Sandbagged

A jolly good morning

I feel like I might have jinxed my early morning encounters by mentioning them, in more detail that I would normally, in my last post. Today I sadly came across a lifeless young roo and, just a few hundred meter along, brush-tailed phascogale. Fatalities from the night. While at times the animals do just come out of nowhere, with limited chances of breaking and avoiding them. Many of the night time drivers don’t take as much care as they could, and when they do hit animals they leave them in the road like this:

I stopped and moved both of their limp bodies off the road. The main reason for doing this is to avoid any scavengers becoming the next fatality as they take the opportunity for a an easy feed. And yes I did take a gruesome image of the phascogale, but have refrained from including that. Chatting to Howsie he mentioned that while the brush tail variety aren’t listed as a priority, threatened nor endangered species, they are not that commonly seen. I feel lucky to see them as often as I do, and would rather share an image of a live one with you:

Today Steve was a live one, as he came running along the soft sandy beach to catch up with me. He had stuff to do, so I wandered ahead of him taking in the morning hues and just loving being out here. We left a bunch of people back at the carpark sleeping in their tents and cars; campers from the night before who were yet to rouse. I have been seeing more and more carpark campers, which surprises me. The rangers are usually pretty onto illegal camping but personally I feel that if you leave the place as you found it, it isn’t an issue:

That said walking through the dunes to get to the beach today, we came across numerous things that really shouldn’t have been left like that. And in times of desperation when you just can’t hold on, they should in the very least have been buried. Steve too was finding it hard to hold on today. But not in the same way. In part due to the early start, also his core strength is not what it used to be and on Friday night he had taken Marnie bouldering in Perth at Blackwall Reach, and packed in a lot. A limestone wall up to 10m high right on the Swan River, which one day I will have to visit:

We started on a route call Nothing too Serious, and when I posted about it I said ‘be warned it may be a sandbag’. I’ve led it since and 14 may be a bit mean, but not too far off. Today however Steve didn’t like the route in part for the above reasons but also as he struggled to get his feet to stick to the holds. Claiming that the route was a completely pile of rubbish, as he handed me the rope. Then after following me up he didn’t change his opinion. Although he was smirking when he said it. We then looked at another route of mine, The Plough, but the base was awash when the bigger waves rolled in so we decided to leave that for another day:

While our intention had to be to climb on Handups Wall high above the water, I noticed the classic line in the Zawn was dry. The waves were also not quite reaching the small corner of boulders from where you belay, as shown above. I was surprised to hear Steve had never climbed in the zawn, so we changed plans and headed down. While he enjoyed the route, just like the slopey traverse of the first route we identified something else he is not keen on. Confined spaces where the noise of the ocean bounces off the walls, which seems to play with his head. He had also experienced this during a recent trip to Smiths Beach, but today he was keen to test if it was the setting or just one off thing. Sadly it proved to be the former:

Despite his head rattling inside, he managed a clean ascent. He ran it out on steep section above, and seemed to struggle to get into good stances, find the right gear or stop his legs from shaking. When belaying someone in this situation the belayer needs to keep a level head, so you don’t add unnecessary stress for the climber. I’ve put belayers in similar situations while climbing, it’s all part of climbing. While he was climbing I was also watching crabs feasting, and I couldn’t resist a quick video of the crabs eating. As I followed up I found the above crab crawling right over Steve’s placement. When I appeared it quickly slunk underneath the tricam and I managed to remove the gear without harming the no doubt terrified creature:

Moses Rocks 02 13-02-22 Download

It was time to hit some slabs. The echoey setting of the last route, just like the traverse of the first climb, simply was not Steve’s cup of tea today. So we found ourselves back at Handsup Wall. There are some fun full trad lines and some that require bolt plates. I was keen on a bolted line, but we hadn’t brought any bolt plates. While Steve did have wires, which we could have used to hook over the heads of the glued in machine bolts, I instead put my fearless gritstone head on and led the above bolted route on trad. It gets a little more run out but the gear is bomb proof. So the roles reversed and this time Steve had to be the cool headed belayer:

I had thought to possibly bring my snorkel gear today, but was glad I didn’t bother. The waves were full on wintery barrels, making for spectacular viewing. While I avoided the use of the bolts, Steve decided to have a lead without taking any camming devices. I would normally think this is fine, but today as he was tired I wasn’t so sure. There was a lot of fiddling about with his tricams, when a camming device would have just slotted in no fuss saving him much needed energy. But he loves his tricams and eagerly took on the, at times, challenge of getting them to set:

He managed another clean ascent and was buzzing having thoroughly enjoyed the classic of the crag. It seemed he was all fired up again and was keen to follow me up Cornish Nasty, another fine crack climb and I was surprised at how he floated up the route with ease. That was until he got to the final steep section which made him work a bit harder, with a top-out that resembles an elephant’s arse. This is a technical climbing term, we used in England, for a rounded top devoid of any features or edges that resemble a hold. Leaving nothing to rely on but pure friction, which can feel a little nervous which we both felt:

While tired Steve was keen to put his tricams to use one more time before we packed up, and he picked, in his words ‘an easy route’. Steve lives by his tricams and has complete faith in every placement he makes with them. On this line however, he muttered that he wasn’t feeling confident with his gear. Climbing slowly and not looking like he really didn’t want to test them with a fall. Resulting in him be extra cautious on each hold and move. Following him up I inspected each piece with a more critical eye than usual, but it was clear they were all bomber. When you are getting tired the nerves can certainly get the better of you something I, like most who climb, experience at some point:

The climbing for the day was over, but we still had a fun boulder hopping venture to get back to the beach. Maybe it was because he was weary that he blindly followed me, while I took a very convoluted path back. Attempting to keep as close the water as possible. But it did mean we came across some interesting rock features that he inspected with interest. The final stretch on the soft sand was a killer, and we were both feeling it. Steve was no longer ‘a live one’ and was certainly not running along the beach, as he had at the start. Back at the car he looked grateful to sink into the seat, with the air conditioner pumping out cold air. Depsite the weariness taking over, which isn’t surprising when you’ve been up since 2:30am, and as Steve would say it had been ‘a jolly good morning’:

The banter

I see a variety of animals crossing, resting or at times sleeping on the road, as I drive out for a climb in the wee hours. Kangaroos go without saying, but I also at times see emus, boobook owls, tawny frogmouths, phascogales. Then there are the non-native rabbits, foxes, cats and on the odd occasion a cow or two that has escaped from their paddock. Today however was the first time I have come across a white faced heron sleeping on the road. Standing on the white lines on one leg, with its head tucked under its wing:

I simply had to double back to check it was OK, which it was. I was a little surprised that it didn’t fly off as I approached it, merely walking off into the darkness. This was a particularly unusual find, as they normal reside in and around anywhere with water in the day and roost in trees at night. As I returned some eight hours later I saw no sign of the bird, so can only assume it was okay. The only reason I can come up with for this find was that the heat of the last few days had knocked it about. No doubt today’s cool change will have come as a relief to humans and animals alike:

Howsie had arranged to take Nadia, Marnie and Josh out for a climb. Josh and Nadia had climbed a bit of late, but Marnie hadn’t been out for two years. This meant there would be a bit of top roping going on, and I offered to help out along with Steve. Not unexpectedly we were the only ones about, when we got there. The cool change was indeed welcome and it had also bought some dampness about, with a predication that it might rain later. Steve and I wasted no time and set up a couple of lines on the shorter routes to allow the others a gentle warm up:

With two lines up everyone had the chance to climb each route. There was a lot of banter occurring, both catching-up and meeting and greeting. On days like this it isn’t about clocking up the routes, I knew this but still had to reset my brain into a different approach. This wasn’t too hard as Rongy, Howsie and my Friday morning trip up to Welly Dam had felt hard and I was still weary from that. That morning was in complete contrast to today, it had been hot and muggy. Conditions that had also brought on an onslaught of ruthless and relentless flesh ripping and blood sucking March Flies:

We then moved across to put up a line on both Hope and Glory. This time Howsie and Steve led the lines and then set up a top rope on each. With no prior knowledge of these routes Josh managed the two routes, with relative ease. But he sadly managed to pull a bit too hard at one point, so is now nursing a sore shoulder that is hopefully not too badly strained. Nadia romped up Hope, which was the one climb that she had in mind to have a go at today. However, despite encouragement from all, except Howsie who was no doubt trying to stay neutral and in her good books, she declined to attempt Glory:

Marnie had a bash at both, and considering her two years away from rock did really well. At the roof of Glory either her arms were not physically strong enough or her brain simply was telling her body this is silly. It reminded me a bit of Alan’s noodle arm episodes, but with a rest or two she managed to overcome the overhang and romped at a steady tired pace up the rest. Sadly there were no carpet pythons, nor discarded skins, to be seen on these two climbs. I do wonder if due to all the traffic we see down here, whether they have decided to move on:

We had taken three sets of gear with us, so had enough to run a third line. But as I said before it was a relaxed pace filled more with banter, which I have to say was flowing very freely, than climbing. The urgency wasn’t there to keep three lines active, but I did drop a hint that Howsie might like to try a route I put up way back in 2011 that was conveniently next to where we had to top ropes set up. It has the worse name of any of my routes. Each name I thought of seemed to be already taken up by a climb on another crag in the South West, so maybe the name of A Pocket Full of Nothing puts people off trying it:

Since I put it up I cannot recall ever seeing anyone on it, nor have I seen any chalk indicating someone has been playing on it. I’ve led it twice, and in truth it is a route that scares me but I didn’t tell Howsie that. Where he has got to in the image above, you have to run out the gear on an off vertical wall with slopey holds. It feel intimidating and pumpy and it is near impossible to see what is above you. But Howsie enjoys a challenge, and while he battled against the route Nadia and Marnie decided it was time for a rest. So they found a rock armchair to kick back on and watch the shows unfold above them:

Which Howsie performed in style, and not necessarily all in good style. He dug very deep, taking at least four falls off the steep wall, and at times the strain in his face made it look like his head was going to explode. Exhausted he finally conceded that he had to find another way up. A traverse into and up the wide corner, was followed by a beached whale manoeuvre to make sure the delicate traverse back over the line was protected. It was all a little comical and completely fitting for today, providing lots more fodder for the banter:

While all this was going on, the others cleaned the ropes and Steve and Marnie then went on to climb Orryjohn. He had a mini-epic on the start of this route last time we were down, but today he seemed calm and collected. It also seemed that Marnie’s arms had recovered from Glory and enjoyed another birthday climb. The timing was great and we all met at the top. There we found loads of people milling about all eagerly soaking up knowledge about climbing, as part of a training camp being run by the WA climbing association. On the way back Steve and I reflected on the day and what stood out the most, and he was quick to reply with “the banter”:

Dangerous conditions

I’ve been watching the water after work each day and it seems that things have been clearing up a bit. Or so it seemed looking down at it from the road side and not taking the time to walk up to it. I was going to jump in myself but then Geoff and Nana told me they too were thinking of a dip this morning, but heading past the point where the reef was more substantial and interesting. No one else from the usual Peppy crew was available to join us, so the three of us drove out happy to see the calm conditions. Sure there was a bit of a swell but the surface looked glassy:

It didn’t take long to realise the water column was full of debris. We have had lots of hot days with low currents. Added to that the previous generally less settled conditions had been enough to rip the weed out, which was also floating about. All this is leading to dangerous conditions, one in which plankton can start to thrive. There are two types, phytoplankton and zooplankton comprising plants and animals respectively. While I am not going to try and guess which one was evident today, the excess presence was obvious. Slimy looking filaments were distributed through the water, the floating weed and jellyfish were coated:

We have an abundant source of light, so with calm warm conditions the last trigger required to enable plankton to kick off like this are nutrient levels. Nutrients are flushed into the ocean via the rivers, and via groundwater, originating from many sources. The main contributor in our local area being agriculture, with excess fertilizer application and animal waste leaching out of the catchment. While the Capel River catchment has one of the lower nutrient concentrations compared to other catchments that flow into the Geographe Bay, with the current conditions it has been enough to tip the balance. And whether this has resulted in increased phytoplankton, zooplankton, or gelatinous zooplankton activity the result is the same, low oxygen conditions:

Sadly, this too was obvious and I came across two herring gulping for air at the surface. Fish will do this for, usually, one of two reasons. Poor water quality or more likely today, based on the conditions we have had, there wasn’t enough dissolved oxygen in the water. This results in their normal respiratory mechanism, of drawing water over the gills to extract the oxygen, is ineffective. All we can hope is that the winds come in and help to generate greater currents. The movement of water will help to distribute and dilute the effect of the nutrients, reduce the water temperature and avoid pockets of low oxygen water:

We spent a fair bit of time looking about, and while there were a few fish about all three of us felt the reef seemed empty of life. As such our dive today was not as long as it could have been. The good news being that as we swam slowly to shore we spotted more life. I came across a reasonable school of Australian Herring, Arripis georgianus (Valenciennes 1831). These fish spawn here from April to June, and the Leeuwin Current then takes the eggs and larvae eastward towards the southern bays. Here they spend about two years, after which the return as adults in February and March to start the cycle again:

Below are a fish that I used to spend a lot of time watching on the reef off my local beach. Not a recreational fish, so most people wouldn’t be interested in them. There is however something about the Western Gobbleguts, Ostorhinchus rueppellii (Günther 1859), that tweaks my interest. I didn’t realise it before but they are paternal mouthbrooders, which means they protect their eggs and/or young by holding them in their mouth. Quite a few fish are like this, including all of the cardinalfish family, which these fish are in:

I also came across a few King George Whiting, Sillaginodes punctatus (Cuvier 1829). Not a fish that will normally allow me to get too close, but this one seemed okay with me popping down to say hello. Punctatus comes from the Latin word punctum meaning spot or small hole, hence punctuation and puncture. In this case it is thought to be due to the brownish spots along the fishes body. This is the largest of the whiting family and can grow to approx. 70cm, but are more commonly found at half this size. The ones I saw were no more than 35cm, but being a highly prized table fish I wonder if Geoff would have considered spearing one or two:

I spent a bit of time watching the above Whiting, due to how it feeds. The snout is conical at the end of which is small mouth, from where the jaws can extend outwards. The fish would bury the tip of its snout into the sand, and suck small invertebrates into the clutches of its jaws. With each attempt to find food little puffs of sand would billow out. It was both interesting and relaxing to watch it go about this process. When we came in the water still looked great being flat and glassy, but underneath there were pockets on the cusp of becoming dangerously deoxygenated. Fingers crossed the conditions change to prevent this happening:

Keeping cool

We were in for another warm day, and while we weren’t the first at the carpark we were the first at the crag. The occupants of the two cars already parked up were still in slumber land as we walked in. It’s been an abnormally hot summer, a record breaking one with more individual days over 40 in Western Australia than during any other summer on record. Australia’s heatwaves are usually driven by high pressures lying over the Australian bight to the south. This year this phenomena has been more regular and consistent:

In addition there has been a regular high pressure off the west coast, and this has at times resulted in the Freemantle Doctor not coming to drop the temperatures. Normally during summer, a cooling sea breeze would coming in the evening to provide respite. Locally known as the Freemantle Doctor. Without this the place stays warmer overnight, and this repetitive pattern of warmer nights and hot days results in the whole place heating up. What’s really interesting, and I knew this through work, is that heatwaves are Australia’s deadliest natural hazard:

More people die from heatwaves than floods or bushfires. Despite that, so little is done to improve how we plan our cities and towns, or build our houses to reduce the urban heat island effect. Where a bubble of hot air forms over the concrete jungles we insist on building. While it would be warming up today, Ash and I were keen to have a chilled session. A recent climbing accident of a friend of Ash had, understandably, knocked Ash’s confidence. But he was still keen to keep climbing, so today was about helping him to rebuild his trad leading mojo:

There is of course only one way to do that. Get on the sharp end and enjoy some cruisy lines. Ones that won’t stress you out and allows you to reset your climbing mindset. We jumped on the obvious well protected Glory and Hope, heaps of easy to spot and place gear. As each piece slots in your mind can relax that bit more, and you feel safer. I led and first and Ash jumped on the second, Hope. He laced it up with stacks of solid gear. After all if you are going to put it on your harness then you might as well use it, to save hauling it all the way up the climb:

You might notice above that Ash not only had a harness full of hardware, but he also brought along his big gear. I’ve only used a No.5 and 6 Camelot once, with Kym when I took on what felt to me like a brutal off-width. Not big enough to wedge your body in or arm bar, but not narrow enough to jam with one hand. But while I haven’t used them at Wilyabrup, it didn’t mean we couldn’t find a route or two for Ash to use them. Orryjohn seemed a likely candidate, a wide crack at the back of a chimney. Like his first lead he throwing the gear in at every opportunity:

Climbing with, and placing so much gear, can be time consuming. But today was about resetting Ash’s mind, by cramming in and trusting the gear not by bagging lots of routes. So far it looked like it was working. Orryjohn was a big hit. Ash was keen to get one more lead in and had his eyes on one of the big corners. His choice of Fat Crack was out, due to a party top roping right next to it. We had managed two routes before the trickle of climbers drifted in. So we picked another one of the wide corners, Chockstone Chimney:

Ash romped up his third lead, placing less gear than the other two. More so due to the ease of the route than anything else, but it was great to see him run it out a bit more with confidence. To boot all of his big Camelots got used for a second time, and I wouldn’t be surprised if after today they are put back into storage. The harness certainly feels a lot heavier and more cumbersome with them hanging off it. Despite the rising temperature, I reckon we achieved our goal of enjoying the climbing and staying cool headed:

A long time coming

Being the last week of my go slow January, and due to having a public holiday in the middle of the week, I took Thursday and Friday off to really chill out. It’s going to be a bit of a rude awakening next week, when it is back to the five days week. But I am making the most of it before then, with a trip to Welly Dam on Wednesday; helping Craig to put the frame for his new shed up yesterday; getting out with Howsie today and then tomorrow I’ll help Ash get his trad leading head back:

I’m not known for my love of the sun, avoiding the sun being a key reason for why I like such early starts for climbing. But yesterday, helping Craig with his shed, there was no escaping it. You could say I’m a bit of a wuss in that regard, I get really weary when I’m in the sun all day. Therefore, it was a good job that today Howsie and I were visiting the Organ Pipes. I could take it a bit easy, allowing Howsie to take nearly all of the leads. In part, as I had recently been here with Mario but mostly because Howsie has not climbed here before:

He is like me. He loves climbing for climbing sake, so I knew he would enjoy the at times more rambling style of routes here. If you can forgive that they are good trad lines, with a good number awaiting Howsie to tick them off. We started easy, allowing him to get a feel for the rock. We had a rap line set up, and as many lines start from the same location we could throw the rope down. It was quite fast paced morning. While Howsie was loving lead after lead I was bidding my time, waiting for my chance:

After Howsie had enjoyed four very fun leads I decided it was now or never. Time to once again battle my demons and attempt my long term project. As I started the excuses began to enter my head. The first four routes had been just enough to wear the initial layer of skin from my fingertips, and I could feel the sweat seeping out more easily. It also felt like my arms where tired, did I get too much sun yesterday? Then there was the anticipation of what was to come, runout gear, delicate balancy moves, and small smeary holds. Only one point of contact needed to fail and I’d be off:

Despite all of those thought rattling about in my head I managed, finally, to get a clean ascent of The Reaper Man. It has only been waiting for me to lead it since 2014, but I can’t see people flocking to repeat it. We weren’t sure about the grade 19 or 20 but looking at my grade app I reckon a UK E2 5b/c is fair, so I’ll go with 20. Seeing this route has been such a mind game for me I had to video it. Whichever grade it really is, Howsie won’t need to climb it as part of his annual challenge. The year of 20’s, 2020, has passed and I get the feeling he might be pleased about that:

The Reaper Man 28-01-22 Download

After my one lead I was more than happy to hand the rope back to him. The next few routes were not as hard but the grades, compared to his first four leads, were going up. Two of which had reasonable runouts at the tricky cruxes in the upper sections, offering a long fall should things go amiss. I could tell he too was getting tired, which was not a surprise. Taking on lead after lead is mentally draining. Also being new routes, for him, there is a tendency to hang onto holds for longer than necessary. As you ponder what might be above, so it is also physically more demanding:

Three routes later, and only just over three hours after we started climbing, we decided it was time to wrap things up. There are still a few routes here that Howsie will have to come back for; he just wouldn’t have had the energy to do them justice today. While I am loving all this climbing, it is taking my time away from the water and with each passing day it looks like our local beach is really starting to clear up again. Hopefully the clarity will be like it was before Christmas again, but I might not get in until after my first full week of work for a while:

Light as a feather

Australia Day means different things to different people. Some see it as a celebration and some as sad reminder of when things went south. For Steve, Rongy and I, yet another public holiday provided us with an opportunity to get away from it all, at least for the morning. We instead immersed ourselves in the outdoors and, as you no doubt now come to expect, a bit of rock. Welly Dam was on the cards and as I approached the area a group of five guys were furiously waving me down:

I don’t quite know how they managed to get any sleep, but the five of them had slept in their standard sedan sized car. During the process they had managed to drain the battery. It only felt right to help them out, which I did before heading to the quarry via the toilets. The gardens near the toilets, at the café, were alive with small birds. What with three of us climbing I had brought my SLR today. So I pulled my camera out and sat there for a while watching the birds, capturing the above Brown Honeyeater:

Honeyeaters are named for the obvious reason. They have over time developed brush-tipped tongues especially adapted to be able to collect nectar from within the flowers they feed on. While it was great watching all the birds, the one that had really caught my eye was the Variegated Fairy Wren. A very dainty and colourful wren that is found in and around shrubs, as it feeds. They don’t sit still for long, blink and they will normally have hopped away or flown off. They rarely come out into the open, so it took me ages to get a good image:

The rock was however calling, and that was a stronger call than the bird song. Rongy and I have been climbing here heaps, with our Friday morning sessions, so we handed the rope to Steve and said he could pick the lines. After staring on Murky Corner he started to complain about not feeling fit, and suggesting he simply couldn’t improve his climbing strength or stamina. Rongy and I nodded politely and offered him the rope again, which he gladly accepted. He then romped up Raging Torrent, not really looking like he was weak or tired:

The five guys I had helped out with their flat battery appeared, and spent sometime in the quarry. Their brought with them music, which bounced off the walls. Normally this disturbance of the peace, and nature’s sounds, would niggle me. But today it seemed ok. The three of us enjoyed the change in ambience, as Steve then flew up Pocket Knife. Rongy was kind enough to take control of belaying, as I ran about taking images and watching birds. This wren had me a bit foxed, but I think it is an Eclipse Variegated Fairy Wren:

I’ll be honest and I didn’t know what this meant. Google helped and the term eclipse is related to its plumage. The dull “female-like” plumage, the internet’s words not mine!, is displayed by males for a while in summer after breeding. Basically these more dreary colours eclipse the normally bright plumage of the male. It is something ducks are normally known for. However, other birds also go through the same process, including the Variegated Fairy Wren. As Steve finished each route, we pulled the rope and both Rongy and I led the line, giving Steve enough recuperation time:

Next to fall was Welcome to Edges. He confessed that he finds reaching and clipping the anchors mentally challenging. He is not alone with that, but today he didn’t think twice about it and was soon coming back down to allow us to have a bash. I really enjoyed flitting between bird watching, climbing and copious amounts of photography. I didn’t however have the patience to wait for a better image of this Splendid Fairy Wren. A species we see at home and, unlike the other wren, unafraid of open spaces. But again one that rarely sits still:

Steve was keen for one more climb to end today’s session, and there were a few he had in mind. Savage Sausage Sniffer was the winner, and finally I could see him starting to tire. But despite taking two falls, the only ones today, each time he got back on he kept his cool and worked the moves with control and precision. Afterward he accepted that maybe his earlier concerns about a lack of strength and stamina were probably unfounded. In fact you could say he was a bit of a twinkle toes today, looking light as a feather:

A woolly head tonic

Hot, hot, hot was the forecast and while Rongy was keen to get out for a climb, he was also eyeing up the chance of jumping in the water for a snorkel afterwards. So we decided on a quick climb at Smiths Beach followed by a dip in the ocean. Even though we were planning on only a few routes we still decided to head out early. The orientation of the faces at Smiths are such that the sun hits them early, and being a zawn it traps the heat. As the weekend approached the crew expanded and Steve, Alana and Mario along with Jena and Luna planned to join us:

Seeing Mario was bringing his family, they intended to get to us at a slightly more reasonable time. So before descending into one of the zawns, and in view that Rongy was feeling a little groggy, we headed to Murphy’s boulder. My last time on these lower grade routes was with Howsie, and we both felt the grades were a little amiss. I made no mention of grades to either Steve nor Rongy today and simple let them decide if the climbs appealed to them based on how they looked. To say Steve was keen is an understatement, keen to put his rack of tricams to use:

Rongy then had to clear his head to lead the second short but fun line, which did appeal to him. Despite not being 100% he still gave us a masterclass in jamming. And while he claims not to be that great at using jams, it is all relative. Rongy recently put me onto an App to check climb grade comparisons, but I’m not sure I believe what it suggests for Australian to UK grades. It indicates I regularly climb at the top of my ability and harder than I did in the UK, something I’m not convince about. It has however been a long time since I was in the UK climbing, so it would be really interesting to get back there to check out how I go:

Grading is, and always will be, a messy business at the best of times. While Steve was going well today his view of the difficulty of his route was out of kilter. He felt his route was about a grade 14 (UK VS 4c), while Rongy and I felt grade 10 (UK VD 4a) would be fair, and way back when Craig and I first put the route up we gave it a lowly grade 6 (UK M). All the more proof that you should pick climbs based on how they look on the day, and whether you think your headspace it up to it and you’ll enjoy them. The sun popped over the horizon as we were finishing on Rongy’s route, so we wandered back towards the zawns and shade:

For my lead I was keen to jump on Crab Scuttle. The last time I was here with Craig, Mikey and Howsie I couldn’t even start the route, so I was keen to redeem myself. The last time I failed partly because it was wet, wet, wet making the moves super scary. Today it was dry and while I managed the climb there is no photographic evidence. Alana was sitting atop the zawn taking in the view across to canal rocks, the bay in which we were aiming to snorkel. It looked flat and calm, almost glassy, being protected from the wind. Steve was belaying me and Mario was yet to join us, which didn’t surprise me:

When you have a family in tow it nearly always takes longer than you anticipate to get ready and out of the door. As for Rongy, well he was nursing his head. The reason for him feeling groggy earlier, and still, was self-inflicted overindulgence while listening to Triple J’s hottest 100 yesterday. And to add to the madness of the world, which is frustrating people no end, there was a shock number one in the hottest 100. This year’s 100 was selected from votes cast by 2.5 million listeners of the national radio station Triple J:

Who would have thought a song by the children’s group The Wiggles would ever be voted the best song by so many. Maybe it is a reflection of the state of people’s minds, becoming addled by all the uncertainty created by COVID. At least, as a result of his overindulgence, by the time no.1 was played Rongy’s ability to listen and realise what was happening would have been suitably dulled. He did however have to sort his head out as we moved to the next climb. Steve was unable to get up Deceptive Looks, and there were also statements made about it also possibly being deceptively graded, and he needed Rongy to finish the route off:

The reason I didn’t offer was that Mario appeared, so I was belaying him up the Billowing Sails. He has only climbed here once and found the rock gritty and the gear tricky, in his words he wasn’t keen to come back. Something I have heard quite a few people mutter. But he loved this climb, and it offered everything my words in the guidebook said it would. Great climbing and an outrageous position, and with the good gear the route offers I think I might have swayed his previous less than positive thoughts of the place. The wind was picking up resulting in the water starting to roughen up, so it was now or never for a snorkel:

However, before we walked out we offered Mario one more lead. There was only one wall still in the shade, so he decided on Sir Lancelot. A steep wall with not so big or positive holds. It requires delicate balancy moves, and at times the available gear placements make you wish there was better. Hopefully, this line, which seemed to unnerve him a little, didn’t cancel out the positive thoughts that the previous lead had instilled in him about the climbing at Smiths Beach. I didn’t ask and will just have to wait and see if he is keen to join us next time we come this way:

It was now time for Rongy to fully clear his head, and there is nothing like going for a snorkel. The feeling of the cool water and relaxation of floating, could only result in him starting to shake his woolly head and general lethargy. The water on the west coast, from where there is nothing but the Indian Ocean, is cooler than the water in the protected bay of where I live. It still felt great and to boot the clarity was also good. The wind had picked up but hadn’t yet swung round the headland of Canal Rocks. So the bay straight off the boat ramp was still calm:

Jena and Luna joined us, and they headed with Mario to the small sandy beach. And Steve wasn’t feeling it, he’d enjoyed the climbing of the morning but wasn’t inclined to get into the water. It was only Rongy, Alana and I that started working our way round the bay. Exploring the bommies, separated by beds of weed. I really need to come here more often, there was so much life. The above Western Seacarp (Aplodactylus westralis) was one of my favourite finds, even though it slunk into a crevices and refused to come back out. But before then it looked majestic when it fanned out it’s ample and brightly coloured fins:

While many fish didn’t mind our presence, some were a little more cautious. The above small green leatherjacket, if you can spot it, is a fish I have come across before. I have not however been unable to identify it. In view that I have got nowhere after trying every possible search I can think of, I can only conclude it may be a juvenile. Below is a fish I can’t recall seeing before, a Sea Trumpeter (Pelsartia humeralis). This one is easy to identify and it is the only species of the trumpeter family that has vertical bands, with all others having narrow horizontal stripes:

My second favourite find has to be the Blue Lined Leatherjacket (Meuschenia galii). I came across a few of these and had better images than the one below, but I really liked this photo with it is long probing head peering at me from under a rocky cave. It is a fish that is sexually dimorphic in colour, making the males and females harder to distinguish. They are similar in pattern and colour with the only difference being that the females do not have a bright blue edging on the caudal, or tail, fin. As such, I was able to confirm that all three of these fish that I spotted were female:

While my wetsuit kept me warm, the wind was turning and the water in the previously protected bay was starting to roughen up. Not so much as to force us out, but it was a sign that maybe Alana and I should head back to shore. As we headed back towards the beach, next to the boat ramp, I spotted two small Southern Calamari Squid (Sepioteuthis australis). Not as small as the ones I found of Bunbury, but still worth following back out for just a while. Rongy who gets cold much quicker than us had been out for some time, and while still low on energy I’m happy to report he was feeling much more refreshed:

Sleep swimming

My last, what I would call successful, snorkel was when I abandoned our local beach and headed to Bunbury to escape the South Western Stingers (stingers). That was not quite four weeks back, but it feel like so much longer. It may feel so much longer, as I have taken leave from work during this period when I would normally be in the water most days. While I have been in a few times, kidding myself that the water didn’t look too bad, there really was not seen much to see. It has been so bad that I could hardly see the bottom:

Of course when I duck dived down things came into view, but even on those exploratory descents there wasn’t much about. Or maybe I was looking in the wrong spots. It seems I’m not the only one who has noticed the rubbish conditions, and am a bit fed up with the poor off the beach conditions. The same issue seems to have been occurring from Perth all the way down the South West coast. Further out to sea it seem the water hasn’t been too bad on occasion, but along the coastal fringe the waves keep picking up each evening churning things up:

Today however Geoff, Nana, Gav, Monica, Lisa and myself decided we would risk a trip out. At 8am, when it was already 27 degrees, we headed down. The water had glassy patches here and there, and in-between the ripples looked innocent enough. Today was the first time this season I have driven on the beach. While I don’t mind doing it, I can’t say I’m a big fan. The feeling of soft sand giving way and wheels start to spin, as the car on occasion seems to slow down of its own accord, is a little unsettling:

We drove a fair way this time, more than I have before. I’m guessing four kilometres and halfway to The Huts, which is accessed from Stratham and where the best of the reef extends too. The water looked kinda OK and while it was obvious we wouldn’t have great visibility we still went in. It was a game of dodge the stingers for the first shallow section, where the water protected by the reef was calmer. I also saw a shrimp swimming, no more than about 3cm in length, kicking it’s legs furiously and making a beeline straight for me:

I’m guessing it was a South-west Glass Shrimp but I don’t really know. While I took the above quick snap, there wasn’t time to get a clearer image, as it simply disappeared from sight. I did a 360 degree check and also looked down, but I couldn’t find it anywhere. With literally nowhere for this shrimp to hide all I could think is that it had watched Star Wars. Using the manoeuvre the Millennium Falcon did to attach to a Star Destroyer, so as to avoid being further tracked or worse captured:

Despite the cloudy water it felt good to be back in this reef, lovely weed and plenty of places to explore. Quite a few fish were about, and early on in the dive Nana pointed furiously to my side. An Black Spotted Cat Shark was gracefully swimming along before ducking down towards the weed and disappearing into one of the many crevices. I noted a couple of tags on its pectoral fins, but was more intent on videoing the spectacle than checking them out. I’ve not seen these fish swimming out in the open water, probably as they are generally nocturnal, so maybe they were sleep swimming a bit like when some people sleep walk:

Snorkel 22-01-2022 Download

Geoff and Gav were out past the reef in the deeper water. Where it was harder to see the base, and you had to dive down to check out what might be lurking. They were chasing crays, while Nana and I were hovering in the shallower areas where it was easier to spot things. Such as the above couple of cray, which managed to avoid Geoff and Gav’s attention, and the below Common Threefin. There were plenty of other finds but no new ones that I can’t recall seeing before, and due to the condition no images good enough to include:

In some areas the water was so low that there was barely enough water depth to swim over the reef. The image below is taken approx. 100m from the shore. Nana, Gav and I all got stuck on the reef at some point. Thinking we had enough water to get over it, until the water seemed to drain away leaving us beached. We simply waited for the next set of waves to raise the water level and allow us to surf over into the deeper water. These waves were fun, but were also the reason the sediment and weed was being mobilised into the water column:

No matter, we persisted and it was a fun dive. When I prepared to start the slow journey back to shore I spied and videoed a second Black Spotted Cat Shark sleep swimming below me. No tags this time, so it wasn’t the same fish. It settled on the base, some four meters below me, remaining completely motionless. Staying completely still as I went down to greet it several times, and allowing for some great close up images. It seemed a good find to end the dive on, so made my way back to shore, but not in a direct line as I had to work my way round a huge ball of thousands of stingers:

Monica and Lisa never made it in the water, other than a shallow dunk. We had brought the stand-up paddle boards for them, but they decided against it after seeing all the stingers in the shallows. Also they were a little concerned about the outcrops of reef straight off the beach, waiting to cut them up should they have fallen off their boards. One of which the Crested Tern below was perched on. No matter we all had a great time. Fingers-crossed the condition continue to improve:

Finger licking

Being January it is the summer school holiday and Lisa is enjoying the time off. I also tend to ease into the new year with four day weeks, allowing my January to be a bit more relaxed. It has become a bit of a tradition, and the three day weekends are very welcome. It’s a shame I can’t make it a long term thing but for now I’m loving it, and this weekend it was even more welcome. Despite not working I still got up at silly o’clock on Friday to meet Howsie at Welly Dam for our weekly climb; Rongy bailed this week in favour of additional and much needed sleep:

Then on Saturday it was the same silly o’clock start, which was made more palatable by having had a chilled Friday at home. It was another inland trip. We do not have too many inland climbing spots close enough to allow for a day trip. This means there are no images of ocean, and on that note not even a glimmer of hope of any posts about what lies beneath the ocean. The water is still grey and milky, not being given the chance to clear up with the winds churning the water up each afternoon. I hope that changes in the weeks to come, as I have been missing my snorkels:

There are only two inland crags that make for a sensible day trip, I have been known to drive a six hour round trip for a day out at Mount Frankland. But fortunately Welly Dam is just shy of an hour away and today’s location of Boomer Crag, which is just outside of Pinjarra, is only an hour and three quarters. Making it a good halfway’ish spot to meet Mario, who lives in Perth. This crag is on private land and you are encouraged to call the owner to let them know of your intentions; he has never been known to said no:

This time he warned Mario that dugites and tiger snakes were about, but then we live in the south west and at this time of year we know that. Not that we get to see them, we are way too heavy footed for any snakes to hang about. It is a very rare, and personally I think lucky, sight to see one. I do however seem to have a bit of luck with seeing carpet pythons at both Wilyabrup and Bobs Hollow. We eased into things with Sated and Calm, where Mario did a bit of gardening pulling out the dead stump of a small tree in the initial crack (two images back):

In 2014 on my first trip here with Wiggins the small tree had a little bit of greenery, but it wasn’t looking too good (https://sandbagged.blog/2014/07/13/another-day-out/). Then on my second time here with Craig, two years later, it was dead. So I am surprised that it has stayed in place as long as it has (https://sandbagged.blog/2016/10/23/heading-inland/). This is the best of the easy climbs here, and everyone jumps on it. Next up I plumped for Suspended Intelligence, which Mario was happy for me to lead. It gets an R rating due to sparse gear, but personally I don’t find the protection all that bad:

The cracks on this crag can hold water for a long time, even long after the seasons have changed. On previous trips we have been serenaded by the sound of frogs singing, unseen as they remain hidden deep in the damp crevices. Not today, everything was bone dry and the air was instead filled with the sound of crickets chirping. They don’t normally sit still when we come crashing about, but the one above was content to stay while Mario led Mr Hitachi. It remained in the same place until after we had finished on the route:

The routes we climbed followed a familiar trend of previous visits here, knocking off the same lines. There aren’t too many lines here, with no option for new routes unless you want to place bolts and project steep intimidating finger ripping faces. Seeing it was my lead, we moved round to the main face where thing steepen up. The first three climbs were slabby, and due to the easier angle our arms hadn’t needed to work very hard. But both of us felt them on the crag classic of Boomer Crack, a very fine sustained crack that almost reaches from the base to the top of the crag:

On a previous trip I sent Eric up this fine climb, shown below, and he came across a Huntsman spider. As he screeching out in surprise and terror, I braced to catch him as he fell. But he held on and then told me of his phobia, before impressively managing to supress his fear and get up the route (https://sandbagged.blog/2018/12/17/running-low-on-fuel/). There was no spider this time, and with arms definitely warmed up now we hit a route that I did with Eric. One I managed to mashed my fingers on. Fuel for the Urban Warrior is hard, simple as that. Nether Mario nor I got it clean today, it is really hard to read the moves and more so at the crux where the only excuse for hand holds are really not that good:

Apologies for the blurry image below, it was taken from a video I took of Mario’s ascent. A video he may prefer I don’t share, and we will wait till he is more climbing fit and can get up it with a bit more elegance. For those that read every post, you will recall Mario is supposed to be easing back into recovery. This route is far from easing back in, and the next line he suggested we play on even less so. Someone has since my first trip here put some new lines up and they are, as I explained above, mostly bolted and on steep intimidating finger ripping faces. The one Mario was keen to play on was Nuggetz Kucklez, an unrelenting powerful climb:

Small, sharp and generously spaced, for those of my stature, holds make for both dynamic moves and painful fingertip holds. Perfect for my tips that were already wearing thin after Welly Dam yesterday and this morning’s routes. We both worked the climb, Mario more successfully than I. With each attempt on every hold, and there were many, my fingers screamed in pain and my strength ebbed away. I was done and pleased to see the sun creep round, which brought with it the heat forecast for the day. The only sensible thing to do was to wrap up the session, which despite the descriptions above had been a lot of fun:

A welcome change

When Lisa and I came to Australia we spent a lot of time going out bush camping, walking and climbing. Not just in Central Australia, where we lived for close to five years, but also travelling to Queensland, South Australia and Victoria. Something that struck us was that everywhere we went, no matter how remote if you looked hard enough eventually you’d find broken glass. Usually a beer bottle, and it became a personal joke of ours that we knew we were in Australia whenever we came across broken glass:

Since that time we still find broken glass, more than we would like, but it seems that it isn’t as frequent as we experienced back then. Today however it was sad to see fragments of a beer bottle strewn across the base of Hands Up Wall, at Moses Rocks. The last thing we wanted was to risk our ropes or slings coming into contact with the sharp shards, or step on any glass as we wandered barefoot at the base between climbs. So the first thing Rongy, Josh and I did was to clear up as many of the fragments as we could find:

Then, and only then did we get ready to climb. As can be seen above Josh was put in charge of belaying. Being only the second trip out where he has belayed someone on lead, we provided him with words of wisdom and useful hints. While Rongy and I are very familiar with the climbs here, you still have to have total trust and have faith in your belayer. Should we slip and fall, Josh and only Josh would be what prevents us taking a ground fall. That is assuming we have put in good protection:

Neither of us tested Josh’s ability to respond appropriately to a fall, but maybe next time we head out we should mock a fall so he can experience what happens and how it feels. Today Rongy and I were not pushing ourselves too much and just enjoying the rock. Soaking up the abundant rounded holds and friction. There are not many positive holds here so it was a new experience for Josh. It took a little getting used to and as we hit climb after climb we imparted nuggets of information, all aimed at helping him to adjust to the art of slab climbing:

Today had a very wintery feel to it, the swell was up and the waves continuously crashed in, a fresh southerly wind with gusts up to 35km/hr whipped along the crag never relenting, and on and off the sun was hidden behind a blanket of clouds. Each time we dropped the rope the wind blew is sideways rather than down. Rongy and I remanded rugged up all morning, and Josh soon relaced his shorts with jeans to keep warm. It wasn’t that we were moving slowly, in fact we kept a good pace and Josh was chewing up the first few lines eagerly. So we bumped up the grade a notch or two:

Josh was given a short sharp lesson in slab climbing, trusting your feet on nothing but friction and knowing that small rounded fingertip holds were enough to keep your balance. Being his first experience of the need to climb delicately and not being able to yard up on positive jugs, he took a few falls. But each time he got back on and worked out a better way to position and tension his body, angle his feet and open up his body to avoid moving his centre of gravity too far from the wall. The harder grades came with steeper territory and the next two lines provided him with a real challenge:

On the second of the steeper routes, he visibly began to tire with the tell-tale signs of technique going out the window. For most climbing styles you can still manage to keep going, but with slab climbing it results in lot of time hanging on the rope. It’s the one style where total focus and a relaxed mind is critical, because while you may have three or even four points of contact they are never overly positive. Loose one and your body tension completely changes and the remaining points of contact lose their effectiveness:

After five routes Josh was looking less and less coordinated on rock, so it was time to give him a quick breather. Like I said he was keeping pace, which with Rongy and I who both climb at a reasonable rate that means there was little rest time. In fact we managed to get eight lines in the four hours we had at the crag, so we were moving. While Josh took a rest Rongy jumped on a trickier line, which he had mentioned he had his eye on. After watching Rongy climb, Josh could tell it was probably a tad too much for him to even attempt, so was more than happy to sit that one out:

We eased the pace after that, moving onto the walls that are off vertical. A welcome change for Josh who jumped back on rock. That was until the last line, the classic of the crag, a crack that requires a bit my grunt work. After managing the bottom section with good style he again threw technique out the window. Fully extending his body, making it hard to be able to see hand or foot holds let alone move your hands of feet, his feet couldn’t seem to find anything to stick too and his forearms were too pumped to hold onto even the bigger holds:

He battled his way up slumping over the top, and then finding a comfy spot to lie down. Allowing his body to recover and feel somewhat normal again. Despite being shattered, he was still smiling and had thoroughly enjoyed the morning and it has to be said had done really well. Rongy and I too had a great time, lapping up line after line and just for fun making sure the pink tricam got used on every route. The temperature hadn’t even hit 20 degrees. For us it was a welcome change from the heat, but from the absence of anyone else on the beach as we walked out at about 11:30 I guess not everyone was happy about it: