With a near full (office) work day under my belt, I was able to slip out the house at 11am. The drive to Howsie’s was way busier compared to the earlier times we normally head out. And it was also that way when we drove out of Bunbury and up the hill towards Collie. However, the journey only took fifteen minutes longer today, at an hour and half. The brain is a strange beast, and the psychology of driving can make trips seem longer and/or shorter for a variety of reasons. One trigger can be how much traffic is on the road. So even when the cars are flowing, it can feel much slower than it actually is. It felt that way today. Another strange fact being that driving to get somewhere, can feel shorter when afterwards you come home the same way:
There are even published papers on what they call the Return Trip Effect or perceptual phenomenon, whereby getting home feels the quicker of the two journeys. There are many factors to this, which I won’t dwell on. We had reached our destination and typically on arrival both Howsie and my brains would clear and focus on the rock. This took a little longer today, we were both feeling weary and not quite sure which battle we were prepared to take on. It was only when we got out the car that we pondered our options. We would normally think about this on the journey, but not today. You could say I had a premonition of this occurring, and uncharacteristically had thrown in a small trad rack:
My thinking when pulling my gear together back at home being that we might play on the small carpark crag. This has routes of a lower length and grade, than the more serious undertakings on steeper walls on offer. With the big walls in shade I wonder whether we were also drawn to climbing in the sun. This part of the country was greeted with chilly zero degrees at first light. This drop in temperature coming about due to the skies being devoid of clouds overnight, which if present would have acted like a duvet to keep some of the warmth. It may have been much later in the day, but it still felt a little cool so we opted for the sunny option. Jumping on nothing too hard felt like a good idea to both of us:
As we started, and despite the lower grades, neither of us were climbing well today. It felt awkward and nervous. Our brains playing on many factors such as: not having climbed these routes for some time, needing to switch to a different climbing style of slab climbing; the small and slick feel of the holds; a bit of moss being about making some of the holds feel even less secure; after each route we were feeling the heat of the sun that bit more; or was it that we were feeding of each other’s state of mind. There are five routes on the small carpark crag, which we knocked off from right to left. I purposely let Howsie take the first lead, so he could attempt the fifth climb. Although, when the time came he really wasn’t looking keen:
After what felt like an eternity of procrastination I offered to take the lead. This would result in me, most likely, still being the only person to have led the Roman Nose at grade 17. This is despite what the guide book says, and would be the third time I’ve led it. Today was in some ways similar to the last time when Howsie started it but then backed off, https://sandbagged.blog/2022/10/01/history-repeating-itself/. It was different today in that he didn’t even get of the deck. It is by far the feistiest and most nervous of the five leads on the small crag, and I do wonder about the grade. To add to the fear factor the gear in the upper section is a little dubious, mind you there is a bomber and deep cam placement 6m up on this 10m wall:
I teetered my way past this ‘thank god’ placement trying this way and that. Eventually committing to the rising rightward traverse on small mossy footholds and not much better fingertip holds. I thought I was solid and through the worse when my right foot slipped, and I flew to the right. Then as the rope started to tighten I pendulum back to the left, heading downwards. Finally coming to rest a mere meter of the ground, having fallen some six or seven meters and unfortunately twisting my knee on the final impact. After being lowered down the last meter, I just lay on the ground and looked up. I thought I should get Howsie to take an image of my predicament, but didn’t:
Instead I lay there allowing my body to recognise what had just happened. Trying to work out where I might be sore. However, in reality with a fall like that the body takes a different path. I’ve been through it before, and should have recognised the signs. A part of the brain called the amygdala kicks into action, activating another part called the hypothalamus. That part then releases stress hormones, like adrenaline and cortisol. These prepare the body through a number of physical responses, and this can lead to a false realisation of the situation you are in or indeed the damage sustained. As such I jumped back on and finished the climb off, and then we hit the big walls:
Not wanting to risk another fall I offered Howsie all the leads. He lapped up four more lines, climbing much more confidently. The familiarity of these harder lines helping, along with far more positive holds. I managed to follow up with the safety of the rope above me, but was noticeably trying to avoid using my right foot and knee too much. With each climb the effect of the stress hormones was reducing, and realisation was hitting me. On the last climb it was impossible to avoid big moves on the right leg, which I simply wasn’t able to do. Instead I pulled on the draws to get past the lower section. It was certainly a great session and glorious day to be out, although maybe I should have called it quits after my fall and just belayed Howsie. My brain is however wired to be a bit stubborn when it comes to climbing:
Sandbagged 