Well…. where do I start? Truthfully there can only be one place, the PCYC Bunbury.
I didn’t know it then but my very first indoor climbing experience, tho in a tiny location, was the catalyst of a turning point in my life. It was also the day I met Sensei, Obi Wan, Guru, Master and more importantly my good friend Krish.
Anyway that’s enough of that, well not exactly. Some perspective is probably needed.
Wiggins has the credit of introducing me to climbing, but Krish is the one to teach me, amongst others the ART of climbing. I’m not sure when the gentle bullying, giving of penalty slack or photographic belaying started… but on only my first or second night at the PCYC Krish invited us outdoors for a climb. What better place than Wilyabrup and I think maybe Setting Sun or Tom Thumb as my first routes.
Right from the start I tried to dance or perhaps flow is the better term, up the rock in the style Krish effortlessly does (did ha ha). Knowing that if someone as slight of build as him could climb that well, then so could I if I just learnt the right techniques. The rest, as they say is history (and mostly, faithfully recorded in his stories).
Now thirteen or so years later I still look to Krish as the leader of the gang, the master. And if I’m able to continue climbing as good as him, as long as him, I’ll be pretty darn happy with myself.
My memory of Steve walking into the PCYC was that it was busy, we had a bunch of newbies and that required more paperwork, training and supervision to make sure they were tying in and belaying safely. I said a quick hello and carried on, some twenty minutes later I looked round and he and Andrew were still chatting away. Both of them like a chat. He came across as someone with a joyful nature, his face expressed a sense of fun but also just a slight sense of something else. Going out with Steve was nearly always fun, he would make light of most situations:
The only time I can say that he really got serious was when we went to Peak Charles, it was the second big multi-day trip for me since being in Western Australia. Steve and I went ahead and he was the kid in the candy shop as we drove out and set up camp. Rongy and Wiggins drove out the next day, as Steve and I hit the big walls. I could feel he was on edge, I thought it was the long runouts and big walls that spooked him but it was something else. That sense I had about him before was peeking through a few cracks. Since then I have learnt that at times Steve will get “on edge”, but not in a bad way and it is just something he needs to, and does, work through:
That aside Steve loves adventure and we have been out there in some of the most extreme conditions that I have climbed in. Gale force winds, monster waves and big dark looming clouds that burst open have failed to dampen and have in fact heightened that joy in Steve. He loves it! In life he can be erratic, as his mind never sits still and he can drift off on a tangent quite quickly. That said when he is climbing he keeps focused and he is very safe. He likes good gear, and will at times really make sure it is good. A single tug to check it is seated is often not enough for Steve and he can be seen really working that gear hard before moving on:
I don’t think he always concentrates on what has been said, his mind may be drifting off on other thoughts maybe. A classic example being when we were climbing at Cosy Corner, and I told him the route Crystal Corner went up the wide corner. As the image above shows he climbed the arête and wondered why the route didn’t match the description. This is how Bad Directions was established, a route Dan and I led straight after them claiming it was only a grade 9. More on that if you read about Glen. Steve’s mind is wired for knowledge and searching for that something new to consider, work out or even create. These sand shoes to make it easier to walk to Moses Rocks is one example of what he can quite literally pull out of his bag:
No surprisingly he has a wide range of interests and mixes and matches them, often down at the crag he’ll have his fishing gear. But he does love climbing and while life has been a tad up and down for him over the last few years we have still managed to get out and have a great time. Climbing with Steve you need to be prepared for moments of intensity as he works a new project hard, and on the flip side be prepared to kick back and take things really slowly. I reckon that my tea kit has had most use on our trips out. After we have got some climbing in it is then time for a chat, ponder life and come to the conclusion that life is what you make it and realise just how good we have got it:
I met Krish in 2012. I came to the PCYC and I was newly relocated to Bunbury from the UK. I recall a warm welcome.
Eight years on a much valued friendship has evolved.
Krish maximises his and our enjoyment of the great outdoors, regardless of conditions. I mean regardless – only the very extremes will stop Krish.
It’s a rare quality.
Great company. Capable of irony, sensible intellectual and nonsensical conversation in the same sentence.
He’s very tolerant with people but also asserts himself when his patience does run out (very occasionally appears to display mild symptoms of road rage) – unless climbing: in this space he’s 100% persistent, which makes it feel safe to climb with him.
He is inclined to push us close to our limits mentally and physically but knows when to back off.
Brings out the best in us on many levels; a natural leader.
Over the past few years I’ve had Krish’s support through life’s turns. He’s always been there when it counted regardless of the time that required and I’m grateful.
Speaks his mind in a very diplomatic and thought out fashion. And is also frank – seeks balance in all positions, which is very helpful for those of us that sometimes fail to view the bigger picture.
Wiggins is Mr Nice Guy, he is the gentleman and the sort of person I aspire to be. He holds values and morals high and is respectful to family and friend alike. I have never seen him cast a stone and he assesses every situation objectively and responds in a controlled and balanced way. It’s very impressive. When it comes to climbing he is systematic, he was the one that trained most with Rongy, on that steep hard boulder wall. Eventually he built his own, not quite as steep but he used the MoonBoard design and built his wall round it. Allowing him to develop his skills through a set program:
He is the one that will see a situation and make reference to a book he has read that dissects it, provides ways to manage, control or avoid it. He has approached climbing as a challenge to be met face on, he will take big falls and will set himself targets. Through his reading he has made use of various training systems, and has stuck to them proving that that can yield results. He has however on occasion proven that these system can result in injury, and his training has on occasion prevented him from climbing real rock. That is not a big issue for Wiggins, he is a man of many talents and is happy to pursue his other interests while maintaining a good social relationship with the climbing folk:
I have a vague memory that it was Wiggins that installed a sense of moral obligation, or was it just basic common sense, that we should always wear a helmet when climbing. For years I had climbed fearlessly without one, only resorting to the “tin pot” when I knew the territory demanded it. Such as the big mountain routes in Scotland or loose crumble rock, which I have been known to actually enjoy. However now I, like so many others in our crew, don’t climb without one. He definitely likes to aspire to and have a goal, and once it is fixed he will pursue it hard and with a passion. In this way he has climbed some sustained and bold lines, and once conquered walks away feeling quite simply satisfied and not needing to look back. He always seems to look forward:
Ever since I have known Wiggins he has had been a collector of gear, he has more gear than he could possible use on any route. At times he will seek out the obscure and he managed to catch me out at least once when he found some whacky camming wires that were horrendous to place and even worse to get out. He placed them on lead, after hiding them from me, and I only came across them when I had to get the damn things out! They never got used again, but I bet they are prized amongst his collection. He is also well known for his filming and is damn good at it. Trips out with Wiggins are now more about capturing the spirit of the day, which I can relate to as I am in a way similar with my photography:
We have had some really good trips away, and on each of these he will bring along some of his homebrew. As with everything Wiggins does he does it well, it is not a sense of pride that he has it is just the way he sees life. If you are going to do something you make sure you try your best to do it right. From an early time something else I liked was that he too would want to get back home and not spend the whole day out. He doesn’t have kids, but valued time with his partner Tara. This suited me but also proved from an early time that Wiggins is someone that you can trust not just to hold your rope, but also to help you out and treat you with honesty and fairness:
Strangely I cannot properly remember the first time I met Krish. I’m think it was at Wilyabrup and a group of us met him down there but whether I tied into his rope or not I’m unsure. However, two early memories of what he taught us sticks to mind and I still do to this day.
The first was stacking rope into the bag rather than always having it coiled and getting tangled, the first time I tried it I thought it was magic. The second was not needing to call out to your belayer every time you clipped a runner making for a much more enjoyable and peaceful climbing experience.
Many others would have already mentioned Krish’s uncanny ability to:
1 – Convince you to climb something you think is too hard for you but actually isn’t.
2 – Convince you to do those extra climbs at the end of the session when you think you are too tired but actually aren’t.
3 – Convince you to set your alarm for 2:30am in summer to hit the crag at first light, with first light meaning by head torch.
Krishs’ enjoyment of being out on rock and in nature is infectious. Climbing grades don’t generally mean a great deal to him. His pursuit of an ascent is more about hunting exciting or new locations and finding a fair bit of exposure. He is happy to climb with people of all sensible abilities, young or old, new or seasoned. He is the quickest belay station setter I know (and still willing to learn that sometimes an extra piece or directional line is more appropriate). There’s always a laugh, plenty of banter and tea, and you never expect to be on belay until after your first clip.
Krish would be what I call the second generation old school climbers, he has a trad preference but uses modern ropes, gear and climbing shoes with toes hanging out, which I think is because his approach shoes are Source sandals.
He is also an excellent muse for my videos since he has no aversion to being serious or hamming it up for the camera.
Everyone loves climbing with Krish. He knows the south west well, being the author of mini and full guides. Krish is the glue, the god father, the sensei, the friend, and now officially the blogger that keeps us tight as a climbing crew. He inspires me to continue climbing with passion and trusting that I can do so for many years to come.
In recent years Chris Wiggins has created entertaining short films of our climbing trips. He has a good eye and creates a story that give a sense of the area, climbing and/or mood of the people on the day:
My last trip away before COVID hit Western Australia was a big day trip to meet Rongy and Wiggins at Mount Frankland. This video starts off here but includes so much more than that. It’s about climbing and friendship and in his usual fashion, Wiggin’s has filled it with laughter, emotion, stunning scenery, the little details we often walk past and of course climbing.
This is a collection of footage that he has taken during a number of trip and social events that are not captured in any of his films below. There are too many places, people and events to mention here so you’ll just have to watch it.
Back in September 2019 Howsie, Wiggins and myself made the big trip down to Cape Le Grande past Esperance on the south coast of Western Australia. It was a magical trip with glorious weather, incredible scenery, scrumptious food, delicious homemade beer and of course stunning climbing recounted in my post Take Rope.
On a wet morning Rongy and I headed out ahead of the crowd. We thought they may be put off by the weather but after we had smashed out a good number of climbs they arrived. While Rongy and I were going hard at it, the rest of them were in a more laid back mood, as the above video shows. Read more in my post called A Packed Crag.
The above video covers Rongy, Wiggins my trip out to this impressive pimple on the landscape. It was an unexpected trip for me the tale of which is recounted in my post called Crowded House.
This video came soon after a day out with Rongy and Wiggins detailed in the post called Hold Still for the Camera. The story behind the pink tri-cam relates to another post called Crag Booty – Up for Grabs, and this piece of booty is referred to in number of other posts since then. Soon after Chris’s training laps he bagged Washed Up Punks and then immediately afterwards also claimed Heavy Metal as it started raining, finding the later easier as it is not as sustained even though it has one harder move in it.
I have no post related to this trip for which Wiggins had the primary intention of making the above video, of just one specific climb at the awe-inspiring West Cape Howe. However, the first time that Rongy led this route is recounted in my post called South Coast Trip. While making the video Rongy had to lead The Climb numerous times placing the same gear on each ascent. And with the help of Rhys and numerous strategically placed cameras Wiggins created this very cool must watch video.
It has been close to a months since Lisa and I had a dip at our local beach and got up close and personal with a friendly cuttlefish. In that month I started working from home, giving me a perfect opportunity to make the most of the best midweek and weekend conditions to swim with the fish. While the midweek days offered up a couple of great opportunities, something called work ethics or pure dumbness prevented me from being able to take an hour out to go for a dip. Instead I chanced it on the weekends, which as you probably guess didn’t work out to well:
Each weekend the weather came in and the ocean looked started to take on that choppy and grey appearance more akin to winter. Lisa I went out for a few walks with the dogs and each time it looked hit and miss. The image above was taken on Monday 6th April, it was the first day the cut opened up connecting the Capel River to the ocean. It didn’t stay open too long and within a few days had closed back up. So on Easter Friday, seeing the water looked reasonable I thought I’d take the plunge. I walked down to the River Mouth and dived in, and as you can see I couldn’t see too much:
It was thick and soupy, as soon as my head went under I knew it was bad but I was also too stubborn to give in. Something told me if I went out further it might clear up, fat chance. I felt like the Titanic as I almost collided with a bommie or two due to not seeing them. I knew it was a hopeless course, and resided to just swimming parallel to the beach back along the way I had walked. Occasionally it cleared a bit and I could not only make out the bottom but I also saw a few fish, only briefly before the murkiness returned. Getting out I felt a little sea sick from the swell that had been pushing me back and forth the whole way:
Easter was also the start of a two week holiday for me. I was supposed to be heading to Melbourne to climb in the Grampians on Easter Monday, that was obviously canned. The backup plan was to go to South Coast to climb for a few days, but the interregional travel ban put paid to that too. So I had the thought of a two week holiday at home, luckily I can still get out to the rocks by myself, and I thought that I’d be able to have a snorkel or two. But each time Lisa and I went for a beach walk it just wasn’t looking inviting. Above was on Easter Monday, and below the next day:
The swells and winds were generally up, and every few days it would really come in. The calm and flat summertime beach was slowly disappearing. During winter the shape changes and there is a stepper incline into the water. The waves erode the sand creating these little steps and you know that the water is likely to be like pea soup, this image was from Thursday 16th. So while it was great for beach walks and the dogs loved our almost daily long walks I was beginning to think that my last snorkel had been a sad way to end what has probably been the best snorkelling season I’ve had:
The forecast did however offer me a window of opportunity. This morning the swells were down, there was practically no wind and it was mostly a clear sky. Rain and fresh winds were forecast for the afternoon and tomorrow the swell would jump from a calm meter to three meters. This would be my last reasonable opportunity to end the season on a better note. Wandering down to our local beach and it was looking pretty good, people were fishing and the rays were gliding up and down the beach feasting on the burley and any other bait that fell off the line. The water temperature doesn’t vary too much year round and certainly would have only drop a degree or two in recent weeks. But tell that to my body, it felt cold:
The visibility was reasonable but there was that misty look to the water, the penetrating rays from the early morning sun picking up all the floating particles. There were lots of red Seastars and I as I dived up and down I soon spotted the usual Sweep, Pomfret, Triggerfish, Gobbleguts, Wrasse and others. One fish caught my eye, and I’m pretty sure it was a Grass Flathead but it didn’t stay around long enough for me to get an image. Likewise I didn’t stay out too long. It was a bit too chilly and so I said my goodbyes to the reef, happy to have had a more pleasant last snorkel. It certainly has been a an awesome season, but now it was time to head back in and have a hot shower:
Conditions were looking better for heading to where I intended to go on Monday. Clear skies, light winds, and no chance of rain. I thought that by going on a Friday, as oppose to the weekend, it would be quiet and secondly it might also make me feel better about being on the road. There would likely be more people driving about for work due to being a weekday. It might sound silly but on these solo missions I keep having the question in the back of my mind, it this essential travel? Directly opposite the style that gets you onto the access track is a gum in which I often hear and see Wattle Birds. Today a number of the nuts were a bright red with the yellow stamin of the flower just starting to emerge:
It felt like a crisp morning, and I almost put the heater on in the car when driving down. The temperature dropped below double digits, like the flowers above this is another sign of the seasons really starting to shift. Across the bay the sun was just hitting the main cliffs of Willyabrup, clean waves rolling in. It would have been a great day on the water for the surfers, something that really has never taken my fancy. My vantage point today was the top of the Terrace at the Northern Blocks, at Willyabrup. I setting the rope up fully aware that there would be a challenging line or two, and I was not sure if I was really ready after feeling that I had being well and truly spanked at Welly Dam on Monday:
The morning began with me being sensible and starting at the left hand end. Ideally I’d like to get up six lines today but if I didn’t make that many I wouldn’t be too upset. With the rope set up back from the edge I could easily adjust the direction on the anchors to accommodate my first three chosen lines. Unlike the other places I have been recently the top of this wall is a slightly narrow ledge. The sort of ledge with just enough space to walk about on, but you always feel like you are right on the edge. So today I was tied in the whole time I was up there, which adds to the tension and nervousness of the place. The first line of the day was the easiest, Metamophic Sausage, but it felt hard and sustained. The steep wall never giving my arms a chance to truly rest, two laps and I was not feeling confident for what lay ahead:
Thrice Bitten, at four grades harder, actually felt easier and I made both laps without having the same tired feeling. Admittedly stemming allowed for complete hand free rests at several points, in-between the harder moves. Then it was time for the real action to start, another four grade jump for Bearded Dragon. At the first overlap the flattop block that is one of the biggest holds on the route, and normally feels so comforting, had become loose. It looked wedged in, but I didn’t fancy pulling on it in case it dislodged and smashed into my face. This resulted in me attempting several approaches to work round it and pumping out. Disappointing but not unexpected, it’s a pretty sustained and technical line. However, on my second lap and knowing what to avoid I managed a clean ascent, I was very happy:
Next up the rope had to be moved. The Future Grins, another grade up and on much steeper terrain. That did mean bigger holds, the first three climbs required a lot of finger strength and this was more about brute strength and core work. I’ve only lead it once before, failing at the crux from exhaustion. I it was intimidating knowing what to expect and that I hadn’t got it clean before, but two clean laps in and I was on fire! I sat atop and allowing a bit of time for my arms to relax, I contemplated whether to try the line just to the right again. Another couple of grades up, and even steeper and more sustained climbing. Why not! I approached it fearlessly pulling hard, working my feet, and being pretty vocal with every move. Lots of strenuous laybacking on overhung ground resulted me in being gassed by the midway point, it took a long rest and a few attempts before I was ready to get going again:
I didn’t manage the top half in a single push, and was utterly shattered when I topped out. Looking back down it was obvious that there was no point inflicting that on myself again. I’d be dogging the whole way up and might even need to resort to other unethical tactics to get up. So decision made, but I couldn’t end the day like that so I slipped down five grades and enjoyed the delights of Silver. Fingery like the first three routes and overhung like the last two, I managed a clean ascent just. One lap would do to even up the tally of the day, I was pretty happy with how it had gone on the rock. Sitting back to let my body relax, and allow that tiredness seep into every part of my body as the effects of the adrenalin dissipated. I watched the waves and noticed people stood on top of Willyabrup (above), and wondered if they had heard me encourage myself up the second last route:
It was warming up and my legs felt like jelly walking back out. It had been a slightly sweaty morning. The humidity was just enough to make the holds a little greasy, and I was surprised that hadn’t halted my progress. It did mean the helmet, top rope gear and shoes needed an airing out on the walk back. So with gear swinging off my harness I made my way back. Up the ridge (the hard part), across the open paddock and finally down across the little creek. Here with the cooler days coming on, the Arum Lilies were out in force. Doing what weeds do best, chocking up the creek and blocking any light that would be needed by any native plants trying to get established below it. One last short incline got me to the carpark, where I was surprised to see a five other cars. As I drove out on the gravel road two more cars were coming in, with all this traffic at Willyabrup it almost felt for a moment like life was back to normal:
Like probably everywhere else Easter was unnaturally quiet at Peppy Beach, normally it would be crawling with people due to being a favourite place to get away and spend time on the beach. On Sunday night we met up with the neighbours in our cul-de-sac for a drink, each bringing our own chair, drink and glasses. We sat in a wide circle observing the recommended social distancing. He I sat listening and occasionally adding to the conversation, during which time I had two light beers. I wondered if I might regret that in the morning, I really don’t drink much anymore. Easter Monday I woke at 6:30, which is late for me, and got up to make a cup of tea and check the weather radar one last time. Decision made, avoid the coastal crags and head inland:
I had originally planned to head to the Terrace at the Northern Blocks of Wilyabrup, a steep place with at times smeary holds and mostly harder (for me) lines. I knew from experience that wet conditions were not ideal for the Terrace, but as I had been keeping an eye on the weather pattern I already had a backup. As I drove to Welly Dam it was lightly raining; making my way “up the hill” it was clearing but the roads were wet; and finally as I drove down into the “bowl on top of the hill” where Wellington Dam can be found, the place was shrouded in mist. Today I didn’t park at the bottom by the picnic area but at the top, as this saved me needing to walk back up to set up the top-rope:
The mist was lifting before my eyes, so hopefully the conditions might be reasonable. Hauling my gear over the wall to the ledge on top of the steep granite walls I could hear that familiar sound of gear clinking. I popped my head over the edge and saw a top-rope setup with no climber. The car was tucked in the corner but before I had time to work out who this might be, a familiar face popped over the stone wall that keeps the normal punters away from the edge. It seems that Howsie too was eager to touch real rock and had been here since 6, a time of the day that unusually I had not seen today:
We kept our distance and I set my line up on Ebonie Road. I found out that Howsie had already done two laps on Taj, a line I jokingly told him a few weeks back that he should be doing laps on rather some of the easier or more familiar lines. He admitted to finding the start super hard to read and link, and so in a tired state his second chosen line of Flight Simulator was near impossible. He was just about to pack up, as he had said he would be home by 9. I however encouraged him to do one more lap on Flight Simulator so I could point out the holds and moves to see it that would help. Sorry Nadia it really was my fault that he was late leaving:
Flight Simulator is a feisty route and super pumpy. I first unlocked it’s secrets with Howsie and Rongy way back. But despite that knowledge it still scares all three of us. On this lap Howsie worked his way past the first bolt and it was the moves to get past the second bolt that was shutting him down. After pointing out a few holds and tricks he made the moves, which allowed a somehow rest before the crux sequence starts. As he attempted that section I jumped on Ebonie and did my two laps. It felt harder than I had hoped, and I was starting to wonder if I should have set up on some of the easier lines. Hindsight is pretty useless really:
From atop Ebonie, after my second lap, I had a great view of Howsie still battling the crux. He was looking tired and was going up and down like a yoyo on holds that I knew were small and draining. After taking some snaps of his position I hopped on top and set my line up on route number two. Gumby Goes Bolting was next for me. Meanwhile Howsie was trying, falling, sitting, trying, falling, sitting, trying, falling, sitting and all the while inching his way upwards. I did wonder if he was going to be a bit annoyed at me suggesting he do another lap:
He was dripping with sweat, the moisture from the night before was saturating the air giving Welly Dam a heavy feel. Eventually he made it up and we had a quick chat about how some days you just have to struggle on the routes. Words Wiggins had said to me at Mount Frankland came to mind. Regardless of how you climb, is it ever really a bad day when you are out climbing? Howsie and I looked out at the view, as I made use of Wiggins wise words. With that Howsie’s struggles just became part of a great morning out. He pulled his system apart, as I rapped down to do my first lap on Gumby:
The first lap went OK’ish. My arms where feeling pumped and the holds had that greasy feel that the humidity brings. Before I rapped back down I said my goodbyes to Howsie with the usual salutations of the moment, “stay safe”. I rapped back down and did my second lap, the moves felt more familiar, as they should, but the arms and holds didn’t feel a whole heap better. Back on top and time to move the rope again. Seeing Howsie had just climbed Flight Simulator, which had been on my hit list for the day, I did the right thing and passed that one by:
Instead I set up on Ear for Fear, wondering what I was thinking as I rapped down. Feeling weary and tired, was it the two beers or the humidity, I tentatively launched myself at the crux. Greasy holds made it feel very tenuous. I put that to the back of my mind and as soon as I got my right toe on that high right edge I knew I could pull it off. At the top my arms were burning, but I knew what I had to do… so back down I went for lap two. The holds, my fingers or something else was not as forgiving this time and I was spat off at the crux and then above again. Finally at the top I sat heavily on the rope and pondered my next move. I knew that with the rope here I could put in a draw on the last bolt of Slay Away next:
So that is what I did, and so I started up the steep, fingery and balancey sequence that requires lots of core work. After that comes the crux, I was shattered but determined to try. I attempted my usual approach of using a smooth sloper hand hold and smeary feet, that no one else seems to like. I got to the next not so great pocket past the sloper and rock blew sending me flying, so now I needed a completely new sequence. I eventually worked one out, but it was draining and even then I was only half way up the wall The second lap was no better the crux was way too pumpy for me and again I fell into the safety of the harness. Sweat pouring down my forehead and arms ready to burst I made it to the top and decided that was enough… despite having only been on four lines it still felt like a great morning out.
While you may laugh, in recent times it feels like I have lost the confidence I used to have on lead. The likelihood of being able to get out with anyone, to be able to build that confidence back up by leading climbs, is very slim to non-existence for months to come. With that in mind I’ve set myself a routine on my boulder wall. The aim is to build my stamina and contact strength, without risking reinjuring the joints that I have been foolish enough to damage on indoor boulder wall in recent years. In the week gone I had three sessions, so for my weekend trip out I felt that I needed somewhere not too hard and just fun:
As I was making Lisa a cuppa at just gone 6am I could see the sky was a glorious red turning orange. By the time I drove out of the driveway the oranges had turned to yellow, and as I left Peppy Beach they finally faded into a mottled white. The high clouds didn’t seem to suggest any rain would fall and despite being a bit of a non-descript colour they still made for a spectacular sky as I drove towards Moses Rocks. On arrival there were a few cars in the carpark, and several people were on the beach fishing as I walked towards the rocks:
I view Moses Rocks as the friendly crag, some don’t like it here due to the rounded nature and often flared cracks.. This can make it, at times, fiddly to place gear but as I was going solo today that wouldn’t be a stress. Another reason I like it here is that it gets you that bit closer to the water and more times than not, even with just a slight swell, the waves come in crisp and clean. They look amazing and the booming sound of the barrels as they collapse brings the place to life. Today I walked past the Hand’s Up Wall and continued south, I decided to leave that for another morning out:
I unpacked my gear and was slowly getting myself sorted. I had made a beeline for Rumpoles Rocks, and if I was smart this place would allow several lines to be picked off from each set-up. And in the end I only had to move the set-up four times. I wasn’t in a great rush, so stopped to check out the waves for a bit. I had my eye on the barrels in the bay to the south, with Wilyabrup in the distance. Then out of the corner of my eye I caught sight of eight or so dolphins surfing in on a wave very close to me. They jumped high out of the back of it as the wave crashed into a mass of tumbling white water:
They came on the next wave for a second run, and I was too wrapped up in watching them only just remembering to grab my camera at the last moment. As such all you get is one not very good image of a single dolphin escaping out the back of the second wave. That was the end of their playtime and they then travelled north out of sight. I finished off getting the rope ready and rapped down to start the session. Going left to right meant the first line was Rude Awakening, and that it was. It felt hard and I slipped off the crux on the first lap:
The last time I came here was with Mikey, Rongy and Craig and the place was wet. The pool at the base of the crag was full of water and there was a risk of big waves sending spray all over the belayer. Today the pool was dry, as mostly was the rock. That hadn’t helped me on the first line but thankfully the next was Rarely Wild, a much more forgiving route that allowed me to relax a bit more. That got me back in the right mood for Moses’ rounded holds, as I next manage to unlock Hexed relatively easily. A line that had got Rongy thinking on the last trip when he led it, mind you he also had to battle with wet rock:
Next up was Burning Both Ends, which the rope below is set up for. It’s one of the original lines and is a bold lead. Today it definitely felt like one of the more sustained routes, not only was the flared crack testy but the overlaps above kept you working. I’m not sure if was all the plastic I had been pulling on my boulder wall but the tops of many of these routes felt steep. Next was Yogurt and I then skipped Hot and Spicy as it is a bit of a ramble and shared the start of Yogurt. Also I felt that if I did every line here that may be a bit much:
Five lines in and the dolphins returned, at least I’m guessing it was the same pod as before. Finding a comfy rock armchair I kicked back and watched them, hoping that they were back for playtime and not just to cruise past. They seemed to loiter in the area that I had seen them surfing, but this time they didn’t follow any of the waves in. Instead, after a while they did a complete U-turn and headed back north from where they had come. Disappearing, once again, from sight. Bit of a shame but all the same it was great to have been able to watch a good sized pod twice in one day:
With the dolphins gone I jumped back on the rope. The routes at Moses are relatively short, and at Rumpoles Rocks the first five of so meters are a bit of a stroll. So with shorter lines I wondered just how far down the crag I could make it before time caught up with me, or my body started to suggest I should call it a day. Next in line was Chillies and Garlic, followed by Jugs Galore both of which were quite simply just good fun. The latter is one of mine, in fact this crag only had six routes when I first climbed here and since then I’ve been lucky to have been involved in putting up another six with Wiggins and Kym:
Above was the only wet hold I came across, not that I needed to use it, and with the water drying up the salt was forming. None of the other holds I came across felt salty, and to be honest I couldn’t have asked for better conditions. The rope was moved for the third time as the lifesaving helicopter came into view. I carried on setting up as it flew overhead, and then it came back round over the ocean directly in front of me. They were obviously intrigued to see what I was up too, I guess the sight of a climber makes a change to looking for sharks and surfers. I wondered if they might recognise me, as I’ve certainly seen them fly past dozens upon dozens of times:
I then tackled No Spinach for Popeye, a route with a very thrutchy start. So much so that I did wonder if that would be the time my body would say enough. However I managed my two laps and then decided that I would miss out Wiggins’ Square Cut, as it used the same hideous off-width start and having done it twice today was quite enough. That only left me two lines, for which the rope had to be moved for the final time. The lower wall of Olive Oil fell much easier than when I followed Howsie up it last time. I’m not even sure why it felt so challenging last time. The hold are big and positive, not the normal rounded Moses holds but with good clean edges:
It was then time for the last line of the day Finger Licking, and it was absolutely Finger Licking good! In view that I had a rope above me I decided to climb the unprotected arête of the tower instead of the southern face, and damn it was good. Nice exposure and good holds, it’s a shame there is no gear on it. There is something wrong with the image above and I’m intrigued to see if anyone can spot what it is. With ten routes under my belt it was definitely time to call it a day, I took my time to pack the gear so I could take in the great position for just a bit longer. Finally I hit the track out, and I could see ahead of me that the main beach looked reasonably busy with surfers in the water and fishers on the beach, all observing their social distance:
Unlike my last trip, and other than the dolphins, I didn’t see any creatures worth including in this post. No roos, skinks, lizards, dragons, birds or interesting insects. It was not for looking about, and I guess that being so close to the ocean while creating a great atmosphere also has a down side. I retraced my steps and when I hit the first sandy bay the encroaching tide had already washed away half of my footprints. By tomorrow they will all be gone and there will be no trace that I was ever here, but I’ll be back:
Sandbagged 