After having missed out on joining me at the Northern Blocks last Saturday, Craig was keen to make appearance on rock this week. Something that has sadly become a rare occurrence in more recent years. His tea delivery service has been sorely missed! David and Howsie were keen to, so we set up a chat group in which I gave daily updates of where we would have most luck in staying dry. It’s been another fickle week. Heading inland to Welly Dam looked the most promising, for which the closest weather station predicted a cold and crisp morning:
Craig isn’t overly keen with being cold, he doesn’t function too well in it. Added to that, having not climbed a whole heap, his sights were set on something more relaxing. As it was the mercury dipped to minus 1.5 degrees up the hill this morning, feeling like minus 3.7. So we may have been lucky to have seen ice encrusted vegetation if we had gone inland. Something Howsie agreed with me as being a rarity in our general area. But it was not to be. Late Friday the synoptic charts went from predicting a slightly sodden to mostly clear coast:
While the coats was clear the only question left was which crag. Craig got dibs, picking the friendly Moses Rocks. Keen for a bit of ‘atmosphere’, which we were likely to get seeing the swell was again up there. I wondered at this point if I should have got Craig to bring his rack, so his gear instead of mine could get salt encrusted. However, the two flasks of tea that filled his pack were more than enough forgiveness. The waves may have been, as Lisa would say, very crashy. Fortunately for my gear the spray was kept at bay by a light offshore breeze:
We didn’t completely escape the cold, if you ask Howise and Craig. They were both rugged up to the nines, from head to foot. Like onions they were wearing layer upon layer, and only I braved the elements with just one layer on and my toes fully exposed in sandals. It may have been in the lowly single digits as we walked in, but it really wasn’t that bad. And better still the rock seemed to have held on to some heat, meaning our finger tips never numbed. Craig was however not too impressed with the wet rock, as can be seen a few images up:
Mind you the route was the one he chose, after I had strongly encouraged him to take the first lead. He seemed hesitant but I didn’t give him a huge amount of choice, and was pleased that Howsie didn’t step in to save Craig from his nerves. After all they say that the best way for ‘getting back on the bike’, is to dive straight in. And that he did, needing to have a little talk to himself a few times as he navigated his way round the wet holds, as much as possible. Afterward saying that at least the rock on other routes we hit would feel great after that:
It was indeed the only wet line, which Howsie was also pleased about as he was hoping to take on a few of the more testy lines. For his first route he needed to keep a calm head and maintain focus on what were drier but far smaller holds. Thinking I might get away without leading, it seems what goes around come around. When Craig hinted, not as strongly as I did to him, that it was my turn. Nursing my tendons after last weekend I picked a sensible route, and as I climbed I looked down and hinted to Howsie that it was time to pour the first cuppa:
Not just a hot brew was served up, but they came with biccies. How decadent! It was all too easy to slip into chill mode and kick back. This certainly happened for a while, until I made use of a few broody looking clouds that seemed to be inching their way towards us. Getting Craig to step on it and bag his next lead, so Howsie wouldn’t have to climb on wet rock. It worked a treat, as Craig sailed up feeling much more relaxed and in control. This was when David rocked up, with errands to run he decided a quick drop in for a chat was all he could manage:
It was however timely, as Howsie was about to do something only I have done. Climb a particular bolted route in true gritstone style. This meant avoiding the bolts and only using what little trad gear is available. It goes, and I know as I have done it several times. But it is a real head test, the sort of situation that I knew Howsie froths over. A couple of images up you’ll see him working his was already a good distance above his gear, with still several delicate moves and meters before better holds and gear arrives. Froth he did, and loved it:
I snuck in a quick easy line, which didn’t leave Craig much choice for his third climb. He wasn’t keen and walked away from the only obvious choice. That was until I sneakily did a stick clip of the high first carrot bolt with a wire, while standing on a boulder. A trick Rongy had to use many years back when we climbed in the Blue Mountains, and one I didn’t think I would ever need to use until today. I wasn’t sure if Craig was pleased with me, but he went up all the same. Making a bit of a meal of the top out, until he found the big holds that lay out of sight:
As David had to leave us, we still had time for one more line. Howsie was keen to jump on a very unusual climb for our area, and as he had done all morning lapped it up. In fact I can say the same for Craig. It is no mean feat to come out and jump on the sharp end for three worthy lines after such a long absence on rock. The weather held off, the tea and biccies went down a treat, the atmosphere was epic, and the company was great. So while the friction of the rock lived up to what we expect of Moses Rocks, and despite my at times slightly forceful nudging, there was not even a hint of a fraction too much friction between us:
Sandbagged 