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:

Threats of rain, which never materialised, helped build up the moisture levels in the air this week.  It’s been a bit warm’ish but nothing too silly, although as a result of the higher humidity levels it has also been a tad sweaty.  I attempted to have a stretch on my wall midweek, but after a few laps I started to feel drained and the sticky boots were put away.  Maybe Mario worked me too hard the previous weekend, as I knocked of lead after lead.  But it is more likely my adversity to humid weather that was the culprit:

I’m not alone.  Humidity is known to result in many people feeling lethargic.  During these conditions oxygen, and also hydrogen and nitrogen, fill the air.  The upshot being our lungs have to work harder to extract the oxygen, and this is one reasons a lack of energy can creep across our bodies.  Some tips to avoid this include wear light clothing (tick); don’t exercise in the heat of the day (tick); and stay hydrated by drinking plenty of fluids including electrolytes (um…).  As Mario pointed out last weekend maybe I should drink more:

He’s not alone in telling me this, and all of those wise souls are probably right.  I’m not known to stop during a morning session on rock, to drink, eat, and/or chat.  Wanting to make the most of the contact time with rock, before it is time to pack up a head out.  This is usually before the heat of the day kicks in.  That said should a critter appear, or natural phenomena occur, I do stop and spend the time too marvel at these sights.  When others are happy to just see them in passing.  Howsie spotted the above, as Pontus, he, and I walked into Wilyabrup:

With Howsie help we have narrowed it down to a brachypterous female moth, meaning it has either undeveloped or very small wings.  This one looking undeveloped, as we couldn’t make them out at all.  Needless to say it was a flightless moth, but we haven’t been unable to pin down the family, genus, or species.  Pontus had come down from Perth again, tempted by the opportunity of three days on rock.  Based on his previous experience of being out with us, he had made an assumption that we would wrap things up by eleven or a wee bit later today:

This still allows enough playtime, and would hopefully not wear him out down too much for the next two days.  We started gently, and threw him on a mixed sport and trad route.  Seeing there were three us, for now, I brought a selection of cameras.  I suggested Howsie and Pontus made use of the epic belay ledge on Steel Wall, to set up base for two very fine lines that scale the left hand side of this impressive face.  Allowing me to do my best mountain goat impression and scoot round the rocks to get a few good angles:

I was initially a little distracted by a Bronze Rockhopper Spider (Euophyrine).  It was jumping about to get away from me, while not letting go of its prey that had no hope of escaping the spiders mandibles.  Unlike its prey the spider did eventually escape my eye, leaving me make like a mountain goat and take lots and lots of images.  Howsie started on the first line, a runout and slightly nervous trad line.  Seeing Pontus is still learning trad we thought it would be mean to throw him on that one.  In addition he too was noticing the humidity:

Quickly learning the hard way that we were not lying when we said the gneiss rock here had no porosity.  Resulting in holds becoming quite a bit less desirable when you are sweating.  It didn’t stop him taking on a grand bolted line, offering great images.  It did however result in him slipping off the next line, as he followed Howsie up.  I felt a little guilty.  I was chatting away to him, as he slapped and then slipped off the rounded holds on the steep start of this climb.  Due to the stretch of the rope that was above him, he fell all the way back down:

At least the elasticity of the rope tensioned as his feet touched the ground, so there was no harm done.  No blame was laid after all we were both chatting, and on his next and successful attempt I didn’t say too much.  Other than providing words of encouragement, to allow him to focus, as beads of sweat rolled down his face and coated his fingertips.  It was as we were wrapping up from this route that Craig finally made it.  He had told us it would be a late start for him, due to needing to get the kids off to school before he could make his way down:

Of course when Craig come to the crag, so does the thermos of tea.  It may seem strange after all this talk of being a bit warm and humid that we might want to partake in this tradition today.  But at least it can’t be said that I didn’t drink anything today.  After a refreshing cuppa, Craig and Pontus set off up a couple of lines not too far apart.  Craig picked the hardest line of the day so far, while we dropped the grade for Pontus.  That said we knew the line would test his mental strength being a trad line that can be a little tricky to protect:

Afterwards he admitted to being mentally exhausted from the route.  Finding the gear was certainly a challenge, but when he found it the placements were solid so he had been safe.  And while the grade was lower, he had also battled with the much reduced friction, further putting his nerves on edge.  In addition to being happy with the ascent that was a clean lead, he along with all of us were rewarded as we started to make our way back down.  When the above Rosenberg’s or Southern Heath Monitor (Varanus rosenbergi) made an appearance:

A bit like musical statues, as soon as we approached it froze allowing us a great view.  We then slowly backed off and found an alternative way down.  Allowing it to relax again and remain in the perfect basking location it had found.  Seeing Craig had only managed to get one route in Howsie and I found another couple of lines next to each other, bumping the grades up a bit.  The day was wearing on longer than usual, and both of us were feeling pretty hot by now. As Craig followed up it was clear he was weathering the sweaty conditions better than the rest of us.  No doubt having become conditioned to it from working up north.  Pontus however was getting very weary:

Craig now had to scamper and to be honest Pontus and Howsie were also happy to call it quits being past midday.  With his gear stashed in his pack Craig soloed up one of the easy slabs, while I managed to convince the other two we could climb out with packs, in the Hope of seeing a python.  While our local python had left a skin for us on top of the flake, I didn’t see the real thing and nor did Pontus.  Howsie, however took a bit more time to look about and spotted one buried deep in the flake.  While he missed out on the only just visibly snake hopefully Pontus managed to save a bit of energy for the next two days, but I’m not too sure:

First in best dressed.  While options abound this weekend Mario was first in.  Offering a trip to another lonely granite outcrop, buried in the vegetation at the Monadnocks Conservation Park.  This meant a longer drive and earlier start to what has occurred for some time, as well as the longest drive since the car having been fixed.  This might sound like a broken record but after such a long period of persistent issues, it is hard to put full trust that it has been sorted.  My destination, as I got up at three was Pegmatite Crag nestled just below the summit of Mount Cook.  We had arranged to meet at six, and there was hardly time to stop and sneeze although I had to take an image of the moon:

On arrival Mario remarked at the splendour of the moon, not being surprised when I told him I took a pit stop to take an image.  I waited till the morning light had started to creep into the sky, although sadly the time taken to get a crisp shot was not afforded.  The shot still manages to show the 2% waning moon.  Looking down on us with a mischievous grin, resembling a Alice in Wonderland like Cheshire cat smile.  I have previously mentioned pegmatite when Mario and I visited another crag in this area, being a holocrystalline intrusive igneous rock (https://sandbagged.blog/2023/04/02/over-the-hill/).  In layman terms it means it has cooled from its magma state slowly to form large interlocking crystals:

Mario came here some months back with Andreas.  Not too long after a recent fires were at their smouldering stage, with smoke slowly rising in some places.  The undergrowth was gone and trees had blackened bark.  This provided improved lines of sight, even so they still had a bit of trouble in locating the crag.  Surprisingly, due to our hot and dry summer, some revegetation was already underway.  Not enough to make picking out a path to get to the right general area too difficult.  However, when I said the crag was buried in the vegetation I meant it.  It is not until you are really close that it is visible.  Without knowledge of where it is you would walk straight past it:

This shows the determination of the climbing community of Perth in the day, for hunting out new locations.  This was one said to be found by ‘the oldies’.  Climbing in Perth kicked off in the mid-60s.  This general area was not looked at until the 90s with Pegmatite Crag discovered in 1999, and being fully developed with seventeen lines in less than a year.  These crags now sit idle, lost in the trees.  The new wave of climbers not having the same vent for adventure.  A bush bash to some remote crag, where you’ll find some gnarly trad lines and the occasional well-spaced bolt simply does not hold appeal to them.  The few sport lines here make use of just two bolts on a ten meter wall, and would no doubt be complained about:

It was one of these sport lines that encouraged Mario to return, a line that had alluded him on his last visit so he was keen to come back and ‘clean’ the crag.  Complaining is not something that Mario and I do when we head out.  With the short sharp hike up the slope done, we had a quick recce and got down to business.  The gear was pulled out, including my new shoes.  It was clear that my old shoes, with their holes in the rubber, would be useless on the Perth granite so I had busted out the news ones.  However, somehow I had brought two left feet.  I couldn’t recall if I had purchased one or two pairs, so was unsure if the error lay with the provider or me.  Fortunately Mario had brought extra shoes, and one of them fitted me:

Despite the name of the crag, the crystals were small making the holds on some lines hard to read.  Mario knew most of the tricks from his previous visit, so threw me on lead after lead.  This included the excellent Swain in the Wind, a great trad climb named after one of ‘the oldies’.  Chris Swain had failed to get the lead, which was then completed by the younger up and coming climbers.  As an interesting sideline being his daughter, Kate Swain, was one of the founders of the crag detailed in the post I linked above where I first mentioned pegmatite.  And the crag she had established would seem more worthy of the name Pegmatite Crag, but wasn’t discovered until fifteen years later:

It is possible that we had disturbed the above Hairy Pie-dish Beetle (Helea perforata) from its slumber in the leaf litter, where it would normally rest up during the day.  This unusually but not uncommon beetle, only found in the southwest of Western Australia, feeds on dead and decaying plant material.  The fused wing covers protect it from fangs of spiders and stingers of scorpions.  The unusual amour extends over the head, so when feeling threatened it lays flat on the ground and it hard to flip over.  We were also fascinated as it attempted to climb a vertical crack line, each time loosing grip and falling back down before going back up.  While it tackled this free solo route, I too was drawn to the line below:

The R rated line held appeal. but had me quaking in my odd shoes.  The gear was marginal, with reasonably sustained climbing.  Two half cams, with the one below being the better one, and the tiniest of wire placements was enough to egg me onwards.  Finally a reasonable spot for a mirco cam came, but I then had to run that out by several meters to a nervous mantle.  It offered all and more to keep me focused and Mario nervous, as he fed the rope out.  In fact every line we did was really engaging, interesting, diverse, and most importantly a lot of fun.  We didn’t clean up the crag completely, but managed ten lines including the one that had previously alluded Mario:

The ones we missed all being the lower grade lines, which looked reasonable but didn’t have the same aesthetic appeal.  It was however a shame that the line Mario had come back for ended up being the most contrived route of the day.  It felt they had attempted to squeeze in a bolted sport route between two obvious features that already provided great climbs.  In fact the description tells you to keep out of them, which is possible but didn’t feel natural seeing how close they were.  We wrapped up the session on what Mario described as a contrived line, shown below, as it used the same start as the classic Swain in the Wind.  I was already gassed and the sun was peeping over the top of the cliff, so I almost declined the offer:

But in his persuasive way, as he reminded me I would to anyone else, Mario convinced me to get on with it.  He was sure a specific micro cam would protect the top section, which it didn’t.  I didn’t realise I hadn’t brought the right gear with me until it was too late, resulting in another route finishing with two to three meter runout to a slopey top out.  Some say these situations are where my strength lies.  Whether that is true or not I gingerly made my way up the final moves to polish off a brilliant session at a very fine and worthy crag.  Mario remarked he was not likely to return in a hurry, but I could be tempted to come back even if just to climb the lines with a rope above me, as he had today:

With back to back days of heading out I put forward the idea of another tardy start.  The relaxed meet up time resulted me getting up close to my usual wake up time.  And I hope will prevent fatigue setting in, from the cumulative effects of back to back nights of reduced sleep.  Josh was already camping out at Hamlin Bay, and I wonder if he was thinking of the ability to have an extra-long lie in, when he cheekily suggested that if I happen to be down that way he’d be keen to get out.  There was only one choice of crag that far south:

Cosy Corner is a lonely crag that is rarely visited, but one I really like despite the short and at times broken climbs.  The setting makes this place so special, and when word got out about our plans it piqued Pontus and Sam’s interest.  And after tagging along for our climb at Welly Dam yesterday, Ari also expressed an interest to join us today.  Despite having the shortest journey, Josh still managed to be the last to arrive.  Not by too long but we waited till he arrived before walking the short ten minute approach, talking a detour to get a view of place:

The crag faces the ocean and the only way to see it in all its glory is to walk out to a headland, just past where the climbing is.  Seeing it was a first time visit for three of the crew I felt this was worthwhile.  Enabling them to soak in the sight that greeted them, and also get their bearings of where we were heading.  I also took the opportunity to give a bit of a safety talk.  We were abseiling in, and had no choice but to climb out.  There was also a three meter swell forecast, meaning the black basalt slab we would be belaying from could be waved washed:

Seeing the place from the headland, some of these issues dawned on them.  I could sense excitement, and also possibly some nerves, setting in.  With up to five of us at the base at any one time, I set up a Tyrolean traverse along the slab.  Using the end of the rap line to create a safety line, attached at three points, allowed us to access the climbs we had in mind while being attached the whole time.  This proved very worthwhile, as on occasion one of more of us got a soaking.  Below it was Pontus’s turn, as he belayed Sam.  But later on it was Sam got the biggest drenching, from head to toe:

Added to the need to take care of waves and as this place doesn’t get much attention, there is the potential for a bit of loose rock here and there.  Not that I’m trying to make the place sound unappealing, but there is a need to know and manage the risks.  It was great to see everyone took the situation seriously.  While we were here for fun, and we had that in bucket loads, we all also wanted to be safe and get home relatively unscathed.  I say it like that as, while a bit of water wouldn’t hurt us, scrapes and bruises may be expected on occasion.  But we aim to have nothing worse occur:

It’s certainly not everyone’s cup of tea, but we all loved it today.  Just being in the situation was a real buzz.  The climbing was a bonus.  The sound of the waves were somewhere between susurration and thundering.  The former word being used to describe gentle waves, taken from the Latin verb to whisper, susurrare.  And the latter word speaking loudly for itself.  As did the climbing.  On, for the most part, solid granite offering awesome holds, reached between great moves with at times imposing exposure.  While some were challenged by a climb or two, there were smiles all round:

Howsie will be happy to hear we included, in our tally today, the two most recently established routes.  I led both climbs today and am happy to report they were great fun and worthy additions.  I felt we got the grade of his line about right, but my line may be a tad under graded.  However, I wasn’t sure if it was just that my arms were tiring after the session at Welly Dam yesterday.  Sam watched me climb it, and was keen to have a crack himself.  Below he is pulling through the crux sequence, loving it.  After sampling it, he agreed it may be a bit of a sandbag.  It seems my reputation continues:

While I said recent additions, Howsie and I put the lines up on my last visit here.  And I am somewhat horrified to see that was just before the end of 2022.  Hopefully I won’t wait quite as long before my next trip here.  And after today, I feel I can add Pontus, Sam, and Ari to the list of people who would gladly return here; improving my chances of making sure I don’t ignore this place for as long as I have this time.  While the other three were feeling content, as the sun was getting close to tipping over the face, Sam was itching for one more climb.  So the two of us dropped in, allowing us to clean the soaking Tyrolean traverse and squeeze just one more route in:

Another Friday has been spent hanging about outdoors.  Howsie was keen for a quick’ish trip today as later on they would join the throngs of people on the road.  Being the start of a long weekend it was going to get busy for sure.  Despite the need to be back in a timely manner we opted for a civilised start time.  This resulted in the sun being well and truly up by the time we arrived at Welly Dam.  The air still felt cool and the shrubbery and grass was full of the movement of our feather friends, hopping and flying about catching bugs:

Last weekend Pontus was so impressed with the climbing here that he came back for more all the way from Perth, so he too added to the long weekend traffic.  A friend of his called Ari joined him.  As someone relatively new to climbing, he soon learnt why we have a bit of a love hate relationship with this place.  And as they climbed another friend, Angie, watched on.  Not quite ready to have a bash at climbing, and this is certainly not the place for beginners.  It felt a bit like the old days when we would have a bit of a crew up here:

The climbing may be hard but it is a wonderful place for a social catch up.  Today however Howsie and I were fairly focused, at least to start with.  Warming up on a couple of our regular grade 20s before he decided it was time to give T4 a go.  The only grade 24 here and a route I have tried just once.  Way back then I got to the first bolt and no further because it started to rain, and I had to retreat.  Hence I had no advice to offer beyond the first bolt, but Mario had said after a bouldery start it was surprisingly mellow in the mid-section:

Howsie bouldered up to the first bolt after which, and in its usual devious way, the walls of the quarry were not giving too much away.  Did the line go right or left? he tried both multiple times and got tantalising close to a clipping stance.  But not quite.  Each time tumbling back down.  I really thought he would run out of gas but he kept going, making so many attempts to crack the code that I lost count.  Eventually he conceded it was not going to happen today, leaving us to wonder where the ‘surprisingly mellow’ mid-section’ started:

Howsie said he still felt good, despite not managing to get too high and spending a lot of time trying.  We then wandered over to Peanut Brittle, which I noticed last weekend had lots of chalk on it, indicating someone was working it.  What I hadn’t noticed back then was all the bits of rock scattered across the ground, no doubt having been removed from the line by whoever was attempting it.  I’m glad to report they had not removed any crucial holds and the route flowed beautifully.  Meanwhile, Pontus took on Pocket Knife and on-sighted it in good style:

Howsie, still feeling good pulled the rope to give Peanut Brittle a crack on lead.  Starting well, and then getting completely shut down by a delicate move at the midway point.  And so the yo-yoing witnessed on T4 started again, but this time with less conviction.  As he attempted it I watched the birds.  The above Silvereye (Zosterops lateralis) were happy fluttering about on the rock face, as Howsie kept slipping off the rock above me.  Eventually conceding that just maybe his many attempts on T4 had drained his energy reserves:

There was only one thing to do.  Howsie and I wandered to the car, and as we waited for the kettle to boil we watched the birds chase insects on the lawns.  Mostly male eclipse Splendid Fairy-wrens (Malurus splendens), the term eclipse referring to the relatively dull plumage worn by males for a month or more in summer after breeding.  As Howsie had just experienced, Ari’s energy reserves were being drained as he followed up Pocket Knife.  Howsie’s eyes where however still sharp, but we have struggled to identify the skinks he spotted:

The closest I have come for the above one is that it may be a Pale-flecked Garden Sunskink (Lampropholis guichenoti).  Whether it was or wasn’t, the kettle had boiled and we headed back to the rock.  Howsie looked whacked, so I went back up the route and set it up as a top rope for him.  To keep him company Pontus went up alongside him on Savage Sausage Sniffer, looking good right until the end.  And just below the top is where they both hung.  Looking up trying to muster up the energy to finish their respective climbs off, which they eventually did: