On Thursday we had a delivery of firewood. Many people have used their fires a for a bit now but we seem to either have a bit more resilience or a better insulated house. But even for Lisa and I Friday felt bitterly cold, and that evening we finally lit the fire. It didn’t take long for the house to become toasty warm, and in the early hours of Saturday morning it was still smouldering away keeping the house a lovely temperature. But I had committed to heading out and stepped outside into the darkness, away from the comfort within:
I arrived at the car park of Wilyabrup ten minutes early, in what seemed total darkness. The good news being that the bitter cold of Friday seemed to have been vanquished and I wondered if I was overdressed in my Buffalo and a beanie. Ash was chauffeured in bang on our agree time to meet, and first light seemed to be hot on his and Darcy’s heals. Darcy, who doesn’t climb, was down from Perth for the weekend visiting Ash and I felt a little guilty that we were heading out for a climb. But he was happy to chill out and take in the beauty of the area, while Ash and I bagged a couple of routes:
Ash was keen to get a few more trad lines under his belt. He said the thought of trad climbing scares him but he also gets a huge sense of satisfaction after the event. The first time I went climbing with him and hoped he would have a bash at leading on trad, we went up Sirius. I led the first pitch, which when he followed had him on a knife edge with nerves almost in tatters by the time he got to the first belay. So much so that I led a bolted line up the face, hoping to leave the second trad pitch of Sirius for him to lead one day. Today I had in mind for that day to arrive:
There seemed to be some humidity in the air resulting in the level of friction that we would normally expect not being there. This meant we felt a little insecure on the holds and held on a little harder than we should. Ash was very focused as he followed up and looked a little nervous, but compared to last time was much calmer and looked to be kind of enjoying himself. So much so that I didn’t really give him a choice of leading or not. We sorted the gear and talked about the process for him to follow in setting up the belay when he got to the top. Then he was off, reaching for the sky:
In his words, he scared himself up the route but really enjoyed it at the same time. Talk about conflicting emotions! Most of his gear was solid. One or two pieces could have been improved but that is all part of learning the trade, and he was keen to hear what I had to say. Darcy watched on the whole time in wonder at what we were doing, and maybe also wondering just a little bit why we do it. We were taking our time today, but it felt a good pace for an overcast grey day. It was my lead next and I had already decided what I would climb, but what grade it would be was unknown:
I can’t recall how long ago, maybe a year and a half or more, Glen told me of a potential new line he had spied. And as of today it was still unclimbed or at least to our knowledge unclaimed. Way back then, Glen couldn’t resist from telling me about it but also made me swear I wouldn’t climb it until he had the opportunity to lead it. I was fine with this but did suggest a timeframe and we agreed that if he hadn’t climbed it by the 1st April 21, I would be allowed to. So today I did just that. It was almost a no go, as first moves were very bouldery and bold with the promise of a pretty average landing:
It took me a while to figure out the start moves and once I nailed them I thought it would turn into a ramble, but I was wrong. The difficulty eased slightly, after the do or die start moves, however the wall remained slightly off vertical. The wrong way off vertical and it kept me honest. My arms were pretty pumped by the time I got to the ledge. Then to ensure the line was independent of the existing climbs, of Gutted to the left and Slapping the Fat to the right, I fired straight over the overlaps. A long reach and high step got me to great underclings resulting in a great climb of two half’s. Well worth the time it took to work out the start:
Much credit has to go to Glen for spying the line, and if I was honest I have to say that with the way the start went I’m not sure he would ever have led it. Ash and I discussed grades and we struggled with what to give it. Now that I’ve consider how the routes to the left (16) and right (17) climb, I’m going with a tough 17 and will wait and see if anyone else tries it to confirm this. Glen while you didn’t bag the first ascent, I’ve decided to call it The Sullivan’s. Credit also has to go to Ash, not because he followed the gnarly route clean but in being able to remain calm, especially when he realised where I was intending to belay from. The images above should give you a hint as to what I mean:
Ash and Darcy had to be on the road by 11am, and while I had dallied a bit on my route there was still time to get one more line in. So Ash took the pointy end for a second time and headed up Hope. He sailed his way up, the crux didn’t seem to slow him down and I am safe in saying he really enjoyed himself while climbing it and this time only scared himself up it a little bit. His gear was again mostly bomber and all of it would have easily held a fall, but being mister picky did have a few tips for next time. I was however not able to find any fault with this piece, which I feel the South West crew will really appreciate:
Darcy kindly carried Ash’s pack up and also offered to take mine up. I was however happy to climb with a pack, and for some strange reason actually quite enjoy it. Today and very unusually since the pandemic hit, we had the place all to ourselves. We didn’t really pick up on this until voices could be heard, as I followed up the last route of the day. It wasn’t climbers but a few families walking along the base of the cliffs. What a great thing to do, going for a walk with the family I thought… until we realised the cheeky buggers hadn’t really gone for a walk and had parked their cars at the toilet block just above the cliffs(!):
In case you were wondering why I had not written up a post last weekend, it wasn’t intentional. What was intentional was not getting out for a climb, but I had hoped for one last snorkel near Castle Rock. The water would probably have been OK there, unlike at our local beach where the water is turning blue-grey. For many reasons the snorkel didn’t happen, and now it is probably fair to say that my snorkelling season is over until later in the year when summer starts to return. While Autumn maybe the time when my snorkelling ceases, it is however the best time to head down to the Stirling Ranges to climb:
Howsie and I had been talking about a trip here in Autumn since last year, and the weekend was finally upon us. This was one of the reasons I had not been out climbing last weekend. As the Stirling Range trip approached we nervously watched the forecast I often wondered if I should have climbed last weekend. It was looking wet and as we drove down the roads were showing signs of recent rain and the salt lakes that should be dry this time of year were filled with water. All those negative thoughts were put to one side as we drove up the final gravel road to the carpark at the base of Mount Trio under a clear blue sky:
Our big day was to be on Saturday, but if you are going to drive all this way you might as well make a bit more use of the time here. So we had organised to meet Kym at Mount Trio at midday Friday, and he rolled into the carpark no more than minute ahead of us. We had a quick bite to eat before we hauled the packs up the access track. The track is steep with steps that feel to high leading up the side of a gully. You then cross the saddle and to get to the crag you need to climb almost to the top of Mount Trio. It’s exhausting work with a climbing pack and we were all feeling our relatively low levels of cardio fitness:
Our aim was to climb at the Mount Trio crag proper. I say that as low down near the carpark there is a boulder that has a number of sport routes on it. Fun but a bit short and the rock is also very flaky, so flaky that the routes seems to be different every time I have climbed there. The real crag sits high up and I have only been here once before, with Dan. But I can’t find any images of that trip and maybe it was before I had been documenting all my adventures. As a result of that previous trip I wasn’t holding out much hope for this crag, Kym was however psyched but then I thought to myself when isn’t he:
Dan and I had rapped in from the top and only climbed on the upper tier, the reason being that the climbs there were lower grades. And the grade 19 and 20 we had done were OK but nothing special. If anything they were a little inconsistent and even scrappy, so might thoughts were still on the less excited side. Today we didn’t rap down, Kym took us down the gully. As we scrambled down we had to be careful to avoid the wetter rock and slippery mud, as water trickled down the same way we were heading. We stopped part way down, and from here you could see the right-hand end of the upper tier:
There Kym pointed to two new lines and they did look good, far better than the two lines at the far left-hand end that Dan and I had climbed. After pondering about those routes we continued down and finally found ourselves at the base of the lower tier. The bush was still recovering from the fires just over a year back, and our clothes were blackened from remains of the former scrub. Underfoot we trod carefully to avoid the new scrub that was starting to sprout, small and delicate patches of green slowly bringing a spot of colour back to the landscape. It is sad to see what has happened, but amazing to see what is coming:
Climbing with Kym is infectious, Howsie and I had considered what routes to tackle as we drove down. Not surprisingly we had looked at the lower grade lines mostly on the upper tier, but Kym has a way of bringing out the best in your abilities like no one else I know. He isn’t over the top with it, but gentle yet extremely positive in his approach. That is how Howsie found himself tied in and leading Carpe Diem, a long 30m three star grade 21. For those who have tracked his grade 20 and 21 challenge over 2020 and 2021, will know that this is pushing his limits:
Yet Kym somehow convinced him it was a good idea, and I’m super pleased he did as Howsie on sighted the route. Climbing it in a controlled and smooth manner, even making it look easier than I found it as I led it. The rock offers small edges, some fingernail narrow, so you feel like you are in tension most of the time and unable to fully relax except for the one no hand rest I found (above). Kym decided to top rope it, as he hadn’t climbed on rope in ages, and we had to laugh and become inventive when it was obvious the 50m twin ropes weren’t quite long enough here:
It was a great route, and super tricky at the crux. Very deserving of the grade, but the routes on the lower tier only got harder. No problem, and Howsie and I were happy or was it relieved, when Kym came back down of the first line declaring he was all revved up for leading Fuelling the Dancing Bear. Grade 22 and again three stars. Howsie belayed allowing me to run round the crag getting a few different images. As Kym climbed low clouds started to drift over the saddle we had crossed to the east. A few droplets came down as he approached the steepening section that had looked so imposing to Howsie and I:
We are still not sure if Kym was aware of the weather, he was fully focused and seemed to be working hard. Looking tired and fighting to keep any strength he could muster flowing to his arms, forearms and finger tips. Finally managing to surmount the off-vertical wall. Even then he seemed to be having to work hard. Eventually as the angle looked to ease he slowed down putting his head against the rock. Willing himself to keep composed and get up without falling, which he managed. Only to then ask if we were going to lead or second the route. Howsie and I stuttered an stumbled over our words, 30m below him, unsure of what to say:
Kym whooped and raved about the climb, claiming we would be disappointed if we didn’t lead it, it’s a classic, you can get this one, and many more words of encouragement… so we both lead it. I went second and it was only just as I was starting that Kym began to hint at some of the tricky moments where he had only just managed to get through, without giving away any details. It was on from the start, blank sections with the tiniest of edges on near vertical walls led the slightly overhanging wall. Jugs Kym had mentioned and here they were until the top when they disappeared, making the exit powerful and long:
I almost fell off as I exited the steepest part, I could only just reach the small edges that you had to bear down on to haul yourself over. It was epic and continued like that for the full 30m. Like Kym I came down raving that it would get the full five stars in the Blue Mountains. Howsie also loved it, he looked to be moving faster than Kym and I had, making it look easy. It wasn’t till the crux move that Kym and I had almost not made that he stumbled. Finally getting up and super happy with the lead, also beaming with the quality of the route. Great varied climbing that really kept you on edge and guessing and working hard the whole way:
All my reservations about the quality of the climbing at Mount Trio had been well and truly dispelled. Kym started to encourage me to attempt the equally good looking grade 23 but while we had only climbed two stunning routes, time had caught up with us. The days are getting shorter, allowing for less daylight hours, and today it was easy to make the call and head down. But it was something that Howsie and I needed to factor in for our next day out. The image above was taken a mere 15min before the one below, it was a sign of how quickly the weather can change here and that was also something on our minds for tomorrow:
It was, as it always is, such fun catching up with Kym and while the climbing was done with for the day, we still had the walk out. Scrambling below towering walls from which water flowed over or seeped out of high above, showering down on us, all the while looking out at the magnificent views. Ahead we could see the track with its countless high steeps that our legs, or more importantly knees would have to endure. There is no rushing in the big hills, and it is certainly not all about the climbing. The walk in and out is equally part of the adventure and this trip had certainly started with a very big bang:
On most if not all of my climbing trips to the Stirling Ranges I have camped at the Mount Trio bush camp, and I can’t talk this place up enough. This time however we didn’t, and I can only hope that John and Margot forgive me for not even popping in to say hello. Instead we stayed at The Lilly, which is owned and run by Howsie’s wife Nadia’s grandparents. Not only owned but built by them, quite literally brick by brick. It has been a place I have wanted to check out for a long time so the offer of a bed, hot meal and shower was just the icing on the cake:
I’ll tell you a little bit more about Pleun and Hennie’s stunning place at the end of this post. For now all I will say is that we rocked up there as light was fading and we were warmly greeted, had a beer thrust into our hands and hot food placed on the table in front of us. There we sat chatting as I took in the amazing collections all over the place until the beds were calling us, or more so me. Howsie and I still had to sort the gear for the next day so we didn’t hit the sack until 9:30, with the alarm set for 4:45. We both had a restless night’s sleep, possibly due to the task that lay ahead:
We rose, got a brew on, made breakfast, made another brew and then got ready to head out. The early wake up was to allow me a couple of cuppas before heading out, it was only a 20min drive to the carpark of the mighty Bluff Knoll, the tallest peak in the Stirling Ranges. We arrived soon after 6am and there were heaps of cars already there. We had been told that over the last year this place had become very popular, not only in the daytime but also for people to hike up to watch the sunrise. As we approached we could see the beams of torchlights, as people plodded up the 3.1km trail to the summit:
We started up the summit trail as first light hit but only followed it for a sort period. Once at the gully, which was flowing with water from the recent weeks of rain we headed up a goat track. This took us steeply up the ridge towards the towering north face. Our legs were feeling yesterday’s hike up Mount Trio, the summit trail had felt hard but once we hit the goat track it got steeper and harder. The sun crept over the horizon and the impressive face lit up, while we continued our upward trudge on ever tiring legs:
We had donned our harnesses and helmets, and had worn our warmer clothes. While it had been cold when we started, we were now far from cold. Sweat dripping off us, but we continued as we were. There was no room in the rope bag I had, nor the small rucksack Howsie carried. We had to take everything we took with us up the climb, so had packed light with the heaviest items other than ropes and climbing gear was the three litres of water. Despite that the bags felt heavy, puling us down as we worked our way up:
Finally we were at the base of the cliff, looking back down the last remnants of fog on the land below us could be seen. The rising sun had been burning it off gradually, and now only pockets remained. As we had driven in the dark we had encountered a lot of mist making it hard to see what lay ahead. We had intensified our stare, as if that would make us see better and allow us to spot any roos that might jump out. We also wondered if the face would be shrouded in mist making the conditions damp:
As we ascended the road leading up to carpark the mist was left below us and we were happy to see a clear sky. Standing below this mighty wall, it was pretty intimidating looking up. High up the face the path seemed to be blocked with huge roofs, making the thought of a grade 14 route seem highly unlikely. Howsie, knew otherwise. He had climbed Hell Fire Gully many years back with Dazza, and this helped with route finding which can be challenging here. At least we knew we were at the right place with the initials HFG etched into the rock to tell us so:
Six pitches and 250m of climbing lay ahead. I’ve attempted this route twice before, once in 2006 when my climbing buddy from the UK came to visit. Gareth and I loved the big mountains and weren’t afraid of epic days, but as I said route finding can be challenging here and with no prior knowledge we got off route and bailed. I’m not even sure if we ever got on route to be honest. The next time was with Dan, the day after we had climbed on Mount Trio, on that trip the crag was shrouded in mist and the wind was howling. The rock was dripping wet and while we found the line we got less that ten metres up it before we knew it was a crazy idea to continue and backed off:
Today we basked in the sunlight. Howsie reckoned pitch five was the primo pitch, one he led the last time he climbed it. So this time I would have that pitch, meaning I would kick off proceedings on pitch one. That would allow us to leapfrog as we worked our way upwards, I’d lead the odd pitches and Howsie would take the even numbers. The rock was dry and felt great but the gear was small and spaced, similar to what I recalled from my one and only time of making it up Bluff Knoll which was with Rongy when we climbed Right Anti-Climax. To add to the excitement there is a high chance of coming across loose rock on the Bluff:
As such every move was made with purpose, careful and calculated with slow movements well thought out. It had me on edge and I was definitely feeling nervous about what lay ahead. It’s only a grade 14 route, but when the gear is so spaced and the consequence of a fall is so high things change. You climb in a more intense way, being ever conscious of the risk. This in turn slows you down, makes you check things with a lot more care and ultimately makes a grade 14 feel harder than it really is. The only way to avoid this is to climb these routes more often, get used to the rock and become familiar with what to expect:
The belay perch was OK but felt a little insecure, or was it my nerves and that I just needed to settle into and relax a bit more. At each belay we had a routine. It was set up so the second could easily tie in and take off the rucksack, which was heavier bag due to the food and water in it. Next we sorted the gear and finally the light rope bag was handed over so the second who would then become the leader. We were efficient and organised, which on long routes where escape while possible is not so straight forward, is important. Howsie set off up pitch two, the crux pitch, while I watched a millipede solo the rock next to me:
In hindsight a 60m rope would have been better. Two pitches were recorded as 50m long and they were rope stretchers, with one being more than 50m. However, the twin 50m ropes were also extremely useful. Especially for pitch two on which Howsie traversed a fair way left to avoid wet rock, before coming back into the crux corner. Having two ropes allowed this to be done without creating huge amounts of rope drag. With one rope protecting him as he went leftwards and the other as he climbed on the right, such that the ropes ran in a straighter line:
Following Howsie up the crux pitch, I felt like I eased into the route a bit more. Having the rope above helped for sure, but also the familiarity with the rock was now increasing. There were only a few areas with seepage and we managed to avoid those, and we also didn’t encounter all that much loose rock. I found him sat on top of Prickle Traverse, from here it is possible to walk off but we had no intention of doing that. With a large terrace at our disposal we had a break and got out some snacks and had a drink. I then set off up pitch three, with Howsie below camouflaged in his green waterproof:
Cloud had come over the top of the ranges, it comes from the south and you don’t know it is upon you until it hits you. Another aspects that makes climbing this wall a more serious proposition. While the cloud came, no rain fell but the temperature dropped and the bite of the wind was more noticeable. That was why Howsie put his waterproof on, making use of it as a wind cheater. I sat on a narrow but very comfortable belay ledge as he followed me up what was a brilliant pitch. We both agreed it was the best yet being consistent, steep and having enough gear to make it sane:
We had a quick change over and soon Howsie was heading up pitch four, the second rope stretcher. And we hoped this time that the rope was long enough, as the chances of simul-climbing like we had done on the previous rope stretcher, were reduced. For those who haven’t heard of the term before, it is when both climbers are climbing at the same time. Not a normal rock climbing technique but I have used it in the big mountains in the UK. The moves off my ledge while not crazy were certainly tricky and if I slipped I would have fallen into space and pulled Howsie off with me:
Howsie disappeared past the roof and went onwards out of sight. I shouted out as he approached the halfway mark on the rope and then expected to have to shout out and hope he could hear me, as I guessed there were 10m, 5m, 3m and finally 1m of rope left. But he stopped at about 40m and didn’t go any further, unable to see him I wasn’t sure if he was in trouble, had hit a wet area or was at the belay. Based on the route description the last was unlikely, but all I could do was wait as the building wind making it impossible for us to communicate:
We had accounted for the lack of communication, making sure we both understood what to do. As it was in this instance he had reached the belay, and as the wind lulled I heard him shout safe. After checking I heard correct and getting him to repeat his call I took him off, waited for the ropes to go tight and only when I heard on belay and could feel the ropes go tight did I start to dismantle my belay. It was another fine pitch, great moves past the roof and up the steep wall. It eased a little towards the top and I found him sat on a large sloping ledge, where we decided it was time for another snack and drink:
Pitch five, the supposed best pitch of the route. It is hard to see how this one could trump pitch three, but there was only one way to find out. I set off and established myself on the famous traverse, with nothing but space below me. I was now traversing above the lip of one of those huge overhangs that we had seen from below. It was an amazing position, nothing but 140m below me and the ground. The traverse goes for about 8m with no gear for protection but it is never hard, so feels fine:
At the end of the traverse came a bottomless chimney, a great bit of back and footing up this while looking down into emptiness. Good rock with spaced but great gear made this so much fun, eventually popping out the top of it with another large roof looming above me creating a cave. The description of the pitch was embedded in my brain, exit the cave left up a steep wall. Up to a gully and move left to an airy stance, on and on it went and getting to the airy stance felt more exposed than the traverse. It was an absolutely stunning pitch full of variation, exposure and length and I loved every inch of it:
There was but one pitch left, and Howsie set off after absorbing the belay stance I was on. It was totally brilliant, small but secure with magnificent exposure and great gear to keep me safe. He then started upwards, it was supposed to be a 45m pitch and again he stopped short, maybe 30 or 35m tops by my reckoning. I heard the faint call of safe, waited for it to be repeated and the same sequence as six times before followed. As I neared his belays stance the rock got wet. It was clear that it had only recently been like this as no slim had formed, this meant that while wet the holds were still positive enough and soon I was stood next to him:
We could hear voices above us, but with the wind they were unaware of us. From here it was a scramble up a vegetated ramp just below the summit. We passed hats, water bottles, cans, beer bottle, plastic bags and other assorted rubbish, all of which the vegetation on the ramp had prevented from continuing it’s downwards journey. We were both gobsmacked and disheartened at the sight, while the people above and no doubt countless people before were oblivious of the litter that was being left behind in an otherwise pristine environment:
Sorry that may have seemed a bit like an anticlimax, but both of us were really shocked at what we saw. On the plus side the route was amazing and it felt great to have finally, on the third attempt, bagged it. Every pitch had its own unique element making the route both engaging and varied. We topped out at 2:30 approximately 7 hours after we had started to climb, which may sound like a long time. We checked the log book as we were about to leave the park and the last group to have climbed the route was in October last year and car to car it had taken them 14 hours:
We had another bite to eat and drank some more water to lighten the load before the walk down. It wasn’t overly busy and we only passed a handful of people as we made our way down. While we had never felt tried climbing, our legs once again started to tire as we made our way back down. About three quarters of the way along the trail we could hear music, and as we got closer an unmistakable sound filled the air. There stood in the carpark facing Bluff Knoll and with no one else about, a soul man was giving it all on his bagpipes:
We were back at the car by 3:30 making it a 9 hour round trip, one we hadn’t rushed and had thoroughly enjoyed. It was then only a short trip back to The Lilly to chill out, but before then we drove past the log book and signed out and also checked who had been climbing here last. In pages and pages of people doing the ridge walk we only came across two parties who had logged that they were climbing. One in October as mentioned above and one in February who had climbed Right Anti-Climax, and they had taken 12 hours. As we were about to finally leave the park we came across a part of five looking perplexed at their car:
They stared at their new looking Toyota Hilux with the front left-side tyre touching the wheel arch, somehow the suspension had suddenly failed. With no phone reception they were in a predicament, so we stopped and Howsie allowed them to use his phone to organise a RAC call out and arrange transport from friends all the way back to Katanning. This chewed up close to 45mins and we felt a little bad leaving them to wait another 1-2 hours for the tow truck to arrive. We did however top up their water bottle and give them the last of our snacks. Back at The Lilly we were once again handed a beer, and caught up with Pleun and Hennie before they had to head out for dinner with friends:
Hennie had prepared a mountain of food to make sure we didn’t go hungry and we were looked after by Václav when they left. He has previously climbed and was very keen when Howsie discussed the possibility of taking him for a climb in a few weeks when he would be down with the family. We crashed early that night, after packing up most of the gear, and in the morning we aimed to get away at 7. This allowed us have some breakfast and a couple of cuppas, as well as watch first light come in. The rays of a new day were being cast across the land to light up the Stirling Ranges, and also the Dutch Windmill that Pleun had built. During our discussions I found out that the top of the Windmill had come from Limburg in the Netherlands, which is where my uncle Chris lives, it really is a small world. I could ramble on for ages about The Lilly, including the windmill, cottages, Daktota DC-3, and more, but will instead leave you to check out their website http://www.thelily.com.au/:
Similar to Saturday morning, as I drive out of Peppy Beach the sky was thick and soupy. At times visibility on the road was down to mere meters. This soon cleared, as continued my journey inland, and above the mist first light was creeping into the sky. This morning I felt like I could have snuggled under the duvet and gone back to sleep, but it is sights like this that make early starts so rewarding. It was the third and last day of our long weekend, and I had organised a social climb up at Welly Dam:
Welly Dam sits in a bowl in the landscape high up on the scarp, and as such the weather can sit here for ages. Driving up the scarp it was clear and bright, but as I approached my destination the fog crept back in. Tomski was rolling into the carpark, followed like a convoy by myself and then Alan and Jaime. Today was likely to be Tomski’s last climb in Australia if everything goes to plan, which includes him selling his van and then getting a flight home. That however remains to be seen, as some of the lock down restriction in Perth will continue into next week:
We set about climbing, conscious that some would need a gentle introduction to the place. The obvious line was the traditional warm up climb. I suspected that the rock would feel damp or smeary due to the fog hanging heavy in the air. But it wasn’t and the conditions were really good. You could say that this would provide Tomski, on his first experience of Welly Dam climbing, no reason to not get up the warm up climb. However, this place has a reputation for good reason and the first moves of the deck proved that once more:
Steve was next to turn up, followed by Hana then Andrew and Michelle. So being the only person leading, so I made use of the ropes available and popped a rope up on Pocket Knife for them to play on. Tomski had a bash and scared the life out of me as he fell off holding his arm in a position that made it look like he dislocated his shoulder. I’m glad to report that wasn’t the case but an old injury came back to haunt him, so he rested up and did a heap of stretching before trying anything else. Hana, also new to this place, soon realised it wasn’t going to be a walk in the park:
It was a bit of a downer seeing it was Tomski’s last trip out, but as he rightly pointed out at least it happened during the last trip out and not one before then. I went on to pop the next rope up on Murky Corner, which seemed the obvious easier line for people to try. Michelle has not climbed before so it was the ideal route to try, in comparison to everything else this place has on offer. About now Craig rolled in with the big bus and out jumped Henry and Charlie, and they were soon followed by their friends whose names escape me:
As the crew got bigger and the fog slowly lifted we started to spread from one corner to the other. Steve after two successful climbs including a lead on Murky Corner was keen to jump on Savage Sausage Sniffer, so I obliged and went up that. Steve took his time and rested where the route allowed, needing to get his forearms to relax. And managed a clean ascent which was great work. Alan also had a bash but the last two days had left him feeling weary. Howsie and Mikey were next to pull into the carpark with their four boys in tow, and it looked like we have finally managed a social gathering again:
I’ve been attempting to get the crew interested since Christmas but it just hasn’t happened, so today it was great to see a happy mob out climbing a bit, chatting a bit and of course belaying a lot. There was a lot of watching, helping and encouraging for the big people, a number of whom including Tomski and Hana were being introduced to the deceptive climbing to be had here for the first time. And others who have only had a few experiences here, such as Jaime. The more knowledgeable people pointed out the hidden holds to make their first experiences that bit more successful:
The ropes continued to go up as I took Steve up BBQ. Mikey and Howsie also managed to sneak in a couple of leads, including Shock Therapy, as their boys mingled with the other kids about. It seemed at one point that the big people were all down one end and the little people at the other. I often found myself in no-man’s-lands in between on the taller walls, as I provided the more seasoned climbers such as Alan and Steve a few alternative challenges. We then drifted back to where we started and jumped on A Walk in Central Park:
As the morning wore on it was surprising, or maybe not considering the lock-down in the metro areas, at how few tourists drifted in. Also surprising was that the fog started to come back in, that said there seemed to be just a slight smell of smoke in the air too. No doubt the result of controlled burns being carried out. As midday came and went and more tourists rocked up, arms started to tire and the climbing activity slowed down till there were only a handful of people still keen and able. The last climb to be bagged was by Mikey who discovered why you shouldn’t try Silverback when the sun is on it:
As the climbing activity had been slowing down Craig and Andrew had been busy cooking up the snags and there was a mountain of food laid out on the picnic table. I hadn’t really taken much notice of what they were up to, similar to a few others, so it seemed like a scene out of Harry Potter when the table is suddenly and magically filled with food, just when you want and need it. The timing couldn’t have been better, so a big thank you to the house-elves and apologies if there were others involved that I didn’t mention:
After three days of climbing and snorkelling I was getting pretty tired and home was calling me. I was the first to leave and left everyone to enjoy the feast and party on, heading down the hill past the dam wall. The parks management had no doubt expected throngs to turn out, eager to see the huge mural. For the first time I have seen traffic lights were in place to control the cars crossing the bridge in front of the dam and mural. I’d lasted six hours at the social gathering and some will recognise that is good going for me. As I said my goodbyes I’d also wished Tomski well on the next part of his journey:
Sunday morning came in a bit strange. Lisa drove in for her fitness class in soupy fog and it was still lingering when she got back mid-morning. So instead of going for a snorkel I was up for a beach walk with Lisa and the dogs. Blue sky crept in and it looked like it might lift, as we got to the beach but as we walked it became thicker with each step. All the way out and back the eerie fog hung there and hopes of a snorkel today faded, despite the water looking reasonably calm and seemingly clear along the shoreline:
It was mid-afternoon when the sun finally cut through the low clouds and the heat of the day dispelled any lingering patches fog. The sight of a blue sky and high sun raised my hopes of a dip, and my thoughts were on how lucky Nana has been with spotting several nudibranchs when she has had a dive off their local beach. So I drove across to their place with intentions of using their driveway to park the car. They too however seemed up for heading out to see what we might see:
The three of us trouped down to pathway to their spot. I’ve not dived off this part of the beach and as we got in the level of hopefulness was reduced. The water even off the shoreline looked murky and the swell was stirring up not just the sediments, but also the weed. Still there were patches were it improved and so the three of us perceived when others would bail. It was great looking ground, a mixed between the reef down Lisa and my end and the more distinct bommies directly out from the river mouth. Offering lots of nooks and crannies to explore:
Geoff told me later that when they first moved here the reef was teaming with life, but then a huge storm came in and the place was ravaged. He reckons that life is starting to creep back, so over the next year or two it will hopefully get back to its former glory. The mixed terrain certainly looked like it could house a varied and abundant forms of life, but today the swell was making it hard to see much. The fish, such as this Leatherjacket, were few and far between making use of protective holes the reef provided:
I went down heaps checking out what there was to see, shoals of Gobbleguts seemed to occupy many of the more protected nooks and other fish I saw disappeared as soon as I started my descent. We did have some Herring drift backwards and forwards as we scoured the area, and of course the ever present and dependable Banded Sweeps. Other than that it was hard to find much else, and I wondered how long we might stay out for. None of us had donned wetsuits and it felt a little on the chilly side:
In-between the crevices I found a heap of squirts and sponges that looked different to what I would normally find. These looked to be safely wedged and perfectly placed to catch any currents that drifted passed their chosen anchorage, full of food for them to filter out. A few sea stars were also about adding to the occasional sprinkling of colour. From what I saw the area was full of promise and I’m pretty keen to get back here on a calmer day to really explore it:
Despite the turbulent and turbid conditions, and I have no idea how she saw it but, Nana called me over. She had found a nudibranch, and I eagerly swam across to where she was. Sure enough two to three meters below us a small splash of orange could be seen intermittently, as the weed was obscuring it from sight half the time as it rhythmically moved with the swell. It looked to get dislodged for a moment, hanging on desperately by its tail and then reattached itself under in a small pocket out of sight:
Being Nana’s third time of seeing them she soon drifted off, but I stayed popping down to watch it and slowly but surely it started to merge giving me a better view. The feathery gills sticking out of its back were visible, but it never fully came out to give me a full body view. Instead turning round and going back into the hole. Maybe due to my presence or the possibly the swell, no matter I was very chuffed to see this Short-Tailed Ceratosoma for the first and hopefully not last time:
I then joined Nana and Geoff who had drifted of, the terrain didn’t seem to end and seemed far more expansive than the island of reef near our place. We continued to look round but there wasn’t a whole heap more that came out for us. Eventually making our way back and finally getting out. Nana came out last and was dragging a sizeable piece of driftwood out. It looked like it had been in the water for decades, and would now become a decorative piece for their garden:
After a fun session of climbing at Castle Rock, Tomski, Jaime and I walked back to the car and as we walked I pondered whether the water conditions made it worth jumping in for a snorkel. It was hard to say as there looked to be a bit of swell, but the only way to really know was to jump in. So back at the car the three of us swapped our climbing gear over with our swimming gear and trouped back along the track. Jaime didn’t have a mask but said she was content just having a dip, while Tomski and I were keen to put our heads under the surface. We were greeted by clear waters and an underwater landscape full of colours and textures:
Immediately I spotted an unusual looking Combe Jellyfish that looked tubular, above, and as I watched it anchovies darted in all directions. I’m not sure why but the water here seems to be so much clearer than it is at my local spots off Peppy Beach. Maybe it is because it located on the outer edge of Geographe Bay, so it doesn’t get the same swells and currents. Or maybe the coarser sand, on which a small Sand Flathead below was perfectly camouflaged, takes more turbulence to get stirred up? Whatever it is I was pleased about it today:
As I swam between the boulders and looked at the walls for interesting finds, I spotted these Blue Throat Ascidians. While they look like plants they are animals and are closely related to vertebrates like us. They have a circulatory system, digestive system, heart and other organs. And while they don’t have a backbone and ribs, though it looks like it through their transparent bodies, they do have a long nerve running the length of their body in the same way our spinal column does. Amazingly, despite being only a few centimetres long they can pump a hundred litres of water in a single day:
Rounding the headland of Castle Rock there are a pile of jumbled rocks forming slabby surfaces. I spotted an area with five or six of the following fish. My first thought was a Threefin, and while they are not that these Western Jumping Blennys are placed under the category of Threefins in my fish book. They can and do at times come out of the water and can hop across wet rocky surface keeping near the water’s edge. Being in shallow water I was able to sneak up on them and capture a few images, but as soon as I swam below the surface they hopped, skipped and jumped away:
There was an abundance of fish hugging the rocky coastline. We spotted Old Wives, Trumpeters, Buff Bream, Herring, Anchovies, Zebra Fish in big numbers and also many more in smaller numbers. The individual fish that seemed to stand out and caught my eye were these striking black and yellow stripped fish. They stayed in sheltered post and lurked under the rocky overhangs. This image of these Stripeys isn’t the best image of got of them, but I really like it due to the colouration of the rocks and the watchful eyes, of a Zebra Fish and unidentified fish, on me:
Out in the open water it was hard to know where to look, fish swam round us in all directions. Duck diving down made them move away a bit but they soon drifted back towards us. Below the image of these Tarwhine, with a sole Buff Bream , was the view that was all about us. I tried to capture the abundant numbers and variation of fish in video but while the water was clear it wasn’t good enough to allow the camera to pick the required detail up more than five metres away. Needless to say Tomski and I were very happy to have made the decision to jump in:
There were so many other fish to report, plenty that I have not as yet seen off our local beach. But there is only one more that I wanted to include. We both spotted it lurking under a boulder, with just a fraction of its tail visible. Duck diving down it didn’t seem perturbed by our curious gaze and interest, merely lounging about on the edge of the boulder in the shadows. We left it to its hidey hole and drifted off. Once we started to get cold we retraced our path, and on the return trip I stopped to see if this fish was still about:
It was and this time it lazily swam out from under the boulder and seemed to move in numerous directions allowing me a view from every angle I could ask for, before then lazily heading back under the cover of the boulder. I thought it was a puffer fish of some sort, and have narrowed it down to a Spotfin Porcupinefish. These fish can grow to 75cm and I’m guessing this one was just over 50cm. They can inflate their rotund body if they feel threatened but despite us swimming right next to it, so close my camera wouldn’t focus and I could touch it, it refrained from putting on a show:
During the week Tomski hinted that after this weekend he may be leaving the south west and heading up to Perth, soon after intending to fly home to Israel. For that reason, and seeing it was a long weekend, I suggested that we could head out this morning despite also heading out on Monday for a climb. Not surprisingly he was keen as mustard, and so for something different I suggested Castle Rock. My rationale being that the three day weekend would encourage the Perth crew to descend on us, resulting in the more popular spots being busy, but not here:
I let Jaime know of our plans, and she was also jumping for joy to hear of another rock excursion. We almost had to call it off when the Perth and Peel regions went into a snap three day lockdown. Many suggest that we should also have had the same, as all that happened was hordes of the city folk heading down to us before the lockdown came into effect on Friday night. As the days are getting shorter, with autumn building up momentum, we arranged to meet at 7am at the carpark. This allowed both of them a relaxed and lazy start today as they live just a few kilometres from this spot:
Even with what may seem like such a late start we still managed to watch the sunrise as we walked to Castle Rock. Above I continued to enjoy the spectacle after climbing the first route, as sitting on top of Castle Rock allowed me a magnificent 360 degree view. Meanwhile, below Tomski was following up Smear to Glory and I was torn as to whether to watch the light show or him. It was bit of a stiff first climb for the day with a tricky crux move that requires full trust in smooth vertical footholds. Your feet can slide off these at any time if you don’t pay careful attention, and both Tomski and Jaime’s feet did just that:
Despite the slippery start they both enjoyed the climb and we were soon back down ready for number two. Pursuits is Lou’s favourite climb and I had told her of our plans to be here. Sadly, she was to travel to Perth. Thinking about that now, as I type, I wonder if she ended up going what with the lockdown and if not whether she could have joined us? This time as I belayed from atop the sun was above the remaining clouds that were floating on the distant horizon, casting shadows across the landscape. The occasional runner using the coastal track came past but other than that where we were it was pretty quiet:
This is one of the original routes at this place, none of which have been claimed by anyone so it is unclear when they were established. It was graded 17, whereas when Craig and I established Smear to Glory in 2015 we graded it 15. This one presented both Tomski and Jaime with far less problems, so something is definitely amiss. After each route I asked them what grade they thought the climbs were, and the consensus was that the first two climbs should at least be on equal standing. I would hazard a guess that the first line is slightly harder:
As we enjoyed the relative peace of playing about on Castle Rock, the beach and nearby rocky coastline was teaming with people. Many had arrived before us, eagerly hoping to be lucky enough to be here as the great salmon run occurs. Rods were abound, off the rocks and beach and also from boats and jet skis. As we climbed a couple also came along and set themselves up near us. But in the whole time we were there we never heard or saw any signs of jubilation, which indicated that the salmon didn’t run past here today:
The next route on the agenda was Minty Freshness, which is how the air smelt when Howsie and I put this one up. The guide, or more correctly we gave it a grade of 16, so you might think it would have been a good route for Jaime and Tomski. It’s one I can safely say “always” makes me struggle. Steep, being off vertical, with rounded holds, nowhere to rest and a big move to get out of the flake system that protects the lower half. Jaime loved the initial start where she could wedge herself in, but after that it was a struggle and her arms were soon complaining:
Tomski then gave it a red hot go, getting all the way to the place where the big move is required. And it ended up being too big a move, despite him trying again, and again, and again. So began the great grade debate, by far it was the harder of the first three routes. Most people I send up it get a shock, and looking back through images I have similar ones like this one of numerous people flailing about including, Steve, Glen, Lou and Howsie at this stage. It is pretty hard to read the route and the holds are pretty average, so perhaps this one is a true sandbag:
Despite having arms calling out for a rest we marched onwards. Next was Stepping Up another original route of the crag and again graded 17. This one is a slab with small sharp holds ready to slice your fingers. Being a slab it was not a case of climbing with your arms, but balancing your way up on small fingertip and toe holds. While it is not a sustained route, with the crux definitely being the sequence to get up the bottom third, 17 may be reasonable based on the hardest move. While Tomski got very close to cracking the crux sequence it was his fingertips that finally told him to stop:
Castle Rock only has a handful of routes but they are really varied in style and also rock formations. Today Tomski and Jaime were getting a crash course of this on cracks, flakes and slabs and despite arms starting to pump and fingertips getting close to having broken skin we went for one more route. The easiest of the day, Cornflakes, coming in at grade 12. It was a nice way to finish off, with all three of us successfully getting up the route leaving a sense of satisfaction of another fun and enjoyable session:
So what should the grades of these five lines really be? I guess that would depend on who climbs them and even then each route requires a different approach and style. So it is hard to grade routes fairly when they are not climbed by lots of people or you have a preference for one style over another. For me slabs and technical climbing is easier than overhangs and rounded holds, for others it is the other way round. So while we did discuss the grades at the end of the day the tyranny of numbers, created by a grading system that comprises a single number, will no doubt never be truly and fairly be resolved at Castle Rock:
Friday night after work Lisa and I took the poodles for a walk down to the beach. The sunset was incredible, tendrils of the sole cloud bank stretched across the sky and turned yellow, orange and finally a fiery red as the sun dipped below the horizon. We stood watching the amazing show but I also had one eye on the water and noticed it looked reasonably clear, raising my hopes that I might get another dip in before the close of the shore based snorkelling season. I say that as no doubt the scuba diving conditions further out would remain for a while yet:
I had taken the quick detour over the hill to check the water, on my return from Wilyabrup yesterday. The colour distinction in the water was reasonable, which is a good sign that the water is clear enough to see the difference between the sandy bottom and reef. It was however a little choppy and I was feeling pretty beat from the climbing, so decided to postpone it till today. I went in mid-morning and as shown below the surface was glassy, but there were also a few tell-tale signs such as the beach starting to erode and eddies in the deceptively still looking water:
Added to that that the sun is not as high in the sky anymore, reducing its penetrative power. These combined factors all resulting in the visibility being on the decline. I had guessed this may be the case and as such headed out in my boardies, only expecting to be out for a short while. The water felt cold as I went in, was it changing, was the lower sun having less heating effect on my body, as I bobbed about on the surface, or maybe I was just tired. Despite immediately feeling cold and the low visibility I stayed out going up and down to see what might be lurking, which really wasn’t much:
It was pretty hard to spot anything from the surface. I did see a few fish, mostly wrasse and sweeps, and also some lovely sea stars. I then saw what looked like a black bin liner. I come across plastic bags out here more often than I would like. No doubt allowed to get washed in by some inattentive beach goer, thrown away by some careless fishing folk or possibly blown or discarded overboard from the many boats that cruise up and down the coastline. I felt like I couldn’t pass it by so decided to head down to pick it up, and then probably head back to shore:
Instead of a plastic bag I’d come across a sea hare, which are probably best known for being toxic to pets. Dogs have been known to die after ingesting the toxic slime that they exude. These creatures graze on algae and it seems they only live for one year, despite that this specimen measured from the tips of my fingers to my elbow, so about half a metre. There are nine genra of sea hares and I’m going to guess that this was Aplysia, which can grow to 60cm and is the largest species. I’m going to take a further stab and guess that the species is Gigantea, my reason being that this species at least 3 times the size of most other species of Aplysia:
Despite the glassy surface above, the water below was moving quite quickly. Being pushed back and forth by the swell, and if you look closely you can make out the sediment as it rushes past. This resulted in the weed getting in the way of a good image of the head. But with patience and lots of diving down I got a few in which the tentacles at the base of the head can be seen, these are located on either side of the mouth. The smaller antennae like appendages higher on the head are called rhinophores, which are scent or taste receptors. On the ridge along the back, it is hard to see but there is an opening visible by the flaps of flesh:
These flaps are called parapodial flaps of which there are two, which can open and close at will. They close up to help protect the gill and other organs, which previously would have been protected by a shell. Something that these creatures have discarded overtime. The flaps also protect two siphons, one to allow fresh sea water to be pumped over the gills and the other for removing deoxygenated water and waste products. As I watched this gentle giant grazing the second siphons released an excrement in the form of a pellet, something I’m guessing not many would I have seen:
I spent quite a long time observing the sea hare, before moving on and eventually the cold got the better of me and I headed to shore. On the way I came across this plant, which I have included in a previous post. I’ve managed to have it identified as the Clifton’s Garcilaria Alga. In shaded areas it is a pale pink but in open conditions, like this one, it is usually a pale green. The coating on each branch is a microscopic single-celled algae called diatoms. They are the only organism on the planet with cell walls composed of transparent opaline silica, so they actually live in a glass house:
After missing out on our recent trip to Bobs Hollow, Howsie was keen to get out this weekend to get back into it with thoughts on maybe hitting one or two grade 21s. With that in mind we headed to the Northern Blocks of Wilyabrup, which has four grade 21s. Two I’ve led, one I decided to abort while leading it resulting in a new route being established and the last I’ve never bothered with, as it leads you to a dead end and it’s a pain to then have to retrieve your gear. Already conscious that Howsie has not been out much I wondered how things would go:
There are a few lower grade routes here, but the real charm of the area are the longer routes that are graded 18 upwards. I was a little surprised to hear that Howsie had never led any of the longer lines here, and as such I offered him the rope on the first warm-up route. Corpus Delecti is a great fully trad line, but the final flake can be unnerving being a tad difficult to protect and also feeling super exposed. While I’ve led it numerous times before I have also been known to backed off it:
Howsie wandered up with great ease or so it looked from below, when I was actually watching. He indicated that he could feel his arms starting to pump out on the final flake, but just stayed calm and got on with it. That and the fact that he hadn’t led any of these routes resulted in me offering him the rope for a second lead. To the right of us the large roof, which Jug Abuse goes up, still didn’t look inviting to me. I was kinda pleased when Howsie didn’t seem to be drawn to this line either:
After scoping what was on offer he picked what I regard as one of the classics, which is saying something as nearly all of the routes here are gems. As Howsie went up again, and like before, I kept a watchful eye out for any signs of dolphins and of course held the rope. Use No SLCDs has a bit of everything on it, which is part why I like it so much. A steep start leads to a particular fun jamming crack followed by great steep face climbing that is hard to read. The only thing missing were the dolphins:
With two very fine routes under his belt it was time to decide whether he needed to get down to business, so once again I offered the rope. After leading all the routes last weekend I was more than happy to take a back seat and allow Howsie to enjoy the leads. We wandered round the corner to where two more 21s, of Green Stone and Power Your Mind are located. The first being super feisty and a bit run out and the second being the one I previously attempted and aborted half way up. Howsie looked at Green Stone and it stared back at him with an intimidating attitude, so he decided not today:
He did however like the look of Power Your Mind. Without the great ocean views I kept a watchful eye for anything unusual, of course while also diligently holding the rope. It may not seem all that exciting I did spot the above fly, one that I have ever seen before. It’s a Snail Parasitic Blowfly, and as the name suggests their larvae are known to be parasites to snails. As I observed the butterflies and flies, Howsie had already made his decision. Halfway up and after looking at the steep blank wall of Power Your Mind, like me 9 years before almost to the day, he decided that the natural line to the left was more appealing:
He was obviously tiring as he ascended this line, which I called Trust Your Instincts. It is steeper than the grade 21, but offers better holds and more gear so I gave it a grade that is a couple of notches lower. After making the decision to enjoy the natural line Howsie made his way to the start of the steep overhung blocks, where it took him a while to muster up the faith to go for it. As he was getting close to the end I saw him stutter, and his gear was some way below. Fortunately and with great relief he somehow kept his balance and made the final moves:
It was clear that he needed a break, which in his words meant dialling back the grades or me taking the lead so he could second a route. Having pre-empted this situation I was already prepared with my decision, which saw us heading back down the main wall to pick off the obvious route. The start is guarded by a slightly off vertical undercling flake, making for powerful moves before great technical and fingery climbing. Just my style and I was soon atop and as I was belaying Howsie up I was again looking out for dolphins:
Not a dolphin in sight, and I was now preparing myself to have one of those rare trips to the coast when I didn’t see them. Meanwhile Howsie was following up, very pleased to have a rope above him. Loving the line of Digital Delecti but looking super focused, the holds start to round off as you get higher. But he managed to find enough strength to hold on and work the final moves. Once standing next to me on top of the cliff, he claimed that it hadn’t quite been the break that he had been hoping for:
So to give him a break I pulled up the rap line and coiled it, suggesting we move across to the shorter lines on The Terrace. My intentions were immediately obvious, being to scope the fourth grade 21 in the area. To allow an inspection I even placed the rap rope right down line, giving Howsie the opportunity to check it out in detail and hopefully get sucked in. As he came down I could hear mumblings, and then as he came over the lower roof he let out a groan and something about that looking hard:
Despite these words, my cunning plan looked to have worked and he was soon giving it a go. This in my mind is the best 21 of the four here. It has more consistent and sustained climbing and being a fully sport route seems to be more reasonably protected. He got past the tricky start and the roof didn’t give him as much grief as he thought it might, but when he reached the second smaller overlap (below) his arms were really feeling it. As a result he took not one, but three decent whippers before he managed to figure out the moves and pull them off:
Despite feeling completed gassed and having battled for over half an hour on the route Howsie was sporting an ear to ear grin. Not surprising, while we hadn’t seen any dolphins he was rewarded with having got up Bearded Dolphin, which after all the climbing we had already done was a great achievement. We were not however quite done. It seemed rude to come here and not climb Banana Split, one of the original routes here that is nearing 50 years old and is a classic trad line. Howsie did however make it clear that it was my lead, which I was more than happy to take:
While we may not have bagged more 21s today, it didn’t stress Howsie and I get the feeling that his 2021 challenge will not be pursued with the same level of rigour as his 2020 challenge. I personally feel that is a good thing, and maybe just attempting one grade 21 on each trip out is enough. Today certainly had been great and every line was a winner. To top the morning off, as we trudged out with weary arms and legs, we came across a sand monitor. As we carefully took a wide berth round it, it just sat there allowing us to get a good look at it before we carried on back to the car:
By all accounts it had been a very sensible move on Lisa and my part to stay home over Easter. The roads had been insanely busy and there were tales of trips to local places taking twice the time or more to get too, if you were unlucky. To avoid the tourists I also hadn’t been down to the local beach, but on Monday morning it was sunny and the whirly gig on the roof of the shed was almost stationary indicating near to no wind. I stood outside and listened, not a sound of a wave to be heard. So the three ingredients of light, swell and wind all seemed promising encouraging me to head to the beach:
Despite being mid-morning it wasn’t as busy as I expected. No doubt the other end of the beach where we sometime drive would be packed, offering longer stretches for the city folk to drive their cars on the sand. There were however a few cars parked-up and there was even one crew getting ready to put a jet ski in the water, um. I decided to make a mental note of that as I went in the water. No wetsuit today just shorts, and the water felt good. Not the cold I was expecting. It was also calm and clear allowing a great view of the ground below:
Over the season the times of the hide tides having been creeping earlier and earlier in the day. At the start of the season the morning snorkel would have been at low tide, and while this may only make half to three-quarters of a meter difference it is definitely noticeable. So now when I go in, which is at hide tide, due to the extra depth to the water column having good light is important. There seemed to be lots of fish about, no large schools but plenty to see. Above is an elusive Spiny Tailed Leatherjacket. Today I didn’t dive down to check it out knowing it would just dart away, instead merely watched from above:
I did however go down every so often to see what was to be found, quietly still hoping to stumble across a few more nudibranchs. The bright orange shown above occasionally attracted my attention and each time on closer inspection was found not a nudibranch. So I am still unable to make use of Nana’s new book on them. The above I believe to be either a sponge or compound ascidian, and is still very beautiful to see. It was on one of these exploratory dives I saw a movement that intrigued me:
I had stumbled across a small octopus tetricus, which had slunk into a crevices as I had gone down. It tucked itself uptight against a purple sea urchin, and I wondered how comfortable it was feeling and also how it was avoiding the sharp spines. It did the usual dance with its eyes, bobbing them from side to side almost sizing me up to see if it was worth the risk. I came back to the surface and floated there keeping an eye on the octopus hoping it would emerge. I stayed put for a while just watching and it looked to be making moves to come out when the jet ski came uncomfortably close making me look up and also sadly lose sight of the octopus:
After looking round for ages trying to find it again I gave up, in the open ground it is hard to distinguish where you are, cursing the jet ski owner. Eventually I moved on in search of other new or exciting finds. Despite looking in many caves and under many ledges, while I saw heaps, there was nothing worth reporting on. Except that is when a cuttlefish, no doubt startled by my sudden appearance, looked to be attacking me. It’s skin went rough and its tentacles became contorted, as it made a couple of aggressive approaches at me (above). After which it went back into the protective recess away from me, and only then returning to the usual smooth skin (below):
I noted the bommie position that was very distinctive and left it alone to settle down. After pottering about a few other bommies nearby I headed back to see if it was still there. This time ready to try and video the experience. But it wasn’t, or it was hiding deeper in the matrix of holes under the large bommie, and the entrance was now being guarded by a Western Striped Cardinal Fish. These fish only grow to approx. 14cm or six inches long and this one looked fully grown. If you compare the images above it will give you an idea of just how small the cuttlefish I saw was, it really was just a baby:
I was really pleased to have had a dive over Easter and thought once more that that would be it for the snorkel season with windy weather due to come in. Then on the following Friday I got messages from Nana to say she and Geoff had been out that afternoon and saw heaps, including nudibranchs!! I had seen the conditions on Thursday and Friday and knew they were looking good, but work had got in the way. So being hopeful I headed out on Saturday and while it didn’t look great I decided to go in anyway, and was immediately greeted by a small short-tailed stingray:
I followed the ray about for a bit and even took a video, as it circled round me seemingly not wanting to head out to the deeper water. It is the first time I have seen one of these rays, and really clearly seen the distinct white dots on its pectoral fins (or wings). Eventually I did brave going out and left the ray in the near shoreline. While I could see the bottom it was not clear or calm, as the image of Lisa walking the poodles is evidence of. I carried on regardless for a while diving down and looking about but today I started to feel cold quickly, which may have had something to do with having been out climbing since the early morning and then heading straight down for a swim:
The body was definitely low on energy and added to that my calves were feeling like they may cramp up. No doubt from all the mornings climbing on slabs at Moses Rocks. So it was a short dive and I headed back to shore not finding anything as I swam over the sandy bay until I got right up against the beach, where schools of anchovies danced round me in the sand riddled waters. The cyclones in the north are pushing some weather down our way for the next few days but being ever hopefully I’ve checked the forecast and it looks like next weekend might be good for another dip, so fingers crossed:
Keen to get out after a two week break from climbing, Tomski was the only person to bite when I put the word out. The original plan was to go on Sunday but cyclone Seroja was nearing the northern coast of Western Australia, and despite being close to 800km south of where it will hit this would result in a low pressure system bringing rain to our parts. As such with the conditions on Sunday looking worse as the week progressed we changed to Saturday. This did mean I would need to be a bit more mindful of time, as Lisa and I were heading to Rongy’s engagement party later that afternoon:
As such it was a first light start, as if I need an excuse to suggest that! I gave Tomski a choice of places to go as he is only in the country for probably a month or two longer and I am keen to give him the opportunity to sample the full range of crags and rock types we are lucky enough to have here. I had in mind either some harder sport climbing at Welly Dam, so he could have a lead, or for Moses Rocks. Offering the complete opposite of (mostly) trad and generally lower grades (well that wasn’t quite true either). He plumped for the later and so it was that he drove down towards the carpark in the morning light, shortly after I had arrived:
I had a quick chat with Howsie, to see what lines he reckoned I should take Tomski up. If he only had one visit here I wanted to make sure he sampled the best stuff, and many of the lines that Howsie suggested aligned with my thinking. So it was that we headed to Hands-Up Wall to start the day. Not surprisingly with a 4m swell brewing the Zawn was out of action but that was OK as I really wanted to give Tomski a taste of slab climbing, Moses Rocks style. We started on Many Hands, a more featured part of the wall so in a way a gentle introduction of what was to come:
Despite the first route being a gentle introduction the rounded nature of the rock and lack of good edges and positive holds, both hands and feet, was immediately obvious to Tomski. He was really interested in how a place being so close to Wilyabrup could offer such a different rock, it’s true and geologically we are so lucky here to have a lot of variation. He also remarked on the flared nature of many of the features, resulting in much of my gear looking less than comforting. At a place like this you really need to know and trust the physics and capability of gear placements, not all the routes are that bad but some certainly are. It’s part of the reason others don’t climb here but also why I love this place so much, and each time I write a post about it I rave about it:
The other amazing aspect of Moses Rocks that, in my mind, makes it more striking than the main cliffs of Wilyabrup that most climbers head too is the situation. The closeness of the waves, as shown above, and view both north back to the carpark and beach and south across to Wilyabrup are stunning. You get to see right down the barrel of the waves as they roll into the bays on either side. As we walked in Tomski was immediately struck by the situation and was loving it, another person converted! Added to that with today’s crisp cool morning and light easterlies to keep the spray away we had picked the perfect day to be here:
Next up was Gothic Streak and then what I regard as probably one of the scariest routes here Hands Up. These two lines are graded the same, which is probably fair for difficulty, but the latter follows by far the most flared and shallow crack Moses Rocks has on offer. With no other opportunities for gear, Tricams are perfect for this but they really don’t look that secure. Tomski on second didn’t need to worry about that aspect, which was good as he was having to get used to trusting friction and really working on his footwork. The first three lines were up the slightly more generously angled slabs, but we were slowing moving rightwards:
This meant approaching the blunt arête of Hands-Up Wall where the next route went, Fat Slags. It was at this point that I had to explain a few things to Tomski, firstly the names. You may recall from earlier posts the names of quite a few routes here have been taken from Viz comics. A classic and at times viewed as an inappropriate British comic from the 1980s (http://viz.co.uk/). I doubt in this day and age you would get away with such a comic, and no doubt some of the names used for the routes here will be called out over time, as societal tolerances, views and perceptions change:
Fat Slags was the route that would really show Tomski what Moses offered, there are places on this route that there are no hand holds and it is all footwork. I’m not sure if he believed me when I said this, but when he reached the crux (above) he looked up and said something like “you really did mean there are no holds didn’t you”. He had to work the crux sequence, but it was a learning experience and one he was eager to make the most of. My intention had been to skip the next line, and come back to it. But when I showed him the line Tomski was keen to keep ticking the lines from right to left:
Now before we get to the next line the second thing I had to explain was the strange Australian bolt plate. This was a new concept to Tomski, and so I explained how they worked which is pretty straight forward. He also asked the obvious question of why they were used, so he got my view related to cost fully understanding that is not everyone’s view. But that said seeing the mix of carrots (whether glue or bashed in), hangers and ring bolts on so many crags I reckon my theory has merit. Either that or the climbing communities care or worry about other possible reasons of visual impact has changed. Above Tomski has finally reached the better high holds and last bolt plate on Johnny Fartpants:
As we moved from right to left the routes were getting harder starting at grade 14 and for route number five we were at 19. And it was on Johnny Fartpants, which is close to vertical that I had to explain that on the steeper sections some hand (or should I say fingertip, if you are lucky) holds are not for pulling on. They are just to balance on. On several sections on this route they are so small that unless you have built up experience on using them you wouldn’t give them a second glance. Tomski found this out the hard way and spent a long time figuring out how he was going to get up this route, but he eventually managed it and was still smiling when he did:
Fortunately the next route in line was Wheely Things, what I reckon to be the crag classic. Unlike all the slabs and shallow flared cracks of the previous routes, this deep crack offered great jamming and loads of gear. But beware it is guarded by an initial crack that seems to fox many people. And after the battle he had on the previous route it did perplex a weary Tomski for a while. After a false start or two he got past that and then got stuck into the rest of the crack line and loved it, as shown by a few picture above and then the smiling happy face in the above image after finishing the route:
I still had oodles of energy and was keen to keep going. It is not that I didn’t have to focus or work on the routes, I just have them dialled and can dance my way up them. Although I have to admit I can’t recall when I last climbed or led Johnny Fartpants (sorry just had to get that name in one more time ha ha), so was pleased with how I went on that one. I think having stepped down to a grade 15 had given Tomski renewed energy, and the next one called Twist Till You Lock I knew would bump things up. So I did suggest we could bypass this one but he was keen and he will only now hear that it was grade 21. Something I hope will give him some comfort in why he found it so challenging:
It is not a route I have often led and the final roof feels super tricky, but also super safe with a bolt right at the final moves. Too tricky for even wearier Tomski when he got to it and I thought he may have been done by then, but no… The next more prominent arête up which Victor and His Boa Constrictor ascends appealed to him. So off I went one more time, loving the delicate nature of the climbing here. The bottom moves are steep and make use of more holds not meant to be pulled on, and from the offset Tomski was waning. It looked like every move was punishing him right up until the final glory jug could be reached. And even then the following mantle was looking like it was hard work:
Cornish Nasty awaited round the corner, the last of the longer routes on Hands Up Wall. But Tomski was toast and deservedly so, having worked really hard on several of the stiffer lines here. I think it is also fair to say he fully enjoyed the morning, location and every route we did so I do hope I can bring him back here before he heads off. There are other sections of this long drawn out climbing area, with more varied and interesting routes that are so worth exploring. With a bit of luck we can snag equally great conditions next time. And if we do make it back, to avoid Tomski burning out mid-session, I might suggest not going at the routes in the such an orderly fashion:
Sandbagged 