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:

Geez, it feels good to be able to hop in the car and drive without needing to nervously listen for the thermo fan to kick in or the warning light to alert me that things are heating up.  I’m way more alert as the driver than a passenger.  So it was nice to be driving and putting all of my attention on everything around me, and not wasting any on the possibility of an engine issue.  Such as the waning gibbous reflected in the water, as I crossed the Capel River.  Being the phase of the moon as it transitions from full to half.  This morning it was at 99% and looked particularly beautiful:

The term gibbous comes from the Latin noun gibbus, which means humped or hunched.  The word was adapted for use in the English language to describe items that are rounded or convex.  Hence a waning and waxing gibbous is a moon that is becoming less and more round, respectively.  On Friday I had suggested to Pontus I could be up for a climb today, and had suggested Welly Dam.  A physical and strenuous place to climb, which offers the sort of climbing that could result in a rounded back and hunched shoulders, called a climbers hunch:

Climbing involves lots of overhead motions, and this can result in tightness in the chest and shoulders.  This repetitive form of movement can result, in the spine being pulled out of alignment and the back then becomes curved or hunched.  I’m drifting off topic here a bit, but I have previously talked about traditional climbing, and this not only relates to placing your own protection but also to some degree the techniques used.  The surge of indoor gyms has resulted in people learning to climb routes that for the most part use these overhead movements:

Traditional climbing styles use heaps of other movements, and when climbing at Welly Dam these can be very useful.  And if side pulls, underclings, mantles, down palms, etc. are not applied the climbing here becomes much harder than it needs to be.  This may be one of the reasons people find the climbing here tough, always looking for the next overhead hold to crank down on.  I was pleased to see Pontus was making good use of these techniques.  We didn’t have the place to ourselves today and another couple who were not using them anywhere near as much were struggling:

I think it is fair to say Pontus really liked it here.  Not just the climbing style, but also the bolt spacing, explaining that it allowed him to focus on the climbing without stopping too often to clip.  It was refreshing to hear!  He quickly got used to and enjoyed the deceptive nature of the climbing.  The rock texture and colouration makes it hard to read.  At times bomber looking holds fail to impress, while holds invisible to the naked eye from below suddenly appear just when you need them.  We clocked up line after line, mostly nothing too silly in grade being his introduction to the dam, but we threw the occasional line in that started to push his limits:

Mind you I feel leaving these to a little later in the morning was a contributing factor.  Eight climbs here is a reasonable session by most people’s standard, which we managed to clock up as the other couple were still fighting their way up their third line.  We were wrapping up when Josh and Kellie turned up, with the kids in tow, having just walked the 6km river walk from their campsite.  With the climbing over Pontus hinted he may run the same track, seeing it was a nice cool day.  While my legs had finally recovered from the stairs session, I had no inclination to join him but feel I should join Lisa and hit the stairs again on Wednesday:

Another four day week.  Um, there is a risk I might start to get used to this, but it can’t last forever.  Only until I have reduced the leave I have built up.  My rationale for taking it being that I’m doing my bit to help I reduce the leave liability risk of my employer!  This suits Howsie a treat seeing he does not work on Friday’s.  Today we made good use of the opportunity to progress his 2024 challenge, at Wilyabrup.  The only concern being whether my legs would hold up.  Lisa is not content with Pilates, weights, and her Saturday morning ocean dip:

She convinced the Peppy Plungers that they could meet on Wednesday’s after work, and pound up and down the 119 steps of the Peppermint Grove Beach lookout.  Sitting atop Mount Stirling, it is the tallest peak between Bunbury and Busselton.  There is however no stopping to enjoy the view.  Once up it is time to go back down and hit repeat, her aim is to manage ten laps by April.  This week I suggested I might be keen to join, as I really do need to do amore cardio based exercise.  We did eight laps and Thursday morning I was feeling great:

Then DOMs (delayed-onset muscle soreness) started to creep in, and this morning with every step I had to take downhill my legs really were not impressed.  On the plus side, and for those following my car drama’s, it’s finally been resolved so I was able to drive this morning.  It’s only take close to four months and three different mechanics to get there.  As we walked in I pushed my complaining legs top the back of my mind and suggested we climb a few of the lesser climbed routes.  I topped out on our first route, Verbosity, as the sun crept over the land:

My calves were burning as I bridged up the initial corner, but I wasn’t giving into them.  Howsie then hit Hole World, above, and not being a route he has been on very often it did make him stop and think.  Mind you it is fair to say that the runout at the crux is a little unnerving.  My next line was one Peter recently aborted on, no doubt due to all the other routes we had done and the fact that the sun was bearing down the rock face.  I had to focus, and grunt a bit, to get up A Pocket Full of Nothing but didn’t notice how my legs felt, not once:

As I was grunting away, Pontus was quietly going up Hope, as shown above.  Learning the finer delights of trad climbing.  He is travelling about and in the areas for a while, and managed to hook up with Sam for a day.  While we didn’t know either of them, we discovered Sam and we have common acquaintances.  Numbers were exchanged later in the day in the hope of getting out on rock another time.  Boosting our options of people to get out with, just as the numbers in our local crew have started dwindle.  Down to business now, and it was time for Howsie to get serious:

As we wandered down from my lead, Mick walked in with a couple of clients.  We had a chat, as we always do, and he was excited to hear Howsie was going to try The Spin of It.  His fourth 24 for 2024, and a climb that neither of us have ever been on.  Mick didn’t give too much away, only mentioning a couple of things.  Not enough to unlock the very, very reachy crux move, from which Howsie popped off a couple of times.  But maybe third or fourth shot he managed to stick it, just as Mick was hanging over the edge showing his group how to abseil:

Howsie was beaming and rightly so, it is not a grade we often attempt and it was a storming effort.  This time for our decent I managed to save my legs, by making use of Mick’s rap line.  Back down, Howsie hinted he needs to get back on the line to get it clean.  Although not today, and he almost seemed a little surprised as I suggested another line.  Continuing with another often overlooked line, I kinda romped up The Unbolted and the Beautiful.  My arms were a bit more tired than I expected, and the feeling of achiness somehow made me also notice my legs.  In fact most of my body was starting to suggest it was time to wrap it up:

But not before one last route to even up the leads, and Rhys’s Rapid Retreat is yet another rarely climbed route.  Strangely three of the climb obscura we scaled today are my creations, I’ll admit they lend themselves more to the true traditional aficionado.  Howsie was definitely feeling it on this line, as he battled up the steeper sections.  As did I.  And listening to our bodies I suggested we didn’t climb out with packs on Hope, in search of Carpet Pythons, as we had talked about doing at the start of the morning.  No objection was raised:

The body was weary after a reasonable session at Bob’s Hollow, and Josh almost missed the chance to get out today.  Messaging me just as I getting ready to hit the sack last night.  Despite being achy, the draw of another morning out on rock was just too appealing.  He also got a surprise when I suggested a slightly later pickup time, to what he put forward.  It doesn’t happen very often.  So for a second morning, I was walking down the streets of Peppermint Grove Beach before anyone else was up and about.  And this time got to see a lovely sunrise:

Josh has yet to get to Bob’s Hollow for a climb, but he’ll need to build up a bit more upper body strength and technique to be able to cope with the steepness.  Today we were heading for more slabby routes at Moses Rocks, called the friendly crag for more reason than one.  Inviting and grippy rock, interesting lines, shorter and lower grade routes, and a wonderful backdrop that instils a comfortable aura.  As we walked along the beach a pod of dolphins surfed a wave towards the shore, jumping out the back before the waters got to shallow:

We stood and watched them for quite a while, as they slowly cruised southwards, every so often picking a wave to surf in on.  Eventually, we decided it was time to continue the hike to the crag.  And when we got to Rumpoles Rocks, the dolphins appeared once more to great us with more aquatic antics.  We again stopped to watch them.  Just as they were cruising past at a relaxed and leisurely pace, we too were in no rush.  Finally we pulled our harness on, and covered the flapper on my toe before slipping my climbing shoes on:

I had preselected the routes for today, or at least the first four.  Climbs that would provide enough of a challenge, and make Josh work on his body position and footwork.  You can’t get away with yarding up on your arms at Moses, the rock while comfortable to hold is rounded in nature.  This forces you to get into positions to make the holds more effective, otherwise you risk pumping out and possibly falling off.  I hadn’t mentioned any of this to Josh, and then he told me he had come today with the intention of putting more focus on his technique:

We racked up the four intended lines.  On each one he did really well in thinking about how to use the holds, and climb more fluidly and efficiently.  After each route we sat at the top of the cliff to sort the gear and coil the rope.  From our vantage point we also got to see the dolphins multiple times.  They were lazily swimming along the coast to the north before turning back to head south, and so it continued during the morning.  We too in a chilled way went up the crag, only to then go back down, before hitting repeat:

Josh was going well and keen to jump on another couple of routes, which meant picking slightly trickier climbs.  He watched my approach, and with a bit of encouragement and some pointers climbed them in good style.  By the time we topped out on the sixth route, his arms were jelly enough to call it.  This suited me, as I was starting to feel yesterday’s workout.  For a final time, as we went back down, the dolphins came past.  A we finished our circular journey of climbing up and walking down, they too headed off not to be seen again:

Friday morning arrived at a time that most would not have realised existed.  Lisa was still tucked up in bed, as I quietly rolled out, and went about my usual morning routine before I head out for a climb.  This included pouring two cups of tea into thermos mugs, one for me to take and one to pop on the bedside table for Lisa to sip at a more reasonable time of the morning.  Howsie chose Bob’s Hollow, for which it is worth a bit of an earlier departure, and he’d kindly offered to pick me up from home:

If he had rolled into our driveway the dogs would have kicked off, and woken not just Lisa but also the whole neighbourhood.  So I left the house a little earlier than the agreed pick-up time, and started down the street on foot.  Our aim was to be walking into the crag at sunrise.  As it was we didn’t get to see a sunrise, or any pretty morning hues, with the sky at our destination being caked in grey looming clouds.  Along the side of the track the bush was more of a low groundcover, still recovering from bushfires some years back:

The long, hot, and dry summer we have had hasn’t helped it’s recovery.  Yellowing to brown leaves showing that the vegetation was under heat stress.  Occasional limestone nodules and roots on the path meant we kept our eyes on the track, and we almost missed the above kangaroo.  It was just a meter or two of the track, and bounded off to get a bit further away from us just as we were upon it.  While we missed a chance for a closer look, by stopping before it hop away, at least we didn’t stub our toes:

There was a very slight intention to progress Howsie’s 2024, with a play on the one and only grade 24 route here.  There are however a number of 21s, 22s, and 23s here that he has never been on, climbs he didn’t manage to get on in their respective years.  Our pre-trip chat had alluded to a few 22s and one 21 that were likely candidates.  Bob’s Hollow is a steep limestone cliff, overhanging for the most part.  A very different style of climbing to our usual destinations, so before we would consider these routes there was a need to warm up:

After our warm up route, Howsie admitted to being pretty pumped and his expectations for what might occur dropped considerably.  Neither of us come here often enough, and we really aren’t used to the steep powerful routes.  In years gone by, we climbed here quite a few times a year, but in the last three years I’ve been here twice and Howsie has been maybe once.  I didn’t feel too bad on the first line and decided to hit the grade 21, a line I had never been on before.  It was steep and pumpy, and I nearly popped off a few times but somehow managed to bag it:

Howsie, to his credit, pulled the rope to give it a crack on lead.  But with an already weary body, it made him work extra hard.  Every time he fell off, and sat in the harness, he had to expend valuable energy to get back on the rock and repeat moves.  This ends up quickly sapping what stamina he had left.  The day continued like this, but he never gave up, and while we may not have bagged anything harder than that 21, he kept going.  A 22 I had not been on before drew my attention, but when I got to the steepest section it was dripping wet and I retreated:

Considering the record breaking dry and hot this summer we are experiencing, we were surprised at how much seepage was occurring.  Above you can see some plants, unfortunately weeds, taking advantage of the drip line from stalactites.  Despite the all too quickly tiring arms, and in places wet rock, we bagged eight routes and had a lot of fun.  The lower than expected grades didn’t dampen our mood.  The fine dark sand at the northern end of the crag seemed to cake everything it touched.  With the risk of the sand grains being fine enough to get through the protective sheaf of the rope:

So keeping it on the tarp was important, and each time we pulled the rope we aimed to get it to land on the tarp.  Something we managed surprisingly well.  Then midway through our morning, and while not looking were I was walking, I stubbed a toe on a root and took the top of it.  The toe that is not the root.  So for a while I had to make sure I kept not just the rope but also my foot on the tarp.  And then once I popped my climbing shoes back on, which felt comfortable enough, this enabled some form of hygiene by preventing my foot from getting any grubbier than they already were: