Another weekday jaunt, and you may be wondering how I managed back to back Friday outings. Several reasons that I won’t dwell on The most important one being that with a soon to be changing job, from August onwards, Howsie will no longer have Friday’s free. At least for his first month or two. Not surprisingly we are therefore keen to make the most of the good thing while it lasts. I’d been watching the weather during the week, as you do when the location and what might be feasible relies solely on whether the heavens might open up:
Wednesday night the rain drummed on the roof. Not the usual downpour we are used to that lasts for a short period, after which the rain bank has passes over. This lasted for hours. Four days into July and some local areas have already received over half the average monthly rainfall. This includes Busselton that received its highest daily rainfall on record, for the month on July. The pluvio station has observations stretching back close to 150 years, so it was a good dump. Not surprisingly we didn’t expect perfect conditions wherever we plumped for:
The decision was made and we headed to the safest bet, the old faithful Wilyabrup. Our guess that the cracks would be seeping and some of the slabs would be trickling with water was right. But with a stiff southerly wind cutting across the coastline, the steeper faces were looking pretty good and if it stayed dry would only improve. We had no idea of what to climb. It was a slow start, and one that saw me on the sharp end first. Today I was hoping we would go lead for lead, and I aimed to go just a wee bit harder on pointy end to see how I fared:
Like most people, my physical and mental climbing state fluctuates in response to many things. My keenness to keep a tidy belay station however rarely wavers. I won’t say never. There is never a situation where never truly applies. Life is too unpredictable. Good rope work, appropriately angled and tensioned anchors, gear sorted ready for the next person to rack up, and for me climbing shoes off is all part of the ritual. Some spots have a bit more room, making it easier. The above ledge is a beauty. One we have set up on many a time:
We picked it right, the day was shaping up to be a fine one. Regardless of that we were still rugged up. After all we are in the middle of winter, so it wasn’t warm and the biting wind cut through the layers. I had my cosy buffalo on, while Howsie kept his waterproof over multiple other layers to keep the heat on the inside. At time this resulted in us heating up a tad when we were on rock. The protection when we got to the belay ledges, when we tended to be that bit more exposed to the elements, however made us grateful for the choices we made:
Today we kept moving. Despite the slow start and having a bit of a time limit set for our departure from the crag, we clocked up eight routes. Nothing super silly, but all good routes with a few more testy moments on thinner holds and occasional runouts. The way things panned out the obvious last two climbs, which would allow us to climb with packs for a quick exit, were bathed in dappled sunlight. Managing alternate leads, I was very happy. Even more so when, while it wasn’t quite warm enough for our friends to come out, we got to see them:
I say them, as there were two nestled in the same big flake, we both spotted one on each climb. They were a safe distance apart, which I say as while not common the Southwestern Carpet Python (Morelia imbricata) can display cannibalistic behaviour. One was very young and much smaller, while the above specimen was a reasonable size. We also found a shed in the flake, and above it is possible that during its recent shedding process a scale on its snout didn’t dislodge, which is why it looks a little odd:
Atop the last climb the rapid jumping movement of these half a centimetre long spiders, caught our eyes. Having very occasionally been out during our outdoor adventures I still can’t get any closer to an identification other than an undescribed Bronze Rockhopper (Euophryinae). With Howsie’s changing situation I will have to encourage a few other local climbers who during winter at least, like these spiders, are only very occasionally seen outdoors. Saying they may be fair weather climbers won’t necessarily help my cause, but it is too late now:
Sandbagged 