I won’t lie and I steered the ship to my advantage today. This resulted in a fourth trip, on the trot, out to rock starting with a walk towards Wilyabrup. I would have headed out solo if no one else was keen, but David was and was also happy to risk the weather. Having climbed in Ireland and England before moving here, he isn’t one to shy away from a bit of dampness. He is also yet to sample all the crags available that collectively reside at Wilyabrup, This made it easy to offer a selection of options I felt would appeal to him:
The drive took us through a mixed bag, and it stayed that way on arrival. Being greeted by some very welcome sunshine and a colourful rainbow, which was rapidly advancing to shore. This could mean only one thing. We pondered if it was worth sheltering in the dunny while it passed over, as I had last weekend. Deciding not to bother, we scrambled round the loose top in the rain. I’m a little desensitised to the terrain and loped along happily, whereas David took his time to make sure each footfall was solid. Aiming to avoid tumbling over the cliff edge:
Two weeks back David joined us at the Organ Pipes, a relatively short crag with clean lines and only the very occasional loose stuff. Driftwood Bay is the next crag along, and is a step up into the murkiness of what I’d regard as proper traditional climbing. With a bit of a mountaineering style thrown in. Longer rambling lines, loose rock, and the occasional longer runout. In its favour however the grades are much lower, reducing the impact of those more nervous aspects. The description, and on arrival the environment, appealed to David:
It was all a bit slippy when we got there, but he is getting used to the quickly changing weather and drying rock here. And sure enough as he followed up the first climb the sun was upon us and the rock was starting to dry. His face however hinted that the loose rock on the line I chose to start on, had made him a little nervous. It was probably the worse line for loose rock, and in hindsight maybe I should have started on another route. But hindsight isn’t particularly helpful and it resulted in me taking a second lead. This time on more solid terrain:
As I set up the belay anchors, I spotted the above Southwestern Carpet Python (Morelia imbricata) sunning itself just across from where our abseil line was. I wonder if David will expect to see a snake every time we climb here now. He has certainly been very lucky to date. We were able to get very close for a good look. Making sure that as soon as it showed signs of having a good sniff, with its tongue, that we backed off. Not wanting to disturb it too much. Back at the base, someone’s brain was having a battle. To lead or not to lead:
Without being too pushy I encouraged the ‘go-for-it’ side of David’s brain, which seemed to gain traction. He started up the rock, but it was however clear that the mental struggle wasn’t over. He placed a piece of gear, after which he struggled to push himself any higher. This had nothing to do with the precarious looking left foothold that he kept using. I thought it better not to mention that until after the ‘don’t-do-it’ side of his brain had won out, and he was back on the deck. I also found out how long it had been since he had led anything:
The few times we have managed to encourage him to lead, has resulted in him bagging more leads than he has managed in the last four to five years. So it’s no wonder he was not overly motivated to get on the sharp end at such a ‘traditional’ style crag. Needless to say I jumped on sharp end again and then again, picking a rarely climbed route for the last one. While not prepared to lead these kind of lines, David certainly wasn’t afraid to climb them on second. Pulling off the moves, and occasional loose hold, and is keen to come back here for more:
Four lines may not seem a heap to bag. We did have a slightly later start, but it was the sudden drop in temperature, and wind picking up, that helped us decide. Out to sea it was hit and miss as to what might befall us. On the plus side this meant the gear was packed away dry, which is always nice. Then on the walk out we stopped to check out the reason I wanted to come here. Finally the tiny Sandhill Helmet Orchid (Corybas despectans) was in bloom and showing us its true colours, and despite having a flower less than 5mm long it was a beauty:
Sandbagged 