I have been very remiss this summer at attempting to get into the ocean for a swim with the fish. The conditions for a second year on the trot have been pretty average. The wrong type, or should I say direction, of winds resulting in the ocean never being given a real chance to properly settle down for any great period. That is not to say there haven’t been windows of opportunities, and a few weeks back both Geoff and Rongy reported experiencing great conditions, on separate occasions. I missed out on both of those opportunities:
Encouraged by Mario telling me he had a swim in the ocean yesterday, and found the water to feel warm I decided I might give it a go. He also reported murky conditions, but checking the weather, the swell at my local beach had supposedly been a promising low one metre’ish. I even did a pre-dip reconnaissance by walking over the hill to see which way the wind was blowing and whether the water looked flat, which it did. The only negative being the cloudy sky, which Lisa described from the comfort of our home as being sharky:
Walking to the beach the second time, prepared for a swim, the sand was wet from the rain that had doused the landscape overnight. There was a sole person on the beach, who was fishing but at that time was looking out to sea. A large pod of dolphins not too far off shore was cruising past, so I unfortunately missed my chance to swim with them by five minutes or so. The water felt cold as it crept up my legs, and when it feels like that there is only one way to get in and that is to dive in. Straight into a big cluster of South Western Stingers:
I don’t recall them sticking about this late in the season, but no matter I managed to avoid being stung. A mere ten metres from the shoreline I left the stingers behind and was then surrounded by a shoal of baitfish. Based on their yellow stripe and shape I assume they were Anchovy (Engraulidae). Being cloudy the visibility as expected, was not the best leading me to stay a bit closer to shore than usual, Lisa’s words eating away at the back of my mind. The baitfish followed me for most of the dive, and I spotted a number of the usual fish:
Despite trying pretty hard I didn’t find any crustaceans, cephalopods, mollusca, or cetaceans; or in layman terms crabs or lobsters; octopus or cuttlefish; nudibranch or sea hares; or dolphins. There were of course, like the fish, the ever present and visible echinoderm, otherwise known as sea stars and sea urchins. Swimming back over the open areas, fine dark organic material settled in the troughs of the wave-sculpted ripples on the sand, creating pretty patterns. But also a sign that should the wind and/or the swell pick up, this sediment will lift up and fill the water column:
Life is about to change for Sam and Michaela, as they prepare to bring new life into the world. The months leading up to this point have been way busier than anticipated, and Sam told me this was likely to be the last opportunity to get out for some “him” time. Like me getting outdoors is required to create balance in life. Depending on where our minds may be at it provides a time to allow us to reset, reflect, and/or simply appreciate, but always enabling us to immerse ourselves back into “the norm” with a positive outlook:
Unlike me, Sam has a few outdoor pursuits that compete for his time. But today climbing won out on account that the winds were not looking too favourable to catch a wave, which ranks higher on his list of preferences. That’s not a huge surprise as he has been surfing for a long time, whereas his first introduction to climbing was only in September last year. Since then he has only managed to squeeze in a handful of trips. Added to that his last trip out was all the way back in November, which was also when he had to be a sponge:
That day out was at Lost Buttress, where he needed to absorb hours of advice, hints, tips, and at times instructions from me, on the many aspects to take account of, when lead climbing. His absence from rock since then was not on account of having found it too much but, as alluded to before, the months have been packed with both the good and bad that can occur in life, at any or at times every turn. Indeed, he came away from buzzing, and keen to get out on some longer routes with a keen eye on Wilyabrup. Which is where we headed to:
With such a long period between touching rock I wasn’t too sure how he’d go, but as with all these forays it is best to take things one step at a time and see where the days leads you. Sam was already hinting he was keen to have a lead, so I guessed we would be hitting some familiar lower grade lines. This would allow him to ease back into leading, but also make sure the in-between climbs that he seconded were not too hard so as to tire him out. Understandably, he was happy for me to kick the day off, which I did with Glory (14):
Sam was more than happy with the choice. Recalling from a prior visit, this and the line next to it afforded a potential to say hello to a Carpet Python. Sadly just not today. Despite not seeing a snake, Sam was feeling good after the first climb, and racked up to take on Twenty Questions (12). A very aptly named route. Easy to make completely safe this line includes for many, including Sam, a very perplexing crux that keeps you pondering and questioning “how?”. After the climb and checking in on how he felt, it was obvious he was hoping for more:
So Hope (14) it was offering a second chance to search for a Carpet Python, while also being a very popular and truly classic climb. From the above images you may be able to tell I was trusting Sam’s ability. Applying my unorthodox belaying approaches, to allow some better images. This is not something I will do with just anyone, today however I was comfortable enough on account of Sam’s demeanour on rock, proven ability to place good and sufficient protection, and method of climbing being considered, calculated, and controlled. And while he missed the snake during the ascent, I was happy that he had instead been focusing on what really mattered, safe climbing:
I could tell he was keen to take a look, so he rapped back down to catch a glimpse of the short sections of the body curled up deep behind the flake. The skin covered with beautiful markings that are said to resemble the patterns used on oriental carpets. Back on the deck we pondered what next. This was swayed by a comment Sam made when we arrived, hinting he was intrigued by Steel Wall. The +30m vertical and clean wall is certainly an impressive sight, but he also said he would not be keen to lead anything on it. And I would certainly not have sent him up any of the direct lines, although Sirius was an option:
I pointed out how Sirius snaked up the wall. The first pitch (14) following a right trending flake before traversing left along a horizontal break that goes almost the entire width of the wall, providing plenty of air beneath your feet. I led this, and as Sam prepared to follow me the next arrivals rocked up. Setting up camp under and then climbing Hope, and as I watched them it was clear they too didn’t spot the snake. I also kept a close eye on Sam, especially on the traverse. A airy type of climbing that can take a little getting used to, but I needn’t have worried and it seemed to just add to his enjoyment:
For the second pitch (14), Sam needed to leave the comfort and safety of the great belay ledge to climb a couple of blocks, before stepping round the arête onto a fine but super exposed face. I didn’t tell Sam about the exposure. That was something I wanted him to experience without any preconceived notions or indeed realisation of what was to come. When he got atop the blocks and looked round the arête, and then down, it certainly had the desired effect. The smile somehow spread even further across his face, hinting at both excitement and a bit of fear. I watched the rope inch upwards at a slow pace, he was being careful and that was a good thing:
He took enough time for me to watch the second party finish on Hope, and then spot a third party arrive. They too set up camp under and climbed Hope and the leader again didn’t spot the snake. I didn’t get to watch the second go up, but comments from them later hinted he too didn’t see the snake. Obviously local knowledge is needed to spot the delights that while so close are hidden from view. Sam was understandably very happy with his leads, and said he had just enough mental power and strength in his forearms left to follow me up one more lead. So I picked the direct and rather steep The Unbolted and the Beautiful (16), which provided an achievable but very satisfying last climb:
The same four of us who rolled south to Peaceful Bay just a couple of month back were back in the car heading south this weekend. Not quite so far this time, and not even intending to hit the true south coast. It was a very lazy start, allowing us to pick up a mid-morning snacks at a very average bakery in Manjimup. And I really wouldn’t recommend anyone going there, at least if you don’t want something with meat in it. Other than that the trip south was a relatively traffic and roadwork free cruisy three hours:
The mid-morning snack allowed us to fuel up, and hit the ground running when we reached out destination. Mount Frankland is yet another stunning place we are so lucky to have not that far away. I’ve managed a few day trips here over recent years, but to really soak the place in, a two day trip is best. My last two visit have been sodden, and the other couple of times we have popped in just in case we could hit a line or two it was also sodden. However, on trip south two months back Mario and Andreas had come here before meeting up with us and had a ball:
That was one of the key motivations for making us thinking a wee trip would be a good idea before the season breaks. Unfortunately, the first low pressure system of the new season rolled across the southern half of Western Australia on Wednesday, and there was some discussion about whether we would need a backup plan. The upper walls would dry quick enough, but the lower moss and lichen covered slabs don’t get any sun or wind resulting in them holding onto the moisture. After daily checks the decision didn’t change:
We had two other good reasons to get here, first Howsie was super keen to jump on Hannibal. A simply magnificent nicely balanced line that heads up the above elephant’s trunk. While not in the South West guidebook, it was one of the grade 20s he had been really interested to climb 2020 as part of his challenge. That was not to be, and on his and my last trip here 2022 the place turned into a waterpark. Waterfalls and creeks appeared almost instantaneously, as a storm cell hit us (https://sandbagged.blog/2022/03/12/cloud-watching/):
Today however, after a quick warm up on a regularly repeated route, Howsie was keen to get down to business, just in case the weather should close in on us. And as he battled with the mighty climb, a couple of Bull Ants (Myrmecia Gulosa) were having their very own tussle right by my feet. I knew Bull Ants were the biggest ants species in Australia and can get up to 40mm long, but I didn’t know there were as many as 90 different species of them. Very aggressive and often only seen solo these ants are fearsome fighters:
And with enough stings from them, noting unlike a bee they can sting multiple times, it is plausible for a human to go into anaphylactic shock. However, despite looking I can find no reason for them to fight each other. The only reference to that happening is after a new colony has been set up, and the queens that were involved in its establishment then fight to the death until only one rules supreme. Howsie didn’t fight to the death, but certainly came out with a scrape or two, as well as a beaming smile having thoroughly enjoyed the challenge:
As it was he managed to get up the original line, but was too bushwhacked to continue on the extension that led out to some rap anchors. And the way things worked out I led that bit and then managed to force Rongy into also have to lead it. Hence why, for those that know the route, or inspect the images in greater detail, it looks like he took over the leading from Howsie a few images up. Rongy hinted he was not too keen to be on the sharp end but I think he really enjoyed it, especially when he managed to get it clean without breaking skin:
The second reason for coming here was to give Sarah her first taste of true slab climbing. It is a very acquired taste, and not for all. If you check the image above of Rongy, you’ll see he is only using friction to stay on the rock. Slab climbing requires slow, controlled moves, and if just one point of contact slips you will invariable take a fall. As such you are continuously on edge, using body tension, and thinking hard. Sarah has had a real initiation of fire into climbing and is still loving it, but after one long pitch of slab was more than happy for Rongy to join us for Hannibal:
Once the three fo us came down, they went back to one of the more gentle slabs, as gentle as they come here, and are barely visible in the above image. Howsie and I headed off for a third reason I was keen to come here. The high 45m main face, on which I have only ever done one route back in 2012. A grade 18 that felt incredible challenging, which was probably due to the plus 40 degree heat that we had unknowingly climbed in (https://sandbagged.blog/2012/03/12/south-coast-trip/). Ever since then I have never managed to get back onto this wall, and that drought was broken today:
You’ll have to scroll back a few images to see the route I picked, standing on a relatively steep slab at the base of the mighty wall made looking up to check the lines really difficult. Bolts were the only real way to spot the lines and they were very well camouflaged. While we checked, and checked, and checked, and really thought we were on the right line, there was no way it was right. The final move over the overlap was on two very narrow sharp flakes, requiring a huge reach into the unknown, hoping for something reasonable. As Howsie’s expression shows above when his head came over the lip:
We came down to join Rongy and Sarah and there seemed to be enough daylight left, resulting in me suggesting Howsie jump on one of the lower slabs. Still a good length route at 40’ish meters. He enjoyed the “warm-down” climb and as Rongy got half way up on second the drought of the day broke and drops started fall. This meant I got the pleasure of reliving my last two trips here, trying to stick the slick steep rock with water trickling down the slab. But after the great line of Cowlick on the main face my mood could not be dampened:
While we could potentially have got one more wet route in, we were all pretty weary so hiked back and set up camp. This gave us time to get some food down us and have a brew, before darkness quickly descended on the world around us. Fortunately the rain moved on and while the three of them had a game of cards, my body was saying it was time to lie down. So I snuggled into my bivvy bag, not even wanting to get up when I heard then talking excitedly about something they had spotted. That from what I heard I guessed was a scorpion:
And indeed it was, being a Wood Scorpion (Cercophonius squama). Commonly found in the South West and Eastern area of Australia, and also being the only species found on Tasmania. There are six species of Wood Scorpions, and all of them like forest habitats usually being found in leaf litter and fallen branches. Hiding and waiting to ambush their prey with a sting that would cause us inflammation and pain for several hours. I didn’t know but scorpions fluoresce when exposed to ultraviolet rays, meaning they producing a bright blue green light:
They are no alone and many arthropods, such as insects and spiders, glow in a similar fashion. Why this occurs is still not clear, and there are a variety of theories. The one that seems to get the most support being it allows the scorpion to detect when it’s body is visible, and as such may be seen by its prey. And being an ambush predator that is a pretty important piece of information. The chemicals to make it glow are in its exoskeleton, and when they moult being more vulnerable they do not fluoresce. Only when their new exoskeleton hardens, do they once again glow:
I kinda wished I had stayed up, as Rongy and Sarah went for a night walk to see what they might see. There was not a lot out, one more scorpion and a wonder blanket of stars above. I saw the latter later that night, when I got up. But what would have been really cool to see were the above Canary Worms (Fletchamia sugdeni). These worms are found across Tasmania and Australia, preferring extremely wet and dark forests. They are flatworms, which can be understood looking at the top three in the image, but they can and do also stretch out into skinny worms with a brown coloured head:
Flatworms, and similarly Canary Worms, are predatory. Hunting and feasting on small invertebrates similar to the Wood Scorpion. Although, Canary Worms are also known to be scavengers if the opportunities arises. During my reading I have learnt a new word, being an aposematic coloration. This is used to describe the colour, that acts as a deterrent to predators. Canary Worms, while not dangerous to us can secrete toxins and these will cause irritation and/or a stinging sensation. So the bright yellow is a warning to predators and us to leave them be:
In the morning, before light crept into the sky I got up at my usual wakeup time of 5:30. The first thing to go on was the kettle. I overheard Rongy say to Sarah “welcome to camping with Krish”, and he later told me he thought I had got up a bit too early. The whistle of the kettle whined, which I let go that bit longer than normal to make sure everyone was awake. And as the orange glow that could be seen through the trees turned yellow, the light chased away the darkness and the timing was perfect. We only had a half day today, and I knew the others were keen to pack a few lines in so I didn’t feel any guilt:
That and any misgivings were washed away with a welcome hot brew. Back at the crag I set off up one of the lower slabs, preferring that approach to the scramble up the to the base of the main face we had done yesterday. Rongy set off on another lower route, so Sarah could once again see if slab climbing was for her. She was still unsure, but keen enough to keep trying. When Howsie and I got to the mighty main face he picked what we thought was the route I had led in 2012, Thieves like the Sun. It is listed in four climbing guides and each one seems to give a varying account of the route and each location differs, it was all very confusing:
We are pretty sure we were on the right line today, but it did not seem familiar as I came up second. So I am now left wondering what I climbed eleven years back, and sadly I have no images of that climb to try and work it out. Howsie, had a blast. He was pretty nervous standing below the 45m towering cliff. However, once he got going he relished the awesome climbing. He looked and sounded to be tiring towards to end where the pumpy overlap awaited. I hollered up words of encouragement, plus a stern bit of advice to not yoyo and wear himself out. So when he set off he powered through:
Following Howsie my fingertips were feeling the reduced thickness of skin, skin that had been left on the rock yesterday. It was an impressive lead, and made me work all the way up. Edging over the final overlap a hand hold broke and went flying downwards where Rongy and Sarah were now walk below us, as you might see above. I too went both flying and spinning into the air, bouncing off the overlap with my legs dangling below unable to reach anything to steady myself. At times like that you just have to let gravity and momentum do what they need to do, and today it was my turn to get a few scrapes and bruises:
Sarah was pretty weary from the slab route of the morning, it is a mentally fatiguing style of climbing. And also physically demanding, especially on your calves and ankles. So they joined us at the base of one last climb, which was the main event for me. A route I have been wanting to jump on for many, many years. Dickheads and Dynosaurs is an amazing looking line. The same grade as Cowlick which I had climbed yesterday but with more sustained sections and also more varied climbing, which made it feel even more special:
And to make it even more so, I had a Wedge-tailed Eagle soaring above me whenever I looked up. It was everything I hoped for and more, a stunning and very rewarding route to walk up to and just climb. Being back on long 45m routes was so good, and with now three of these long steeper routes on this impressive upper face under my belt I’m keen to get back and jump on a few others. Not unexpectedly Howsie, and then Rongy, followed up this mighty route. Both getting up it clean, after which there was a liberal dose of smiles all round, as we one by one rapped back down:
While the weather was perfect, and the rock was in great condition it was time for us to call it a day. We had agreed to leave home at a reasonable hour on Saturday and also to return at a reasonable hour on Sunday. No one seemed to be fighting the decision, maybe due to the very, very satisfying way to finish the trip. Or maybe due to Sarah’s ankles say enough is enough, while Rongy, Howsie and my fingertips screamed that if we do much more they might break through:
Before we could get back to the car we had to rap down the lower slabs. Sarah went first and she got her first taste of having to sort a tangled rope, while hanging on the rope. Rongy had suggested he should go first, but we all agreed that it was a good learning experience for Sarah. So if she ever comes across the same problem in a less comfortable situation she will have a better idea of what to do and what it feels like. I’m not sure is she agreed, but managed to keep cool all the same and it worked out just fine:
We sorted the gear as the kettle boiled one last time, and when the brews were made we went for a short walk to a lookout give out legs one last stretch and take in the views one last time. The sun was out and had a bite to it, what a contrast to yesterday afternoon as the clouds rolled in and the rain fell. It almost felt too hot and a little uncomfortable, and just like the Canary Worms and Wood Scorpions were no doubt hiding in some cool spot, we went to escape the heat in the air conditioned car as we drove northwards:
And finally to give you a feel for the place, here’s a fun video from Sarah:
Today we were heading to Wilyabrup with a crowd. Seven of us, which is more than the normal trip out. That said Kellie was, as per normal, would be heading off for a run to leave the rest of us to it. The number sadly dropped before we began, as on arrival at Capel Rongy got a call to say that the shop he manages had just been raided. A smash and grab job. It seems there have been a number of these raids over recent times in Bunbury. This of course meant he had to jump in his car and head back to Bunbury:
Alana decided that she would still tag along, after all there was nothing she could have done to Rongy out. We headed onwards meeting Rob, Josh, Kellie and a new tag called Shannon, who Kellie had recently met at runners club. Shannon, however, was not joining Kellie for a run. While suggesting she was a little rusty, she was keen to have a climb. Having very recently moved west from Brisbane for a year, she was feeling lucky and very happy today to sample her first taste of WA climbing:
With Rongy being out, it kinda turned the concept of today a little on its head. The primary reason for coming this way started with Rob suggesting the location, as he had his eye on a few leads. But with Josh, Alana, and Shannon we also had to make sure they were kept busy. After organising a top rope for them, we set off. Rob was keen to warm up on a gentle slab route. And as with many slab routes here that meant not much gear, but the grade being low enough not rattle Rob as set off:
After the warm up it was back to the group, where Rob was sounding a little hesitant about the two leads he had really been keen on. They are not ridiculously hard and have plenty of gear, but in the build up to today he had worked them up in his mind into something else. Managing to shake just enough of the doubt, and with a little encouragement he set off on the first lead. Once the gear started to slot in he became more comfortable and at ease. The others were still working the routes on the top rope, but Shannon was eyeing the route Rob was climbing:
She followed up after Rob and climbed it with relative ease. Even if rusty, her past climbing experience showing through. A dangerous thing for me to see, as this resulted in me suggesting that she should have a bash at a lead. While a little slow to agree and then start, once on the rock she made short work of the next route. This line happened to be the other one Rob was keen to lead, and watching her climb it so well he was encouraged to have a bash himself on lead:
As indicated by the ropes round us in the images above and below, the place quickly packed out making our paltry six people, once Kellie returned, seem small and insignificant. Several groups arrived in addition to a 40-50 strong university group that was practising rescue techniques. While we moved onto two more routes, which was a challenge in itself with all the ropes hanging about, the atmosphere certainly changed. Both in relation to the feel of the busy place, but also the sharply rising humidity making the holds sweaty and uninviting. Therefore, as the sun crept round we decided it was time to call it a wrap:
I should have known that I probably didn’t need two days off to reset my body clock before I get back to work. With a full day, and no need for napping, yesterday I spent my time catching up on mundane domestic stuff, as after a week or so away my OCD tendencies kick in. This results in not being able to turn my brain off to fully relax until things are in order. Today however with everything up to date, fixed, and/or in its proper place, I was keen to get outdoors. My initial thought was to head coastal, to get a climb and snorkel in:
Sadly like most of this season the ocean conditions didn’t look all that great and I also heard the wind howling overnight. So for ease I decided to go inland, not quite making it to Welly Dam for first light. But it did at least allow for a very picturesque drive up the escarpment, watching the wispy clouds changing colours with the early stages of the sun rise. It was not until I arrived that the sun crept into the sky and began to bathe the treetops, while also making the moon fade from sight before it had the chance to drop below the horizon:
As I wandered about the top of the quarry walls setting up my top ropes, I was surprised to see the large Sycamore (Acer pseudoplatanus) looking a bit on the bare side. Being a non-native deciduous tree I would expect it to drop its leaves over autumn and winter, while on hot days during summer and into the early part of autumn this tree would normally provide great shade. If the leaves were yellowing it could have been down to heat stress, but it really hasn’t been that hot this summer and the leaves looked to be turning brown:
I’ve read up about a fungus called anthracnose. This causes the leaves of some trees including Sycamores to drop and turn black or brown. It is more prevalent in cool and wet weather, but can come on in summer. The good news is it does not result in permanent damage to established trees, but repeated back to back years of infection can weaken the tree’s resistant to the fungus and other pests. Being no arborist I can only assume this may be the cause, for the thick mass of leaf debris accumulating under the poorly looking tree:
The leaves of the Sycamore were not alone in going brown. It seems that the once green and reasonably well looked after grass was no longer being irrigated and left to crisp up. With some patches being so far gone that they were turning to dust. Before the new road and carpark layout installed last year this facility was well maintained and heavily used by families. Now I do not see many people using the area, and the question is whether this is by design or default. If it has been their plan all along it is a little sad:
Despite the run down look of the area, compared to previous years, I thoroughly enjoyed and trashed myself. Picking six lines, none of which were a pushover, and finishing on a route that I was sure would spank me. Mario just a few days back asked Howsie if any holds had come off midway up, as he had been playing on this line last Friday. The response was ‘no’ and he was right it all looked to be in place. That was until my second lap, when an important hold popped as I stood on it. Maybe Mario has second sight:
It felt more than six months since my last trip back to the homelands to see the folks, but that is all it had been when I once again popped over for a cuppa or two. More frequent and shorter trips is the way of it, and some may think a week visit is too short when you consider the 27 hour door to door travel time. But at the ripe ole age of 90’ish the chance of both folk’s health taking a sudden turn, and not for the better, is not surprisingly a higher likelihood. And both my Mam and Dad have given us a scare or two since my visit in August last year:
Just six months back, with the help of Seeta, we had almost daily trips out. Focused on country car rides, a hearty meal, and a little wander. For me also the chance to revisit a couple of climbing haunts, where I was afforded the luxury of a few hours to relive a few lines: https://sandbagged.blog/2022/08/01/time-to-head-back/. And for that trip I was picked up from the airport and the first stop was to Pear Mill, which I provided a bit more historical detail about in the previous post. I really like this place, not least for the many great teapots they use:
We didn’t do too much on my first full day, but not due to jet lag. That is something that I do not seem to suffer from regardless of which direction I am travelling. I put my ability to avoid that by getting into my usual routine quickly, comprising a reasonably early night and getting up at 5:30am. The reason for not doing too much is my Dad came downstairs in a very confused and unsteady state, he had for the third time in four months become unconscious. The first time was in November last year, and the second was just a few weeks back:
As such we managed to get a late afternoon appointment with his GP. The aim was to bring forward his appointment to review the observations being recorded of his blood pressure, which is scarily erratic with both highs and lows. This resulted in a referral to the accident and emergency department, which Dad, Seeta and I sat down in at 7pm. Here an urgent ECG, was followed by a blood pressure check and then blood tests. Each item occurring after a minimum hour wait in the waiting room, where we sat for a total of eight hours:
This resulted in Dad being admitted, but with no beds available he was put in a temporary bed in accident and emergency department. And Seeta and I headed home at 3am, longing for our beds and sleep. Despite feeling pretty weary during the day I was determined to get out for a walk, and did so but it wasn’t an early one and I kept it short. A walk in the woods and fields of the British countryside, taking full advantage of the universally accepted ramblers rights, is such a tonic. I was not sure if I would be able to experience it as much on this trip:
The average temperatures for this part of the England in February is pretty low, and added to that the newspapers were predicting an “arctic blast” for the week I arrived. This didn’t eventuate, and the forecast changed to suggest the snow and ice would arrive the week after I left. The temperature still didn’t rise above 8 degrees Celsius for my entire visit, and rarely got above 6 degrees. Regardless of these temperatures and as will become apparent, while Seeta’s pooch Friday cowered from the cold, I braved it:
Seeing Dad was in hospital, we decided we would head out and grab a bite to eat before popping in to see how he was going. As it was this was the only pub we visited, and what a pub to go to. One that the folks and Seeta hadn’t managed to get to yet, and one they will undoubtedly go back too. Scrumptious food, good beer, great service, and a lovely interior. Once we had our fill and felt completely satisfied, we popped in to check on Dad armed with a few treats from Costa coffee and grapes. Not quite the feast we had, but appreciated all the same:
Only I popped in to see Dad, as there was a one visitor limit in the accident and emergency department. He was still wait for a bed in the acute medical unit to become available, and despite very little sleep he sounded in good spirits, but still a little muddle headed. On the plus side, as I arrived they indicated a bed had just become available and he would be moved in the next ten minutes. And similar to the experience the night before, this stretched out to well over an hour. But it did happen and while the ward had a two visitor limit the three of us all managed to get in to say hello:
The next morning I got back into my normal routine, and with first light arriving at 6:30 I was up and out the door at 6am for a wander. While it was dark, as I started, it was a lovely and peaceful time of the day and I hardly saw a soul for the two hours I was out. In the middle of the image above the pear shaped top of the main tower of Pear Mill is just visible. This was a walk I didn’t get to last time, as it was detailed as being very muddy in sections. I was however advised it had been reasonably dry of late, and despite being the end of winter it was fine:
Back at the house and after a few cups of tea, it was time to crack on with the next puzzle. The second image of the post is of the first puzzle we completed. That one had sat on my Mam’s puzzle board for weeks if not months. The main reason being that her ability to stand over the table for any period of time is no longer possible. So I spent a bit of time polishing that one off, only to be disappointed to find two pieces missing despite the label on the box indicating it was a complete puzzle. A risk with second hand puzzles:
The above puzzle, was a quick and easy one by choice. Fewer and bigger pieces, and an easier image with a greater variety of colours and patterns. And this time complete, with my Mam popping the last piece in place. Then it was off to the hospital, a place that Seeta along with Mam and Dad have spent a lot of time. Both for appointments and also due to admissions. This time the three of us had lunch in the canteen before the customary stop as Costa Coffee, where I left them and headed in to see Dad ahead of them:
He was doing much better today. We purposely hung about until the doctor came round, and had a great chat about the situation and options for reducing the risk of blacking out. Some known, and others new including a slight tweak to the medication order. I was amazed when I first saw the medication list and number of times a day they need to be taken. I can recall as a kid watching my Opa in the Netherlands take his pills. We called snoepjes (Dutch for sweets). Well my Dad could open a full on candy store:
The good news being that other than a single change in medication timing, and some basic good practises there was no more they could assist with. Other than a need to follow up with the Parkinson’s specialist, which might take a while as they are rare as hen teeth at the moment. So it was that after more hours than we expected, but should have been prepared for, Dad was finally discharged. And as the above image shows he was pretty keen to get out and back home. Where it was time once again to rest up, as any suggestion that being in hospital gives people a chance to rest up is nothing short of a fallacy:
Thursday morning came and I was up and out half an hour earlier, in part as the walks were getting longer but also as I was awake anyway. I walked up one of the higher hills providing a great view of the city lights below with staff inside the above pub, atop Werneth Low, milling about preparing for the new day. Being the end of winter the deciduous trees looked like skeletons against the early morning sky, stripped of any leaves. This allow the spotting of squirrels much easier, as they scurried along the branches:
When I got back my Dad lay in bed not feeling entirely rested and unsure if he was up to joining us on a trip out. But after working through his morning routine, being served a few cuppas, and having breakfast he perked up. So we wrapped up for the day and headed out, this time managing to avoid the need for the trip to be focused on a hospital visit. As such we headed into the Peak District, and to the famous Bakewell. The reason being that on a recent trip here the three of them had found, and very much enjoyed, a café:
So we headed straight for the café for a hearty meal, followed by a traditional Bakewell pudding smothered in custard. None of this modern take on the Bakewell pudding, but how it should be from when it originated from this small town. This set us up nicely for a short stroll round the River Wye, with its bridge adorned with thousands of love locks. A tradition that started in World War one in Hungry, not in Paris as many people think it did. Despite finding the early morning 3 degree temperature fine during my walks, somehow the daytime temperature felt colder:
Probably a bit to do with walking slower, not wearing my boots, nor a woolly hat. It did mean our walks together were short. This was also due to the sciatica issue my Mum is dealing with. Added to that and since my last visit she has also managed to break her elbow and then when that was coming good inflicted an avulsion fracture on her ankle that left her bed ridden for seven weeks. They are more common in children as part of growth spurts, although adults undertaking sudden and high impact sports also get them. So it was a bit of a surprise when the doctors realised what she had done:
Despite the pains and aches, lethargy and at times of lack of motivation that I keep referring too we all had a lovely day out. Topped off when we returned via a slightly different route to come across the hill with England written across it just below the crest. It may be a bit hard to read it in the above image but it is there. I was however more taken by the stone walls dissecting the fields, hence the focus of the image. With a decent breakfast and lunch, evening meals tended to be light if at all. At 90’ish the body didn’t need nor desire to much food, and that also suited me:
Even with my early walks I really wasn’t expending as much energy as I do back home. There was plenty of relax time at the house spent catching up on the papers, puzzling away, playing games of Yahtzee, Triominoes, and Rummikub, and the occasional bit of television. The routine of the day was reasonably well set, when not interrupted with hospital trips or more enjoyable excursions out for a meal and potter. The latter not being quite as frequent or long as my last visit:
Friday arrived and there was just enough time to squeeze a trip to Etherow Country Park for a bite to eat in the café, and short walk round some of the paths. The almost daily trips out were taking a toll on my Mam’s level of comfort, which was obvious to see today as we slowly walked along. Although she didn’t want to miss out, and today enjoyed seeing signs of spring creep in. The wind felt especially bitey and we were pleased to be back to the warmth of the house, when it was time for me to say goodbye to Seeta:
She was heading off the weekend celebrate a friend special birthday. This left the three of us to fend for ourselves, although I only have one full day left. That one started a wee bit earlier and I was out at 5am, as it was the longest walk. Starting along the canals in true darkness, which felt a little eerie and where the path narrowed my footfalls were extra careful to make sure I didn’t accidentally slip into the icy water. This circuit was to take me back to Etherow Country Park:
I almost didn’t get there, and when I came across the footbridge over the River Goyt it was closed for repairs. I could see no other way over the river that wouldn’t take me quite a long way off course. So I did the only bit of climbing I was to do on this visit, managing to scale the barriers on both ends of the bridge to get across. It was still too dark to take a picture of the obstacle I’d overcome, with light only starting to encroach as I made my way up and out of Etherow Country Park. From here it was uphill back to Werneth Low:
While the view of the city was clearer, it was the lambs that I enjoyed watching as they bucked and played. Another sign of spring being round the corner, along with a few green buds appearing on the shrubs and trees. Not having the luxury of Seeta to chauffer us about, we had intended to go into Romiley, a mere few hundred meters away. My Dad wasn’t feeling up to it, so it was only Mam and myself that stuffed ourselves with a late breakfast at her favourite café. She’s a bit of a local here and even gets a special cup for her coffee:
I’m pleased to say that my Dad perked up a bit and being the first Saturday of the month, a film was being shown at the local Methodist Church. He’s being going there for a while now, and during February’s showing he had another episode. So at the end of the film when they realised he wasn’t, as they thought asleep, he ended up in hospital. He was understandably a little apprehensive about going back, but he and I went along all the same. The usual crowd here was nothing but very welcoming, and very happy to see him back and well:
It was lovely to have had a bit of quality time with both Mam and Dad on that last day, doing something that each of them enjoyed and are still capable of doing. And for our last night together, not having stuffed ourselves silly with a big lunch, we felt like we deserved a nice evening meal. We plumped for a Chinese takeaway and had a lovely final evening. Early next morning I was once more packed up, and after getting the taxi driver to take a final image was ready for another journey half way round the world:
Domestic duties can at time get in the way of getting out into nature, but today it was quite the opposite. It’s been a reasonably busy and long couple of weeks at work, in part as there was a need to wrap things up today. Watching the extra hours build up each day, and as I work to live, I decided to grab a few back this morning before I hit the computer again. Putting the word out, Rob was keen for a quick morning session at Welly Dam. And while it may seem that I have been there a bit of late I had a need to get back:
Before I got onto my routes, which were a bit harder than what Rob wanted to lead, I wanted to allow him to have a good crack at his chosen routes on lead. So we started with three leads for Rob, and he really wasn’t sure how he’d go. Suggesting that of late he has allowed his brain take control, resulting in fear creeping in. So as he led his three routes I talked him through finding good stances, getting comfortable even when the rope is below you, and most importantly remembering to breathe:
To his surprise he bagged three clean leads and in great style, he really was not expecting that. He was also not expecting me to make him top out on one climb, just because the moves are fun, before encouraging him to then down climb back to the anchors. His head took control and filled him with fear, but with gentle persuasion I got him to give it a go and again he surprised himself to find that it was actually not that bad. Down climbing in my view is the best way to build confidence in your ability, so Rob expect to do a bit more next time:
Then it was my turn and as you may notice in the above image I had a bit of equipment hanging off my harness that I would not normally carry. Mario had been here last weekend and climbed two of the new routes, which he thought were good fun. But… he did pick up on the fact that I (and Howsie) had not cleaned up after ourselves. So today it was redemption time, and I gave the rock a good brush to remove the dust created from drilling the bolt holes. It was also an excuse to jump back on the lines to see how they felt on lead second time round:
Storm in a Teacup was excellent, and I found another way to unlock the crux section. I was pretty at ease and brushed as I climbed. Then Rob followed up, with a rope above him this time, and was stoked to get up it clean. Next was Building Bridges, which proved to be a bit trickier to brush as I climbed, but I managed it and even found a better way to climb the bit that had on previous occasions when working and then leading the climb given me a bit of grief. This route being a grade Rob had not climbed before was a bit more of a challenge:
While it puffed him out and he had to take a few rests, he managed to unlock all the moves. It was a great effort! One that left him very happy but a bit weary for anything else. I had one last line to clean, as in brush down, so started up that. Brushing round the second bolt, on lead, Peanut Brittle lived up to its name and a hold came off, sending me flying. Coming back to the ground I decided I would lead it dirty, before rapping back down to clean it. So Mario my housework is done, if you care to inspect it for quality control purposes:
I am not the best in social situations, especially where there is small talk. That said I have tried to encourage the social aspects of our local crew. Back some years there was pretty good social element going and we’d meet up at crag, to watch climbing films or flick fests, or at someone’s house. I could usually revert any conversation I had to climbing, snorkelling or orchids so it was all good. However, I feel that I may bow out of endeavouring to keep such events going. The group is changing and so are people’s lives, that said today we had a big mob out:
But before I get to that. Lisa said to me the other day that when she had headed down to the beach with the poodles the colours and feel of the beach felt autumny. I also felt that last weekend at Beginners Wall, when the ocean had that slightly more tumulus feel to it. And you may have noticed that I have not been in the water for an age. I did pop down to check the conditions at the local beach yesterday but the water was a bit choppy. Maybe I’m being a bit too fussy but it really didn’t entice me, and I do wonder if I will go back in this season:
Back to today’s trip, which was going to be a gathering at Craig’s house to play on his recently completed boulder wall, have a feed, and catch up. Instead this ended into a catch-up outside, and seeing there would be a fair few kids in two the decision was made to head to The Playground. Being kid free, Rongy and I headed out a bit earlier to hit a climb or two before the mob turned up. And as I drove out to meet him in Capel, the autumn colours filled the sky with just the tiniest slither of the waning moon visible:
Sarah and her friend Sophia met us at the Wilyabrup carpark, after having had a camp out. Sophia said it had been a cold night, and it was still too cold for the above Wolf Spider (Lycosidae). Rongy pointed it out after I had nearly stepped on it. And despite its near death experience it was happy to sit there and allow me to then get some close up images. There are approx. 2,400 species worldwide, and one Australian pest controller reckons there are only two species in Australia, but I have found a 2018 paper that claims we have 34 species:
The route we took to get to The Playground was to walk in by rock hopping along the coast, which in my mind is the best way. This also allowed us to pass The Bookshelf, and as we were going to have an hour or so before anyone else would turn up I was keen to check out some possible first ascents. Many years back Lou had a bad climbing accident that resulted in her needing to wear a spinal brace, which looked a bit like white body armour. And at the shops one day a kid whispered to his mum that there was a Stormtrooper in their midst:
So it was that while I have known about this route for many years I have been waiting for Lou to grace rock again, so we could climb it together and name it after her guise from back then. But that isn’t likely to happen, so today I led the climb and as you may have guessed I called it The Stormtrooper. While the face and rock looked, in Rongy’s words, a little scrappy it was a fun line. So much so he then put up a second first ascent just to the right, from which Sarah promptly knocked off quite a number of large blocks. So that got called Demolition Girl:
After we had completed the two new routes, Glen rocked up with Jason and we moved round to the shorter walls of the Bookshelf. Glen has not been out for quite a long time, but jumped straight into leading a route. Jason was having his first taste of roped climbing, as such there was a bit of tuition going on about the art of belaying while Glen started to get disco legs above us. Fortunately, Glen avoided becoming a causality again, and if you want to understand why I say that check out https://sandbagged.blog/2020/04/21/glen-the-casualty/:
The first of the family crew to arrive was Craig’s mob. They had like Glen and Jason had driven to the top of Lost Buttress, walking in from the north. A much shorter distance, but nowhere near as much fun. This did however signal it was time to move again. At The Playground the ropes and gear were packed away and it was time to boulder. And shortly after Howsie, Josh and Kellie also appeared. They like us had walked in, and enjoyed checking out the rock pools along the way. Howsie had even been lucky to spot a snake, making Sarah a little jealous:
By then we had eight kids running amuck checking out the ocean and playing on the rocks. And The Playground became, well, a playground. The numbers didn’t stop the fun, and while at times it felt like we may have lost a kid or two they were generally all within earshot. Allowing the grownups to also make use of the delights of the area. Sandy landings making it a perfect place to boulder, with some fun problems many of which I help establish ten years back with Kym. Problems many people have played on and questioned the grades we assigned them:
A number of them certainly did feel a little tricky for the grade Kym and I had given them back then, but that was also true of the lines we had jumped on at The Bookshelf. My reputation of sandbagging people may, as such, have some merit. Although when bouldering, failing is as much a part of the fun as succeeding. By 11’ish our arms were feeling weary and the bite of the sun was telling us it may be wise to head out. So Rongy, Sarah, Sophia and I walked out, which included the dreaded stairs, which for some reason always make my legs burn:
As we drove out Southern Heath Monitor (Varanus rosenbergi) ran across our path and I had to brake pretty hard to avoid it. It was definitely much warmer now and, unlike the Wolf Spider, the monitor made a dash for it but only into the bush by the side of the road. Allowing us to get a great view of it, before it then showed off its tree climbing ability so it could really get away from us. The rest of the mob only started to walk out from The Playground at 2:30, which would have been very toasty. And I feel that the kids will have well and truly earnt an ice cream on the way home:
The Stormtrooper (13, 8m) A steep start up and over an overlap at half height before entering the sentry box that protects the headwall. Consistent and fun climbing. Krish Seewraj, Sarah Hutt & Ryan Doe 19/02/23
Demolition Girl (13, 8m) The right facing corner, to the right of The Stormtrooper. Up the corner until the arête to the left can be accessed, proving some great exposure at the grade. Straight up from here being careful of the loose rock just below the top. Ryan Doe, Sarah Hutt & Krish Seewraj 19/02/23
At twenty six degrees we were not intending to feel like we were getting cooked. Maybe that was what led Josh to try his luck and suggest a 5:45 meeting time in Capel, by which time the sun had well and truly risen into the sky. As it was I didn’t object to the time, and Rob indicated he was OK with it too. So there were no excuses for feeling tired before we began, and added to that we aimed to find a place that had a bunch of routes to suit both Josh and Rob. While they are not novices, Beginners Wall at Wilyabrup was our destination:
We walked in past the mighty northern blocks, definitely not the place to head when you are building your confidence in leading. Down a rubbly slope on which you can at times feel your feet slip forward in an unsettling way, as the rocks roll underneath. Then meandering through the sharp limestone features standing proud above the cliffs, like a castle or watchtower of some dark lord. Kelly had joined us today, but as I am becoming to expect she donned her running shoes and headed off shortly after we had arrived:
Her journey was to take her south along the Cape to Cape track, aiming to get some 20km of running in. That sounds way more impressive than us scaling the short 10m walls at this scrappy coastal location. A wall that looked to be dwarfed by the main cliffs of Wilyabrup to the south. Scrappy is a word Rob use to describe the cliffs of the Organ Pipes and Driftwood Bay, which lie between where we were and the main cliffs. It is a good word to use for those and this location, but it doesn’t mean the climbing isn’t fun:
And it also belies the great situation we found ourselves in, with the 3m swell resulting in us looking over our shoulders every so often to see what might be heading our way. I was happy to allow the boys go lead for lead, so they could rack up a few ascents on routes they felt looked good and appealing. To start with there was no looking at the guidebook, it was a case of picking the lines that drew their attention. This resulted in allowing them to warm to this place, which despite its short nature is very well featured with ample protection:
Having felt comfortable on their initial leads, and finding plenty of solid gear Rob decided to jump on an interesting looking grade 14. While there was one moment he stopped to consider what next, it really didn’t worry him too much. Although he did think it was somewhat over graded, and I made a suggestion that he should have picked up on. As I felt the original climb didn’t go up the relatively easy flake, but a flared crack to the right. One I have tried before and backed off due to lack of gear:
This was relevant, as after Josh notched up another enjoyable and relaxed lead and having had a boost by the above ascent Rob jumped on a second grade 14. For this one the line was obvious and inescapable, and this time it felt considerably harder. He went for it, but not before placing some solid gear, and promptly slipped. This was his first lead fall on trad, which surprised me a little as he has over the years done a fair bit of trad climbing. At least this time I couldn’t be blamed for sandbagging him, as I didn’t establish or grade the route:
After a couple of attempts he came down and offered me the lead, and I have to confess for a grade 14 it is pretty spicy. And he was very happy with the decision to allow me to finish it off. They were both a little weary after that climb, but Rob was still keen for another lead. Sensibly dropping the difficulty, but he still left tired on the steep start. And was probably made a little nervous by the rising tide. The water at times lapped just a few feet from Josh, and also filled the above pool to release the crab’s carcass from its salty tomb:
Kellie returned from her 20km run as we racked up nearly 60m of climbing, not that it is a competition. Still I felt like we could jump on another route, this time it was clear that I would be leading and it might feel a little spicy. Seeing the climb is called Spicy. Being one of my creations, if Rob had led it he may have been justified in saying I sandbagged him. While he forced his way up the line, his body really didn’t want to pay attention anymore despite his mind understanding what he had to do. It was clear that Josh was now cooked:
But before we wrapped up, I knew that Rob had really liked the look of a short steep face. So I suggested that should be our final climb, and he seemed keen. Kellie watched on thinking I was a little mad, as I climbed the route. Other than one piece of gear it is effectively a solo, but I knew this so it didn’t faze me. Then it was Rob’s turn. Whether it was weariness from all the climbing and leading, nerves of watching me solo it, or that he felt it was yet another sandbag his goose was also now well and truly cooked:
We finally managed to get the pest control booked in for Thursday last week, to spray the house and deter spiders from cohabitating with us. We have this done annually, this time being delayed and we had noticed an increase in White-tailed Spiders (Lampona cylindrata). These were the biggest concern, as bites from these can cause swelling and itchiness. Something all three of us had experienced recently. The other common spiders were not so much of a worry, such as the Black House Spider (Badumna insignis) that like the in White-tailed Spider is native, and of course the introduced Daddy-long-legs Spider (Pholcus phalangioides):
We have the house sprayed with pyrethrin based chemicals, which is naturally found in some chrysanthemum flowers. That said, these chemicals can affect humans and dogs alike, mucking about with the normal operation of the nerves and brain function. Therefore, the poodles had gone with Lisa to school and, as I was working from home, I had to get out of the house for a few hours. A trip to the post office to pick up the mail only chewed up half an hour, so I took my snorkel gear with me and went in for a swim at Wave Walk off Peppy Beach:
The flat looking ocean looked inviting, with small rolling waves on occasion washing the shoreline. But as soon as my head went under it was clear that it wasn’t clear. Far from it and the under toad, for those familiar with The World According to Garp, had stirred up a storm below the surface. Needless to say it was a pretty ordinary snorkel, and I saw very little. Come Saturday and driving back from my morning out climbing with Ash at Wilyabrup the ocean once more looked very inviting:
Not completely put off by the deception from a few days back, I planned to tag along with Geoff and Benny for a dive, again off Wave Walk, on Sunday morning,. It turned out to be a fair crew, with Nana, Moni, and Gav also joining. At 8:30, as we stood on the beach it already felt hot, as we waited for Benny who seemed to forget one thing after another. Gav had to cool down and bobbed in the water, watched on by a couple of gulls. And as Benny continued to faff, the rest of us went in ahead of him:
The visibility over the near shore reef looked a bit better than it had on Thursday, but only marginally. I was however encouraged by a Southern Eagle Ray (Myliobatis tenuicaudatus) that seemed happy for me to swim with and above it, as it led me out to deeper waters. Here the visibility definitely improved, with the swell being distributed over a deeper column of water so it did not have the force required to mobilise the bed sediments. The reef was fairly plain and flat, but the occasional feature provided an opportunity to explore:
While there were plenty of fish about, I didn’t spot anything unusual or new. Not all of them were hiding from me like the above Brownspotted Wrasse (Notolabrus parilus), and no doubt someone new to the area would have marvelled over the many species I saw. I was however very happy to find the fully orange anemone shown two images above. It seemed a bit of a coincidence, after finding and getting so excited with the Sea Anemone with an orange body last weekend while diving the reef off from the Capel River mouth:
Similar to that last dive I also came across yet another species of Feather Duster Tubeworm (Sabellidae). The colouration of the delicate radiole, which swayed gently with the water as they filtered out food, was distinctly different to the ones I had seen before. It is this that I am assuming indicates it was a difference species, but I could be wrong. The below colourful find is however an easy one to identify, the electric blue lines and spots covering the bright orange body meaning it was undoubtedly a juvenile Common Scalyfin (Parma victoriae):
One more image of a Golf Ball Sponge (Tethya). While there are fifteen species found in southern Australian waters and despite the pinky looking colour, which may be partly an optical illusion created by the way the light was refracting through the water, I’d hazard a guess at saying it is an Orange Golf Ball Sponge (Tethya ingalli). After an hour plus in the water, one by one we headed back to shore. And as we got closer we were once again engulfed in sediment and weed unable to see the seabed:
