. With so little rain to date I was not expecting too much seepage. There were some starting, such as this one where water is exuding, seemingly magically, out of solid rock. They were few and far between, and did not to restrict my options for today:
My mind was certain of one thing, the friction would be a bit meh. On account of there being plenty of humidity in the air. Added to that, and not by design but just plain oversight, I hadn’t brought my chalk bag to counter the negative effect of the humidity. My first route felt tough, which not an uncommon feeling here, so actually went quite well. I was however completely overoptimistic with my next choice. A sustained and technical climb, on which I hung in my harness way too much. Each time I got back on the rock my muscles ached:
Climbing by myself I use the above ascender. When I fall a single spring loaded cam with teeth compresses the rope against the main housing. The short teeth don’t go much beyond the outer sheaf, but considerably add to the grip the tool has on the rope. A simple and effective system, one you have to have complete trust in it. It may seem madness, but is no different to abseiling that also uses a simple device and relies purely on friction. Not put off by my silly route choice, I found three more to play on. Climbs I would normally run up:
The cumulative effects of two solo sessions in one weekend took its toll, as the morning wore on. On the last lap, which is also when a light sprinkle of rain started, it felt like a repeat of my second route. I spent a disproportionate amount of time hanging on the rope, thankfully not just a thread. The soreness creeping over my body was however forgotten when I spotted a Swamp Bunny Orchid (Eriochilus helonomos) in the thin veneer of soil atop the granite. The tell-tale heart shaped leaf, along with the height, and position of the petals giving it away:
Sandbagged 