With a pretty average forecast threatening to ruin any chance of outdoor fun later in the week, Howsie and I did a bit of calendar juggling to allow us to nip up the hill for a quick session on Wednesday afternoon. While inclement weather was approaching we have just had an unseasonal warm spell, so we were hoping for good conditions. This made the outing feel reminiscent of Lisa and my time in Alice Springs, when Jason and I would break up the working week with a morning climb on most Wednesdays. Life is after all for living:
Winter days in Central Australia are so often cloudless blue skies and a wonderful warm temperature, and Wednesday 15 July in the South West of Western Australia was just that. The temperature peaked just below 23 degrees in Wellington National Park, which broke the 120 year old record for the warmest July day on record. Above the sun is glittering of a large clusters of biotite mica in the quarry’s porphyritic granite, which means that we can only be starting our session on one route. One that has proven tricky most times we come back to it:
The heat was on in more ways than one, not only that but we had an audience. Being a lovely afternoon during the winter school holiday, the risk of people being about was always going to be high. While you may think this would be an impetus to perform. Once on this particular route our minds blocked everything out, focusing solely on the tricky crux section that often throws us a curveball. It did just that when I went up first, and then also when Howsie went up. He however got thrown a second curveball after the crux sequence, when a hold blew:
As if this route wasn’t hard enough already. He had to go and shave off part of a hold that is kinda important, shaving off part of his skin in the process. I was keen for a second lap, wanting to get a clean lead of the line so I could put it to bed for 2026, but I faltered once more. Like Howsie I took a reasonable whipper, but my skin remained intact. Despite feeling more worked than we should have from just one climb, with only a few hours up our sleeves it was time to move onto another line. Maybe next time we should start more wisely:
Howsie’s chosen line went much better for both of us. Then I foolishly turned the dial up another notch. Picking a climb we knew would give us grief. But we had already fallen in front of the audience, so it didn’t matter what happened now. The show continued with one big fall from me, before knuckling down to work the line. After which, as the sun crept round to light up the main wall and the clock chewed into our allocated time, Howsie opted for the safety of a rope above him. Despite all the thrills and spills, we of course had a great time:
As with any weather forecast a threat can turn into an opportunity. Watching the charts it seemed that Saturday could provide just that, with a weather window opening up. This time Rongy it was keen to get out. So we found ourselves arriving late in the morning at Wilyabrup, ensuring we gave enough time for any morning showers to have passed over. The sun was again out but unlike when I climbed at the dam with Howsie, today we were rugged up. Strong onshore winds were stirring up white capped waves and buffeting the cliffs head-on:
There were no lofty expectations today. Since his return from travels Rongy would admit to having turned into a bit of a part time climber. We started far more sensibly than Howsie and I had at the Dam. For this weekend’s foray we decided on using Rongy’s gear and my rope, a reverse of last time we came here. The only problem with that being that Mikie still has Rongy’s bolt plates in Queensland. As such for my first lead I had to resort to using wires instead of plates for the cheap Australian bolts. Making for a truly mixed trad/sport climb:
The sensible grades continued and after what Rongy described as a wobbly first lead, he was soon back to his normal confident self. For his second lead, below, he is running out the gear. Not due to over confidence but because there is nothing else that you can place. You would be hard pressed to have known that overnight it had been raining here. Added to that the onshore winds had not covered the rock in that unwanted salty spray. The walls were in awesome condition. So good that I decided to jump on a more spicy runout trad line:
It fell with ease for both of us, boosting Rongy’s confidence to the point he started eyeing up even fiercer competition. This time with the safety of fixed hangers, so there was no fiddling about with trad gear that uses up more energy. However, after passing the first two bolts his lack of climbing fitness started to show. His arms tired and his mind started to eat away at his confidence to make the next move and clip the third bolt. Several attempts later he decided to be sensible and abort the mission. Still keen to jump on this route he gave me the rope:
Cruising it to the halfway’ish ledge, it was my turn to be overly confident. I rushed a move above the next bolt only to find myself flying, and then dangling with the rope taut above me someway well below the ledge. Once back at the ledge it was time to refocus and I cruised the rest of the route. Rongy however had made the right choice to back off the lead, his arms were toasted and he had to really battle his way up on second. A bit like another part time climber, Seb, who also had to work hard to follow up a route on this steep wall a while back:
There was just enough gas left in the tank to climb out on the usual suspect, with packs on of course. Rongy opted to go second, not wanting to come unstuck. Especially with a pack on his back. I was happy to gobble up another lead in the glorious conditions, which was sadly not warm enough to lure out any reptiles. In particular a python. So I’ll end the post as I started with the sun shining of a mineral, this time a large band of alkali feldspar running through the granitic gneiss of the Wilyabrup cliffs. The rock after all, is the main attraction:
Sandbagged 