In thinking of themes for this post, The Gambler keeps going through my head for this post. I felt the lyrics from the songs chorus were apt for various moments during Friday mornings foray to our rocky coastal playground. There were times we needed to know when to hold ’em, fold ’em, walk away, and run. It is of course a song that most will associate with one artist. However, written by Don Schlitz, it was recorded by some pretty big artists, including Bobby Bare and Johnny Cash, before Kenny Rogers made it famous:
The forecast was grim, very grim. But as Friday approached the synoptic charts indicated an early sliver of dry weather may be upon us. Craig and Howsie were game. We had a choice between Wilyabrup and Welly Dam. The latter, being inland and potentially further away from the approaching front so may have stayed dry for longer. No one seemed keen for hard climbing, so Wilyabrup won out. Working in our favour, in more ways than one. On arrival I thought it may not have been the right decision, when, while using the facilities, rain arrived:
I made use of the shelter a little longer, not wandering down until it eased off. Here I found the two of them gasbagging under an overhang. Bags unopened, and not a hint of motivation to climb. It had been a while since I have been on lead, so as they continued chatting I racked up. In view of the conditions, the first route was one we often finish on. It was the right choice with just the right amount of dampness to keep it more than exciting enough. I’m still not overly keen on taking a lead fall, not wanting to impact our fast approaching climbing trip over east:
In addition and despite it having been nine weeks since I sustained my injuries, my knee still groans at times and my foot also complains. Possibly due to having continued to climb, maybe because my body does not heal as quickly as a young whipper snapper’s might, or it could be that I did more damage than suspected. Whatever the reason, today was not a day to take risks. Added to that I was feeling heavy on rock, and on his first lead Howsie said he felt clunky. A slow paced day was a good idea, and we started by each getting a grade 14 lead in:
Seemingly to keep us all on a level pegging, Craig mentioned feeling uncoordinated. To be fair he had the most justification for not quite feeling it on rock, considering how infrequently he gets out. Not that this prevented us from badgering him into taking on a lead. After efficiently climbing the third lead, he then took his time to re-familiarise himself with setting up a belay anchor. Unaware of the next belt of rain whisking its way towards us. Once ready to belay us, Howsie and I ran up making it atop just before the drops once again fell:
It was my turn to lead, having seemed to luck out with the timing. However, with Craig comes flasks of tea. Allowing us to pour cuppas and spend a moment or two to let the rain ease, and consider what next. There was a lot of indecision about what that might be, nothing jumping out to any of us. Finally I went for an old favourite, which in hindsight was a dumb choice. The freshly moistened holds on the headwall played with my head. After three attempts I decided to be sensible and fold. Escaping the difficulties via a long, unprotected, but easy traverse:
The other two managed to get up the headwall, but it did make Howsie reconsider what he was keen to do next. He had hinted at being keen on the complimentary climb to my lead, being next to it and at the same grade. Then while supping his brew, it was his turn to come to a sensible decision. And was drawn to an easier, but equally enjoyable, line. Even that made him stop and think at the crux, where, unlike I had, he pulled through. All the while the clouds were being blown away, and as the clear sky arrived two people also arrived:
Not climbers, but staff from the state agency that maintains the abseil anchors at the top of the cliff. They had replaced a couple of bolts yesterday and were now testing them. All the bolts along the top of the crag get tested every year, so it is surprising that in nearly two decades of climbing here this was the first time any of us had bumped into them. We found out that they only test the glue strength, which is done by applying a vertical load of 8kN for a period of three minutes. It is simply assumed that the horizontal strength of the bolts is maintained:
Wandering back down, Craig had already decided on the path out for our final climb. There was not a hint of rain in any direction, with only whispery clouds on the horizon. The forecast had been way off; in our favour this time. Allowing Craig to lead us out with the sun on our backs. Still being fully rugged up, as while the clouds and rain had gone the wind had not eased up. We had, and were still, being buffeted by gale to strong gale force winds. Howsie came up last taking his time and having a good long look behind the flakes and in the cracks:
Not for trying, but we did not seen a single scaly friend today, unlike our last trip out. Not put off, as we walked away from the crag, and as the howling of the wind eased, we continued to keep our eyes peeled. Spotting the same three orchid species as last week, two having been mentioned in that post. The third is the one I am waiting to see in flower. It is getting there, and we spent quite a while checking it out. But I’m going to hold my cards close to my chest, and not reveal an image of it yet. Not until it is in flower, unless I miss the spectacle, as I did last year:
Sandbagged 