Some trips out seem to ignite a fire in the belly and desire to get out and go a bit harder on rock.  The last trip out to Lost Buttress did exactly that for me, and I was floating on the feeling the day had given me just a bit higher and longer than normal.  However, I had a quandary in that this weekend I wasn’t going to head out for a climb.  So it was forecast to be a glorious week I checked in with Howsie and Friday happened to be his fortnightly RDO (rostered day off).  Checking my work calendar I had nothing booked in to stop me taking Friday off, so we could head out.  Like last weekend I was happy to allow Howsie to choose the destination, and first up he thought Boomer Crag:

It is a lovely place but somewhere he and I have been too several times.  There is however a second crag there called Boobyer Boulders that neither of us had been too and looked interesting, and that is what we set our sights on.  The crag is on private land so I called the owner and they were happy for us to access their land.  That was until I got a call back asking if we had insurance.  I doubt anyone has insurance to go hiking, surfing, mountain biking, etc. so why would you have it for climbing? Anyhow his insurance company advised him against allowing us to climb there, and we respected the owners position.  And fortunately, there was a third spot the same area:

It is called Oakley Falls, a collection of small crags scatter in the bush round, and mostly, downstream of a reasonably sized concrete dam.  The dam was built in the 1903’s as a water supply for steam engines that used to stop and fill up at Pinjarra train station, all owned and operated at the time by the then Western Australian Government Railways.  Rumour has it this dam was quickly deemed ineffective to supply the water, but I have not been able to find out why that was.  It is now a popular swimming hole, and due to the construction it feels like an infinity pool looking at the plains below the scarp:

Being winter I doubt anyone would have been swimming today, but the frogs were out in force and the sound of them croaking filled the air more than I have heard before.  So much so it was worth a video to capture the beautiful sound.  Howsie is a bit of a frog nerd and even has an app to identify frog songs, but there were so many different sounds that the app got confused and was unable to help us identify what frogs we were hearing.  While it was a wonderful auditory sensation, there was also a droning that could be heard in the background.  And this came from Alcoa’s Pinjarra Alumina Refinery:

A machine that never sleeps and a scar on the landscape, and one of so many similar scenes in Western Australia driven by our singular focus of economic stability and progression.  This is proven by facts from 2019-20, when mining in Western Australia accounting for 94% of total merchandise exports and 46% for the whole of Australia.  This is even when it comes at the cost of carving up the landscape and destroying vast landscapes to dig up metals, mineral sands, rare earths and other materials.  And it just shows that there is no forward thinking of diversification after the mining boom slows or ends, which it has to do eventually:

In the image of the refinery you can also see a prominent cracked slab, which is described in the climbing guide as worth a visit.  There are however a number of other spots and we decided to do the loop walk, as indicated by the guide, so we could check these out first.  We located Cargo Boulders, Fin Field and the above Fox Wall, but the routes at these spots looked scrappy and they didn’t inspire us.  We moved on.  However, from here on the track detailed in the guide disappeared, and we had to bash through thick scrub.  At one point Howsie narrowly missed stepping on an exposed bee hive:

He was hopping down some boulders.  I had the advantage of looked from above and could see the white combs, yet to be filled with honey, sticking out from under the final boulder.  He stepped over this oblivious of the risk, until I told him at which point he noticed the bees buzzing about and he made a mad dash for safety.  A few flowers were out, but obviously not enough for the bees to fill their home with that golden liquid.  We also spotted a few fungi but didn’t stop to check them out, I did however have to take a quick snap of the above one.  The stem and cap resemble a Parasol Ink Cap (Parasola plicatilis), but I’m not convinced:

The gentle walk turned into a hike, and we didn’t even find the next three crags that the guide details.  At least we could tell from the landscape which way we needed to go.  And our eyes were firmly set on the cracked slab we had previously seen from our lofty height near the dam.  During our hike we had, way back, descended into the valley below.  Sadly this meant we left the frog song behind, but on the positive side and due to the land form the sound of the refinery was also lost.  We finally got to the prominent cracked slab, called Blair Wall and were pleasantly surprised:

The bush bash had taken over an hour and had been hard work, but we were rewarded with a nice looking crag with some good and varied features.  The main lower crack we previously saw from afar proved to be a wide split in the crag, that offered three fun chimney style routes.  Two of them being the easiest at the crag so we started on those, Howsie kicked things off with a line that required proper bridging across the widest part of the gap.  And for both grade 14 routes the only protection was a single bolt, some 6m high up on the wall.  To give you a feel for the position below is a video of Howsie up until the point he could reach the bolt:

Despite the long runouts on Conceded Pass and then Drunk Before Dawn (the image above) we loved both lines.  They were very fun and also very different to anything we normally get to climb on.  Quite a few of the areas dotted round Perth, like this one, were discovered and established by Jim Truscott and Matthew Rosser.  A formidable pair who climbed hard and bold.  So the high bolts were not overly surprising, but thankfully not the manner in which all the lines here were bolted.  I do however, feel that every so often their lines have felt like serious sandbags, so it was anyone guess how we would go as the next lines would be graded harder:

Howsie was first to test this and had his eye on a grade 17 route that looked lovely, following a rising rightward traverse up some fine cracks.  But the sun was shining directly down the line so we decided to leave it till later.  Instead he jumped on Fat Bastard, another fun looking line that followed a very clean quartz vein that cut its way from the base, to half way up, the crag.  Keeping in mind that this was only an 8m route, and the longest line here is only 15m.  It proved to be very good, with thin, delicate, balancy and sustained climbing and in keeping with the grade it was given.  This place was really warming to us:

I was feeling good and that fire in the belly was stirring as I looked at the next line, it is listed as a project in the guidebook at grade ‘22+?’ and there is no record of anyone ever having climbed it.  But it looked great and I thought I could see two gear placements above the single bolt.  Setting off it proved tough, and I won’t say I got it first attempt, but did manage a clean ascent after unlocking the very fine crux sequence that comprised some 7 or 8 moves.  And with each one it felt like I could have been spat off, if I didn’t keep my core engaged or my concentration wobbled.  Seeing it was a first ascent, I couldn’t resist another video:

The first question was what to call it, and I’m thinking Call of the Wild.  The second question was of course what grade was it, and I was aiming for 21 but it felt tough so maybe 22.  However, to really check that we needed to try a few of the other harder lines here.  Before that, Howsie liked the look of another varied feature of this crag.  A stunning knife edged arête, and the climbing proved to be equally brilliant.  Oakley Arête, was in my mind the best aesthetic line here.  It was utterly fantastic and so much so I took another video of Howsie making his way up this magnificent feature. However, I didn’t want to overload this post with videos so if you’d like to see it you’ll need to ask for it:

The image below looks back up to the dam, which sits above the long slab with just a trickle of water running down it.  We were conscious of time, as we still had to hike back out which we intended to do by closing the loop walk.  Hiking up the northern ridge, on the left in the image below.  But for now focusing on getting a few more lines in, I jumped on Ruthless Charm a grade 21.  I managed to clip the first bolt but then despite multiple attempts I remained absolutely baffled as to how to do the moves.  Then attempting Indecent Haste another 21 and again I clipped the first bolt, which was a very tenuous situation, and was then completely stumped:

I feel both routes are classic Truscott and Rosser sandbags, and seriously put into question the grade of the line I did the first ascent on and all the other routes we had done today.  For the second hard route I pulled on the bolt to get past the “long reach”, which both Howsie and I were almost a foot of reaching.  Thankfully the rest of the climb was achievable, and also very fine delicate slab climbing.  Time had sadly now caught up with us and we had to make a move, and leave the fun looking grade 17 we had first spied for another visit.  So we began the next bush bash and it was another slog.  We occasionally found short tracks but they quickly petered, so we attempted to find high points to look ahead for clearings between the thick spikey bush:

It was very hard going, and seemed to last for ages.  Eventually we did however find our way out feeling scratched, battered and exhausted.  Funnily enough we were guided through the final sections by the sound of the frogs.  Telling us which way the reservoir was, as we could not see it due to being completely obscured from view by think scrub despite our elevated position.  While I took a few images of our dilemma I seemed to have accidentally deleted them, so instead you get one more image of Howsie on the first route of the day inside the chimney.  All up, from Bunbury it was close to three and half hours driving and two hours plus of bush bashing, all for four hours of climbing.  But it is the whole experience that counts, and it was so worth it:

We almost got all the regular locals that are remaining out in one hit today, but Ash’s back was playing up again so he pulled out on Friday night.  It was a shame as it would have been nice to get the whole small crew out together, which even with just five of us is a rare thing.  Ash confessed the push-up challenge hadn’t helped with his old back injury.  I’d suggested he pull out of it a while back, as like me when I did it he had various joints flare up.  And like me he persisted to the end, and probably also like me he is not likely to do it again:

That left Josh, Rongy, Howsie and myself.  And we trouped down to Wilyabrup, not the main cliffs but the furthest crag to the north, Lost Buttress.  The tide and swell were up, as you would expect during winter, and it made for a more exciting rock hop along the coast.  Some of the places we would usually work our way across where under water, making us scramble up and down a bit more inland.  Eventually we made it unscathed, and without getting wet, to the small beach that make the Playground a great bouldering spot:

On the last stretch to the crag I stepped on a huge piece of flotsam, which comprised a very large trunk.  This promptly swivelled as I loaded my foot and sent me crashing down.  No damage done, other than a bruise and slight bit of embarrassment ,as everyone else made it the crag without tripping over.  In addition to the rock hop there is care required when you top out here.  The top for quite a bit of the crag is a sloping ledge littered with flakily rock and loose sand and gravel.  I’m pleased to say no one came a cropper due to the tops, not even me:

The choice of today’s location was placed on Howsie’s shoulders, in part as he is still chasing grade 22s in 2022 and has a fair few still on his list that he hasn’t tried.  This place has, if I am allowed to say it, got a great one.  Before we get to that though, it was time to warm up on some more relaxed lines.  Some of the routes on this crag provides a big wall feeling, despite its short nature.  Probably due to the huge capping roofs and exposure you get stepping out above them:

Josh was keen for a lead but wasn’t sure what to jump on, there isn’t a lot that is good for a beginner here.  Even the lower grade routes can feel a little serious.  But we did notice a line at the far right of the crag that to date I have never heard of anyone climbing.  It looked reasonable, a good angle, and with enough gear to make is sensible.  So off he set under the watchful eye of Howsie belaying and me running round taking images from various angles, of his first ascent:

It was great to see Josh keep his cool and get a clean ascent, with no dramas.  But by the time he got up he confessed his head was swimming and he found it a little hard to focus on the next stage.  So I helped him set up the belay, which is something that takes time to learn and is so important to make sure you are comfortable, both in relation to feeling safe and physically relaxed.  Howsie came up next and left Rongy below soaking up the sun watching a couple of surfers desperately trying to catch some waves:

While there were some great looking waves rolling in, they didn’t seem to last too long before they tripped over their own troughs, into a mass of choppy water.  We only saw the surfers catch a handful of waves and even then their rides seemed to last but a few seconds.  Still they like us were out and about, and we seemed to be the only ones.  From here we had a great view of Wilyabrup and not a sole could be seen either out walking or climbing.  After his lead Josh was happy to take a break, and Howsie looked wistfully up:

The decision was made, and he was going to have a crack at the 22.  I’ve always said that As the Crow Flies requires good conditions with dry and grippy rock.  The conditions today were not too bad, but the rock was damp in places and the sea spray was starting to drift landwards.  This however didn’t put Howsie off and he started to mentally prepare for the task that lay ahead.  This included a bit of strategising with Rongy, as to how to tackle the crux section of the route:

Meanwhile I was scrambling back up the top ready to capture the action.  I was hoping Ash could have made it today, as I was keen to get some shots while hanging off ropes.  But it was what it was and in a way it wasn’t a bad thing that I only had this one chance.  I’ve got a sneaky feeling my trusty point and shoot camera may be playing up, and my SLR body also wasn’t performing as I am used to.  So while I took heaps of images, the quality was sadly a little disappointing:

Still I took lots of images of Howsie as made his way up and then took a depth breathe before he had to make his way onto the hanging arête.  As seen in the image above the trick is getting your right foot near the base of the arête, the problem being that there are no handholds above, just a couple of fingernail wide ripples that really do not feel too secure.  Added to that once your foot goes up you are stepping above your gear and into what feels like space:

As is probably evident from the image above, Howsie didn’t get past the arête.  But not for want of trying, he gave it quite a few very determined attempts each time falling into the space below the arête.  Not only is this crux section very balancy and smeary, but getting to it feels pumpy.  So after several attempts it was Rongy’s turn to try.  He too found this section too hard to read taking several falls.  Meanwhile Josh was more than happy to kick back and watch, while allow his brain to defog as he deservedly basked in glory after his first ascent:

After Rongy was spent, Howsie went up again allowing me to move position.  But it was the same story and several times he took a whipper sailing down, landing safely in harness, before taking a few big breathes before trying again.  But he was soon utterly wasted, so I threw a rope down to allow him to yard his way up the route.  This allowed me to set up a top rope for one final play.  Rongy went up but again failed to unlock the crux sequence and decided it was not to be today.  Howsie had nothing left in the tank so didn’t even bother, happy with what he had already achieved:

Now you might ask why I hadn’t attempted the lead, and it was quite easy.  It’s my route, so I knew how scary it was and when I had established it with Kym we were both climbing strong and hard.  So I simply didn’t think I had a chance on it, but with a rope above me I was happy to try.  My first attempt at getting established on the arête failed, but I have a strange knack for remembering routes in very fine detail.  And on my second attempt this helped me to unlock the puzzle and get past the arête, which felt very cool:

Maybe next time I might have a crack at leading it, and I don’t think that will be too far away as Howsie is also keen to get this one in the bag.  And having watched me complete it might help him to dial in the sequence.  But for now it was time to pack up, I got down to find Rongy and Howsie sorting gear and Josh was nowhere to be seen.  You might guess that he had just popped down for a swim, keeping up the tradition he has started.  But again going solo.  Once all packed up we decided to head back along the cape to cape track, rather than the coastal rock hop:

It was a good move, the cape to cape track provided great vista and was also that bit quicker.  While it may not sound like we did a lot of climbing, as with the above caterpillar we had not been in a rush today and had approached the climbing at a very relaxed pace.  Time was however slipping by and Howise did have to get back, so the walk out was not at such a relaxed pace.  And by the time we got back to the car, the legs felt like they got a proper workout, which isn’t a bad thing for a key tapping office worker:

The winter solstice is almost upon us, but I can’t afford to take a day off work on Tuesday to celebrate it with a climb.  With shorter days, a lower sun, and winter being well and truly upon us some might struggle to leave the warmth and comfort of their homes.  But the forecast for today was just too good to miss, a howling westerly wind that was just shy of gale force and a six meter swell, perfectly coinciding with mid-morning high tide.  Yes I really do love conditions like that.  So after stoking up the fire at home, I ventured out to a crag that would allow me to really experience the conditions:

On arrival the wind wasn’t quite as strong as I suspected, but the ocean was a mass of white water.  After the wide sandy main beach the boulders I usually rock hop across were being pummelled by frequent, big and messy waves.  Normally a fun rock hop, today the journey over these large boulders was made that bit more treacherous because of a mass of a green/yellow foam that was being washed up, and then blown round by the wind.  These foam events occur when types of surfactants lower the surface tension of the water and trap air to form bubbles:

This mass collection of bubbles usually occur when there are more vigorous conditions, such as today.  And the surfactants to create it can come from both natural and/or manmade sources.  Manmade sources include detergents or dissolved salts, which can become elevated due to fertilizers.  While, natural sources can come from the proteins and fats in seaweed and other marine plant life.  Foam from natural sources are not harmful, but those from manmade sources can be.  The question is which one was I observing today:

Walking across the final small bay, before I would escape these conditions, it felt like an ice rink.  I’ve seen this bay as a full sandy beach through to a completely rocky landscape.  Today it was the latter except for the land right up against the dune, and every surface that wasn’t under white water, or a foamy mass, was coated in a very slippery green slime.  I can only assume this was the residue from the foam, after all the bubbles had popped.  And being green I’m taking a punt that this was a natural event.  With each step more of the residue stuck to my sandals, leaving a clean footprint behind, as shown above:

Arriving at the crag, I really didn’t think I would have any chance of climbing from sea level.  But had to have a look at the zawn to see just how wet it would be.  While the waves were reasonably big, they were nowhere near as big as I’ve witnessed before.  But still big enough for my theory to prove right.  For trips out like this I intend to climb, but they are also about just marvelling in the experience.  The whole time I was there I was smashed with an aural overload created by the rumbling angry water and whistling wind, so I took a short video to give you a hint of what it was like:

I had tossed up as to whether to head to Wilyabrup or Moses.  The former being just over 3km to the south, as the crow flies, and can be seen in the above image if you know what to look for.  But my intention today was to enjoy the conditions, for which Moses is way better.  It was also a good choice, as I could see the taller cliffs of Wilyabrup being dumped on by rain, while I remained bathed in sunlight for most of the time.  I wouldn’t have said the rock was dry it was however way better than I expected, especially with all the sea spray flying around in the air:

You’ve probably guessed I was out by myself today, as sadly no one else was available to get out.  But I still climbed in-between watching the waves below me smash the shoreline, and looking further to the north and south observing belts of dark ominous clouds reach landfall and offload the moisture they carried.  With no expectations of how much climbing I might get in, I was pleased to rack up seven very fine lines.  And, as is my usual approach when I top-rope solo, ascended each one twice:

As I finished the second lap of the last climb, my bubble of protection from the rain seemed to have used up all its power.  And I could see rain fast approaching.  I quickly threw all the ropes and gear into my pack just in time, as moments later the rain fell.  And fell it did with big drops that you could feel hit you.  Fortunately, it only lasted a short few minutes before clearer skies came overhead.  With everything already thrown in the pack I headed out and took my chances, once more, across the slippery bay.  The above image showing the extent of all the green slime, and second short video below of waves and foam:

Finally I was back on the main beach, where I didn’t have to watch every footfall quite so carefully.  Allowing me to do a bit of beach combing.  Above I found a great specimen of a full sized, Bluebottle (Physalia utriculus), with a 10cm long ‘bubble’.  It is very similar to the Pacific Man-of-War (Physalia physalis), which grows to about 50% larger.  I always assumed these were a jellyfish, but have been mistaken all this time.  They are in fact a colonial hydroid that comprises four types of polyps, or clumps of cells.  Each polyp has a specific task, being to keep the colony afloat, reproduce, digest food and capture prey:

I also came across the above By-the-Wind-Sailor (Velella vellela), which is also not a jellyfish but a colonial hydroid.  Again each polyps has a function, one of which being the sail.  The sail can be either a right or left sided, and as such it depends on the wind as two which sort ends up being washed ashore.  They are usually deep bluey purple, and I’ve seen lots of these on our local beach.  So this one, being completely colourless really caught my eye.  As I was kneeling down to observe my finds behind me a rainbow hit Moses Rocks, and more rain was coming.  So now it really was time to hit the road:

Having started climbing in the UK, I’m fairly accustomed to climbing in all kinds of conditions.  But there are not many people in this part of the world that are keen to climb when conditions are inclement.  As such with back to back days of a 90% upwards chance of rain forecasts, since Wednesday and stretching as far as the forecast dare go, I didn’t fancy my chances of getting out for a climb this weekend.  Josh however can only get out every second weekend, and this was one of them so despite the dreadful forecast we went for it:

On arrival at Wilyabrup, the sensible place to climb as it has good ledges to hide under if the weather happened to come in, I was greeted by a flock of Carnaby’s black cockatoo (Calyptorhynchus latirostris) feasting on fallen honkey nuts by the side of the gravel road.  These are recognised as a threatened species and protected by law.  Whilst they didn’t appreciate my arrival, they only alighted to the trees allowing me to sit and watch them until they became brave enough to go back to their foraging on the ground.  These birds are often confused with Baudin’s cockatoo, however their shorter upper beak gave them away:

Josh arrived shortly after me and we shouldered our packs.  Due to the forecast and what the weather radar was showing, we had been messaging each other this morning, right up to the time we decided to head out.  As such we came prepared to take on the elements, and were not surprised to be the only ones out.  As we walked towards the coast we marvelled at the sight out to sea.  The clouds were high, light and broken allowing sunlight to intermittently stream through.  In part due to expecting less than ideal conditions I had already thought of a tick list for the morning:

This started with Stormcock, one of the first routes established and recorded at the crag in 1973.  That was not the reason for picking it, which was due to the lower grade of the climb plus the fact that I have never climbed it.  While only a grade 10, or Very Difficult in UK grades, there was a very exposed traverse that wasn’t entirely straight forward.  Plus if I had been using protection that would have been available in the early 70s it would have been very spooky.  It is not all that unusual to, every so often, come across an older line that seems tricky for the grade, the climbers of “days gone by” were fierce and bold:

Josh followed me and despite the wind howling down the coast I could sense he was nervous, as he inched across the traverse hidden from view by a roof.  It was a sigh of relief for me when he popped out from under the roof beaming.  I’d hate to have put him on edge with the first climb of the day.  This route was developed by John Waterfall, who more by luck than design had established all three of the routes we did today.  It was also by luck that he had found the crag in 1973, he was checking out the coast looking for surf breaks.  After which it didn’t take long for the climbing community to start frequenting and developing this place:

It seemed a little apt that today, as a result of all the rain in previous days, and just that morning, that small waterfalls could be found cascading down the cracks, corners and slabs below low points in the top of the cliff.  The water was being channelled down these features, but as is the case here the rock dries quickly, so in between the watery spectacles was beautiful dry rock.  This was great and meant that Josh was keen to take the lead on Tom Thumb, which is recorded as having been developed in the early 1970s:

Whenever I have climbed this route we have taken a more direct line from directly beneath the prominent feature of the chimney and chock stone that start half way up the wall.  However, in the early 70s it was climbed by using the cracks in the centre of the wall before making an exposed traverse to the base of the chimney.  Not having climbed it this way I had no idea what Josh would experience, and I was mightily impressed at how he held his cool.  Due to the length of the unprotectable traverse there was a very real risk of a big pendulum and ground fall if he slipped:

The next climb on my list was one that had been developed on the very first recorded climbing trip here, in 1973.  Orryjohn, at grade 8 or a Difficult in UK grades, should be a walk in the park.  Today however water was running down the line, but we both agreed to go for it.  The original line stepped in from the right, but that part of the face was sodden so I climbed the dry direct start that is considerably harder.  This alternate start made Josh work hard, slipping several times.  Eventually he made it past this steep section to get into the meat of the original line where he, like I had been, was continuously being dripped on:

While it may sound strange the wet nature was in part what attracted us to the line, and we both loved it.  It had however used up any juice Josh had left.  So we didn’t get onto the last route I had in mind for today called Waterfall’s Second Folly, which despite the name was not established by John, nor his brother Peter, Waterfall.  Instead, we packed up but before walking out Josh went for a dip in the ocean.  You might recall he had a dip two weeks back after climbing and he wants to make it a regular event.  Last time it did however mean he missed out on seeing the Wedge tailed eagle being chased by a couple of gulls:

This time he didn’t however miss out what I believe to be a Quenda (Isoodon fusciventer), which I was very pleased he spotted.  It was a lucky find, as while this endemic species to south west of Australia can be active at any time, they are normally only seen at dawn or dusk.  This species is often mistaken with the Southern Brown Bandicoot (Isoodon obesulus), and I have struggled to find out what features are used to distinguish between the two.  So the rationale for my identification is purely based on size, with the former generally being slightly smaller:

Heading out with Mario is always good, but this time I did wonder if I would have the stamina to keep up.  While I have been out the last few weekends, since my isolation period ended, on both trips we’ve jumped on lower grade routes.  Not that this has in anyway diminished our enjoyment of getting out or climbing, but today two things had me pondering how I’d go.  Firstly there really isn’t much easy stuff at our chosen location of the Northern Blocks at Wilyabrup.  And secondly I knew what Mario had his eye on:

He was interested to give a couple of Kym classics, which rarely get any attention, a crack.  But before that it was time to warm up, for which Mario decided on another route he hadn’t been on before called Graciousness.  Another line Kym had developed way back in 2015, but one for which he had kindly offered the first ascent to Wiggins.  The reason this was a good line to start on, was it was the same grade as two of the routes I had in mind today.  I too had come with a game plan:

Despite having been climbing in this area for over sixteen years it is a little surprising that there are climbs, at a grade I’m happy to attempt, which I have still not climbed.  The reasons are varied, but for the two I had in mind today this was probably because they shared starts with other more recently established and well-trodden climbs.  Also the route descriptions of these two older lines indicated they may be sparse on protection, and you have to be in the right headspace to take on climbs like that:

My first lead was Block and Tackle, and for those familiar with the area, it takes on the first two thirds of Corpus Delecti before traversing rightwards across the entire crag.  This line was climbed in 78 and it took a further four years before anyone considered the direct finish of the way more popular Corpus Delecti.  While the route was fun, I’m not convinced I’d lead it again, with the direct finish of the more recent route being much better.  In climbing this line I did however get to see the above very well camouflaged moth tucked up against the rock, as I set up my belay anchors:

Then it was time for Mario to head back to where we started this morning.  In 2015 Kym was on fire and also established Ain’t No Slouch and Naming Rights, with Craig and I hot on his heels and all three of us managing the routes.  I hadn’t touched either line again until I followed Howsie up Ain’t No Slouch, a couple of years back and we both found it really tough (https://sandbagged.blog/2020/05/09/aint-no-slouch/).  Today however I was quietly confident Mario would get up the route, so much so that I set the camera to take a video of the action:

Sadly however the pumpy traverse to the bottomless chimney proved too much, not because it was a slopey rail but because it was wet.  He tried several times but it just wasn’t to be, so he instead had a go at the second line on his radar.  The harder Naming Rights, a very steep crack that really doesn’t offer much in the way of handholds.  While, as proven above, he got up the route, I’m sure he won’t be offended by me saying it was not in the best style.  He and then I too had to dog our way past the crux:

Despite Kym’s two lines being too much for today, we were not put out and it was my lead next.  This time I headed up Baited Frenzy, a route established in 86 and sharing the first half with the much more popular Digital Delecti that was established twenty years later in 06.  Both Mario and I really enjoyed the line, and to boot it had enough gear to make it sane.  The only reason I can think this one gets less attention is because it is a full trad line, and possibly also due to the route description:

I however will definitely jump on it again, and will also be encouraging others to do so.  I was not surprised when Mario came up hungry for more.  And he then made short work of what I consider to be the best line on the crag.  It’s not a crazy grade but does have a very fine, technical and sustained mid-section that is easy to pump out on with no escape.  For this very reason, he confessed that Use No SLCDs was a route that put him on edge.  Today however there was no hint of nerves or uncertainty:

I was feeling pretty tired following up, but we had left some gear at the base and also if you are keeping count you’ll notice we were only five routes in.  It was my turn to be on edge with the next lead, Trust Your Instincts is a somewhat steep and pumpy line.  The last section is awesome and feels super exposed, and even more so when you are feeling tired.  Providing the perfect situation for your mind to drift.  With arms tiring, the question is do you try to place more gear or run it out and hope you have enough gas in the tank:

I went with the latter and thankfully judged my physical and mental energy levels well, pulling over the top totally exhausted.  Mario came up with the last of the gear securely contained in his jacket dangling below him.  A sign that we might be wrapping the session up, but somehow we both got confused and thought we needed to get one more line in to even up the leads.  I’m guessing we were both a bit mentally done, but Mario was keen to finish on the much more relaxed Banana Split:

This is usually the warm-up climb when we come to this area, and today it proved an equally great warm-down climb.  It is impossible not to enjoy this route, although as I topped out my fingers, forearms, shoulders, back, legs, feet and brain were all strongly advising me to do no more.  The timing was good.  Mario too felt like he was done for the day, and out to sea a rain band was heading our way so it was a rapid pack up to avoid repeating what happened last week when all the gear and rope got wet:

For some reason this weekend felt more welcome than usual.  I can’t quite put my finger on why but it may be related to still feeling a bit low on energy, and having just endured a full week back in the office.  Better still there were people keen to get out for a climb, which based on my almost weekly adventures may sound like a weird thing to say.  However, the local crew of active climbers has been dwindling over the last year or two and we are down to just a handful of people who actually get outdoors now:

My plans were to head out with Josh, and help him get some more trad leads under his belt.  Rongy and Howsie were also keen and available to get out, and with Rongy’s absence from rock he was more than happy with a low key morning at Driftwood Bay.  While it only offers lower grade routes they are fun and long, for this area.  He was also happy to drive down, and being the first people to arrive at the carpark he got to use my normal parking spot.  This seemed appropriate seeing he, like me, now also drives an Amarok:

I gave him a bit of a ribbing and told him that his new vehicle had resulted in him driving like a grandad, which he didn’t deny.  Previously, when he drove in his far more sporty Subaru the journey would have been a tad quicker, today however he was happy to tootle along and at times not even worry about getting up to the speed limit.  The morning was glorious and once at Driftwood Bay we set up the rap line.  It was only an afterthought that Howsie casually asked Josh if he had ever abseiled before, which he hadn’t:

So while Josh plucked up the courage to have his first abseil experience, down a 20m cliff, I watched a carpet python very slowly work its way back into the undergrowth at the base of the crag.  Howsie, was at the bottom of the rope as Josh made his way down, ready to pull the rope tight and act like a break should Josh show any signs of getting into trouble.  But all was well, other than the carpet python having slithered away by the time everyone had got down.  We plumped for a couple of lesser climbed routes just to ease back into it, and it was not until Rongy and I set up our anchors that we looked out to sea:

When we first saw the above rainbow it looked to be almost at the horizon, and with practically no wind we thought we would have a long time to wait for the cloud to hit land.  But the storm cell moved uncannily fast in the still air, with the rainbow at its fore.  As Howsie and Josh got close to the top of the crag the rainbow seemed to be coming right out of where the wave were hitting the shoreline.  Then the first drops started to fall, big “I’m going to drench you” type drops, and they came down heavier and heavier:

And heavier and heavier.  Eventually we seemed to be completely surrounded by low clouds and the light of the bright sunny morning turned into what looked like an evening dusky light.  Needless to say we packed up and walked out.  Driftwood Bay with its more adventurous routes, which are a bit runout and at times having loose rock would be no fun in these conditions nor for some time after.  So instead we moved across the main crag of Wilyabrup, where the rock was solid and gear generally being more plentiful:

Others might have taken their heavy wet ropes and soaked gear back to the car and driven off.  But not us.  The weather patterns here will often comprise storm cells or fronts that are very localised.  By the time we had made it to the top of the main cliffs we could see clearer skies coming in behind.  The storm cell was leaving us and making its way northwards along the coast.  The rock was still wet when we racked up for our second route, so Howsie and I jumped on the pointy end up some long, fun and easy slabs:

While technically it was Josh’s lead, with the conditions as they were I suggested he wait.  My rationale being also that while the slabs were easy the gear was spaced and that might feel disconcerting so early on in his trad leading career.  Half way up my route I found this beautiful gecko tucked at the back of a crack, somehow managing to stay out of the water puddling all round it.  This was sadly the best image I could get but had to include it, just to show the ghostly figure it created and also it’s striking golden eye:

Howsie felt it might be a velvet gecko, but with such poor image quality I’ve not been able to verify if it was.  I was however pleased that Josh, after following me up the 25m route on three pieces of protection had agreed with my thoughts.  The rock was however now starting to dry nicely, so it was time to send him up a route.  He and Rongy set off up lines next to each other, which worked out well allowing Rongy to give Josh a bit of advice when the climbing got a bit trickier.  He also helped Josh set up the anchors at the top, another skill that Josh will over time build his knowledge and more importantly confidence in:

Despite the trials and tribulations of the morning, that had eaten into the time we had available, we were able to squeeze one more route in.  We again picked two lines next to each other, and Josh was happy for me to lead indicating he had used up his excitement quota on the last lead.  So Howsie and I set off, with me getting a head start so I could get a few action shots.  We belayed the other two up our respective lines, as we basked in the sunlight and were amazed at how we seemed to have dried out from our earlier drenching:

I couldn’t resist sneaking in one more climb so rapped down and Howsie gave me a belay on the route he had climbed.  Meanwhile Rongy and Josh kindly walked down to get the bags and bring them up.  Josh was a bit slower coming back due to going for a quick dip in the ocean, which must have been cold.  This resulted in him missing out on the next great natural spectacle of today, a Wedge-tailed Eagle being chased away by a couple of gulls.  The morning had turned out to be great due to the sights we had seen, the vastly contrasting conditions we had experienced, and also of course the fun routes we had climbed.  As such we were all glad that unlike the eagle, we hadn’t been chased away earlier by the rain:

With a propensity to be able to name itself as “the best in the world”, Australia recently bagged another record.  This time probably not one it wanted, with the most recorded COVID infection per capita.  Despite Elseya, Lisa and I being careful and still taking precautions, despite the relaxing rules, I managed to bring it home and sadly also passed it on to Lisa and then Elseya.  So we have all been couped up indoors.  Then on Friday my seven days of mandatory isolation came to an end.  And I was busting to get out of the house and also to touch rock.  Ash was up for a foray and was already planning to head out with Maddie, who as driving down from Perth in the morning:

As such it was a later than normal start and also, after a week of inclement weather, today was looking likely to be a glorious day.  The twelve thirty start was simply too late for me, I had ants in my pants.  Therefore, I went down a bit earlier and expected to be greeted with a mob of cars.  There were however only three other people climbing, and a few day walkers.  It was lucky it wasn’t any busier, as one of the parties had chosen an interesting place to park blocking off two spots, and they surely would have got a few messages left on their windscreen if more people had been about.  I arrived at the crag with a plan to self-belay myself up a route before Ash and Maddie got there:

Wandering along to my destination I passed a couple fo climbers, Joe and Brain, playing on a harder sports line, and stopped for a chat.  Self-confessed sport climbers who were used to Bob’s Hollow they found the style here, with small slopey holds, a challenge but also enjoyable.  They also remarked how, compared to Bobs, the bolts on the route felt spaced, making it very exciting and a bit nervous climbing.  This led to a but more chat and they are yet to venture to deeply into the world of trad, and I offered them the chance if they were keen.  Today however their focus was firmly set on the task that lay above them, but the chance might come up next time we happen to be out at the same time:

It may seem a strange thing to say, but later during the morning something twigged and Joe put two and two together and told me he follows my blog.  Therefore, the chance of organising a trad climb sometime wasn’t to fanciful.  The route they were on was too hard for me today, while I never felt that COVID had smashed me I wasn’t sure how much energy I would really have.  Being sensible I climbed Hope, with wires only and self-belaying myself up it.  While rapping down to clean the gear Ash and Maddie arrived, and after a catch-up we decided to go slow and I romped up Hope again, this time with a belayer holding my rope below me:

Ash had also caught COVID several weeks back and it had smashed him, and Maddie wasn’t well last week either but tested negative.  So the idea of easing into it felt good for all three of us.  This allowed more time to kick back and watch the waves that were rolling in big, clean and crisp.  The first time I had climbed with Ash he told me he was itching to build up his trad confidence, and as a gauge I got him to follow me up Sirius.  That was way back in Nov 20 (https://sandbagged.blog/2020/11/22/a-one-horse-race/) and he was visible shaken by the experience.  The next time we took it on was almost a year to the day with him once more seconding the first pitch (https://sandbagged.blog/2021/05/15/the-new-car-park/), which also happened to be when we came across another interesting parking situation:

Today, with Steel Wall all to ourselves and the rock in perfect condition, it seemed the perfect chance for Ash to finally lead the first pitch.  I couldn’t tell his thoughts but he set off up the initial crack all smiles and happiness.  At the traverse I wasn’t able to see his face anymore and the pace slowed, but he seemed to be calm and steady as he inched towards the exposed crux midway along the traverse.  It had certainly looked all smooth and controlled, but he confessed afterwards that he had probably used up all his adrenaline bank on that lead.  As he set up the belay, in a nice shady spot, Maddie and I remarked on the clean waves were today and how it would be nice to see some dolphins:

And just as we mentioned it, we spotted a fin pop up.  Maddie was up next, so I left them to it and wandered along to find a perch to watch the show.  Being greeted with a spectacular sight, as the large pod cruised past us and then as they came back they started to surf in on the big waves.  With the sun positioned behind the waves I got a stunning view of them having fun.  Transfixed watching them I thought to take a video at the last moment, so only captured the tail end of the show. I didn’t ask if Ash had witnessed the fully glory of the sight, as he was no doubt also keep a close eye on Maddie who also looked to climb the traverse confidently.  Stepping up past the crux without a stutter or whimper.  As the dolphins swam further north, the interlude was over and I tied in:

While I do love climbing, I also love seeing spectacles like the above one.  So despite calling it the interlude, it is hard to say which was the main event and which was the mid-show entertainment.  Then as I led us out on the second pitch, with Maddie and then Ash following, it seemed the spotlight fell on us.  A couple out for a walk stood and watched us for the whole show, from a great vantage point.  It was hard to tell if they may have been just taking pictures or possibly videoing it.  Maddie was keen to see if they had any good images, so went and had a chat.  There was a promise of images being passed over later, but they have as yet not arrived so sadly could not be used in this post:

Ash was starting to feel pretty pooped.  And much as it seems from the post so far that my energy levels were full, I too had struggled a bit to focus on the last lead.  It did however seem a bit dumb to walk back down to get the bags, just to walk back out.  My suggestion that we climb out with packs, seemed to be acceptable, however as we prepared ourselves Ash declared he was happy to sit this one out and would carry the packs up for us.  Leaving Maddie and I to have fun on Sinuosity, which I was very grateful for as my energy and focus really started to wobble on the op half.  Each move felt hard and tenuous, and if I had climbed with a pack I am sure I wouldn’t have pulled it off today:

I reckon Maddie probably was the fittest today and still had some go in her, but Ash and I were toasted.  Was it the afternoon sun on our backs, which had just a bit of bite in it, or the lingering aftereffects of the dreaded bug.  I’m guessing the latter, and while it had been a very fun and welcome afternoon trip out, I for one was grateful when the slow walk out was done and I could flop into the driver’s seat.  Ash and Maddie declared that they were aiming to head to for a mountain bike ride in the morning, and I’d be keen to hear how they went.  For me I already knew Sunday would be a lazy day, and back at home my muscles ached and were on the verge of cramping.  All I was good for was to slob:

The cooling night time temperatures are bring on the morning dew, and driving out of Peppermint Grove Beach the hundreds of orb spider webs on the fence lines on the roadside become so much more visible.  It was a later start than normal today, so with sufficient light I stopped to check out and take a few images of the webs covered in water.  There were lots of egg sacs resembling large cotton wool buds.  Some of which looked to have burst open, and the tiny baby orb spiders could be seen slowly breaking free of their eggs:

The sun hadn’t quite hit the webs as I drove past, and I might pop back out in better light today to get a better images of this spectacle for my own collection.  It was however a blue sky promising a lovely morning up at Welly Dam despite the temperatures being single digit.  As is so often the case, on approaching the final few kilometres of the journey, where the road starts to drop down into the bowl of the Wellington Dam National Park, the clouds could be seen hovering just above the trees:

Getting lower and lower until at the dam and reservoir, which is a stone’s throw from where the quarry is located, the place was shrouded in mist.  Something I am quite used to seeing here, but there was another sight that greeted me that was a surprise.  It’s been maybe three months since my last visit, and they were still busy with works on the approach road to the quarry.  The works seem to nearing their end, and this includes a formalized parking arrangement.  Not quite at the same extreme level of control being placed in the Grampians that seemed illogical, but still bizarre:

The quarry is the only picnic area here, and in spring and summer we have witnessed upwards of thirty cars safely parked here, with lots of families enjoying the great facilities.  And they have now seemingly limited the parking to ten cars, four spots of which are reserved for disabled parking.  I’d love to get into the mind of the people who make these strange decisions, to work out what they were thinking.  We however had no problem securing spot.  Howsie and Nadia arrived shortly after me, with Fergus and Frank:

Despite today being Howsie’s birthday climb, he had to wait a while because the boys were keen to get on rock.  Last weekend, the night before he and I went to Wilyabrup, Fergus had asked if he could join us to climb.  It would not have been very practical for that trip, but today was a different story.  And the boys had plenty of time on the end of a rope.  I knew it would be it was a slow start to the day, and I didn’t even put my harness on until Josh and Emma rocked up.  Josh is still learning the ropes but is keen to lead, however Welly Dam is not a great beginners place to learn:

While most of the routes are pretty hard, I had heard he had recently climbed here Howsie and had done pretty well.  So I threw him cold onto one of the only tad lines here, which he led as the sun burned off the last of the mist.  While it made him nervous and put him on edge, especially when the climb steepened up and got a little more tricky, he got a clean and safe lead in.  Being both tried and deservedly happy when he topped out.  Meanwhile, Howsie finally got to have a climb, and picked a climb I thought would never get a second ascent:

After Nadia followed up Scraggly Daggly, a top rope was again set up for the boys.  And the pace slowed.  Josh was keen to have a crack at Welcome to Edges, but not on lead.  It was the last climb he had followed up last time here, and it had completely smashed him.  Today while the tricky and technical start had him floundering with his footwork, due to the slippery smeary holds, he was pleased to manage the rest of the climb without a hitch.  Soon after Dazza rumbled in on his bike, and despite having done his fair share of climbing in the past he said he, like Emma, was just a spectator today:

He made it just in time for the main event, not the great morning tea feast that Josh laid on, but Howsie’s clinical and controlled ascent of the very fine, technical and exposed Pole Voltz.  Another 22 was in the bag for 2022, and what a great line to.  After that the food and hot cuppa courtesy of Josh was very welcome, and also in keeping with the slow and social pace of the day.  The harnesses didn’t come off and were not quite done with yet, and it didn’t take a lot of persuading to get Josh to step up to the plate for a second lead:

He’d climbed Murky Corner before, and in Howsie’s words cruised it.  Being on the sharp end however changes everything, and he had his first lead fall.  Just one, and this climb tested his mental, as much as his physical, strength especially at the steep final moves above the last bolt.  The whole crew moved together and were now sitting under the trees chatting, allowing Howsie another lead on one of his favourites here.  Taj Vs the World, such a fine fingery steep climb.  At this point we found out that Dazza had in fact brought his harness and shoes:

He belayed Howsie, but had no intention of climbing the route.  But then when I asked Nadia if she fancied climbing Murky Corner, she put him on the spot and said she would if Dazza also climbed it.  As would be expected there was a lot of rope swapping on the day like today, Nadia doesn’t climb a lot so the routes at Welly Dam are pretty challenging for her.  With an understanding of where her mindset was at with this place, it was great to see her have a crack at a couple of routes.  And it was also great to see Dazza have a climb after his two year hiatus from rock:

Nadia’s mind got the better of her, so she didn’t finish the route but she had fun.  Dazza then walked it, he only stopped once to think, which was where Josh had taken his lead fall.  Better still he came down saying how it felt great to touch rock again and that familiar flow of movement.  Next time I’ll have to try a bit harder to get the only spectator of the day, Emma, to have a climb.  The boys were continuing to have a quiet moment, no doubt a bit weary from all the climbing and running amuck with kids from other random families, who we did not know, that had over the time had arrived and left.  So Howsie took advantage of this quite period to bag another climb, Ebonie Road:

The timing was good and as soon as he came down the boys were once again itching to climb.  Allowing Josh and then Dazza to have a crack at the harder Ebonie Road, Nadia didn’t show any hint of interest in this one.  Not surprising, and both Josh and Dazza ended the day a little like the boys, climbing up a bit and then enjoying swinging on the rope when it all got too hard.  A very fitting way to end, and in keeping with the fun and social feel of, the session.  Dazza and I headed off, leaving the others to drive to a pool in the Collie River, where they intended to, and I hear they did, have an ice cold dip: