It feels like it has been a while since I climbed at Moses Rocks, but it has only been two months.  That was with Tomski, who had asked at the time “where’s Jaime and why didn’t she come out with us”.  So it seemed fitting that this time I headed out with Jaime, and no Tomski.  I can’t recall the reason Jaime hadn’t joined us two months back, but yesterday Tomski had a pretty good reason for not tagging along seeing he is back in Israel.  The morning was more than a little damp back at home but I was confident that it would be OK down at Moses in the afternoon:

Unlike our trip to Welly Dam where Alan and I only did a single climb, due to the persistent rain, this time the forecast was spot on.  The clouds started to break as we walked in during the early afternoon and we were climbing mostly in the sun.  We also chose the north facing walls which meant we were protected from the moderate south westerlies.  There aren’t heaps of climbs above grade 10 on this section, but enough for us to have a bit of a play.  An allow me to feel like I was going back to my climbing youth:

Our first climb was Stanage Youth.  For those not aware Stanage is a four mile long mega cliff in the heart of England and is one of the many famous gritstone crags.  A place I cut my teeth when I started climbing (https://sandbagged.blog/2017/07/30/part-4-the-peak-district-learning-the-ropes/) and the place we used to camp was a pub called The Plough in a small village called Hathersage.  The name of the village is the name of the route I’m on above, and you may be wondering with just the two of us how we got the image.  Well Lisa joined us today, not to climb but just to soak up that great Moses atmosphere:

I knew we wouldn’t have too much time on rock, as Lisa and I had a few things to get sorted on the way home.  So next up was a Classic Thrash, the idea was to make sure Jaime would at least feel like she had to work on the few routes we would get in.  It’s a steep, in fact slightly overhanging wall, which provides a strenuous outing.  That is as long as you don’t make use of the opposite wall of the chimney.  Each time Jaime wanted to lean across and use the other wall to give her arms a rest I simply gave her a heap of slack, which meant she would have fallen further if she slipped.  This was the perfect encouragement for her to get back on the wall:

I could see Lisa watching in the back, and I got the feeling that she was looking at the lines wondering how she would go on them.  One day we will find a climbing shoe in which she can fit her fused toe, most shoes make the toes point downwards but her toe points upwards.  So far we’ve had no success, so if anyone has any ideas of good shoes for fused toes let us know.  Back to the days climbing and as I went up Classic Thrash I spotted this tiny exoskeleton, which we guessed had been left behind after the unknown creature had moulted:

There weren’t too many other creatures to spot.  I did find a lizard that had found the perfectly angle crack allowing the sun to stream in and warm it up.  Other than that there were only mossies, and we only found out about them from Lisa.  Jaime and I were on the move and they never seemed to settle on us, but Lisa was getting munched.  She didn’t complain about it so we cracked on, and I decided on a short but fun traverse climb.  Jaime was all smiling, as she belayed me from the corner in the sun and away from the wind:

However, once she started to follow me out the realisation hit her of just how rounded the crack was, with no other options for hand holds.  I think the Classic Thrash had done its job in making her work, and this route just added to that.  There was also a good incentive of not falling, and landing in the sink.  The waves hit the rock shelf below and sent spray flying upwards before the main body of water engulfed the shelf below.  It was an exhilarating position for sure and despite finding it hard work Jaime was all giggles and laughs.. after she’d completed the route:

We squeezed in one more line called Fish Food.  Like the one above called Nothing too Serious, it was a route that Craig and I established three years ago, when we had also enjoyed a winters afternoon at Moses rocks with the sun on our backs.  A day when everything we did was a new route https://sandbagged.blog/2018/06/24/new-stuff/.  After that line it was time to allow Lisa to escape the mossies, and I reckon I walked out most of the way out looking backwards.  Not to see the crag in the sun, but to watch the waves.  They had been full of energy today, with the promise of even more energy tomorrow:

Today was an earlier start, and I met Mario in Capel at 6:30.  An hour plus later we were walking back to Moses Rocks watching the waves crash into the headland.  It was Mario’s first time to hit rock for six months.  Back then he had been training at a boulder wall and after down climbing most of the last problem of the night, he jumped down to the mat a mere meter below.  On contact with the mat he heard his meniscus pop.  One surgery and months of rehab later he was finally ready to test the knee on real rock:

So with a good selection of mid-grade routes on offer, and being a place Mario has not climbed at before, we headed to the most southerly section, Rumploes Rocks.  To be careful with his knee we decided it would be better to rap in, this also allowed us to look down from above to scope the conditions. The rock was feeling good and there was a ledge below from which to belay, but with the bigger swell some of the waves looked a little threatening.  The crag is not in the direct firing line of the open waters but we wanted to make sure the belay ledge wasn’t being flooded:

In view of being Mario’s first time here I was happy to offer him the floppy end, and see how things went.  We started at the left-hand end and worked rightwards, leaving a few lines out for one reason or another.  We bypassed the most left-hand route, Rude Awakening, as it isn’t really a warm up route.  Mario started on and sailed up Rarely Wild, but had to stop and think before getting up the mid-section on aptly named Hexed.  I often feel people may be disappointed with this crag, the difficulty of the routes is often short lived, but each line has character and Mario certainly seemed to be enjoying himself:

Moving rightwards he decided not to lead Burning Both Ends.  The gear is sparse and the moves up the mid-section are hard to read.  So not wanting to risk a dodgy landing he skipped it and instead ate up Yogurt, which provided ample protection and fun moves.  After following up he suggested I should jump on the pointy end for Burning Both Ends.  He seemed keen to try it with the rope above him, so one small RP and an interesting cam placement later I committed to making the moves so he could follow.  We really should have taken an image of that cam placement, it’d be interesting to see what other might have to say about it:

I then went back to belay duties, and I have to say I was really enjoying them.  The waves were stunning to watch, occasionally crashing into the protective blocks sending spray high in the air and water cascading down into the pool between us and the blocks.  The consistent and rhythmical sounds was both soothing and energising, each sensation washing over me in a positive way.  The rope followed us along the base and we found dry’ish places to lay it, at times just a foot or two away from the water lapping below:

Most of my time was spent looking out to sea.  As Mario soldiered on above me I felt the movement in the rope to tell me how he was going.  He really enjoyed Chillies and Garlic, then Jugs Galore and next up was the best line of the place Olive Oil.  There was little rest in-between each climb, and with a rap line to avoid the walk down we were moving pretty quickly.  There was no sign of his knee playing up or complaining as he gobbled up route after route.  On each climb I came across his favourite piece of gear, his No.4 cam, and it was clear he was having a lot of fun:

The No.4 cam is a big piece of gear and I was impressed that he found a spot for it on every route.  And as he climbed, climbed, climbed I watched, watched, watched.  Both of us absorbed in our respective situations.  He kept going, ticking Finger Licking and then making short work of the thrutchy off-width of No Spinach for Popeye.  I took heaps of video clips of the waves and included a couple below so you could get a sense of atmosphere, made all the more intense by being so close to the water’s edge.  I reckon I could have stayed there all day soaking it in:

I got the feeling we might climb every route but by the end there were two we missed, one being a variant and the other a bit of a walk in the park.  Before we wrapped it up, we headed back to the far left-hand end to finish on the route we decided not to start on.  Kym you may be interested to know that we reckon Rude Awakening is a bit of a sandbag, and it was the only line Mario struggled on.  I think it is fair to say he had a stonking first day back on rock, and better still no niggles or pains in the knee.  My only concern now being that Mario will just keep getting stronger and then I’ll struggle to keep up with him:

For the second week on the trot when the weather goddess had decreed that the better weather for climbing would occur during the week.  With a 100% chance of rain on both Saturday and Sunday only Alan showed any interest in getting out, and was only available for Sunday.  As is so often the case things were not too bad when the weekend arrived.  I’d go so far as to say Saturday was lovely and Lisa and I had a long walk along our beach.  That afternoon Alan messaged me hinting that it wasn’t looking great for the morning to come so we could head to the climbing gym in Mandurah to pull on plastic:

While this might have been entertaining, I always prefer to be outdoors and with charts hinting we could snag a dry window mid-morning the decision was made.  For me the morning started about 3am when the rain came down hard and woke me up.  I don’t recall it easing up, nor me getting any more sleep, right up to when the alarm went off at 6am.  This is when the messages started, and it was a tough call one that could go either way.  Until Alan said “Ah it’s character building”:

As I drove up the escarpment the rain eased.  However, as I continued towards Welly Dam it got heavier again.  We arrived at the same time and Jaime, Alan and I stood under the shelters watching the rain come down.  The walls were proper wet, water was running down and the black streaks felt slimy to touch, which wasn’t a huge surprise.  Walking along the base there was an option of two climbs, both of which had less black streaks on them.  Alan was however wavering, in part as there are no easy climbs here and certainly none when they are running with water:

After much chatting, admiring the autumn colours the deciduous trees were displaying, and  checking of the radar that hinted at a break heading our way we racked up.  Alan had a game plan for today, but all that changed now it’s not surprising he wasn’t keen to lead anything.  So it was I started climbing, as the rain reduced to just a light sprinkle.  Not that this made the rock any drier, and each move was slow and careful.  I’ve climbed Raging Torrent in the rain a few times, and it gets a tad tricky so I gingerly made my way up and went even more slowly up the lower and then upper crux:

Unlike the more textured rock of the coastal crags the hard granite of Welly Dam loses all friction when wet.  So holds that would normally be reasonable become completely useless, unless there is an edge to them.  Today after a few days of rain and low temperatures the rock was also cold to touch, and the longer you hold on the more you lose sensation in your fingers and toes.  So you end up doubly over gripping, to compensate for the lack of friction and because you can’t tell what you are holding onto:

While I really enjoyed the route I was pretty happy to reach the top.  It was a slow decent as the rope wasn’t playing nicely, so Jaime came to help and untangle it as Alan lowered me back down.  Once Alan was tied in I could hear him give himself a little talking too, this started with comments “like why did I agree to this”, “what are we doing here” and “it’s so wet”.  Then as he set off he reminded me to “keep it tight” and “give me any hints of where the holds are”.  This made more sense to me after I found out he had only climbed this route once before:

The grade of the route, as I have probably mentioned once or twice before, is hotly contested on The Crag.  Indicating most find it more of a grade 20, as oppose to the grade 18 Kym and I gave it.  So with this, plus the conditions and lack of knowledge of the route, I could understand why Alan would be nervous.  I gave him instructions, not only where the holds were but also the order to go for the holds and the best body positions.  He was super focused as he soaked up the instructions, so much so he didn’t notice the flakes he knocked off from half height.  It fortunately missed Jaime and I, before impaling itself in the turf:

It was soon after this that sky darkened, the temperature dropped and the rain set back in.  With pumped arms and numbing fingers and toes, I wondered if Alan had it in him to finish the route, as the water started once more to run down the face.  Sadly it was while he was in a comfortable and controlled position that he slipped, completely unexpectedly he found himself in space and the rope stretch resulted in him coming down a few meters.  It was the only fall he took, and after refocusing he got back on and finished the job:

At the crux, near the top of the route he was in auto-pilot and chalked up his hands.  Only afterwards remembering it would (and did) turn to slim once on the wet rock.  So to prevent the same instinctive action reoccurring he dropped his chalk bag before finishing the route.  Well Alan was right it was a character building experience, and he felt his character had been built enough for one day.  Needless to say Jaime didn’t feel the need to build her character today.  So with the rain continuing to fall, we packed up.  When the next damp weekend comes I think we might head to one of the coastal crags, where there are more reasonable options:

Steve was back in town.  Making use of the relaxing pace of the south west to escape the rat race of Perth, collect his thoughts and recharge for the onslaught of the next stage of his hectic lifestyle.  He’ll confess that the multiple and carried demands on his time are mostly self-initiated, so he has no complaints it is just a case of balancing things.  While it was great to catch up and hear where he is at and where he is heading in the coming months, it was equally fun to get out with him on a day that most would have written off before it started.  But in matters such as braving the elements, both Steve and I are of equal mind:

While there was a hint of hesitancy from both us, as the promise of a wet weekend was consistently forecast as the week progressed we decided we would not be put off.  Arriving at Wilyabrup the same time as Ash and I had last weekend the clouds made it feel a bit darker.  To counter the lower light Steve set off up the first line, beaming light in every direction he turned his head.  Was the head torch truly needed, well maybe not but the novelty factor is something that makes Steve thrives on.  When he and I climb we are rarely serious, and some might even frown upon some of the antics we have got up to:

Today I had suggested I would bring my rack and rope, after all if we got drenched I didn’t have the long haul back to Perth with all that wet gear to steam up the inside of the car.  I was impressed and Steve’s rucksack was indeed, as he put it, the lightest it has ever been for a morning climb.  He had however snuck in the above hex and this became the focus of our climbing.  He claimed his mate back in the homelands, Ross, would be chuffed to bits of an image of this hex being used.  So we took it to the next level and decided we had to use it on every climb that may be lucky enough to squeeze out of what was predicted to be a wet day:

I won’t bore you with an image of every hex placement, but will say that we did indeed manage to find a worthy placement on each line.  Not just some token placement that was so sketchy that we felt we had to back up.  Taking the time to find not just a bomber placement, but ones that varied in nature.  Then of course to marvel in its glory before taking the obligatory image, as proof of its use for Ross.  All the while keeping an eye on the clouds, as we had no idea how long we had to climb and every route was a bonus.  The wind was coming in from the west and the morning certainly started well, with no real storm clouds brewing out over the ocean:

You may notice that Steve is on the floppy end.  He has been given the all clear to lead climb, which means he has healed enough inside to take lead falls.  Not that there was any desire to test that theory just yet, and we took a very chilled approach to the climbing today.  Picking off lower grade routes that we knew to be fun.  Some may recall he led Murky Corner at Welly Dam recently, which was technically his first lead but we count today as special being his first trad lead in over two years.  I just had to include this hex placement of Steve’s, he doesn’t think it was the best of the day.  I however really liked the contrasting textures of the granite and quartz band, with the perfect sized hole to thread the hex through:

For those new to these posts, you’ll need to scroll back a few years to understand the enormity of where Steve is at health wise. The linked post is close to the start of the journey in mid-2019: https://sandbagged.blog/2019/06/08/perfect-timing/. Today he was his usual cheeky self, and had smuggled in his tricams. Some are pretty sizable but they don’t weigh much, which may be why I hadn’t suspected what trickery was at play when I’d tested the weight of his rucksack. I have to say I didn’t mind. Any good gear placement provides a good feeling, but there is something more satisfying in placing a good tricam. And when the big ones slot in it is hugely satisfying:

Needless to say between the hex and tricam placements, Steve and I were like kids in a candy store.  Giggling with extreme pleasure over most of them.  It may seem that we dawdled a bit with all the fuss we were making over the gear but we were actually moving quite quickly today.  In part we knew that we could get washed out at any point, although the sky out west wasn’t indicating that to be the case.  Regardless of the what the sky was showing we were not taking our chances, setting up rap lines rather than walking down and being quick an efficient with swaps of lead:

While the clouds didn’t have the threatening look we were expecting, just more of a dull grey undertone the wind was ever present.  Up on the top of the crag it whipped round us, and we on occasion stumbled under the pressure it delivered.  The air was alive and we were buzzing with it, while keeping our focus when needed on the sharp end.  For those that know the area you may realise that we had knocked off three of the four routes on this particular wall, and it felt only right to polish them all off.  So I climbed the last line, ensuring the hex was placed and digitally captured: 

Steve then hoped I would be up for him jumping on another climb, his words I might add.  Of course he was rewarded for his positive thinking and outlook, leading up a real classic on the hunt to find more fabulous hex and tricam placements.  I’ve not included an image of that route, and I wonder who will have picked the line from Steve’s words.  As I followed up I heard something unexpected… voices.  We looked across and a small group had thrown a static line off Steel Wall, but it didn’t hit the ground and was instead blown almost horizontally sideways and landed in the gully:

Another rope came down Steel Wall, again blown horizontally.  Then after I’d rapped down to get ready for our next route, I could hear screams of excitement and enjoyment as someone abseiled down at rapid speed.  No it wasn’t Steve, but the abseiler hooning down Steel Wall.  To be honest we didn’t expect to see anyone else out today, so much as I don’t understand abseiling for abseiling sake I thought good on them for getting out despite the forecast.  As Steve came down at a more gentle rate, we were discussing whether we were right in thinking the wind was picking up speed:

The clouds out west started to take on a more menacing look.  No matter it looked like we had a good hour before the distant belt of rain would hit us.  As I climbed I could hear another abseiler whoop and holler their way down the mighty Steel Wall.  I waited till close to the top of my line to get that trusty hex into another sweet placement, and as I was looking down to get the all-important image I could see Steve taking images of what was out west.  I didn’t need to look out to sea to check what had caught his attention, once the image of the hex was taken I felt the first drop.  Then the next and next and with each one they became bigger, and soon the dry rock we had been enjoying was running with water:

I’m still not sure how the rain belt that looked to be so far out to sea got to us so quickly, my guess is it took five minutes.  Not only had it reached us quickly but it seemed to have grown massively in width and intensity.  One factor for sure was the wind, blowing so hard now that the water trying to run down the slabs at the top of the wall was actually going upwards.  Droplets occasional breaking away from the tension holding it to the wall making it look like it was raining upside down.  A magical sight but one that just can’t be captured in an image, especially when the camera lens was getting just a tad wet:

Steve climbed up with the full brunt of the rain descending on him, what fun!  In moments like this there is nothing to do but enjoy the moment for what it is. We looked across the abseil ropes on Steel Wall had already been pulled and there was no sign of anyone.  As we prepared to walk back down the rain eased and I watched the last of the water seemingly defy gravity as it flowed up the rock face.  We were both sitting on the fence about bagging a few more routes, deciding eventually that we had scored such a great morning but it was time to head out.  The timing couldn’t have been better and we made it to the car before the next band of rain hit, and this one continued to come down all the way home and then some:

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 1^st 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(!):

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:

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: