It is of course possible to have too much of a good thing, with climbing for me that has mostly come about from strain injuries sustained from the artificial style of climbing by pulling on plastic holds indoors.  When it comes to climbing outdoors, other than managing the physical bodily risks to avoid strains and the environmental risks that can pose more serious injuries, there is very little that can result in me reaching a point of saturation.  At which I am unable to gain any more enjoyment from it:

So it was that once again I was heading back to Cosy Corner, and area that doesn’t have heaps of routes.  What attracts me to this place is the setting, and luckily there are those that I climb with that feel the same way.  In it for the whole experience, as opposed to the singular focus of the battle with the rock and for some people an even more focused battle with just one line on a piece of rock.  Having this wider appreciation of the environment also helps in avoiding silly little injuries by slowing down and not needing to go hard all the time:

I was a little surprised to find out that Josh had only been climbing outdoors for about a year.  In fact today was the first anniversary of me taking Josh out climbing, although it was Howsie that first got him out on real rock.  On that trip the three of us, plus Nadia, went for a play at Wilyabrup on a hot and sweaty day.  Today our first thought was again to visit Wilyabrup, until I suggested Cosy Corner as an alternative option.  Although it would require an earlier start time of 4:30am, even though it was only supposed to be a mere 26 degree:

The temperature of 26 also happened to be where the mercury started at 4:30am for our trip one year back: https://sandbagged.blog/2021/12/27/cooling-off-time/.  A far cry from today, and as can be seen we were all fairly well rugged up, with cloud that looked like it would threaten to precipitate, a stiff southerly wind that in the earlier hours felt like it cut to the bone, and a choppy ocean.  In fact 26 degrees felt unattainable today, but that didn’t dampen our spirits:

Josh’s aim for 2022 was to be able to get out once a month, which he has achieved.  Due to such infrequent trips he has not led many routes, with his first one being exactly ten months ago.  A trip during which his perseverance also resulted in me not losing my ring of power https://sandbagged.blog/2022/02/27/my-precious/.  And speaking of first, today was his initiation of sea cliff climbing, during which he even bagged a lead.  Howsie’s aim for 2022, as you may be aware of, was to have a crack at all the grade 22s in the area:

Life this year has thrown a few obstacles in the way of this goal.  However, in line with my comments above Howsie no longer sees the challenge as a singular focus, and enjoys the whole sensory experience nature offers to those prepared to look around and notice it.  And while we may not have been out attempting grade 22 routes today, which would have resulted in Josh not being able to be so involved, much to our surprise we did manage to bag a couple more first ascents (https://www.climberswa.asn.au/topic/cosy-corner/):

The first is shown two images above and was an unexpected find, while the second shown below was a line I have considered before.  It was only Howsie’s second first ascent, the first one he scored was also at Cosy Corner when the two of us climbed here six years back.  On that trip we also established a line each (https://sandbagged.blog/2016/11/20/cosy-corner/), and it would seem this place yields two routes at a time for me.  As this happened recently with Rongy ten days back, and not so recently with Craig way back in 2006:

I guess the opportunity to find new lines are in part because nearly all the other climbers who visit the south west end up at either the main area of Wilyabrup or Bobs Hollow, resulting in places like this rarely getting any attention.  There is of course good and bad with this.  The good far out weighing the bad, and includes that we have places to climb where we can enjoy the environment in relative peace and as experienced today the chance to climb new lines for which there is no prior knowledge:

Climbing new routes, ground up, is in my mind the only way to do it.  No idea of what lies ahead or indeed whether it is even possible or you are good enough to complete the climb.  Then there is the bad, and the only negative I can think of is that you are more likely to come across loose rock.  More care is needed in these less frequented areas, where there has not been the traffic of many hands and feet to dislodge anything loose.  Or at times have loose rock more forcefully removed, because it is not within their risk tolerance levels:

The only loose rock we found today was on the last route of the day.  It is a large wobbly flake that we have known about since the route was established, and having climbed the line many times we have never considered trying to knock it off.  Howsie was the last person up and when he reached it we pondered whether we should “clean” the line.  It was certainly of a size that could likely result in a fatality, but then again we have climbed the route without incident many times and the route description clearly mentions the need to avoid it: 

As can be viewed above, we decided to give it a wobble to test how secure it was.  It would certainly unnerve someone while they are climbing the route, but you would need a crowbar and some grunt to dislodge it.  So we left it alone.  We were also not all that keen on the idea of purposely damaging the cliff, and it again comes back to why you climb.  For those with a singular focus they would probably want to remove it, but for those who enjoy the bigger experience we are more likely to be able to accept the place for what it is:

On Christmas Eve, when growing up in UK, I would be hoping that we might wake up to a white Christmas.  Here there is no hope of that occurring, and in truth I still struggle to feel Christmassy in the heat of summer.  But, as once happened twelve years back, I do quietly hope that I might experience another sandy Christmas in the zawn of Moses Rocks.  There is no post of our trip in 2010 when, on Boxing Day, Rongy and I encountered this Christmas miracle.  Allowing us to climb two new routes walls that have on every other trip here, since then, been impossible get on.  And as evidence an image from back then is included below:

Today Ash and I had planned to get in the zawn, feeling that we would have had great conditions due to a reasonably low tide, small swell, plus a week of close to mid-thirty temperatures.  Sadly Ash wasn’t able to make it, so undeterred I headed out to do a bit of top rope soloing.  Feeling that the ocean conditions would also be such that it was even worth me bringing my snorkel gear to finally check out the reef here.  However, the snorkel gear didn’t even make it out of the car.  The view of the ocean, as I approached, made it clear there was no point in carrying the extra weight.  Then as I walked in all the rock was damp, probably from the overnight sea spray and alluding to less than ideal conditions:

The above image is of the same wall that Rongy was climbing in the first picture.  No sand and no dry rock.  To top it off I had even forgotten to bring my ascender with me.  This device would normally glide up the rope as I climbed and then, should I slip, grip the rope tightly to prevent me from plummeting back down.  My only option was to revert to using my belay device with a prusik knot, which comprises a cord looped round the rope several times.  This creates friction when the rope or cord is loaded, and stops the rope slipping through the belay device.  Being a manual system it does not follow up as you climb, resulting in the need to find a good stance to pull the rope through the belay device, and then to move the prusik up the rope:

It means you have slack in the rope until you find a stance to allow you to fiddle about.  And in the wet conditions it made for a slightly more exciting soloing experience than usual.  It did not stop me, and I climbed a couple of routes on the wet wall before deciding to move the rope to the wall on the other side of the zawn.  Here much to my amazement I spotted the above carrot bolt.  It looked old and has no doubt been there a very long time, and despite how often I come here I had not noticed it before.  Then, again to my amazement, I looked back across the zawn to find someone looking up at Hands Up Wall.  To make the effort to get here it had to be a climber, and in seventeen years I have only come across other climbers here on two occasions:

After a quick introduction, it transpired that Rob had also come down to top rope solo a few lines.  And he was equally surprised to find me here as, like me, he has not seen others here when climbing here.  Between us we had enough gear and a lead rope, but Rob was just getting back into climbing after a bit of a break.  Resulting in him being more than happy for me to take the pointy end, allowing him to reacclimatise both his body and mind to trad climbing with the safety of a rope above him.  We hit a few of the lines on Hands Up Wall including this wonderfully flared and rounded crack, which I was quietly wishing I had my tricams for:

The climb he really wanted to get on was Wheely Things, another crack but more vertical and one that is deep enough to allow you to using a climbing technique call jamming.  A great climbing skill but one so few are adept at, including me.  So after three routes on the slabs we hit that one.  Rob enjoyed it so much, despite getting pretty pumped on it, that I lowered him back down so he could do it again.  The other line that Rob had in his mind to one day have a go at was in the zawn, being a fun arête.  I set my rap line up again and we dropped in.  With the sun on it the wall was drying up nicely, although the bottom being in the shade was still damp:

While he was keen to climb the arête, it was a line he wanted to lead.  He had never been in the zawn before, which in itself can add to the fear factor, and was also not sure if he was ready to take it on.  Plus, due to the access, it is not the sort of place you want to have an epic.  So rather than spoil the opportunity to get an on-sight lead of the line, I climbed the face to the left of it.  A route that really packs a punch at the grade, almost getting off vertical the higher you go.  And all the time on slopey holds, all of which seems to slope the wrong way.  We both thoroughly enjoyed the route, but the capability of the forearms to keep holding on had been somewhat reduced and we didn’t drop back into the zawn:

Rob was however still keen to have a lead, and the sensible option was to head back to the northern walls of Moses Rocks.  Dry rock being in the sun, slabby routes to reduce the work rate of the forearms, easier grades and a sensible amount of gear all made it the obvious choice, where this time Rob did get on the sharp end and enjoyed it.  With a successful lead under his belt, and one more than he was expecting to do when he decided to head to Moses, the bug was back and he was keen to jump on one more.  Sadly however, the steeper and harder lines at Hands Up Wall had sapped more energy than he realised.  Rather than forging onwards and risk a fall, he decided to bail on the second lead and end the session on the high of his successful lead:

It was way too much like hard work this morning, when at 4am the alarm violently shook me out of my deep slumber.  When we had agreed the time earlier that week our reasoning was sound.  The destination being just a wee bit further than usual, and the temperatures threatening to tip into the thirties.  However, it had felt an arduous and draining week at work, and last night we popped up the road for a social at the neighbours.  The one beer I had was enough to make the early morning, as it arrived all too soon, a little less inviting:

Rongy and I pulled into the carpark in Capel at the same time, and he too had found the early start a little challenging.  However, once the light started to come into the sky our circadian clocks sprang into action and the morning was once again a wonderful time of day.  The 80min trip led us to the most southern rocky outcrop worthy of climbing along the western coastline of the Leeuwin-Naturaliste National Park.  Cosy Corner doesn’t have loads of routes, but it is a place that has a special feeling to it:

To gain access to the climbs on this cliff you need to abseil in, but neither of us had a plan for the day and were both a bit indecisive about which routes to hit.  Instead of deciding, we went for a wander, first to the southern end of the cliff, to scope out if there were any new route possibilities.  But there was good reason there are no recorded climbs on this section.  It was very broken with big blocks that looked like they were just hanging there and could tumble into the ocean with only the slightest bit of encouragement, as shown above:

We then walked out to the headland, which is bleached out in the image above due to the contrast.  I’ve looked down this shorter and steeper face numerous times, but there are no good belay ledges at the base and the wall looks wet even in the calmest of conditions.  With no new sections worth exploring we rapped into the tallest part of the cliff, where we knew there were three worthy lines.  However, Rongy’s eagerness for something different resulted in him scoping the cliff left of where the established lines exists:

Despite not having climbed for some time and not feeling climbing fit, he managed to weave up a sneaky but worthy line that included a couple of bold sections.  The upper part of the climb eased off a bit, but not for him on lead.  The crux move, shown above, felt very exposed and insecure.  This led him to placing two pieces of gear close together, and after a quick discussion about whether to place a short or long extender on the red cam, we/he opted for a short one.  And this decision was enough to create drag, as the rope ran round the bulge:

Now I wouldn’t say I was jealous of him having bagged a new line, but it did make my eyes start to wander.  Not that they had to look too far, as just a few meters to the left there was an obvious corner crack.  The start provided great thought-provoking climbing that at the crux seemed improbable.  Above the corner there was a need for more reflections, when the climbed went up a section of the face covered in a sheet of limestone.  This stuff can vary from solid through to complete choss, which can give way at any time:

I’m pleased to say it held.  That said I can see Rongy’s line being repeated, but the limestone mid-section of mine might be enough to prevent anyone wanting to try it.  We were both pretty happy with the two new routes, but my eyes were still searching.  I pointed out a narrow section of rock on the headland that was bound by limestone on both sides, shown below.  It even had a small platform at the base from which to belay.  Rongy was not as convinced as me, so we decided it was time to jump on the established climbs:

We hit all three of them allowing us to compare them against the two new lines to confirm what we might grade them.  We both agreed they were a tad harder, which was good as it meant we didn’t have to work quite so hard as we knock the first, second and finally the third line off.  It was however hard enough to work Rongy’s unconditioned arms.  And as he began to surmount the roof of the final climb he hinted that he didn’t have much juice left in the tank.  Code to say “watch me”, which I did while continuing to take photos just in case:

Five lines may not seem like a lot of climbing considering the distance, and there was plenty of shade time left on the wall to allow more climbing.  The decision to call it a day isn’t however always based on the amount of climbing, but also quite simply whether we feel satisfied with what we had done.  And we both did, especially the new routes: https://www.climberswa.asn.au/topic/cosy-corner/.  Our only regret was that we didn’t bring the snorkel gear.  The water wasn’t flat but it was clear and as the sun rose higher in the sky the weed covered reef looked so inviting.  Next time:

I thought I had been pretty good with taking time off from work this year, but I seem to have got towards the end of the year with a fair bit of leave up my sleeve.  This included one day of a particular type of leave that if I did not use it I would lose it, as the clock clicked over into 2023.  A while back I had decided to use it today, and the tentative plan to get out with Howsie for a climb.  Sadly these plans were scuppered, although coming up to the silly season and all that it brings, I wasn’t overly surprised.  So already had a backup plan:

Walking in through the low scrub the birds, hidden from view, were in full song.  It was about the same time as I would normally have been driving to work, which I felt was an early enough start.  Plus after a run of low thirties/high twenties it was forecast to be partly cloudy and cooler today, so there was no need for a proper early start.  That said I was still hoping for more cloud than not, which didn’t happen.  The cloud was about, it just didn’t provide shade where I was climbing.  That meant I was going to be in for a hot and sweaty time:

The carpark at the beach can often be packed at this time, not today.  It was empty and I didn’t see a soul as a drove in, and then hiked along the track.  It was probably due to the lack of swell today, so the surfers could have a lie in.  Across the bay I reckon the snorkelling conditions would have been great.  But at the mighty zawn of Smiths Beach, where I was standing, the sets of waves while not big would have made it unpleasant to be in the water.  That didn’t however worry the crabs, who ran and dived in water as soon as they spotted me:

When writing the guide for this area I called Smiths Beach the big brother of Moses Rocks.  They have a similar style of climbing with rounded rock and flared cracks, interspersed with blank featureless sections.  Friction is everything, but only works with good balance and engaged core strength.  However, Smith Beach is more of a brute being steeper, more technical, and with rougher rock.  And just like a tussle with a big brother I find that I come away from this place with scuffed knees nearly every time, and did again today:

On previous solo missions here I have stuck to the steeper and harder north facing wall, as it hold onto the shade for longer.  Today however I plumped for the south facing Harbour Wall, on which several routes take a leaning line up the face.  To the left is the open ocean, and the thought of slipping off, down low, and swinging out above the ocean wasn’t very inspiring.  Just to show that I can be sensible and do consider the risks, to avoid that happening my set up today had more directional pieces of gear, as well as an anchor at the base:

That said the start moves of the first line and finale of the last line of the day felt pretty sketchy to say the least.  When I led the first ascent of these routes I did them ground up, which means not I did not inspect the lines beforehand so had no idea what holds or gear might or might not be available.  So the acceptable level of risk back then was a tad higher than it may be now.  While I only managed one line in the shade, after which the sun struck, I stuck to my plan and sweated it out and thoroughly enjoyed my tussles with the big brother:

A sixteen hour round trip to catch up with friends down in Esperance was just a bit too much to think about for Ash this weekend.  This worked out well for me, as it meant I had someone to hold the rope and I didn’t have to go solo again.  As Sam found out last weekend, having the rope below you brings a whole new perspective to climbing.  Something that you can probably guess I relish.  So while I will resort to top rope soloing if I have to, my preference will nearly always be to be on the sharp end:

I say nearly, as I feel any statement that uses the word always and/or never are rarely true.  In fact Lisa and I made a pact many years back to avoid using these terms, in part as they can unexpectedly result in discussions taking a turn for the worse due to inferring accusations.  The last time Ash went climbing was with Claudia, Sam and myself, which was nearly three months back.  As such he confessed to not being climbing fit resulting in us plumping for the Organ Pipes at Wilyabrup, a rarely frequented place:

This place has short, and some might go so far as to say scrappy, lines.  They however offer some fun lower grade routes, perfect to ease Ash back into climbing.  The main face has a great level and clear area at its base, a perfect spot to belay.  The only issue today being the infestation of ants.  I attempted to get an image showing them en-masse, failing miserably so I instead focused on one of the entrances to their underground home.  Here I watched them frantically scampering in and out, and wondered what they may be communicating to each other:

While Ash looks rugged up, he discarded layers after the first line.  It was a bit of a strange morning, we had expected a crisp clear start to the day but the air seemed to hang heavy and the humidity was up.  This is what I put all the any activity down too, and made a mental note to do a bit of research to see what facts may lie behind my theory.  There are plenty of pest control sites that reference increased ant, and other insect, activity in humid conditions.  All indicating the moisture draws them out, but finding actual research or factual information was harder:

The closest I could get was a paper, which detailed observation of a 25% increase in ant activity with increased humidity.  And I am happy to take that as confirmation, although the ant activity today was way more than 25% of what I normally see here.  So much so we avoided the obvious place to belay from in order to get away from the critters.  Humidity plays another role with me, making me feel lethargic.  That added to the reduction of friction on the rock due to the moisture in the air, and increase in sweat seeping out of my fingertips.  All of which is not a good combination:

Fortunately we were having a purposely cruisy morning, so these aspects didn’t impede my performance.  Ash too did well, and even more so when I found out he had pounded out a 27km hike along part of the cape to cape trail yesterday.  That along with his active job had meant we was already aching before we started.  Making me wonder how much I could push him along even with the more sedate routes here.  We stuck to the original lines here and purposely avoided the newer routes, which tend to be that bit more sustained and slightly trickier:

The newer routes being sneaky lines that I have over the years picked off, or offered up to others so they could bag a first ascent.  There was however one sneaky option that I had not to date attempted, and despite his tiring arms Ash encouraged me to give it a go.  Even hinting I was a bit of a dog with bone, so I might as well go for it and get it out of my system.  The image above shows the route, and it was really fun.  The top wall was where it got spicy, which is a bit of theme on this face, and this was a little too much for Ash’s not tiring but now tired arms:

Being a slightly scrappy crag, he was able to avoid the hard part and came up with an ear to ear grin thoroughly enjoying the climbing, but also just being out.  Having got the new route out of my system (https://www.climberswa.asn.au/topic/wilyabrup-the-organ-pipes-2/), we hit a couple of easier routes before jumping on the crag classic.  It was clear that Ash was now pulling pretty hard to stay on.  And while the security of the rope above gave him the confidence to keep moving, it was a sign that it was time to wrap things up and hopefully Ash won’t wait so long before his next trip out:

Walking out this morning, and once we hit the coast to make our way northwards, ours were the only footprints to be seen.  There was however plenty of other life about.  The underside of one roof system we passed was moving, covered in hundreds of thousands of midges that once disturbed erupted into a cloud that blurred the vision.  Fortunately, we were not climbing there and we walked on.  As we did crabs speedily scuttled sideways, diving off boulders and ledges in kamikaze fashion without knowing what lay beneath, just to get away from us even though we were only walking by:

Meanwhile at a much slower pace the limpets in the rock pools lazily moved about, oblivious of us as we watched or maybe they think they were underneath a protective layer of water.  We also spotted the tracks of kangaroos, and above I think a monitor, but none of these bigger creatures were visible.  Not that we spent any length of time looking for them, as today the main focus was Sam.  As previously indicated on our next trip out, i.e. today, I was going to get him on the sharp end.  And the best place for that, in my mind, is The Playground:

It offers the chance to warm up on the slightly longer walk in, boulder to stretch the body, pick short easy routes with plentiful gear options, and the best part being the sandy landing should things should go wrong.  But before tying into the rope to set off, there was the need for the obligatory discussion session to talk about the ins and outs of lead climbing.  It involves a lot of thinking, probably more than most people realise before they set off on such an adventure.  So the initial chat can take a while, describing types of gear and where and how to place them:

New terminology comes in play, such as the zipper effect, the carcass catcher, psychological gear, and others.  All related to a single focus of mitigating the consequence of a fall.  You would think it was easy, throw loads of gear in.  But that can be counterproductive by creating rope drag, result in you pumping out due to hanging about too much, end up with running out of gear when you really need it, and/or quite simply physicking yourself out.  It is a balance to reduce the risk to acceptable level, and as such ultimately a battle of the mind:

This was something Sam noticed and remarked on as he racked up one, two and then a third lead on the fun boulder of the Playground.  For his first two leads I simply told him to climb a line that looked fun, but for his third climb I pointed him to the one shown above.  Mainly because it is steeper, and as such it teaches you to find the positions and places that you can feel most comfortable to place gear.  All the while with our arms slowly tiring, and that in turn playing games with your mind.  Not just making you second guess whether you can hold on, but whether the gear is any good, and/or if the rock round the gear ok:

Being on the pointy end with the rope below him, the consequence of a fall could have been potentially more serious than previous times when he had followed me up a route.  So much so that his mind and body was feeling it.  And of course all in a good way if you like that sort of thing, which it looked like he certainly did.  So while the three climbs Sam lead were never too hard, he felt like he had deserved a break.  But before that happened I took the lead and maybe was a little mean when I took on a fun roof, just to work those arms a bit more:

Sam had brought a flask and fruitcake, and while it may seem like I probably hadn’t earned it I was more than happy to sit in the shade and take in ocean views, while munching and supping away.  In part as, being the playground, I had found time to jump on a few of the boulder problems to work myself a wee bit more.  Such as when it was time for Sam to set up the anchors for the belay at the top of the climbs.  I had helped him set up his first belay station, after which he was able to competently apply the knowledge for his subsequent leads:

Reenergised after the short break, and importantly sustenance, we wandered across to Lost Buttress.  It was time to double the length of the routes, requiring a bit more thought to make sure you don’t run of gear and also apply good rope work.  The latter caught him out, but not so badly that it made the climb unenjoyable.  In fact Sam relished the longer line claiming it was the best route he had led today.  Fair to say I think he has caught the leading bug, although he did confess that his arms probably didn’t have enough juice for any more leading today:

To even up the number of routes I jumped on one last climb, and of course wasn’t going to make things too easy.  So we took on the big roof to get a bit of exposure and work out the last ability of those arms to hold on.  I am pleased to say they did managed to do, enabling Sam to get a clean ascent.  What with all the instructions and things to learn, the day had been relatively slow placed and the sun was already tipping over the top of the crag telling us it was time to wrap things up.  But it was to be expected, and is all part of it:

There was however the walk out to still contend with.  The rock hopping back along the coast is good fun, but then we had to ascend the ridge with step, after step, after step making my legs feel a bit tree-trunky.  Unlike this bee, seemingly laying on its back sunbathing, after it had over indulged in nectar to the point that it was ladened down with pollen, we had to keep moving and I was kind of pleased to finally reach the car and plop into the seat.  I’m also pleased to say that while the bee looked to have had too much of a good thing, it did eventually fly off:

In the South West of Western Australia we would normally have access to the Bureau of Meteorology radar imagery from the Perth (Serpentine) radar.  But this has been out of action since late August, so it becomes a little trickier to check what’s happening in our neck of the woods.  Added to this, despite summer officially starting in less than two weeks, another cold front marched over us during the last few days.  So despite Rongy, and possibly Sarah, indicating a keenness to get to Moses, they bailed on Friday night.  Truth be told, I could sense it would happen from a few days back:

It was understandable, when life is busy I can appreciate not wanting to use up precious time when it look likely the conditions may not be ideal.  I, on the other hand, was not so easily put off and prepared for a solo mission.  Being a solo mission I changed the destination to Wilyabrup, and it is an hour’ish drive from home to the carpark.  As I drove west and approached the halfway mark, the sky ahead looked ominous.  Sure enough driving rain came and went, and then came and went.  Who knew which way this could go, and I was therefore surprised to see another car parked up.  At least it was not raining as I shouldered my pack to start the 15min walk to the crag.  Then part way along it dumped on me:

Luckily I had just got to the only shrub on the walk in, so I hid under this.  Normally the ocean can be seen from here, but it was proper claggy and the ocean could barely be seen.  Watching the water quite literally flow down the branches of the shrub I almost turned round.  But not being a mountain summit, which would have held onto the claggy weather, the belt of murkiness pass over.  My intention had been to set up on Steel Wall, a generally steeper and harder face, but everything was wet.  So I decided to set up on Hope Buttress.  Allowing one setup for my rope, round a big boulder, that would do for all the lines.  Some of which would be easier and more appropriate for the conditions:

Then just as I was about to get the rope over the edge, Wiggins popped up the finishing slab of Hope. I haven’t seen Wiggins for a long time, during which he has changed the number plate on his car, which is why I didn’t recognise it. He told me that he was here with Andrew, who I last climbed with almost exactly a year ago at Moses Rocks, which may also have been his last climb outdoors. They were also joined by Jakke, someone else who I have not seen for a very long time in part because he has been living in Canada and has only recently come back for a bit of a holiday:

Just to be clear I had no idea they would be out, and they also didn’t know of my plans.  Wiggins had said to the others on Friday evening that it would still be worth going if there was a forecast of 5mm of less rain.  Then this morning, as they had stood where I was as I took the above photo, with rain falling a comment was made by Wiggins that seeing I wasn’t out maybe they had misjudged the conditions.  It could therefore be construed that my arrival may have been a good omen.  And it certainly seemed that way, with the rain abating and staying away until we were all wrapped up for the morning:

While they were with three, and they had two lead ropes and ample gear, I stuck to my plan and set up my top rope to do some laps. Although we all stuck to the same area, and they made use of my line to rap down after each route. As such I wasn’t going hell for leather as I would normally, and took a few breaks between climbs. This enabled me to catch up with the them, allow them to descend back to base after each climb, and give me an opportunity to take a few images as they climbed and abseiled. Of note I was surprised to hear the image above is of Jakke’s first recreational abseil:

That may have sounded like a random comment, but Andrew and Jakke have both been members of the State Emergency Service (SES), and have been trained up in vertical rescues. While he will have abseiled with the SES they would have used different rappel devices, with more options to meet the needs of a rescue. With my rope round a single boulder, shifting my line was quick and easy. As such while Wiggins got his second lead in, I climbed a few of the routes to the left. Far enough away not to get in his way but also close enough to still be social and catch some nice images of him on lead. With no more rain the rock was drying nicely, and I jumped on a few of the harder lines on this wall:

I mentioned the use of my rope as an elevator to get down.  This gave me time to kick back between climbs and look about.  Being on the Hope buttress I’d already spotted the Southwestern Carpet Python (Morelia imbricata) tucked deep behind the flake of Glory on my first climb.  And as I looked about in the small shrubs on top of the cliff I spotted a skink with a distinct red throat, so sat very still and waited to see if it would come out.  It did, not for long but enough time to enable me to get a couple of images.  Not only did it have an obvious red throat but also long toes, so I knew it was a skink I hadn’t seen before being a Western Three-Lined Skink (Acritoscincus trilineatus):

Being found in the cooler climates of the South West, relative to the north, it is also known as a Cool Skink.  I’ve read that both the male and female can have the red colouring under the throat, and that this becomes more intense during breeding season.  While the angle of the image I got doesn’t show it, the red was pretty striking.  This was apt considering we are, supposedly in spring and soon to be summer.  Once everyone was back down I left the skink alone, and I turned my attention to another line to top rope.  In between laps and as it was Andrew’s turn to dust off those leading skills, I scrambling about on the boulders below to get an image from another angle:

While I didn’t find the male and female of the Cool Skink, I did spot the pair of King Skinks (Egernia kingii) I had seen a few weeks back with Sarah and Rongy. They were sunning it up and showing signs of affection, lying right next to each other with their heads on each other’s body. One of them was a little skittish, running for shelter whenever I got too close so I left them alone. The image below is of two Southwestern Crevice-Skink (Egernia napoleonis), which I assume were a pair, and these were not at all worried about me. I used the rope in this location and even stepped over them several times and they just sat there. I reckon Sarah would have had a good day today finding reptiles:

Despite the dodgy start it turned into a great morning and there was plenty to see. It seemed that the boys would call it a day after they had got up Andrew’s climb. Rather than just sit on top I set up on one last climb, this meant we all topped out for the final time at the same time. Allowing them to rap down before I pulled my rope and headed off. My choice of climb to finish on was what they had started on. On which I was very happy to find a Southwestern Carpet Python slithering behind the flake, and maybe it was the same one I had seen on my first climb of the day. I parted ways after saying bye to Wiggins, Jakke and then Andrew as they rapped back down: