A late phone call, as opposed to a message, from Howsie could only mean one thing. Our planned trip out on Friday was off the table. I had previously also drawn a blank when asking the wider group if anyone was available on the weekend. Um, what to do. Then shortly after Howsie’s call, I got a message from a number that was not in my contact list. Asking if I was free for a climb. This is an unusual thing to happen to me, as I generally only communicate with people in my contacts. It took me a moment to realise it was Peter, whose contact I had lost when a close encounter with a king wave killed my phone:
I hadn’t heard from him since January, when true to 2024, Howsie, he, and I attempted a steep and pumpy grade 24 called Grunge Metal at the Terrace. In fact I have only climbed with Peter twice, both times in January this year. And if one thing sticks in my mind about those experiences, is that he climbs a solid grade with a calm head. Making things look relatively smooth and easy. Therefore, when he suggested Bob’s Hollow my message back may have appeared calm, but my head was bouncing about wondering what lines he might have in mind:
He is not one for early starts, finding me at the start of the walk track a bit before our agreed and uncharacteristic late time of 8am. Two cars were already there. Eight women were kitting up for a hike, heading approx. 22km to the south on the Cape to Cape track. This was a bit over how far Lisa and her fellow Peppy Plungers hiked on Friday. When they completed the 20km Coastrek event from the Naturaliste Lighthouse to Dunsborough. Rewarded with a magical display of whale antics. Unlike what any of them had seen before and lasting the entire hike:
Another car pulled up. It wasn’t Peter. Two climbers from Perth got out, and I wondered how busy it may get today. One reason I like first light starts on rock, is we generally have the place to ourselves for quite a while. And are leaving, with our minds and bodies satisfied with the climbs we have done, before there is the chance for the place to fill up. Peter rolled in as they were about to walk in, and I heard one of them say ‘I know him, I’ve seen him climb at the gym and he climbs strong’. So it is not just me that thinks that:
Hiking in during daylight allowed me to scour the track. There was not a hint of an orchid to be seen, either in flower or spent. At Manea Park, in Bunbury, The Leopard Orchids (Thelymitra benthamiana) are out, and last year they were one of the last to flower. A sign that the great orchid hunt of 2024 may be coming to a close. I have also heard the mercury will rise into the thirties for most of next week. The forecaster on the radio even went as far as to suggest we may not get any more rain, of note, until Autumn 2025. Some five to six months away:
As such this post is going to be getting back to rock. I know there is, at least, one person out there eager to hear what routes we jumped on. Something that was also on my mind as we arrived at the mighty limestone cliffs. A warm up was in order. Something not too silly, to prepare the body for what may lie ahead. I suggested Peter jump on Escalade De Rasoir, a grade 18 with an, unusual for Bob’s, rising leftward traverse on mostly slabby territory. Saving the punch till the end, when you have to head straight up a steepening face on smaller holds:
Before leaving the deck Peter said he hadn’t been outdoors to climb since May, so wasn’t sure how it would go today. I do however know that he is a regular at the climbing wall, so has been leading indoors to keep his body fit and mind sharp. He did however have to ponder how to complete the first route. In his usual manner finding a stance to calmly scope what lay in front of him. And when ready, launching into the sequence in a relaxed and smooth way. Above him, in the second image, you may be able to see a Nankeen Kestrel (Falco cenchroides):
The sound of the kestrels, a high pitched chattering kee-kee-kee, could be heard most of the day. I observed their movements with interest, as they are known to nest on the cliffs. My focus was however diverted when I jumped on Juggernaut. Its first bolt is 20m up, and the insitu rope slings have been removed. We however had slings, allowing me to climb it while placing my own gear, see the third image. As I was being lowered down after my lead, Angus and Joel were starting up the route we had started on. I took a sneaky image with Angus in a red top, just getting going on the traverse:
They were the guys who had walked in ahead of us. Very soon four became more, while Peter started up the route more people arrived. Check out the exposure on Juggernaut in the fifth image. It only gets grade 17 in my guidebook. The crag however suggests 18, which is probably fair. Peter relished the steep three dimensional climbing, having no memory of doing it before. Many people pass this line by, there loss I say. The next line to fall has no name, and again gets very little attention. The crag gives it 18, until you look at the comments that indicate it is a sandbag and should be 19:
Maybe people should not rely on technology so much, and go back to the original information sources. My guidebook, as do all past ones, gives it 19. As Peter started on this line the Westpac Lifesaver Rescue Helicopter flew by, seeming to get much closer that it would normally. I couldn’t resist a second image of him on the route as it started to steepen up. I started to feel my arms at that part of the climb. So when it was suggested we could have a mileage day, indicting lower grades, that sounded good. That was until Mixed Grill was suggested as the next route, a route I’ve only been on once with Craig way back in 2006 or 7:
My memory was of it being steep, pumpy, and with sharp holds. All of which are true, but it is also epic and the way things fell Peter would take the grade 22 pitch. Plus after I worked the first pitch at grade 20, I would have a great hanging stance. Due to our later start I took over Craig’s job. Bringing a flask of tea, which tickled Peter’s fancy. So before we started we had a cuppa and rest. Once at the hanging belay I could see the crag was filling up, action was occurring on four lines to the left, in addition to two other parties at our end. Peter began up the second pitch, as Angus worked Shaved Cats to my right and I got busy with my camera:
I could hear the distant call of kestrels as Peter climbed. A pair is known to sometimes nest on the second pitch of this route. They breed between August and December so we were taking a bit of a risk, but I hadn’t observed any signs they were on the line. If there had been a nest, they would certainly have let us know about it. Swooping at us and getting within inches to ward us off. I’ve only experienced it once before in Alice Springs, and it puts the shivers up you. I managed a clean second, and Peter kindly said I made it look smooth. My arms were however tiring, and my mind ached even more when he suggested Dependence Day next:
Another grade 22 and my lead this time, so there was no getting out of it. He has the same ability I have, to encourage people to go for it. I had a good memory of the route and what lay ahead. So found myself on the floppy end, heading up what I knew would be a sustained climb with a tricky finish. I surprised myself, making a relatively smooth ascent despite my complaining arms. After which Peter still had gas in the tank, as mine was starting to ebb. As the sun was reaching further over the cliff, we hugged the last remaining shade on Black Lung and finally Constructive Vandalism both at grade 21. With bees filling the air above:
The warmth of the sun was waking up a big hive on this part of the crag just above the anchors, and the aerial activity was on the rise. Maybe we were too focused, or they were not concerned about our presence. Either way we avoided any close encounters, which we were pleased about. Satisfied with our tally of 160m, at an average grade of 20 over eight routes. We were content to leave the crowds behind and enjoy the walk back. Along the way we occasionally stopped to observe aerial displays by multiple kestrels, with as many as four at a time. Just before we got to the cars we found a spot with a view to enjoy a welcome and well deserved second cuppa:
Sandbagged 