The winter school holidays have arrived, and after an exhausting and long eleven week term I thought I would allow Lisa a quiet morning at home.  One without me fussing about making her feel like she needed to get up and get stuff done.  After leaving the obligatory thermos mug of tea on her bedside table I headed out with Jamie, Howsie and Rongy.  Being winter, on some weekends we need to sneak our session in-between the wet days or even hours and today we thought we had been clever and managed it, but the rain came down as we drove down:

After my big trip with Mario last weekend, or was it that damn push-up challenge, I was still feeling pretty weary.  Also sore in places, which worryingly indicate it may not just be muscle fatigue.  As such I already had in mind to make Jaime one happy person, while leaving Howsie and Rongy to rekindle the grade 21 challenge.  It had been a proper wintery week with belts of rain and cold days, so while the cliffs of Wilyabrup are quick to dry we also knew there would be seepages and areas of wet rock.  No doubt Jaime and I would encounter those wet areas today:

The boys managed to stay on the dry stuff as they hit the sheer faces, starting on the delights of Sinuosity.  Meanwhile, I tackled the big corner to its right.   Chockstone Corner, as it is called, is no doubt one of the early routes established here.  Today there were sections that were covered in slim and water cascaded from above.  To add to the adventure the gear was sparse and spaced.  It has been given a lowly grade of 9 but it is always worth being careful of these old routes.  The olden day climbers were tough and fearless, and added to that today it was in less than ideal conditions:    

But Jaime loves these kinds of routes, so I knew she would be keen on them.  And you may be surprised to hear that after fifteen years of climbing at Wilyabrup I have never been on this line.  Indeed there are a number of similar corner cracks here, and I have until today not sampled what they had on offer.  In a way climbing them today in these conditions made the experience all the more enjoyable.  Squeezing into narrow cracks, body jamming and wriggling my way up, running it out between gear and all on territory that I was unfamiliar with:

The next line in our sights was Malaria, the long corner to the left of the classic Hope, at a mere grade 7.  The base was guarded by a strangely shaped limestone formation.  These limestone formations are not uncommon here, but are at the same time seemingly out of character.  I know they are formed by dissolved carbonate coming out of solution, as the water holding it evaporates on hotter days.  But these slivers of sedimentary rock look like “glued” protective coatings over the horizontal bands of genesis, the metamorphic rock that Wilyabrup is made of:

This was the least manky corner of the day, it was damp but not slimy nor running with water.  A lovely long section of classic back and footing moves, in an crack of ideal width to squeeze into making it near impossible to fall out.  As I enjoyed the delights of the second corner of the day it was Howsie’s turning to lead and he warmed up on Hope.  As we climbed the dark clouds marched in and rain fell, but we didn’t care and climbed on.  And for me it made no difference as I enjoyed some good old traditional thrutch climbing:

Mario had last weekend mention to me that he considered it possible to make use of the big number four Camelot on nearly every route at Wilyabrup.  So it followed me up nearly every route I led today, and on this corner crack I came across some unexpected and unlikely pockets and one provided the perfect placement for this big piece.  Like me Jaime was certainly enjoying todays selection of routes, which we climbed slowly to allow us to relish the positions, moves and novelty that these rarely climbed lines offer:

Rongy set the bar a little higher for his next route jumping on One for the Road.  We had already climbed the corner next to that, as our first line.  So Jaime and I went in search of another one and plumped for Brepus, at a lofty grade 10.  After the rain this one was sopping wet, making the crux section all the more spicy.  The width of the crack being such that you could only fit a portion of your body in.  You then had to tentatively wriggle your way up hoping you didn’t pop out.  On every route today Jaime giggled and laughed her way up, and this one was no different:

The boys were still on the same route as we came back down, so we hit Fat Crack next which very surprisingly gets a grade of 15.  I think Jaime would agree with me there is no way it was that hard, even in today’s slimy conditions.  That said it did feel the most runout of the corners we did.  When I popped Mr number four Camelot in I was pretty relieved, as I think Jaime was.  It had been a five plus meter runout from the last available gear options and any further and I was very close to being at risk of a ground fall if I had popped out:

It was high up on this route that I came across something a little unexpected after such a cold wintery week and on a cold day.  This King Skink was wedged deep in a vertical crack, very much alive and awake.  It had sensed my presence and the movement it had made to try and squeeze in a little deeper had drawn my attention.  With nowhere to go it was at the mercy of my camera, and after capturing this image I moved away and kept my distance and as I climbed past its hidey hole:

This time when we came down the boys were ready for Howsie’s next lead and he had set his sights on Charity, at a lofty Grade 21.  He was encouraged to have a bash after the rain had abated and the clouds parted, allowing the sun that had crept far enough round the landscape to cast its rays on this very wall.  I raced up my route and from above I could see a big puddle on a ledge above him.  So I encouraged him to climb on providing guidance on the best hold to go for, fortunately he saw the funny side of my little prank:

My attention was then drawn back to Hope, and for those in the know you’ll be saying hold on that’s a face climb?  Yes it is but when Rongy had seconded up it earlier he had found something just as unlikely at the King Skink and I was keen to see for myself.  Sure enough a small portion of a Carpet Python was visible, crammed in the crack behind the huge hanging flake where I have so often seen these beautiful creatures.  This one was tucked in deep and secure, no sign of its head nor tail but there is no mistaking the stunning pattern of its scales:

Now I’m sure at least one person will question why a snake will not be in hibernation during winter.  They do not actually hibernate and instead bromate, which means they go into a lethargic state.  During this period they will continue to seize every opportunity to warm their cold blooded bodies, which is why it can be more dangerous to come across a snake on a warm winters day.  When it is still a bit lethargic and not as responsive to the vibrations we make, as we bash our way along and an encounter is more likely to result in an attack:

Howsie continued his slow creep up the less featured wall to my left.  It really doesn’t take long for the sun to dry these clean faces and he was appreciative of that, as the holds got smaller and more spaced.  In the background is Malaria, which Jaime and I had conquered earlier that morning and so Hope was not only the obvious choice due to the Carpet Pythion, but also to get a great view of Howsie gingerly work his route.  Jaime looked just as focused below me, as she came up to the crux after which she motored onwards as Howsie started to stall:

We watched for a while, as he battled the final moves taking several falls.  Deciding to then head back down to bag one more line.  We had run out of new wide corner cracks, so there was only one option left.  A route we had both been on before and one that strikes fear in the heart of quite a few climbers I know despite being only grade 13.  This is in part due to the extensive limestone feature in the lower part of the climb on the right wall of the corner.  You can’t escape using it and the seemingly fragile nature of the feature makes people nervous:

Today due to the running water the limestone was slimy, and added to that the corner was like a slow motion waterfall and you just had to accept you were going to get wet.  After the clean, mostly dry face of Hope it felt like were back in business on a good ole traditional route, and it felt great.  The upper half is however a clean face climb, and with the sun on my back and a slight breeze I was almost dry by the time I got to the top.  Due to the length of this route I sadly couldn’t hear Jaime laugh her was up the lower wet section, which she confessed she had done even more so than pervious routes:

We timed things perfectly, and the boys had finished off their project as were walking past.  Allowing us to all troupe down to pack up our gear before the hike back to the car, in bright sunlight with white, fluffy clouds in the background.  A stark contrast to the dark ominous clouds that had greeted us.  It had been a great day out with fun routes and, not surprisingly, not another soul about.  But they had missed out on the unexpected winter treat of seeing our scaly friends who I’m still a little surprised, but very happy, had made an appearance:

A year back Rongy would have been one of the regulars to join me on my weekend adventures, but of late life has got in the way.  Today however after months of not having touched real rock he was free and keen.  In deciding where to head I had noted of Steve’s recent suggestion of a place north of Bunbury, so he didn’t have as big a drive from Perth.  Taking this into account Boomer Crag was the destination, but we never actually made it there even though it was a mere five minute walk away:

Just next to where we usually park there is a small crag.  I’ve played on the four routes on this little wall before but Rongy hadn’t.  He confessed each time he had looked at it on previous visits here the routes had looked a little too serious.  For this reason plus the fact that a couple more routes had popped up on this wall, we began our mornings climb at what is known as Spring Grove Farm Cutting.  The short 10m wall comprises a hard light grey granite, and the name gives away the reason for the vertical blast drill holes:

Until today I only knew this as a sports crag.  But on checking The Crag before today’s visit I noticed it now has seven routes some of which are bashed in carrot routes, others have more modern glue in bolts and one is an unlikely trad route.  The compact granite offers no cracks or features in which to place any protection, the only option being the drill holes.  On first inspection, and as we looked up and down what was left of the hole, we were a little suspicious that any gear would be token at best and unlikely to hold a fall:

That was until Steve popped in a cam low down to test the theory.  Steve was a little wobbly today and Rongy was not as convinced by the test placement as I was, so I took the lead.  The pure novelty of the placements by themselves made this climb so worthwhile, and I was like a kid in a candy store as I giggled and laughed myself senseless each time I placed a piece of gear.  As it turned out we reckon it was probably the best and most consistent line on the wall and lucky we had three cams big enough to fit, providing enough protection to make it sane:

The level of trust in each piece depended purely on how much of the drill hole was still intact.  There needed to be a minimum of half left and the more the better, and this drill hole was intact enough in sufficient spots for the cams to be nestled in and look secure enough for me to move upwards.  The top piece was the shallowest, but gave me enough confidence to top out.  Interestingly, and we still don’t really know why, but after using it on this route the cam seized up and later on when I needed to use it again this made things a little exciting:

For the next line Rongy jumped on lead, and picked a bolted line.  This one ascended the arête making use of two drill holes both of which were fully intact at the top, making for some fun photography.  These features also made for some interesting and different climbing techniques that we don’t normally get the chance to experience.  Side pulls, chicken wings and varied other moves were common today making use of the edges of the smooth frictionless sides of the drill holes:

Having now realised the potential to use cams, and I honestly do not know why I hadn’t thought of this on previous visits here, I started to look at the other drill holes.  I found one which looked to be deep enough and was also independent from the existing bolted lines.  It was on this route that I discovered one of our three cams, of a suitable size, was seizing up.  Trying to place it was a pain.  Fortunately the grade wasn’t too serious allowing me a good stance to make sure it was OK, or so I thought until it popped out as I topped out:

No matter the first ascent of Three Piece Suit was under my belt!  Then it time to hand Rongy the lead and he plumped for another fun bolted line.  Steve wasn’t in the best of head spaces and only followed up two lines.  He did however hang about to enjoy the fresh air and company as he pottered about and helped out with a belay or two.  One thing we just couldn’t understand was why for this small hunk of rock they had to place so many drill holes when they blasted it to make way for the road.  It felt excessive but we were also glad as it provided us with a very cool playground:

I couldn’t contain myself and kept looking at all the drill holes, and found another one that looked deep enough and was again independent of all the existing lines.  The only issue being this one looked steeper and more devoid of potential holds on the faces, and we only had two cams that fitted and worked.  There was only one way to find out so I went up, and it was another great route.  The most technical yet and with only two pieces of gear making the runout top section very exciting.  So became the next first ascent of the morning, Two Piece Suit, with Rongy making the second ascent that I captured on film and also proving he sometimes uses chalk:

Steve decided to leave us and head home to get himself sorted as I was about to launch up the route above.  And after that there was only one route left for us to bag, other than a scrappy looking line that went up the broken rock to the left of where Rongy is climbing which we both decided wasn’t worth the effort.  We had struggled with deciding on the grade for the second first ascent, and I gave Rongy a hint that what was coming up would help us decide.  The last line is recorded as the hardest here, but that isn’t evident until the last three meters when the crux hits you:

Howsie, sorry to say we didn’t pull all the cotton bush that we saw, it was rife across the area and ready to seed.  Rongy’s last lines was bolted but with classic bashed in carrots, and some may be asking what does that mean.   Well you get a bolt and grind the shaft so it is tapered.  Then you drill a hole in the rock and literally hammer the bolt in, often resulting in bolts that are bent or don’t go very deep, and on occasion snap during installation.  I’m pleased to report this technique is no longer used but many routes, such as this one, still have these bolts.  All this may not sound very reassuring, but climbers are a strange beast who at times simply Gotta Have Faith:

Winter brings cold mornings that often feel all the colder at our only local inland crag of Welly Dam.  We knew the start would be a chilly one.  We were however hopeful for good conditions after a lovely warm sunny Saturday, followed by a clear sky on Sunday morning with a glorious sunrise.  While we had driven up in sunlight, from separate directions, on arrival Mikey and I were greeted to a mist clad quarry.  The grass, vegetation, picnic benches, tarmac and every other surface were wet… other than the rock faces: 

After sitting in the warm car the body hadn’t quiet energised, and the blood wasn’t circulating at a rate required to keep all our extremities warm.  Steve has a trick of jumping and running about before he starts to climb to get the blood flowing, and there is a lot to be said for his approach.  Mikey and I talked about the idea but instead jumped straight onto Pocket Knife.  For both of us on that first route the coldness of the rock sucked any heat from our fingertips, and we could feel the numbness creep up our fingers towards our palms:

The blood started to flow that bit faster after the first route, and neither of us felt as cold as we hit route number two, which is when Steve turned up.  He made the trek down from Freemantle, obviously missing the idyllic regional south west lifestyle.  For some, the city life is a buzz and full of joy whereas for Steve I get the feeling he would liken it more to the cold touch of the rock as it numbs you.  He wasn’t too keen on our second chosen route or Victim of Authority, so instead clattered about with the contents of his car boot:

Mikey and I were pulling the rope so we could both lead each route, and when we were done and ready for the next line Steve was keen to take the pointy end and insistent on using his ramshackle selection of extenders.  Before he started the routine of getting the body fired up and blood pumping was initiated.  He made short work of his favourite route here, and as Mikey led it next I could see him starting to tire only just holding on for the final reachy, thin moves.  My lead was soon done too and as I pulled the rope on Raging Torrent the fog was hanging a little higher than before:

Mikey was all too aware he was tiring so he decided to hit the route he was really keen to climb before he was toast.  As he sorted himself out I pulled out the tea kit and got things ready to make a cuppa.  The sky above was brightening up just a little and for the first time wrens and robins started to hop about the place.  Most times we come here we get to see quite a bit of bird life, but not this morning.  Their presence was short and fleeting, it seemed that as soon as they had arrived they were gone and they didn’t come back:

It was probably a good thing as I would have got totally distracted taking more images.  I’d brought my SLR today in the hope of seeing our feathered friends.  So with the camera back in its bag I left Steve to sort the tea while I belayed Mikey.  It was soon obvious that we should have called the tea break before he attempted route number four, and eventually he came back down from Taj Vs the World even more worn out.  Rather than run up it myself we had a well-deserved cuppa with Anzac biscuits, baked the night before by Lisa, and a selection of chocolate chip cookies Steve had brought down:

The tea break continued for some time until I got itchy fingers and encouraged the proceedings to recommence.  None of us had anything special in mind so wanting to jump on something I hadn’t played on for a bit I headed for the crag classic.  Any coldness was well and truly gone by now, and there was even some blue sky above us.  Which is how the place looked as Craig rocked up in the big bus with Oyukha and the boys.  Wanting to give the boys a bit of a play on rock I belayed Craig up the slabs, as Steve was desperately tried to pull the crux on Ear for Fear:

It was a little too much to ask of his body, and eventually he admitted defeat coming back down and handing the rope to Mikey.  He promptly pulled the rope wanting to try the route on lead, which I thought was pretty brave after he had been smashed by Taj.  He did however qualify his intent as being based on making use of my extensive knowledge of these routes.  So I was on standby ready to point out the holds should things get desperate.  It didn’t feel like it ever did until the final sequence, and the encouragement Steve and I offered him gave him the confidence to push through:

With the fog well and truly banished, the sun was streaming down on us.  It felt like a different world.  It is also possible that the throngs of tourists that were now coming and going had also changed the feel of the place.  Cars parked up and as soon as they left more turned up, the BBQs were fired up and the sound of kids running amuck filled the air.  Since the completion of the mural on the dam wall this place has become insanely busy, a bit like the once quiet sea cliffs we play on, this place is now sadly instafamous:

In the shadow of the walls we seemed to be in a bit of a bubble where the tourists didn’t venture.  So we stayed put with Steve all fired up and declaring he wanted to completely trash himself, as he eyed up the stiff opposition of a rarely climbed route.  He soon began to imitate a yoyo going up and rapidly back down, too many times to count.  For those following his recovery you may have twigged this was his first, second, third, fourth and so on lead fall since his treatment and operations.  He was certainly fearless in his approach and all his body parts looked to be staying in place, which was a relief:

Like Ear for Fear, the crux of Wingspan was just too much so he came back down, to another cuppa courtesy of Oyukha, and handed the rope to Mikey.  While he smashed his way up the route, proving that his earlier defeat on Taj was probably more due to not resting enough, I belayed Craig who also got a clean ascent, on Ear for Fear.  Steve was then insistent he would follow up after Mikey, and so he did with much swinging, falling and sweating.  He certainly achieved his goal in trashing himself and also did “get up the route”:

Steve swung about madly for so long that Craig and I squeezed another line.  Then to wrap things up I couldn’t resist but run up after Mikey to see what all the fuss was about.  Below us Craig pounced on a BBQ as soon as it became free, cooking up some nosh.  The tourists poured in and out of the quarry as Oyukha poured more tea, to help wash down the food.  And one by one we drifted off, after a splendid morning of contrasts starting in the cold and damp fog and finishing in the warm and bright sun:

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: