A few people at work have been keen to see what the appeal of rock is all about.  I‘ve already converted Sam, and today Mike decided to have a go.  He had confessed to being scared of heights, so had set his expectations of achieving anything quite low.  Pat, also from work, joined us for his second taste.  You may recall he joined Sam and myself for his first climb last year.  When he neglecting to tell us about his fear of high places, until he had a bit of an episode part way up the first climb (https://sandbagged.blog/2023/09/30/a-bit-too-spicy/):

Seeing Howsie had to work yesterday, which is why I went out by myself, he managed to get a day pass to join us today.  I’d given him the heads up that I was taking two newbies out, both of whom had self-confessed to being acrophobic, so not to expect too much action.  We are however on the same page, in that our trips are far more than the challenges we face on rock.  The simple pleasure of being out in nature and just having fun is the number one priority.  The climbing is a bonus, and fits in neatly with the other benefits of getting out:

Mike was a bit aggrieved at not only having to get up and out the house in the dark, but also meeting in Capel before light had truly entered the sky.  It did however allow us to watch the wisps of cloud go through their morning colour transformation, as we drove toward Wilyabrup.  From the carpark we had a bit more of a hike than usual ahead of us, as we aimed to get to The Playground and Lost Buttress.  We pondered whether to take the snorkel gear, and hearing the waves in the distance I made an executive decision.  It stayed in the car:

Our destination was the perfect place to test where Pat and Mike’s heads were today, and as I’ve said many a time climbing is both a mental and physical challenge.  This spot would allow us to progress slowly, in a fun less intense way than jumping straight onto longer roped climbs.  The approach also allowed Howsie and I to take a slightly more obstacle course type path.  Requiring rock hopping, skipping over wave washed gaps, and an airy traverse.  We could have avoided some of these obstacles, but it was a good way to get everyone focused:

We started at The Playground, partaking in a form of climbing called bouldering.  One description of this climbing style states ‘Leaving behind ropes and harnesses and just using climbing shoes and a bag of chalk over safety mats, your challenge is to climb short but tricky bouldering “problems” (a route, or sequence of moves) using balance, technique, strength, and your brain’.  We didn’t have mats as the rock has a beautiful soft bed of sand below it, and the first lesson was how to jump and/or fall off:

Memories of Pat clinging to the rock in fear came back, as his body seemed to prevent him from letting go.  Eventually he jumped and it was all good.  Then he surprised us all when he scaled the full height of the crag for the next problem.  While it was not a competition this also set the tone for Mike.  We were not sending them up anything too hard. Spending time providing tips on climbing efficiently, which was paying of. So we slowly ramped up the steepness and difficulty with each problem.  Anyone passing by would never have guessed they had an ‘extreme or irrational fear of heights’:

We of course had moments when we sat still to take in the views, and there were plenty of times when we wondered if my executive decision to leave the snorkel gear behind was the right one.  Then a set of waves would roll in and any hesitation in answering was gone.  While we didn’t go in the water, the dolphins were out.  Cruising up and down the coast the whole time.  Calves, in amongst the grownups, were being more playful and on occasion jumped out of the water.  While on the rock the grownups were the ones up to antics at The Playground:

I lost count of how many boulder problems everyone went up, but it was way more than I had expected.  And I think it was probably also more than Pat and Mike had expected, plus Pat had certainly redeemed himself from his brief episode on his first trip out.  The good thing about The Playground is it offers problems for everyone, so Howsie and I were not missing out in testing our headspace or in his case finger strength.  And today he simply wasn’t able to stick a couple of the finger locks despite many attempts, including this one:

After such a successful time bouldering, it was time to pull out the harnesses, ropes, and gear to allow Howsie to bag a few trad leads at Lost Buttress.  After which, he set up a top rope to allow Pat and Mike to have a bash at some longer routes.  Whether it was the need for all the safety gear or something else I’m not sure, but as they climbed these lines their heads seemed to holding them back.  Both of them found the routes more challenging, even though technically they were no harder than anything their had conquered while bouldering:

With plenty of encouragement and tips, as they climbed, the battle against their thoughts was won and they both made it to the top of the first climb.  I imagine that at double the height of the boulder problems, their acrophobia started to creep back to the fore.  And may also be taking hold that bit more due to tiring muscles, and brains becoming weary from suppressing their fears.  Back down any negative thoughts that may have started to creep in were washed away, by watching the dolphins and again questioning leaving the snorkel gear in the car:

For the second slightly harder climb Howsie had great fun leading, but watching him dip into his chalk bag and stop to think about the moves near the top probably made Pat and Mike also think twice.  They both gave it a crack, but the delicate moves near the top where the handholds turn to fingertip sized friction edges it was just too much.  Neither of them however panicked and that in itself was huge.  After that and not surprisingly they admitted to being mentally and physically fatigued, and happy to call it a day:

We had left some gear at the top, so Howsie got to pick one more line before we packed up.  And in answer to Pat who asked as we drove home if we had climbed enough, both Howsie and I could feel that satisfying ache in our muscles during the final ascent.  Walking out we agreed that if we had taken the snorkel gear, there wouldn’t have been enough time to have a swim anyway.  And Mike said he could now understand why we started early, as there was nowhere to hide as the sun beat down on us as we walked out:

There’s only one good reason to get up earlier than I need to on a weekday, and as you can probably guess that is to go climbing.  A few weeks back I almost made the near two hour trip to meet Pontus at a small spot just north of Pinjarra.  As it was, things went sideways and alternative plans without Pontus were made.  Today we made amends for that.  Arriving within minutes of each other to be greet by a biting wind, which was howling off the scarp, through the valley, and onwards down to the coastal plains:

This is the only place in Western Australia I can think off where you can climb on two different types of rock.  Each requiring a different climbing style.  Having been here a few times over the last ten years, I was happy for Pontus to pick the routes and take the sharp end.  He’s keen as mustard, so there were no complaints from his side about does arrangements.  To escape the wind being funnelled along the road, we started on the natural granite outcrop of Boomer Crag.  Nestled up on the side of the valley it is situated in a more sheltered location:

On a winters morning the rock on any inland crag can feel bitterly cold.  I’ve had experiences here when our fingers have become painfully numb for at least the first couple of routes.  Today despite the winds best efforts to cool things down, our continued warm and dry spell prevented that.  It has been the warmest and direst spring, summer, and so far also autumn on record.  With no rain other than a few light sprinkles since October.  The country is dry, scorched, and dusty.  On the plus side it does make for great climbing conditions:

Pontus is still relatively new to trad climbing, so the conditions were ideal.  Not needing to battle the elements, as well as deal with the mental drain of finding and placing protection.  On one line he choose, his level of trust was tested when he had to place and put full faith in what are called micro wires.  Not even that phased him and to boot for the next climb, he clocked up his hardest trad lead to date.  And did so in much better style that I did, when feeling somewhat weary and not so coordinating I slipped off into the safety of the rope:

We watched from on high, as the sun began to soak the valley below.  This is where Spring Grove Farm Cutting sits, just off the road.  After four great lines on the natural outcrop in the shade, we made our way back down to the manmade rock face before it got too toasty.  The steep granite walls offer both trad and sport routes, and we started with a bit off bolt clipping.  This allowed Pontus to get used to the rock and style required.  It was a good move as it was warming up and felt a bit sweaty, making the holds feel a little less secure:

I also feel he was not too keen to jump on the trad lines, as they required larger camming devices to be used in a rather unusual way.  To see what I mean check out this post, https://sandbagged.blog/2021/06/19/the-george-michael-effect/.  Pontus felt he would rather follow someone, after they had led one of the routes.  To allow him to see what the placements were like.  I can’t say I was surprised, being relatively new to trad climbing it was good to see him being cautious about going too extreme with inventive placements:

Today I was not in the mood to jump on lead.  I can put my finger on why, but my body just wasn’t up to it.  As such I was very pleased when Pontus was happy to keep taking on the leads, as long as they were the bolted lines.  He kept going even when the comfort levels were being tested.  The heat was being concentrated on our bodies, from the sun on our backs and also as it was being reflected off the bright rock.  Not only were our fingertips starting to get that bit more sweaty, but our toes were starting to heat up:

The black rubber on the shoes were efficiently transferring the heat, and the way climbing shoes are designed our toes were front and centre of where the heat was ending up.  We managed four lines in the sun, which evened things up nicely between the two delightful crags.  The spicy final moves on the last climb were enough for Pontus to call it quits, and I was more than happy with that.  I can see a return trip being required, so I can redeem myself on the route I slipped off.  But also to lead one of the unusual trad lines to see if I can encourage Pontus to give it a go:

Sunrise on Thursday while heading to work was magical.  Whispery cirrostratus were being illuminated in different hues.  These are high level clouds, of which there are three main types all with a prefix that comes from the Latin word cirro that means curl of hair.  Friday morning I kept my fingers crossed that Howsie and I would be greeted by another amazing sight, as we made our way to Welly Dam on Friday.  Not even minding when the lights started to flash on the railway crossing, a rare occurrence and something that would normally irk me:

Today I rationalised waiting for the train to pass would allow a bit more time for first light to really get a hold on the sky.  It was sadly not to be, our timing was good but the sky was mostly cloudless and merely became that familiar blue.  Being cloudless did however assist in making it a dry, cool, and crisp morning.  And after all the warm mornings this summer it felt strange for the rock to feel cold to touch.  Making our fingertips become numb on the first climb, a sensation that didn’t last very long at all.  Our intention had been to head to Moses Rocks for a relaxed climb:

Those plans were changed for good family reasons.  It meant we had to change our mindset, and I’m not sure Howsie had enough time for this.  Starting really well, making fine work of some tricky routes.  Then was it the intimidation of the steep walls sapping his stamina, or his mind playing games when he kept freezing at, and then falling off from. the same position on the fourth climb.  By mixing things up we managed eight routes, just in time as Howsie’s body and mind was cooked and his family arrived keen for a cooling swim in the river and a picnic:

I too was feeling a bit achy after the tougher than expected session.  Making me weigh up my plans for a more easy going Saturday, and then Craig hinted at being keen to get out.  It would have been a shame to waste one of the rare times when he has the time to hit rock.  And I also offered for him to choose the location.  He plumped for Smiths Beach, both because it is a great place but also because it is close to a lovely snorkelling spot.  You may recall two weeks back, when I introduced Sam to this place.  It is another location you have to work:

Both physically and mentally, and maybe a bit more in the latter department as the grades never get too high here.  We again missed out on a colourful sunrise, but the rock was dry and ocean seemed reasonably calm hinting the chance for a snorkel was high.  I started on a rarely climbed route, in part due to the thin and balancy start with not much gear.  In the image above it looks like there is a good rock ledge below the climb onto which you could jump if you failed to make the moves.  That is however not the case, as it slopes down to the water:

For Craig’s lead he picked another nervous route, it gets run out with some technical climbing required some distance above the available protection.  It felt like a repeat ascent from when Craig established the climb thirteen years back.  Going up and down, and eventually coming back to the ground to think about it.  All the while I was belaying from afar to get some shots, this being the reason he called it the Photographic Belayer.  I made a bit of a hash of it on second, but that didn’t stop me from jumping on another climb that rarely gets any attention:

In fact I wonder if anyone else has ever climbed it since I put this route up with Craig, on the same day we created the route he had just repeated.  The belay perch for this one is awesome.  As the waves roll in white water funnels along the ledge you are sat on.  It was all completely dry when we arrived, and was fine until I was getting close to topping out.  Then, as can happen, an unexpectedly larger wave rolled in.  It may be hard to see but the rock all round Craig’s perch is now wet, but he amazingly only had a small splash on his back:

We never intended to bag heaps of climbs.  This suited me, I was starting to feel yesterday’s workout and was happy that it was Craig’s time to lead. Convincing him to hit one of the more popular climbs here.  Above he can be seen making his way up with the rope below him, and below he’s finishing it off with the rope above him.  While I ended up leading it, he had kindly placed all the gear on lead almost to the top.  His head simply wouldn’t allow him to make the final hard moves, being mentally exhausted but as proven below still physically able, just:

Regardless of your beliefs Easter is often seen as a time for people to spend with family, and of course eat chocolate.  Not surprisingly the call out to see who may be available to get out went unanswered.  Each of my normally trusty partners in climb busy with family and/or other things.  So on Friday, while the household was dark and quiet, I slipped out the door for a solo mission up to Wellington Dam.  Visibility was below a thousand meters for parts of the landscape, being shrouded in fog and making the rising sun glow orange for that bit longer:

This made me think the bowl that Wellington Dam reservoir sits in would also be cloaked in dampness.  Surprisingly the fog was already on the rise when I arrived, having reached the peaks round the valley.  But the air was still filled with moisture, and I sweated my way up four lines before calling it quits.  I had jumped on a couple of tricky climbs but not tricky enough to account for the constant beads rolling down my face.  Being honest the main reason for rapping up after only four lines was more due to the holiday makers drifting in:

I’m not one for crowds or being observed when I climb.  It is my way of meditating and ridding myself of those lingering thoughts that can build up during everyday life.  As it was a quick solo mission, I got home early to allow some family time before we had to get dressed up for a social to celebrate a birthday.  The party was out of town, so there was no escape for me once my social cup was full.  It ended up being a long night and despite only getting approximately six hours sleep, meaning I woke up a little groggy, I was keen to get out once more:

I didn’t lie when I said the call out went unanswered.  I checked in with Pontus separately who said he was a maybe.  Having overdone things in the Perth quarries, he wanted to see how he pulled up.  Sensibly deciding it was best to rest up rather than risk turning the niggling pains into something more serious.  Josh then piped up at the last minute, when his weekend plans were scuppered.  Driftwood Bay was our target today for several reasons.  A key reason being I had never seen anyone else climb here so we would avoid the Easter climbing traffic:

Also Josh only had one very fleeting experience of this place, when we were chased way by a short, sharp, and rain loaded storm cell (https://sandbagged.blog/2022/05/28/chased-away/).  The ragged looking crag offers reasonable length climbs, a good variation of features, and a few runouts to boost the exposure levels.  The lower grades suited Josh, and also me today.  Although they felt that bit more serious, as like yesterday it was feeling humid.  I had the feeling of Déjà vu wash over me, when I got to the top of the first line dripping with sweat:

The rock also had that greasy feeling you get when the salt spray drifts landward, something we noticed was happening when we walked in.  None of this stopped us and we both thoroughly enjoyed what the place had to offer.  Josh even hinted he might be keen to have a lead, as long as it wasn’t anything too silly.  But before he took the pointy end, I racked up three fine lines.  Allowing Josh to warm up and get used to the nature of this place, while the sun crept that bit higher and begin to burn off some of the dampness:

He set off looking reasonably happy and confident, popping gear in from comfortable stances.  That was until he got to the final headwall.  Here the holds became more rounded and the footholds more slabby.  Despite being some 20m below, the change in his body language was loud and clear.  The rap line was tantalising close, offering a get out of jail of free card.  But I was pleased to see him battle with the thoughts building up in his mind.  Eventually, the temptation that lay within reach was resisted and he made the final moves and topped out:

We called it a day feeling like we had sweated enough, sadly without a skink, lizard, or snake in sight.  We were however rewarded on the walk out seeing a Rosenberg’s Monitor (Varanus rosenbergi) and Bobtail Lizard (Tiliqua rugosa).  I’m not sure if the Rosenberg’s Monitor or we looked more surprised when we came face to face, all of us immediately imitating statues.  We broke the deadlock making the first move, so we could continue our journey.  This included a pit stop at the Margaret River Chocolate Company, where we loaded up with the obvious to help reduce the busy delivery schedule of the Easter Bunny:

On Thursday the plans that had been laid for Friday were scuppered.  Howsie had fallen victim to some unwanted lurgy.  My mind was however already prepared for heading out somewhere, as opposed to be stuck in front of a computer living the real life version of Utopia.  Alternative plans were solidified after a few quick messages with Howsie.  I may have been messaging him to make him jealous or more likely to test just how sick he really was.  Trying to enticing him to head out, after all he may have only had manflu.  He stuck to his guns:

As such I went solo and had a slightly later start, allowing me to avoid the worse of the dawn period when kangaroos can suddenly appear from nowhere for much of the journey.  The sun was already well above the horizon as I rolled down the dusty and corrugated dirt track into Wilyabrup.  The original plan for today was to head to Moses Rocks, which would have meant fairly cruisy and relaxed routes.  Instead I was now drawn to check out a possible new line at the main cliffs of Wilyabrup, one that looked a little too tricky to try ground up with no inspection:

In addition to trying the new line, I did my usual routine of running up six lines twice.  I jumped on the possible route after four other lines, so was a little worn down.  So while I couldn’t pull the moves, it seemed climbable as a fully trad line.  If I did manage to unlock it on a clean ascent, which I am certainly not confident of in my current form, it would probably be the hardest route I have ever climbed.  It’s now playing on my mind as I wonder if I am capable or not.  So we shall see if I am committed enough to project it, something I do not normally do.  I did however persist, after seeing all the snake skins, and was successful in finding my scaly friend:

One of the reasons I was keen for a less strenuous session on Friday, was that Sam and I had organised to head to Smiths Beach on Saturday.  In contrast to Moses Rocks this is not a place to climb when you are weary.  And is certainly not everyone’s cup of tea by a long chalk, but Sam was keen to see what it had to offer.  My hopes were hinging on him loving it.  That way, as Mario had kindly offered a few weeks back for me, I could kick back and second up the routes.  Having the safety of a rope above me would mean I would not need to keep my mental state in check to the same degree:

It was again a bit of a later start.  This was a little risky in view of the orientation of the cliffs, meaning it gets the sun from early on.  But again Sam, hopefully leading everything today and as such spending more time on the routes, would have to battle with that more than I would.  As it was, while we climbed in the sun the whole morning the temperature was never too bad.  And even better Sam lapped the place up, and was more than happy when I offered him lead after lead.  I have after all led all the routes, many countless times before, and it is so much more fun to unlock a climbs secrets on lead:

The only negative with this place, is that I rarely see any creatures of interest.  The Purple Rock Crab (Leptograpsus variegatusis) is about as good as it gets.  It is however pretty cool when you find them half way up a rock face as this one was, leaving you wondering why they bothered to go so far up.  These crabs are also known as Purple Swift-footed Shore Crabs, but this one wasn’t moving at all.  Not even after Sam had placed the cam and moved on.  Allowing me to take a snap, before removing the contraption that had so rudely interrupted what was probably a very relaxing morning for the crab:

Sam was moving reasonably fast and thoroughly enjoyed five fine lines on Harbour wall.  The rounded holds and need to at times trust friction, and not much else to stay on the wall, didn’t faze him.  The area is rarely visited, so on occasion the surface of the rock can be a bit gritty.  This resulted in the occasional foot slipping off, before Sam composing himself.  Harbour wall is however tamer than the pièce de résistance of Smiths Beach, being Camelot Wall.  This wall has holds just as rounded but the cracks are that bit more flared, and all of this is thrown at you on a steeper wall:

While I was still enjoying the stress free experience of seconding the routes, I did wonder whether I should have offered to have a lead.  Especially as it became clear that having taken on lead after lead was starting to drain Sam’s stamina.  Just when the routes were getting that bit more gnarly, and the intensity of the sun was starting to increase.  But he seemed to be enjoying the challenge digging deep and managed to battle his way up two lines on this wall.  With each one taking him close to half an hour to complete, with what seemed to be an almost continual audience, as people out for a hike stopped and observed our antics: