Yesterday we caught up with some friends who we hadn’t seen for too long, as we made some time for a kinda farewell catch-up for Tom who would soon be heading overseas.  It was great to see everyone, and with luck I might get to have a climb with Tom in a few weeks as his departure date looms.  All going well the timing should coincide with my plans to finally head to Perth and spend a couple of days climbing with Mario.  Mario also happened to be down south this weekend, climbing up at Welly Dam and I was quietly hoping he’d give my new line Peanut Brittle a crack and be the second person to get it clean:

I didn’t join Mario yesterday as we were busy, nor today as I had committed to head out with Ash.  Another person with an overseas departure getting closer and closer.  So what with the trip to Perth planned, the choice was easy and Ash and I headed out to the Northern Blocks at Wilyabrup.  It was another glorious morning to be out and about and watch the sky wake up.  It was however a bit more of a struggle than usual to get up.  Last night Elseya and her mate, who as down from Perth, fancied a night out on the town.  And they asked if we were able to help out with lifts.  We’ve encouraged Elseya to be sensible in such situation and have offered to help when she has asked:

This time Lisa kindly offered to take on the taxi service, knowing that I was planning for an early start in the morning.  It was a restless night with the poodles kicking off at 10pm and then again 2:30am as the car rolled in and out.  I was however thankful and certainly managed to get more sleep than Lisa did.  It seems Ash too had struggled a bit with the start time, but had managed to get up and out.  Waiting for me as I rolled into the driveway as the deep reds in the sky were turning into dark oranges.  Then as we arrived at the carpark the yellows started to creep in, lingering that bit longer than normal and stretching all the way to the opposite horizon from the sunrise:

With both of us being that little bit more lethargic I did wonder about my choice of crag today.  My rationale had been to pick a place Ash hadn’t climbed at before, but the walls are that bit steeper and the climbing more technical and sustained.  While there were very few easier lines, there was no turning back and we simply had to dig a bit deeper.  Both on account of the general difficulty of the routes and both of our slightly off-kilter mindset.  The northerly wind felt cold and the clouds failed to lift and disperse, so the sun remained hidden from view.  We were however soon feeling pretty warm, as we jumped on the rock and started to climb:

Generating our own heat as out muscles needed to work pretty hard, and then the blood pumped round the body that bit quicker heling to circulate the warmth.  Although after each climb, as we stood about enjoying the view and straining our eyes to look for dolphins that we never managed to spot, the cold crept back in.  Truth-be-told I reckon we did really well, leading these routes one after another certainly made me focus and work.  Ash was again happy to be on second, and even more so as he followed me up the lines.  He thoroughly enjoyed them and managed to get clean ascents, but also declared he would never have led:

Never is however a word that we should use with caution, a bit like always.  Terms commonly used in moments that we are not thinking straight, and that can quickly escalate emotions.  They are however words that rarely hold truth in the way they are used.  I’ll remind Ash of that one day, after his time overseas, when I encourage him to have a bash at leading one of the routes here.  Four climbs in and our bodies were happy to dial things back, and jump on a couple of the easier lines.  And as we made the decision the clouds seemed to, all of a sudden, break up and let the sun through.  The next line was Missing Frog, but what was missing as Ash came down the rap line was a lead rope on his back:

Due to a bit of poor communication we both ended up scrambling to the top of the cliff different ways to find the lead rope.  But I was pleased to have gone up the way I did, when I spotted this beautiful green Praying Mantis.  There are approx. 160 known species in Australia and I have spent a lot of time trawling through many of them, unsuccessfully.  It seemed like it could be an Australian Green Mantis (Orthodera ministralis), the colouration and length seemed right.  But, a distinguish feature of this species is the thorax is wider than the head, and that was definitely not the case.  So I am at a bit of a loss, and have not been able to identify it:

We found the rope, and climbed the line but the frog remained missing.  One day I’ll have to quiz Kym as to how he came up with the name, my theory being that he could hear but not see a frog when he first climbed the route.  The morning was wrapped up on the classic Banana Split.  Another lower grade route that seems so fun an innocent until it spits you out from the comfort of a chimney onto a steep face with a long drop below your feet, and it certainly freaked Ash out.  Not so much that it has put him off considering another trip out, and it seems he may be keen to make time for one more foray on rock before he heads off:

Today was back to getting up and heading out the door in darkness.  While I could complain that I needed to stay that little bit more alert driving out at this time, to avoid the kangaroos.  On the plus side it is the time of day that I am most likely to see a Brush-tailed Phascogale (Phascogale wambenger).  Every time I have been lucky to spot one, like I was today, I have brought the car to a standstill and then watched it almost do a bit of a dance, as if performing in the light flooding out of the headlights.  After which it scampers off to the verge and is lost from vision in the vegetation:

I wonder if the dance is its normal reaction for when it senses danger, as they have been reported to signalling danger by tapping their front limbs.  Or maybe the performance is the critter making the most of its short life.  They live for one to three years, but most males do not even make it past one year.  The reason being that they die after reproducing.  One time I might be lucky to take a video of the performing Phascogale, although at such an early time of the day it is unlikely to be very clear.   A bit like most of today’s photography:

In contrast to yesterday, today the sky was covered with a grey woolly blanket of clouds.  With not a hint of a break in the monotony, which stretched the whole was to the horizon in every direction.  I could again complain but I won’t as my taxi service today was picking up Ash on the way through to head to Moses Rocks, and a day out here is always good to lift the spirits and make you feel good about life no matter how grey the day may be.  It has been a while since we last caught up, as he has been travelling about having some amazing adventures:

One of them was a climbing trip to Thailand, a place I have not been too but really should make an effort to get to one day.  The first opportunity I had to go there was way back in the 90’s, but the sport climbing wasn’t enough to draw me away from the trad climbing of the British Isles.  My aversion to clipping bolts is well and truly behind me now, so I could be convinced to head there if the chance came by.  Despite Ash getting his leading head on in Thailand, today he was happy to stick with seconding and simply following me up whatever.  And he know I certainly won’t complain when I’m offered the lead:

I was feeling good on rock today, and relished being on the sharp end.  And so it was that there was a lot of top down photography going on.  This probably suited the grey day when the backdrop isn’t as a jaw dropping as it could be.  You may also notice a couple of images in which Ash is grimacing and/or has a look of extreme focus.  This happened as he grappled with the surprising variety of features for such a small crag.  Including insecure slopey foot and hand holds, the occasional hand jam and finger lock to pull through, and then the above wide crack in which he buried himself as far as he could physically go:

On most routes he pulled at least one look of concentration.  Not that he was complaining and he was obviously having a ball, as he sung his way up the lines only stopping when he had to focus that bit harder.  This also allowed me to gobbled up one route after another, jumping on the next as soon as we had scrambled back down.  We marched on at this pretty solid pace, one that would only have been slowed down if Ash had jumped on a lead or too.  I wouldn’t have complained if he did.  Although we would not have managed to get in as many routes as we did before the water droplets that made up the clouds grew too big to be suspended in the sky:

The droplets finally gave into gravity signalled that it was time to wrap things up, and at a time that seemed about right for us.  We were running out of routes that would be reasonable, both for me to lead after all we had done and for Ash to follow up.  His body was hinting signs of being sufficiently weary and satisfied, and I could hardly whinge after bagging so many fun routes.  As the droplets fell I could not help but think that we have not had much of an autumn, what with the frequency of the cold fronts that have been rolling in.  Maybe as a result of the dampness I’ve noticed a few fungi popping up:

The above was on the path we walked out on, I’m not really convinced but the closest identification I can find is a Slimy Yellow Cortina (Cortinarius sinapicolor).  The rain abated as we took a slow and steady pace along the final stretch being the soft sandy beach, which worked our legs that last bit before we got to the carpark.  Dropping Ash back, my route home takes me right past the Ambergate Nature Reserve where I simply couldn’t resists a quick stickybeak.  And just like yesterday there were plentiful Bunny Orchids, but not what I was hoping for.  However, after such a great morning out I don’t have any complaints:

I was torn today, whether to use my window of opportunity to go orchid hunting or play on a cliff.  I had two plus hours up my sleeve in-between dropping off and then needing to pick up Lisa and Elseya, who were going for a wine and dine experience.  It really is not something I would enjoy, but I was more than happy to be their taxi driver for the day.  Allowing them to enjoy the wine sampling without the worry about transport.  They had picked what is claimed to be the first vineyard and winery to be established in the region.  It started life in the same year I did, so I was sure there would be some good vintages for them to sample:

In May there are only a few orchid species out, but not having gone hunting this early in the season before this includes a few that I have not as yet seen.  This includes the Leafless, Hare, and Easter Bunny orchid, and in one of my older orchid books there was a place just twenty odd minutes down the road in which all three were claimed to occur.  However, just five minutes away was Wilyabrup and the taste of rock won me over.  The forecast wasn’t great so I thought it might be quiet.  You might notice some ropes in the image below, and seeing I was the only person here someone or a group had no doubt accidentally left the gear behind:

Top rope soloing was the order of the day.  Tallying up the time to drive here, walk-in, setup, and then need to repeat it all in reverse, I reckoned that I had an hour and half to crank a few lines.  I picked the walls of Dolphin Smiles and Hope, allowing one anchor to service the four routes I had in mind.  Nothing too hard, as I have started to pull plastic on my home wall again and Thursday’s session had felt a tad hard, and I was still a little sore today.  Starting on the Dolphin Smiles wall I kept my eye on the ocean, but there were no dolphins were to be seen:

I then swung the rope round onto Hope wall.  Quietly wishing to see, and very happy when I did spot, our resident Carpet Python. This time he was snuggled up on top of the flake of Hope soaking in the warmth from the sun.  I thought he would slink deeper behind the flake, so took this video as he turned his head, buried it under its body, and then just lay there.  I went past the snoozing snake eight times in all, as I went down on abseiling, stopping for a look, and then climbed up. and again stopped for a look.  With two laps on both routes:

The whole time he just lay there, not minding me and even allowing me to get up close and personal.  So close I could see his beady eye peering back at me from between the folds of his body.  There was a distinct lump in his body and no doubt he had recently fed.  Not that that is why he would not have slithered away from this annoying creature that kept coming back and staring in awe at him.  I did however refrain from picking up and handling him, which I could so easily have done and really don’t think he would have tried to fight me off:

Not that I too was lazing about, but I was happy with just four climbs today.  Two climbs and four laps less than what I would normally try to get in.  Not only were my arms feeling it from the session on my indoor wall, but my legs were a bit also a “tree-trunky”.  I’ve decided that, what with my sedentary job, I really do not get enough cardio exercise.  There are the walk-ins for the climbs but there are never too long, other than for the not very often trip to Perth or the South Coast to climb with Mario or Kym.  So on Friday after work I went out for a 20km’ísh bike ride, which certainly felt enough for me to start with:

That said I did get one last sneaky top rope in.  There are some bolts that appeared a few years back on the Hope Wall, and no one has claimed responsibility on the climbing forums.  If I do update the local climbing guide, I thought I better see what the line was like so I could at least mention it.  Pointless is probably the only word I can think of, and needless to say one lap was enough to come to that conclusion.  After which I started to pack up, while being watched carefully by the above King Skink.  And unlike the snake this fella was not so keen on my presence and certainly did not tolerate me when I tried to get closer:

I was ready to roll and pick the girls up when I saw a message from Lisa to say that I had an extra half an hour to kill.  Enabling me to stopped at what looked like a possibly orchidy location, as I drove out from the crag.  Sure enough Bunny Orchids were about, but not the Easter Bunny and nor the Leafless or Hare orchids.  It was still fun looking for them and I also noticed loads of basal leaves, a sign that this may be a place worth coming back too soon.  I arrived at the winery just as Lisa and Elseya were about done.  They too were feeling very satisfied from the amazing food, the different wines served came with each of the five courses, and their choice of vintages to takeaway:

For me establishing ground-up first ascents is the best way to climb, having absolutely no knowledge of what lies above other than the assumptions you make from what you can see from below.  Tying in, racking up and then setting off with all the uncertainty of whether it can be protected, what the rock quality is like, how sustained and hard it may be, and indeed whether you are mentally and/or physically capable of getting up the line.  Ground-up is a traditional style and attitude to climbing, and one I cut my teeth on in the UK.  Then when I came to Australia came the opportunity to add to the extra excitement of ground-up first ascents:

I have been lucky to have lived in places where there has been an abundance of rock with no or limited record of any routes being established.  Alice Springs and the South West, and on occasion the South Coast, of Western Australia have provided ample opportunity to establish new climbs.  And I have probably climbed and named between close to a couple of hundred routes.  It’s certainly not everyone’s cup of tea, and most will want the security of having checked the guidebook to read up on the route before attempting it.  And even then some people will go an extra step of popping  a rope down the line to further check it out, taking away the surprise of what is to come:

It is possibly my approach to, and passion for, climbing that led me to write a guidebook for climbing both at Alice Springs and the South West of Western Australia, and sadly both of these guides are now out of print.  It is not a case of simply reprinting them, in part as there have been changes in both areas that have resulted in some crags no longer being accessible, for both social and cultural reasons.  Nothing new and if you are keen to read about some of the trials and tribulations linked to climbing that circle round every so often check out this post https://sandbagged.blog/2019/12/29/timeless-issues/.  Plus there are the new routes that have been created since the guides were written:

Not that there are new routes here that are not in the current guide, Lost Buttress was one of the places I was lucky to help establish.  And I was surprised to find out it is a place that Craig has never been too.  So when the opportunity came up to snag a morning out on rock together, I steered the group here.  As Craig has so few chances of getting out, even the threat of rain didn’t stop us.  And as can be seen above we had to climb in the rain, at least for the start of the day.  Again it is not something that is everyone’s cup of tea, but both Craig and I are quite OK with making the best of changing conditions.  I did wonder however if Josh and Sandra would be of like mind, and was pleasantly surprised when they too turned up:

The reward being that Craig brought two flasks of tea, so as shown above, in-between the climbing we had a well-deserved and very welcome hot brew.  We set up a couple of ropes for Josh and Sandra so they could enjoy the climbs without the thrill or was it  fear of needing to lead anything.  But Craig and I went lead for lead, I was a little surprised at this as last time he was happy to have a rope above him.  I’m sure he didn’t regret his decision, but there was at least one nervous moment on the climb below.  Physically he was more than capable, but he had to battle with his head before making the very committing step out away from the comfort of the corner, and traverse out above the big and airy feeling roof:

I’m also standing on a metaphorical edge at the moment, needing to make a decision about whether to dive back into the climbing guide for the South West.  It’ll need a rework, mostly because we have lost access to one climbing area.  That is a whole story in itself with lots of history behind it, although there is probably little point in digging all that up in the revised guide.  Then there are the new routes, not that there has been too much activity since the guide was published in 2016.  I have been involved in putting up most of the new climbs in the area, and truth be told we have pretty well climbed out most of the rock.  It would however be good to see the new lines in print, so I am tempted to step back into editing the guide:

A bit like the last, near, eight years since I wrote the guide.  Today’s time for climbing was coming to a close remarkably quickly.  So while the sky seemed to be clearing up nicely it was time to drop the ropes back to the base for the last time.  Craig and I managed six fun routes, and he bagged three very good ground-up ascents.  Meanwhile, Sandra and Josh had enjoyed four routes, with the exposed and steep finale of the last line shown above providing plenty of excitement for them.  Maybe in part due to tiring muscles, which probably resulted in their heads making them doubt whether they were capable of making the final moves:

There was still tea in the flasks, so a quick brew was in order while we sorted through the mishmash of gear.  Josh headed down to the ocean for his customary dip in the water, as Craig and I stuffed our packs with unfortunately still damp gear.  Meaning we would need to drape the ropes and hang the gear back at our homes, a price that was worth paying after another great morning out with such a specular backdrop.  Everyone seemed to be fumbling about taking their time, as if they were not really wanting to leave, so my eyes started to drift towards a fun looking boulder and Craig and I just couldn’t resist:

I should have known that I wouldn’t survive the whole weekend with a desire and need to get outdoors.  Maybe I could have, but today I really needed to empty my head of all the thoughts rattling round inside and bumbling about at home just was not going to help me achieve that.  Lisa’s head was also filled, but sadly hers was brimming over with the numbing ache of a migraine.  As such the idea of Lisa getting out for a walk was well and truly off the cards, and so I was committed to heading out by myself whether for a walk or climb:

Yesterday afternoon Sarah sent me some great images of the resident Carpet Python that we so often see on two particular climbs that are next to each other at Wilyabrup.  This time it was out in full and not, as we normally spot it, hiding in the flakes and cracks.  She had snuck in a midday climb with Rongy, and with the warm sun on the crag the python had ventured out.  This resulted in messages flying about, and my solo mission was being swayed towards a solo climb on the lines they had been climbing in the hope of seeing the python out and about:

Then Rongy hinted that he was free in the morning and could be encouraged to get out.  We plumped for Castle Rock, and as the water there stays clear for much longer than at my local beach I considered suggesting to take snorkel gear.  In the end I decided against that, and while the water looked very clear we both agreed it probably would have felt a tad chilly.  It seemed that fish were taunting us and suggesting we had made the wrong decision, as they schooled just off the rocks and in the image below one is even jumping out of the water:

We instead focused on the climbing, picking off the easier routes one by one.  And even some of those physically and mentally challenged us.  Leading me to question whether some of my routes here were sandbags, or was it simply that I was weary today.  You may be thinking that I should be from my two days out during the week.  However, the weariness was more emotional and a result of having been out last night in what, for me, was an uncomfortable social setting for longer than I would normally cope with:

I’m definitely comfortable in my own skin, and initially this can come across as suggesting I am a pretty social person. However, I’d suggest and it probably fair to say that I have a degree of social phobia and sensory processing limitations.  As such it doesn’t take long before my social bucket fills up, and when it starts overflowing it can take some time to reset myself.  So despite being a relatively short and sharp trip, I was very grateful for the morning out and it definitely helped to blow the tangled cobwebs from my head:

A morning beach walk with Lisa and poodles was in order today.  Lisa takes the pooches to our beach most days before she heads off to school, which is quite some time after I have already left for work.  And on days I am working from home my head is filled with work thoughts from the moment I get up, so the idea of joining them for ocean ritual just isn’t on my radar.  However, today I wasn’t working and was still waiting on a message to let me know what time and where I would be catching up with the crew from Alice Springs:

Being their packing up day, as they would have to drive to Perth today, it took a little more organising before they were out the door.  I was also hoping to catch up with Ash at the same time, but ailments got the better of him so he had to bail.  These two things resulted in not meeting up at the carpark until a time that is generally unheard of for me.  And also just six of us heading out at mid-morning for a beach walk to get to today’s crag, but on another beach.  Having observed the pace and routes that had been picked off at Wilyabrup yesterday, I had suggested last night that Moses Rocks could be a good alternative:

A place that divides the local climbers I hang about with.  Some loving it and other not so much.  I was hoping the guys today would feel the love, and the indications from the get go were promising.  This included noticing the texture and patterns of the rock and proximity to the ocean.  And as we walked along the base, I provided a quick tour guide description of each wall and pointed out some of the routes.  All the while allowing our audio senses to became accustomed to the ocean:

Unlike Wilyabrup, you feel like you are right in the ocean here.  Today’s 4m swell and stiff southerly resulted in good sized waves that helping to add to the sensations.  This didn’t put them off and it was soon down to business, and not surprisingly it was Pete who was first to jump on a lead.  Drawn to the irresistible hand sized crack of the crag classic, which also provided the above picture perfect opportunity.  One that can be seen replicated on the cover of the min-guide for this crag, inside the South West Rock Climbing guide, and also in the recent article I wrote for Vertical Life, Australia’s climbing magazine:

Ryan was also keen to have a lead, and I offered to belay.  Unbeknown to him was my approach to belaying, and not actually putting him on belay until his first piece of gear was in.  This practise, which is frowned upon by some, didn’t faze him and neither did anyone else seem to even notice what was happening.  The climb also introduced him to the rounded and flared nature of the holds here, which is what puts some other climbers off this place.  Again this didn’t worry him as he worked his way up, as besides us a few lines were being top-roped by the others after Pete had run up them first of course:

Moses in my opinion is a great place to bring beginners, having short easy to moderate grade routes and if chosen wisely with ample gear opportunities.  And as we first wandered along they spied the natural and appealing line of Mini Thor, a route I have sent a few people up for their first trad lead.  So partway through the proceedings Hannah and Pete wandered back that way, to allow Hannah to have a bash at trad on lead.  Enjoying it so much that she bagged two more leads during the day.  She wasn’t alone and Laura, who admitted to being a little rusty and then Ads also had a lead or two:

Watching all the leading going on and seeing how comfortable everyone was at Moses, I like to think I had picked the right location for today.  And once again this place has proven to be worthy of the title I have adorned it, being “the friendly crag”.  During a period of not much activity, as people were watching, coaching, and/or just encouraging someone on the rock, Laura was keen for a different route to have another trad lead.   We wandered across to Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum, being rarely climbed routes I was keen to see how she’d go.  Picking Tweedle Dumb, she gave it a red hot go and even took a lead fall:

Eventually she resided to choosing the escape route to the right called Dee Dumb.  Now this may seem like a lot of detail about one of the many routes climbed today, but there is a reason.  When Craig and I first established these climbs, he was too chicken to finish Tweedle Dumb and rather than go for it, as Laura had today, he instead piked out and established Dee Dumb.  So I have to say I was impressed with Laura, despite being rusty, giving it several serious attempts before following the easier line.  Back at the main area the enthusiasm for climbing seemed to be waning, and there was talk of the need for coffee:

These guys however come prepared and that didn’t mean finding a café, they came prepared with a stove and all the provisions for what looked like a gourmet lunch.  I stuck about until the break time was over, which allowed for a bit more chatting and finding out even more uncanny similarities, such as were we have climbed and people that we knew.  Having felt like I had climbed enough over the last two days, and as the provisions were being packed away and there was talk of a climb or two still to be bagged, I did as I am so often guilty of in social situations snuck off.  But not before saying farewell, as I left them to enjoy a bit more time at “the friendly crag”:

It would seem that some people have very long memories.  It has been over seventeen years since we left Alice Springs and we have not been in touch with Garn all that time.  However, when his friends were planning a trip to Western Australia he suggested they should touch base with me.  That they did, and I found out they had plans to spend four days climbing in the South West at the end of their two week trip.  While I couldn’t swing four days to climb, I did take Wednesday and Thursday off to meet up and have a climb with Pete, Hannah, Laura, Ryan, and Ads.  The timing also worked well to finally get out with Wiggins:

He has been climbing very little for a few years now.  But while his focus has shifted onto other fitness regimes, he still likes the idea of getting out on rock.  We aimed to take things steady, in part due to the time it has been since his last venture outdoors but also partly due to the place been a tad damp on arrival.  Unfortunately, the timing for the four days on our local crags coincided with a rainy Monday, and even wetter Tuesday.  At least this places dries up quick enough, and so while showers were forecast today we knew we’d get a line or two in:

The way things worked we didn’t climb with the Alice crew, but did stay in the same vicinity allowing a chat between routes and also when required providing a bit of local knowledge.  It was clear that Pete was the keenest climber, jumping on a line immediately on arrival and you could see his eyes scanning the crag for the next line.  It seemed he did not spending much time on the deck at all, something that I’ve certainly been accused of many a time.  And I have to say guilty as charged.  But today Wiggins and I were taking a slightly slower pace, and we didn’t even have a game plan, so in-between climbs we had to ponder what we would go up next:

Below Pete is belaying Laura, while Hannah having just followed up the route was now just sat atop soaking in the watery views.  The waterholes and rivers, when they flow, in Central Australia are pretty special, but the ocean outlook from this landscape are obviously very different.  As such and wanting to make the most of the views, the crew were keen to stick to coastal crags, which is fortunately where most are located.  Appreciating and respecting where we climb is an important ethic of true trad climbers, and it was good to see today that everyone was of like mind on that point:

As such just watching the ocean is as much a part of the joy of coming here, as the climbing itself.  That said, and regular readers will no doubt be fully aware, spotting the critters that live here is also a big part of coming out.  On our second route Wiggins and I stumbled across a family of Southwestern Crevice-Skink (Egernia napoleonis).  These creatures have had quite a few mentions in recent posts, so you may be wondering why I would bring them up again.  Well firstly, it was the first time I have seen a family of four, or possibly more, all hiding in one crack system:

But also because we later spotted the below special sight of an adult with a juvenile clutching onto its back, which I was taking the below image of above.  Only 20% of skinks are viviparous, meaning that they bear live young.  But all Egernia species are viviparous, producing young in late summer or early autumn.  Some research suggests reptiles which bear live young create stronger bonds with their offspring, and this can lead to more stable family groups.  This aligns with other research I have mentioned on the Southwestern Crevice-Skink, which form monogamous relationships and are capable of identifying individual relatives:

Not wanting to disturb the above sight, I deviated off line a bit to keep my distance.  Not that it helped and the pair slunk back onto the depth of the cracks.  After that second encounter with the Southwestern Crevice-Skinks we didn’t see any more scaly friends, and so instead focused on scaling the rock.  Some of the Alice Springs crew were relatively new to trad climbing so like us were taking it easy.  This place has some very fun and worthwhile lower grade routes.  Perfect for cutting your trad teeth on, as well as honing your trad leading skills, such as the line Ads is enjoying below after Ryan had led it:

You could say that, like the Southwestern Crevice-Skink most climbers will generally look out for, and help each other out.  And when Wiggins and I spotted a couple of climbers looking a tad nervous, as they started up a route on Steel Wall, it only seemed right to check in with them.  Sure enough the first bolt felt a tad sketchy for Ash to clip, so after checking with her and Becky they were happy for me to help out, that’s what I did.  It is of course not always the case, and on occasion there will be those that would rather be left to their own devices:

We then went back to bagging a few lines, while the rains that had been threatening never really came to be.  That is not until our time was up, and Wiggins and I jumped on our last route, climbing out with packs.  We then walked out leaving the others to continue enjoying themselves.  Hearing later that the pace reduced, and even Pete had to slow down.  Jumping onto lines in-between the showers, and being grateful that the rock here is very quick to dry.  Hopefully, there will be some dry spells for tomorrows fun:

With a total solar eclipse skimming the edge of Western Australia I sat at work on Thursday wondering why I hadn’t thought about heading out for a climb on such a special day.  However, as we approached 11:18am when the maximum coverage was due to occur for where I work, there was approx. 68% coverage of the sun.  So not surprisingly, while the day darkened a little it wasn’t by much so in a way I feel my decision to be in the office was right.  At our house the solar system recorded the gradual reduction, and then rise, of solar radiation hitting our panels on the cloudless day.  Indicating just a little over a 50% reduction:

I recall in 1999 standing outside the office in Bishop’s Stortford, in England, watching a partial solar eclipse that reached approx. 95% coverage.  Even then it still remained relatively light.  You would think there may be a simple chart that provided an indication of the relationship between the percentage of coverage of the sun to the reduction in light radiation that reaches the surface of earth, assuming a clear sky.  But I was not to be able to find one, at least anything that made sense in layman terms: 

This morning with all intentions of heading back out on the Cape to Cape track, for a hike that would lead me past some rock formations I was keen to see, my plans were changed when Rongy asked if I would be up for a quick Welly Dam sessions.  We both have shoulder niggles, so it may not have been the most sensible of destinations.  It is however convenient when time is limited, plus heading east allowed us to time our outward journey so we could enjoy the light display that the increasing solar radiation of day break provided:

On arrival cloud hung in the valley below the dam so we headed to the lookout for a peek.  Knowing the sight before us would not last too much longer, as the sun could be seen tipping over the horizon.  As we climbed we could see the sunlight flood across the valley, but due to the orientation of this place we resided to staying in the shadows.  Moving into autumn, the leaves of the trees were falling and the grass was damp underfoot from the night-time dew.  And with the generally cooling temperatures the rock also felt slightly damp and cold to touch, adding to the wonder of how we might fare today:

No matter, we had no expectations, and were just out to catch-up, clear our heads, and enjoy a few climbs during the process.  I did however suggest that maybe it was time for Rongy to attempt the new climbs here, a tall order based on how often he climbs and also that we needed to be at least a little bit sensible.  He had a successful bash A Storm in a Teacup, which I have to say felt a lot harder today.  And I was even more elated when he had a crack at Peanut Brittle, which no one else has attempted other than myself.  It lived up to its name and rained brittle bits of rock, something that will reduce with time and more ascents:

It was also a little too tough for Rongy to finish, with the top sequence flummoxing him.  Maybe in part due to his level of climbing fitness.  This meant I had to jump on the pointy end, which was the third time I’ve lead it.  For some reason, each time it has felt slightly harder and I know it is not due to holds falling off.  So much so that I wasn’t able to get a clean lead today, thwarted by the final crux moves.  There is however no need to remain dark about such experiences, and we both felt so much better for the short but very enjoyable morning out: