When I wrote up my thoughts about Alan, way back as COVID was taking hold, I called him the tagalong (https://sandbagged.blog/2020/04/21/alan-the-tagalong/).  His trips outdoors would be few and far between, and then it was more about catching up and a bit of fun.  This was in part due to his many other competing outdoor pursuits.  So despite being one of the fittest people I know, his climbing fitness has in my mind never really grown to its true potential.  Last year he went back to Ireland, and by the time he returned he’d been gone for twenty weeks.  So today was a reintroduction to rock, with an even longer absence than usual, and of course the chance for a catch-up:

We decided on Beginners Wall.  A small, some might say scrappy, crag that is part of the Wilyabrup area.  It only has a bunch of mostly lower grade routes and I have not been here very often.  My last record of visiting the place was in late 2014 with Steve (https://sandbagged.blog/2014/11/02/beginners-wall/) and then Lou.  I remember we had a blast on both of these trips and put up a few first ascents, but I can’t honestly recall seeing glue-in P bolts at the top of the crag.  I just remember the completely rusted out iron stakes and large U-bolts sunk into a big plugs of concrete, which you can check out in the linked post:

The tags indicated a couple were placed in late 2014, but others may have been more recently added.  There were at least eight along the top and we even found a couple at the base of the wall no doubt to anchor into as you belayed.  This was a little surprising.  The crag gets very little attention and to support this statement, unlike the main area, we found absolutely no evidence of chalk on the rock.  The bolts did however make it easier for us to set up an abseil and the belay anchors after each route.  The was probably not in Alan’s favour, with less time between each climb for him to recover:

We started sensibly, on the easy lines in the middle of the wall.  While I recognised a few of the more distinct routes, I really had no idea what we were climbing nor what the grades were.  There is however nothing too hard here and certainly we were starting on routes well within Alan’s capability, despite his long absence from rock.  He was quick to remark that the rock felt greasy.  He wasn’t wrong, and the air looked a little misty from the spray and felt heavy with humidity.  But with the grades we were hitting it really wasn’t an issue:

Being so close to the ocean this crag is far more susceptible to being coated in greasy feeling salt spray.  Maybe the rock would have been better at the main cliffs, but it was nice to have this place to ourselves.  We also both agreed the longer routes at the main cliffs may have drained Alan’s stamina that bit quicker.  The first four lines fell quickly, and the only gear I used was a pink tricam.  I even placed both of them in the fourth climb.  In fact I wasn’t sure why I was carrying a full rack with me other than for weight training, as Alan pointed out:

We did occasionally stop and check out things that caught our eye.  Like the above, what looked like a recent scar.  It was definitely very fresh, and we didn’t see any other areas with such a brilliant white colour.  Completely free of any algae or discolouration due to oxidization, neither of which would take long in this environment.  Surprisingly we could not find the block that had been dislodged, which meant it must have been a very rough sea.  On closer inspection the white scar was not clean exposed rock, but a thin veneer of limestone.  It’s almost as if a bricklayer had come along and used limestone as mortar secure the block in place:

For our fifth route, which having now inspected the guide hasn’t been recorded as a climb, was the one where Alan’s lack of climbing fitness started to show.  The line looked innocent enough from below, but proved to be pretty fierce.  While I desperately tried to continue the theme of using just a pink tricam the top one didn’t inspire confidence.  The holds were slopey, small and spaced and due to the poor gear I decided it was best to traverse out right to better holds.  Even this was a little pumpy, and it was all too much for Alan’s forearms.  He didn’t give up and persevered, eventually, in-between references to greasy holds, topping out:

As we were stood on top of the unnamed route, one I will have to come back to so I can lead the direct line with maybe a better choice of gear placements, we saw three people wandering our way.  Looking like hermit crabs with boulder mats strapped to their backs.  Coming along the base past Driftwood Bay seemed a strange approach, seeing there is a great coastal path higher on the ridge.  As they walked past us we had a chat and they too had found the boulders at the base of the main area of Wilyabrup greasy.  So they were now moving to the base of the Northern Blocks in hope of slightly better conditions, which explained the rationale of their chosen path:

This short interlude provided a bit more rest time, before we hit our next line.  This time I didn’t hold back placing a wire and then a cam, but of course also had to use the pink tricam.  While Alan’s brain could see the moves, it seemed that his arms and legs were misbehaving and not doing what they were instructed.  The problem wasn’t his internal communications but, in addition to what he claimed were greasy holds, that his forearms were shot.  His hands were simply unable to hold on any long.  He dogged his way up the above line but the next one, which is the classic of the crag and a very fine corner, was simply too much:

I wasn’t overly surprised, and was impressed that we had managed to get as many routes in as we did.  But I wasn’t done, there was one more line I wanted to try that is mostly unprotected.  I don’t recall leading it before, so I did today.  I led it with a cam low down hoping to get the pink tricam in higher, but it didn’t fit.  So I had to lead it again placing the pink tricam instead of the cam, taking a short video as evidence.  After that, with Alan still at the base, we climbed out on one of the easier lines.  And as we walked out it looked like the three boulders had also found some routes on which they, like Alan had managed on the last route, could hang onto the greasy holds:

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:

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’:

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”:

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:

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:

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:

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: