Important update as of May 2022 for anyone intending to climb in Central Australia:
Access is an ongoing issue at many of the climbs around Alice Springs. Some consultations have occurred in the past for climbs but there is a lack of clarity around the status of many places. Rock climbers of Central Australia (RoCA) was a climbing club formed in part to clarify which places are culturally approved to climb at via consultation with the traditional owners. It is unclear if RoCA is still in existence, as such it is recommended to contact local climbers to find out the current situation regarding access. This can be done via the Alice Springs climbers Facebook group.
During my time in Alice Springs a dedicated band of merry climbers decided to start a newsletter for the local climbing community. As with all such things it didn’t outlast time and over a period of approx 16 months four editions were released. Rather than allow them to get lost and forgotten copies of the newsletters, in all their glory, can be accessed via the links below:
I had already started additional articles for RACK 5, which including the next edition of Krish’s Corner; an article on the true rock legends of Central Australia; and a tale that I felt provided a good insight into what really goes on in a climbers head while on the pointy end of the rope. These are provided in the file linked below:
Part of the reason for starting the RACK was that I published Rock Climbing in Central Australia in March 2005. The 500 copies I had printed sold out in October 2018. As such if you are keen to have a copy of this guide I have linked the PDF version (note that this is a large file at approx 100MB):
Before leaving Alice Springs we decided to release an addendum to Rock Climbing in Central Australia. It only covers a handful of lines, but again not too loose record of what we did this addendum is linked below:
Finally to wrap up this post… so as not to loose a piece of history below I have provided a link to the original guide to rock climbs in the Northern Territory, written by Helen and John Griffiths in September 1973:
This was supposed to be the first yarn to be placed on my new blog. Lisa had worked for many hours to get a first draft of the site set up, surprising me with it on Christmas Day. Today I spent a good number of hours working the software out, only to discover one slight issue. I’m not able to upload my previous emails with text and images, of which I have one or two. This is an issue for me and so the blog will have to wait until I can overcome that hurdle. Hence, this trip out with Dan, Jo Lee and Craig on Monday this week comes to you in old fashioned email:
Dan and Jo Lee are over from Melbourne for Christmas with the family, and it is customary for me to get to meet up with them for at least one climb during their visit. I offered Dan the choice and he was keen for somewhere he had not climbed before, and so it was we found ourselves heading to the Northern Blocks. Due to not having a car they were reliant on a lift to Capel, which got them there at 6am. Take note Glen and Lou a reasonable start time! Craig however was keen to get out early, so he made his own way down and met us there:
On our arrival he was laying on the rock shelf by the water’s edge, kicking back. When we rapped down we found out that he had arrived well over an hour ago, and in that time had visited the Book Shelf. There he had spied a piece of crag booty, real gold! The sling of the No.2 Camalot shone against the relatively dull granite and he had to have it. So he solo’d the line, and we still have no idea what it was as it sounds and looks like nothing in the guide. There he chiselled away to claim his trophy, just in time for a hand hold to break and send him down:
The Camalot was well and truly munted, the lobes were stuck at maximum extent and the wires were all corroded. So was it worth it… well if it was me I’d be with Craig and say absolutely! We will however need to get back to this area and figure out if there are any worthy lines here, as the image above indicates there maybe. Craig came out of his adventures unscathed, but was still more than happy for me to take first lead. I plumped for Corpus Delecti, which you may recall was the line that saw me lose my bottle and hand every lead of my last visit here to Rongy:
I’m pleased to say that despite a bit of a clunky start, up to the first shelf and then the awkward corner, I climbed the flake with no fear. I even took my time and checked out possible placements, neither of which were really any good, but I put them in regardless to enjoy the exposed and runout stance. While I was climbing this line Jo Lee was getting fully stuck into the peapod of Banana Split, which is the obvious warm up climb. She hadn’t climbed outdoors since May so it was only right to allow here the proper warm up climb, while I reclaimed my dignity:
It was then Craig’s turn to jump on Banana Split, despite my many efforts to steer him to another line that I know he really would have loved. Jo Lee and Dan rapped down as Craig was entering the peapod, and as such he got to have a much better image taken of him than Jo Lee did. Craig may claim that he hasn’t climbed all that much, and that is why this was the perfect grade for him. This was however his fifth time out in a matter of months so he really can’t use that excuse any more. That said it is a pearler of line and we both thoroughly enjoyed it:
As soon as we had arrived here and rapped down, I showed Jo Lee and Dan the lines on the main buttress. It was obvious which one Dan wanted to bag. I too think that Use No S.L.C.D.’s is the best line here, an awesome finger crack followed by a fine flake and then face climbing. I waited for Craig to set up the belay and chatted to Jo Lee to see what she had in mind. She was keen to jump on a two star corner she had spied in the guide book. That could only mean one climb and as such we decided that we would haul all the gear out and shift the rap line:
For sensible people like Jo Lee, Dan and myself we rapped down and left all the gear at the top. Craig however had walked down and as such had his pack with water, a thermos of tea and climbing gear at the base. So I followed him up with his pack pulling me backwards, it certainly changed the route for me and I could feel myself holding on that bit harder than I should be. At least there are rests on the route, and so I was able to hold on and watch Dan on the more exciting and steeper sections of his line, where his lanky features definitely gave him an edge:
Craig and I pulled the rap line and set it up to access the Terrace, where Jo Lee’s two star “corner” was to be found. So while they were finishing off their line before rapping down Craig and I got a head start. I didn’t fancy anything too silly so plumped for the very fine Thrice Bitten. A line that keeps you holding on and has some exciting sequences where you have to keep moving. It always takes me a few moments to collect my thoughts at the base of the bottomless groove, knowing that once you go for it there is no turning back (or gear for some time):
Craig certainly enjoyed himself following up on that one. Once on top he did a quick time check. He had to be back by midday to pick his boys up, so was on a time limit. He reckoned there would be enough time for one my route, so we jumped on the rap line to go down. I however held things up and hung there for some time as Jo Lee was enjoying the so call “corner” of Silver. It is in fact a steep hanging flake, which is what the editor of the guide had described it as. No matter she looked to be very focused and, in that strange way climbers do, enjoying it:
It’s another line that keep throwing it at you till the end, so one you really have to conserve your strength for. It was very impressive to watch her work her way up the route and eventually with a huge sigh of relief and joy top out. The on-sight was a pretty damn good effort for someone who hasn’t climbed since May! There was no time for lots of congratulations and chit chat, as we needed to get down so Craig could jump on another lead. So we left Jo Lee to set up the belay and headed back down:
Craig knew the clock was ticking and so decided not to go for the vague seam that he had spied, as he was checking the place out before we had arrived. On close inspection that seam, not a line in the guide, didn’t look to have any worthy gear and in view of limited time he decided on Thin Crack. It looks deceptively easy, but the middle wall get steep and requires good technique to get up and to hold on while placing gear. I think this may have surprised Craig, in a good way and he relished the challenge. I scampered up making sure I didn’t waste any more time:
We hauled the gear and rope back to the packs and to save him some time I told him to leave most of it for us to carry out, sending him packing with a light sac. This allowed him to jog out and when I got home I saw that he had managed to get to the boys at 11:57, so it seemed that he didn’t lose more than a few minutes of the time he had available to him for the mornings’ climbing. While he hoicked his way out, I went back down to meet Dan and Jo Lee. Before following Craig up I had pointed Dan to a route I thought he would like and I too was keen on:
I got down just as he was topping out of Bearded Dolphin, I was shocked to see him already finishing off, having assumed that this line would have stumped him a little bit. I’ve only been on it a few times and only once on lead that I can recall. It’s fingery, reachy and pumpy all at the same time. There are a few somehow rests but not really until you get to the upper wall. Jo Lee was next up and as she had been belaying Dan the wind changed direction and got really cold, and she was starting to shiver needing to get into the sun:
It took her a bit of time to warm up, as on the Terrace there was no escaping that wind and it was sucking the heat from us. She is much shorter than Dan and was really struggling with the roof and overlap, long reaches between good holds made the sequences that much more powerful and tricky. As it was Dan had been able to reach past some of these difficulties and both of us cursed his lankiness! There was just enough rope for us to both climb out without throwing it back down, a good job as the wind would have made that tricky:
I came up last and much as I tried to get a clean ascent the lower roof had me foxed. I missed a crucial hold and was well and truly spat off. Tall people could keep their feet on the wall under the roof, while shorties such as Jo Lee and myself had to smear them up on the roof. This resulted in a super compressed position from which it was hard to move up due to small and the spaced holds. Soooo much fun! We decided that while we did not need to watch the clock ourselves, it was getting too windy and so we followed Craig out almost an hour behind him:
Both Dan and Jo Lee managed impressive on-sights, so I’ll have to think hard about where to take them next year to see if we can’t do it all again.
On the morning of Christmas Eve the waters were looking inviting. Just a few days before our part of the world will be engulfed in madness. On Boxing day there is a mass influx of tourists visiting the area and it can last until the end of the school holidays, right till the end of January. During this time more 4WDs are parked on the beach, gazebos are set up, boats and jet skis hoon about in the shallows making snorkelling hazardous. So while it is still quiet I took advantage of having a personal beach, shared only with silver gulls and western terns:
I have been experimenting with how to get through the stingers. During calm days they have been hovering near the beach, and there are two solutions. One is to swim very slowly and they actually move out of your way. However, there is no guarantee that they don’t use a pincer tactic and get you from behind or the side. The other is to duck dive and go under them, which comes with a much higher degree of success. This morning the duck dive worked a treat and soon I was over the reef poking about to see what I could see:
Unlike previous seasons, this time I’ve seen a globe fish almost on every snorkel. They are very observant and tend to duck into a cave or weed to get away. However, having cornered the unfortunate one above in a nook with no weed I took a quick snap and moved away. I also couldn’t resists including the following image of the common purple urchin. The clarity and light today was really good providing a really crisp image of the banded colours in the main spines, with small black bristle like spines covering the body:
I also found the tell-tale signs of someone’s antenna poking out of a cave. I have not found a crayfish for a while. Earlier this season there were loads of boats out, as everyone scrambled to catch them for a feed. Then just a week back we spied a commercial operation dropping pots out, so my hopes of finding one was low. This fella seemed to have avoided capture, or more likely it was an undersized one and hadn’t been caught by some bogan who doesn’t care about such matters:
My next find was a biscuit sea star, quite different from the more well-known sea stars as it has stubby legs that don’t look anything like limbs. They grow to the size of a biscuit, approximately 5cm and this one was only an inch tops. The pattern looked so intricate and delicate, a bit like a stain-glassed window with the putty between each fragment of colour just visible. After picking it up for this image it stuck to my hand and I had to very slowly encourage it to let go before putting back on the sea bed:
In such good conditions it is easier to spy anything that may be trying to hide in the weed, there was a bit of swell moving the weed to and fro but not by much. I saw the tail first, which is a giveaway but then the head appeared as the weed swayed the other way. I couldn’t resist and had to get down there for a closer look. I came across this creature on my first snorkel at Peppy Beach back in 2006’ish I picked up by the tail not knowing what it was. That time I was lucky and it was sleepy, as I let go it slowly swam back under the weed:
Commonly called a Wobbegong this is a Carpet Shark, of which there are twelve species. From the colouration I’m going to take a stab and say that this is a banded Wobbegong. If I’m right then they can grow to two and half meters, but this one was only a meter long. They are not considered dangerous, but will go for you if provoked. I’ve heard their teeth point backwards, so if they latch onto you, and you try to wrench free, it will be at the expense of your skin and flesh. Luckily this one was OK with me checking it out:
As I went back to shore I disturbed this blue swimmer crab, it had a start before taking on its defensive position of pinchers stretched out as far as they go to make it look big and menacing. As soon as I gave it some room it used its two paddles, that stick out of its rear, to rapidly swim away from me. I did head back in the water on Christmas morning but the swell was up and the water was murky, Craig and I then headed out later that day and got smashed by the stingers that like everything else were not visible in those conditions:
It’s the Christmas school holiday and as is customary for this time of the year the ocean at our beach is blessed with a particular sea creature. I hear that they prefer calm warm waters and can lurk both at the surface and at depth, also they can at times be close to shore or as far out as you may dare to venture. So what I am trying to say is that there is no escape, and if you want to snorkel you have to toughen up and just get on with it. I’m not talking about the innocent Weeping Toado that I came across as I first put my head under the water:
I’ve been in the water twice since my last collection of images, but this time do not expect anything too spectacular. The swells picked up a bit and with that so did the weed and sand, visibility was dropping and the ones that you can’t escape seemed to increase in numbers with each dip. Making it a less comfortable experience. I did however come across a familiar friend, the Truncate Coralfish. My field guide indicates it doesn’t venture here but the black mark at the top of the single dorsal fin gives it away and also indicates that it is not quite an adult yet:
I’ve probably mentioned it several times but in years gone by the local beach was drag netted by commercial fisher folk. This destroyed much of the reef and corals, but if you look around there are still some corals that can be found. This one is from the Faviidae family, the small raised circular pattern giving it away. Looking close up each circle comprises a number of tiny prongs that I assume are searching the water for microscopic nutrition, as the swell pushes it back and forth across the brain like structure:
That was it for this snorkel and as I made my way back to shore I was not looking down at the sandy bed in case there was an interesting find, but looking in front of me and where I was going. Dodging the small jelly fish with their four, fortunately not too long, tentacles that are lined with stinging cells filled with poison. It seems the South Western Stinger realises that with school holiday there comes a feast of people on which to prey. Although that said they actually feed on zooplankton and other small organisms that live in the upper water column:
The weekend before Christmas and it was claggy underwater. The surface looked relatively calm, but underneath the swell was doing its destructive business of stirring up a storm. The small innocent waves rolled onto the beach relatively clean and transparent, but you could tell by looking at the colour of the deeper water that it was not likely to be very good. Regardless of what I saw I just wanted to get my head under water. It was the first morning of my break from work over Christmas and I wanted to feel like I was holiday and do something fun:
While water was like the a thick soupy cold winters day when the mist was down, a few duck dives soon revealed life. Shoals of tiny baby fish huddled amongst the weed, their sharp eyes spotting me as I snuck up on them. Keeping a safe distance from me but always hugging the safety of the weed and not venturing out into the open. As I potted about I also spied a shoal of herring swim past me, but within a breathe they were lost from vision. Some might question my sanity for being out here in conditions like this, and whether I have a strange sense of fun:
Needless to say I didn’t stay too long and those that will tell you the South Western Stinger is only found in calm water is sadly misguiding you. I could feel the tentacle brush across my skin releasing poison from their stinging cells. There were not too many but I could feel them, even if I couldn’t see them. It makes you wonder what else I might not be seeing past the few meters of visibility that this day was offering. And when your mind start to play those tricks it is best to head back to shore, but not before watching this colourful display:
I general don’t have an issue with early starts. In summer it means we get more climbing in before the sun hits and I can also get home at a more reasonable time. It does however mean that I play Russian roulette driving out of the little place we live past the tuart forest. The large trees line the road and can conceal kangaroos, as they too take advantage of the cool time of the day to graze on whatever greenery they can find. The easy solution being to drive to the conditions, but with the trees so close even driving slowly doesn’t always work:
On Sunday morning it went OK, and while I did see a few kangaroos I didn’t have to do any emergency braking to avoid them. This was true for the whole trip that also took me through state forest. I was heading south by the inland road, as opposed through the usual agricultural land I pass when I go via Margaret River and the smaller towns along that road. The reason for the alternate route being that I was heading to the most southerly crag along the Naturaliste coast line. As I approached and crossed the Blackwood River both the mist and sun were rising:
The last leg of the journey to Cosy Corner takes you along a short stretch of Caves Road, as it weaves its way through the majestic and towering Karri trees of Boranup forest. In the early morning sunlight it is a stunning sight. Despite my “keep going” attitude to climbing that is very evident once we are on rock, for me is not just about the rock but the whole experience and that includes the journey there and back again. Today having taken a different route with new sights to see I stopped a few times on the way down to capture some of the sights:
When I put the word out on our local WhatsApp group Howsie told me his brother Mikey was over with the family and that the two of them had planned a morning climbing. They had both climbed here when they were kids. While Howsie and I have climbed here it was Mikey’s first time of coming back here to climb. It’s a short walk along the cliff top to the main area, and in the morning light the ochre coloured granite glowed. Underfoot the familiar feel of great friction that this rock offers started to build up the excitement of what was to come:
Mikey has not been on the floppy end or placed trad for a while now, and we used that as an excuse to start gently and warm up. Bland is an easy stroll but a good one for getting used to the rock and style. There is a need to continually knock the blocks and flakes to make sure they sound solid enough to trust, everyone’s trust level varies but is heightened when the rope is below you. Climbing with three gave me the chance to wear my rap rope down a bit more and I spent considerable time hanging in my harness watching the climbing from various angles:
The tide was low and there was no swell to speak off, it was so low that we were able to belay from the base of the black dolerite band below the granite. The water looked incredibly inviting and I kind of wished that I had brought my snorkel gear. There are a few large bommies and I can image that they and the hidden caves below them would be teaming with life. However, there was not the time for that , even if I had my snorkel gear. And soon enough Mikey was topping out and setting up the belay to bring Howsie and then myself up:
The climbing along the main area is in sectors and while on a day like today you could scramble along the dolerite slab, we instead moved the rap line from place to place. Mainly to allow me to make use of it, but also having a third person we could more efficiently move the rope and it didn’t slow down the proceedings. For the next route there was no need to move the rope, and there is no way we could have missed this line out. It was the scene of an epic (it gets more embellished with time) self-rescue by none other than Glen when he fell and broke his foot:
Bad Directions was put up by Steve, and after I followed up with Dan we pronounced it as a fun low grade route. It was however noted as being a little serious due to a large flake that was perched, but not attached. Having been up it a few more times now it is clear that Dan and I underestimated the grade, and for that all I can do is apologies. Glen fell from where Howsie is in the image below, but it was his gear being way off to the side that resulted in the severity of his fall. Howsie took his time and placed the cam Glen should have before the next move:
Mikey gave the perched flake a gentle tug and soon released it with a look of horror in his face. It is pretty big, in fact its enormous when you consider the length of the route. We discussed whether we should try and dislodge it, but based on it being referenced in the guide we decided not to. After all there is a slab and crack to the left of the disconcerting feature that is equally fun to climb and of consistent difficulty to the rest of the route. After that exciting introduction to Cosy Corner we moved onto another section:
Mikey was up next and having watched how he was coping with being back on the floppy end I steered him towards Crystal Cut. The low tide and swell meant that he could get the most out of this route and start right at the very base. This way you get forced to squeeze in behind the big flake as you try to place your gear deep in the crevice. The climb is very appropriately named, before you get to the solid granite there is a band of chunky quartz crystals. They can make you nervous as you wonder if they will come off or shatter if you load the gear:
Finally a thank god hold is reached, and from below it is a blind hold making it feel extra rewarding when you get it. With it comes solid gear that you don’t need to wonder about. From here you leave all the sharp quartz behind and quite possibly a bit of blood, which Mikey did cutting his knee as he squeezed his way up the line. It is certainly not all over and there are more challenges ahead. Having bumped the grade up a few notches you could see him starting to tire and sit on the holds a little longer trying to shake out:
You may notice that I missed out on having a lead. This was on purpose these guys don’t get out as much as I do and I have led all these routes a few times, so I was more than happy to be the photographer and then enjoy a top rope belay with no gear to take out after they were done. I was keen to try the steep wall that can be seen behind Mikey, there are no recorded routes on it but it looks like there may be a couple worth trying. However, the blistering sun was beating down on it and we agreed it would have been foolish thing to do:
As I waited for Mikey to top out and then Howsie to follow I sat and watched the waves lap the base of the dolerite slab. The waves came in sets and every so often they would lap higher up into a rock pool and then slowly drain back out through cracks. The crabs were clustered in these cracks picking off algae and other nourishment. The occasional higher wave fully immersed them and then washed over them as the water escaped. They didn’t budge once as this happened. It was pretty cool to watch, which they allowed me to without scuttling away:
It was time to move the rap line again. Last time I came here with Howsie, we sat atop the crag looking at Pat-a-Cake and Petropunster. A family of swallows had nested in the base of the crack of Pat-a-Cake, and we could see the mum, dad and a chick. So we left them in peace and found a new wall putting up two new routes called Three Little Birds and Away from the Nest. Today there was no sign of the swallows nesting so he was keen to try one of these lines, he was unsure which to go for leaving the decision right until the two lines go different ways:
He decided on Pat-a-Cake a route on which I have taken one of my favourite images, which is of Wiggins tentatively working his way up this feisty line with Alan belaying below. It didn’t make it into the guide which I was a little sad about. I’ve seen a number of people struggle on this route, the easier of the two Howsie had been eyeing up. I imagine that he was probably happy with his choice, as it required some serious focus and concentration keeping you on your toes (check out the smeary foothold) until you top out of the crack on the slick rounded slab:
When we first arrived Howsie had been talking up Sink or Swim the very exposed traverse that follows the horizontal fault at the top of the cave shown the background of this image. However, it was heating up and felt muggy, and so we plumped for two routes on the longest wall. There are three routes on this section and all of them are primo, sustained with good gear and great positions. Mikey was up and started up the classic Loose Lips, which starts easily and steadily steepens up becoming more technical with smaller and more spaced holds:
The backdrop for this section, the last before the cave, is spectacular. The weed on top of the large flat bommies clear visible in the crystal clear water. The steep wall with no routes was just starting to come into shade, but the rock would be hot and in the increasingly sticky weather would feel disgusting. A wall to explore in the shoulder season when the ocean is still calm but it is warm enough to avoid the cracks seeping or worse running with water. Meanwhile Mikey was making good progress, with bomber gear he was looking more confident:
I dashed up to the top to watch him enter the bottomless corner, that provides an exciting finale. The headwall is undercut by a good half meter and you have to fully commit with lots of space below you, and the gear tucked under the roof. He cranked down on the holds and got his right foot out on the wall, which gives a welcome edge. Then the left foot finds a good hold and you can relax a bit more but still need to stay focused until you exit the corner. As Mikey exited and I rapped down to join Howsie:
With no breeze the flies were a little on the friendly side, and hidden amongst them was the occasional mosquito. Fortunately they were not as thick as the flies and I only spied a couple, this one not in time to avoiding it having a last super on my blood. I’ve got a particular dislike for these creatures, which started after living in Ghana for two years is the late 1990s. During my time there I contracted malaria twice, and then once more as I brought the virus back to England in my bloodstream. Strangely before that time these critters never bothered me:
It was time to rap down one last time, Howsie was up and we had to even up the numbers. Behind you can see the strangely shaped limestone islands, their base gets eroded by the continual lapping of the ocean resulting in mushroom type features. A few months back some teenagers were spear fishing here and the vibrations of the distressed fish they speared attracted three bull sharks, which proceeded to circle them. They sought refuge on these limestone islands and had to wait to be rescued. Despite that tale I’m still keen to snorkel here:
For the last route of the morning I steered Howsie to Chickpoint, a narrowing crack line that ends with thin edges up a steep wall. It requires a clam approach to get to the top of the crack, which is where Howsie is at in this image. He somehow missed the best hold on this section, a nice in-cut pocket half way up the crack. Instead he lay-backed the narrow edge making the route a grade if not two harder. Eventually your path gets blocked by the roof, I’ve tried to go direct over the roof but have yet to manage it. Instead the route traverses right:
As he tiptoed under the roof he put his foot on a seemingly solid limestone feature, a large printer sized block fell away and hit the ramp below. The soft material exploded and showered Mikey in sand and whatever else was hidden in the strange material. Howsie didn’t come off and made his way to the end of the roof where a positive layback corner awaited him. The last few exposed moves saw him back in the sun ready to belay us two up the route. We both made use of the in-cut pocket and managed to completely avoid touching the exploding holds:
It was time to pack up and head out, on top of the crag with no respite from the sun we didn’t feel the need to hang about. We sorted the gear before shouldering the packs and making out way back to the car. It was then time to go our separate ways, but hopefully with the festive period coming up and a bit of time off I’ll get Mikey out again before he has to head back east. On the drive home the visibility was deteriorating, as smoke haze hung in the hot still air. It’s pretty amazing how in these conditions we still manage a great morning of climbing:
The last time I caught up with Kym was just under a year ago, it was not for lack of trying but each successive attempt to get down was thwarted one way or another. So after a long stint of mid to high thirty degree days I found myself driving down to Albany on Friday afternoon last week. The temperature was above 37 the whole journey until approximately 30km from Albany, and as I rolled into Kym’s driveway it was a mere twenty four degrees, bliss! I dumped my gear in the caravan and then caught up with Kym, Meg and the kids:
With three kids, Tessa, Claire and Beau, from five to less than a year old the mornings are pretty hectic in their house. All three kids are early risers and full of beans, in fact Beau doesn’t sleep much at all and even when he does it is only for an hour or two, even overnight. So not surprisingly our starts were not at the crack of dawn but we did get out at a reasonable time on the Saturday and headed for the Porongurup’s. Just our luck it was due to rain today, but we were both keen and decided to just get out there and face whatever was thrown at us:
I’ve only climbed at Gibraltar Rock, the biggest monolith in the Porongurup’s, once and that was more than nine years back as I don’t have a trip report from it. I recall the walk in and out being horrendous and I wasn’t looking forward to that. But things have changed, and I found out the last time I approached the crag in a dumb way. The fire break was wide and clear and when we got to the obvious stakes to mark the trail Kym went ahead just to make sure it was way to go. The track through the bush was easy to follow and soon we were at the base:
The reason for the track being so easy now is that a new route was put up nine years back (after my first and only trip here) which has a sensible amount of bolts. This has encouraged more people to come here to climb. Most of the routes are long, runout and have a serious feel to them. We were going to tackle a route that had a certain fear factor to it, but it had been recently rebolted and that encouraged us to give it a go. Surrounded by tall trees there was a calm feel to the place, it was cloudy but dry and the winds were light:
Pitch one was a long rope stretching romp, nothing too hard or scary but good fun. The route seemed to follow a strong natural line and this offered natural protection. The second pitch was the choice pitch, and seeing Kym had not done any trad climbing since my last trip it seemed only fair to give him the primo pitch. It is not to say he has not been climbing, he has done stacks of bouldering, and some really serious stuff. So he was strong and technically in good shape, the question was whether he had the stamina for the long routes:
Now being a good natural line up an otherwise solid lump of granite, meant that this is where the water would naturally flow. In fact without the water flowing down the line it probably wouldn’t exists. The recent hot week had made sure the climb was bone dry, but with more regular moisture collecting in the crack year round it was also full of moss. The start of the second pitch was a grovel up a body width peapod crack, with not much gear and plenty of moss that tumbled down as Kym knocked it off:
Eventually he exited the wide crack and was faced with the imposing steep finger crack. It has been a while since he has had to trust natural protection and you could tell he was nervous, which was compounded by the initial gnarly wide crack. So he took his time and as he got higher became more confident. The crack continued to steepen to a little overhanging and the line continued to get more technical. Smears for feet and long reaches to the next good hold, but not useable until you brushed the moss out, which kept tumbling down to me:
It was an epic 40m pitch, varied climbing and sustained. The finger crack was not as good as it looked from below and on occasion was no more than fingertip deep and flared. You had to layback this most of the way up smearing your feet on the left wall, occasionally finding a better bridging stance but ones that still made you work. Part way up the crack there was a bomber placement and some previous climber had left a wire there, it was not stuck and we could lift it out. It was however rusted so we left it for the next party (whenever that might be):
Pitch three was mine, and I was feeling pretty stuffed from that last one! This is where the bolts came into play, the crack had blanked out, but to the left was a rising flake feature. A blind and flared flake so no good for gear but OK to hang onto. It required a super thin traverse to get across and then some awesome moves heading up the flake. Kym had his phone and I had my camera and on occasion we seemed to take images at the same time. It did mean that there will be more images of me than usual:
After the middle two pitches the next three were far easier. Not quite a solo scramble as there were a couple of bolts for each 40m pitch just to make it that little bit sane. The hardest part was belaying, either giving out or taking in rope fast enough to keep up with the climber. We were well above the tree line and the huge trunks looked like matchsticks. It was still cloudy, but the rain was holding off. After six pitches we were on top, a quick drink and we were heading back down. Usually one big route here is enough but we wanted to bag another:
So after taking on and climbing Joint Venture (20) we eyed up Raven (15), this was the line that had made the place more appealing to the less adventurous climbers. Kym was involved in bolting this line and it was reputed to be the most protected line on the crag, with bolts being spaced at approx. 4m intervals. The good thing about more climbers coming here was the track was in better condition, and during a recent rescue (for a stranded hiker) the emergency services like it so much that they GPS’d it and have put funds aside to maintain the track:
Raven was equally long but only had five pitches. It started up a fun crack in which a skink was hiding. I sat there patiently as it checked me out and decided it was best to move on. After exiting the crack it proceeded to climb head first down the line I had just come up, making me feel just a little inadequate in my climbing capability! The climbing was fun, consistent and with no nasty surprises. With a much reduced grade to our first route the pitch was over quickly, not that I was trying to rush things:
Kym followed up just as quick and didn’t even bother to hand the backpack over, as we had on the more serious line. We also only had to carry quick draws, no need for natural protection on this line. All these little things speeded the changeovers up and we moved on, but not without plenty of images being taken. In fact we were both guilty of probably a few too many selfie images, and I could almost make up an entire email of them! The belays were comfy and well placed, allowing us to sit back and enjoy the scenery:
To the north I could see the Stirling Ranges, a place that in my mind is even more serious than here. Loose rock, runout routes, hard route finding and longer lines that really can take all day to get to, climb, and get off. There were some bushfires raging in the national park and so the peaks were only just visible, being mostly obscured in smoke. It didn’t take long for Kym to get to the end of pitch two, which is located in a cave. To the south we could see darkening clouds and wondered whether we should sit it out, but I decided against that idea:
I exited the cave to the right and then it was the crux move of the climb to get established above the overlap. Then it was back to the same consistent climbing that we were getting used too. The wind was picking up significantly, so much in fact it was soon howling and whistling past us. Being a relatively easy grade route the wind didn’t put me off, in fact it invigorated and even heightened the experience. It slowed me down a bit but that was also in part due to maybe tiring a little, after all we had already climbed 300m:
Kym followed me with the wind getting stronger, the slings were being blown horizontal and as I coiled the rope, as he climbed, that too was being blown horizontal. You can probably tell that I actually enjoy these conditions, and it seemed Kym was having a ball too! He led up the next pitch and as I followed up and about half way up the temperature plummeted by probably ten degrees and it felt cold. We knew what was coming so I quickly went past him and finished of the last pitch. There were two parties at or near the top and they intended to abseil down:
We advised them against it, the rope drag would be heightened when the rain hit but they didn’t listen. So we walked back down, and got there way before they were even in sight. It was time for some food, when suddenly we could hear rocks cutting through the air and we were in the firing line of hand sized flakes that they had knocked off the top. The sound was incredible and as Kym ran for cover I watched them come down to avoid running into their path. The choice was made to shoulder our pack and start the walk out, as the rain fell in earnest:
The black slab that Kym is standing on was treacherous and we took a few tumbles getting down it, but after having avoided the deadly rock fall we were in high spirits and took the falls in our stride. Looking back up at the mighty monolith of Gibraltar Rock, we didn’t think the two parties that were now abseiling down in pouring rain would be in the same high spirits. It looked miserable up there and we wondered if we should stick around to help them out, but both agreed it was safer for us not to be underneath them. So we turned and carried on walking:
The next day it rained in the morning, but we remained hopeful. Jon was coming round at 8am and we were off to the spectacular West Cape Howe. It’s a mission to get in there with a sandy track, which in dry conditions can get pretty difficult to navigate. The morning rain had however helped and we got in with ease, and we were soon standing on the precipice looking down at the mighty cliffs that soar straight out the ocean. Today however we were not climbing on these more frequented cliffs, and instead kept driving further south along the headland:
Kym and I were taken to Convicts Corner, which has a couple of old routes in the currently WA guide book, but is rarely visited. Jon and others had visited the area some five odd years back and found/established a bunch of new lines, some trad and some they bolted. Since then they had never come back and so the lines had remained untouched. Without the local knowledge the place would not have been easy to find, it not only was hidden by bush but also required an abseil to get access to the upper shelf:
At the shelf we were greeted by a huge rock foot, I love finding these features and am fascinated at how they came to be. This one really does look like a proper sole in so many ways. It was also the gateway to the delights of our days climbing. The morning the rain had passed, but it was still cloudy and there was a bit of a breeze. That would not only help dry any moisture left on the rock but also keep the flies at bay, so conditions were looking good. After we had all rapped own it was time to set up base camp:
There was a perfect flat and shaded shelf that had an amazing view out over the Southern Ocean. The swell was low and so there was no spray in the air, the clouds started to split into a mosaic allowing for both shade and just a bit of sun to keep us warm. It was looking likely to be a great day at West Cape Howe! It does however have to be said that this place can feel very intimidating, and having played on our relatively safe and small local cliffs for so long it took me a little while to desensitise to the more extreme conditions of this place:
We rapped down under Jon’s instructions to bag the second ascent of one of their new lines. Deciding to start sensibly and then see where we ended up, this line started from a shelf part way down the wall. Below was a huge rock shelf, and we wanted to check out the conditions to see just how high up the small swell of the day would wash onto that before we decided to go all the way down. Keen to climb I started the day with Beggars Banquet, a pleasant and direct grade 15. No nasty surprises just nice consistent climbing back up to where we came:
We made use for the shelf to start the first three climbs, the shelf below was getting a fair bit of action and so we decided that we would play it safe. In the image above you will see a super impressive wall behind Kym, this is as yet and amazingly untouched wall. It stood out as an stunning and completely natural line, which while a bit zig-zagging took in some incredible territory. Today was not the day for that wall, but should we return Kym and I are already frothing over it and have decided we would attempt a ground up full trad first ascent:
The second line was Stress Test and indeed testy at grade 21. The initial slab off the belay had a couple of thin blind seams, with just enough of an edge to curl the tips of your fingers round and rotate a few millimetres of the edge of our climbing shoes onto. It was super thin and balancy. The crux move needing full control and core strength, letting go with both hands and going for a hold that really isn’t a hold. After that the pace eased into a perfect hand jam crack, today I had to full on jam on some lines and I have the scars to prove it:
The third line was a grade 16 that took an exposed traverse of the right hand end of the shelf, you step across nothing with 20m of air to the deep blue below. By now I was getting used to the situation and less worried, allowing me to relax into the climbing and enjoy the sound of the waves, coolness of the wind and touch of the rock. West Cape Howe is a very special place and has so much potential for new routes. If I lived closer I do believe that this would be my Swanage, which was my favourite place to climb in England and is equally intimidating:
The upper section of the third line, which we still do not know the name off, comprised a rounded rib with rock textured like a reptiles back. The scales had brown surfaces, but in-between the scales were groves etched into the black granite that lay beneath. The holds comprised these rounded groves. It really did flow and was such fun, the only shame being that this section didn’t go for the full length of the route. Kym followed up equally impressed with the rock texture, as the ocean boiled beneath him:
Next up was one of the longer routes here, it started from the base of the crag but with the shelf being wave washed today we started from a shelf and accessed it via a fine crack that started wide and got progressively narrower. It was pretty funny that when I rapped down to Kym, as he was setting up the trad belay, I forgot to bring the lead ropes down. It was a good job that Jon was with us and he saved the day, and me from having to prussic 40’ish meters back up. Soon enough Kym was on his way, as the sun poked over the top of the cliff:
The 40m line was insanely good, the left rising crack narrowed and became more and more technical before spitting you out onto a steepening slab that went to full vertical. Here horizontal breaks provided foot and hand holds that got smaller and more spaced the higher you got. Kym took his time lapping up the moves and position, and so it was that we put up an alternative start to the bottom half of Lab Rat, grade 18. Kym is yet to name the new climb, but the grade remains the same. Very cool indeed:
Kym was also stoked, and rightly so. Considering he last climbed trad a year ago and has been pinching pebbles since then. The daunting wall behind him still called out to us but we were starting to tire and the thought of such a long unknown route with two roofs to tackle was too much for us. Instead we had a bit to eat and after that left Jon to play on the rap line on the routes we had just climbed. We were heading to another wall, a line that again had only had the first ascent done and not been touched since:
When we first came down Jon had said this was the line to bag, and he reckoned it was the best grade 15 in WA. It looked impressive, but to do it justice I had decided to get a few climbs under my belt to get used to the atmosphere and climbing style. Every new place has its own peculiarities including the protection, holds and moves. Also as the day wore on this route kept coming up, and each time it did the grade changed. From 15 to 17, then it was an 18 or 19, maybe it was harder but Jon’s memory was fuzzy and so there was only one way to find out:
Glen the micro-cams came in very handy both on Saturday and even more so today. This line that currently has two names of Fingerlocks and The Wooden Box ascends a 30m pillar with a crack that splits it up the middle almost to the top but not quite. The crack starts wide and narrows, and as it narrows becomes less deep. The gear starts with a number 2 camalot and goes all the way down the smallest micro-cam. It has rests being slight off vertical but they get more tenuous as you get higher, and you need to trust smeary holds with great friction:
The climb requires hands down to finger locks, and it gets tricky when the crack is too narrow to even get a toe in. Then you have to rely on full smears and at one point I had to use a finger ring lock with full vengeance, the first crux. Kym was keen for me to keep an eye on him on this one, but I took a bunch of sneaky images as he inched his way up the line. It has one bolt at the top where the seams just won’t take any gear but other than that it was full trad. A wicked line that kept me on my toes the whole way up:
At the position below I was stumped for ages, eventually piking out right using features near the arête. I kept looking back and felt like I had cheated, so decided to reverse the moves to get back to the stance that Kym is at. Somehow I pulled them off and was then faced with again trying to go direct. I placed a worthless tri-cam and procrastinated for even longer looking at how bad it was, before eventually summing up the guts to smear my feet and pull on the small holds hoping for a better hold above, which thankfully was good enough to pull through with:
I was floating as I belayed Kym up, relishing the route I’d just climbed and it is fair to say that is one of the best lines I have climbed. I pondered the grade, comparing it to the other lines we had just done but also the more recent routes I’ve climbed at Willyabrup and Esperance. Even at grade 19 I reckon people would call it a sandbag, but that is the grade I’d plump for. Better still Jon had been watching and was very pleased when I went direct, on the first ascent they had gone right. So both Kym and I sent a first ascent even if they were both variants:
So as per the Cambridge dictionary definition of “pièce de résistance”, I feel like we had left till last the best and most important or exciting thing, often the last in a series of things. We were pretty toasted and ready to haul ourselves back up the rap line. But before we passed the sacred gates that showed the hidden path through the bush, we scrambled along the top of the cliff to get a good look at the cliffs we had just climbed, as well as the most southern headland of Australia, shown above, with still soooo much new route potential:
Kym drove us out, the warm day had dried any moisture that was in the sand and it had become soft and fluffy. With deflated tyres, 4WD, locked diffs and a bit of speed and high revs Kym sailed over the track until we came across this sight. The poor guy had blown his diff and was trying to get out in 2WD, a hopeless struggle! So we ended up literally pushing his car up the last 50 odd meters of hill as he revved the guts out of it inching ever so slowly along. After that hill he must have managed to get through as we didn’t see him again:
It was my third and last night at Kym and Meg’s place, where the hospitality is top notch. After clearing the days toys away, sorting through and sharing images and having a good feed we hit the sack. I was up early but hung about at least until the kids had got up so I could say a proper good bye, while Meg was enjoying a well-deserved lie in after allowing me to drag (hardly) Kym out for two solid days climbing. By 6:30 I was in the car and pulling out of the driveway, like I said their kids get up early although this morning Tessa had had a lie in:
On the road back I dodged monitor lizards and more birds than I could count including galahs, ring necks, crested pigeons, magpies, corellas, rosellas and even wedge tailed eagles. Missing them all as I watched the landscape change from the dramatic far off Porongurup’s and Stirling Ranges, which were still on fire; wide paddocks with hay bales ready to be collected, as I skirted the wheat and wool belt; and finally state forest. As I passed Boyanup only half an hour from home I popped in to surprise Lisa while she was at school and had a cuppa with her:
I really think I need to pop down to Albany to see Kym and his family, plus get just a little climbing in, a bit more often than once a year.
Over the last week and bit I have had a few dips in our local waters and found a few gems. I’ve been a bit busy and also had a few days away climbing so thought I would provide you with a short but worthy collection of the best sights. And what better way to kick off the proceedings than with a real star, an orange mosaic sea star. Now for those who really do read these emails in the last one I call a similar looking sea star a biscuit sea star, it seems those common names are interchangeable (although it depends on who you ask) but who cares this one was a beauty:
I spied quite a few of them on this particular day and what I noted more than before was the spilt at the end of their arms, it almost looks like a mouth and from it protrude searching almost translucent tentacles. The tube like feet on the underside of the sea star are used for both movement and getting food to its mouth, while I understand that the ones at the end of the arms are like noses that respond to physical or chemical stimuli and help the sea star find food. I’ve yet to figure out what the mouth like opening and small hole on top of each arm is for:
I’ve had fun looking through the kelp. I’ve learnt to spend my time staying still and occasionally duck diving and creeping up on these patches. Sometimes I find small creatures while other times I don’t need to duck dive as some fish just sit there and watch my every move, such as this Brown Spotted Wrasse. Like the sea star this one also goes by several common names including an Orange Spotted Wrasse. There are not many dives that I don’t see these guys and something I didn’t know was that they change sex from female to male during their life:
Another common find is the Western Striped Cardinal Fish, it lurks in amongst the weed and nooks and crannies of the limestone reef. I usually find these small fish by themselves, they don’t seem to be in shoals and they are very skittish and quick to dart for cover. That said it doesn’t take them too long to become brave again and they poke their head out to see if I am still about. I need to sneak up on them if I really want to have a good look, and on this occasion managed to get not a bad shot before my lungs needed air:
Now while this image seems a little murky I simply had to include it, I spied the pencil sea urchin as the weed swayed gently back and forth. Then popping down for a closer inspection and sneaky image I managed to take the snap just as a McCulloch’s Scalyfin popped it’s head out of the little cave. These fish and very striking with their fluorescent blue dotted lines, and are one of the damselfish. The fluorescent colours indicate that this is a juvenile, as the adults loose the striking visual effects and become mostly black:
We have had an early and hot start to summer. Plenty of still balmy mornings with the mercury already in the mind twenties by 8 or 9 and not a breeze to be felt. The ocean is perfectly flat in these conditions but unfortunately I’m either travelling to or already at work, and by the time I’m back home the wind has usually come in and the swell and waves start to pick up. If I do get down when it is like this you can immediately tell if there are any shoals of fish in the shallows by the ripple effect that can be seen in this image:
In the crystal clear water I came across another urchin, this time it was quite literally stuck to the leafs of the kelp. When I first saw it, it was almost completely wrapped in kelp. I kept coming back to the same spot and each time it had moved position. Instead of spines it had lots of tentacles like the underside of a sea star. They were continually searching out looking for something to sucker onto. It is called a Collector Urchin, and they will often be found with small rocks, shells, debris or anything else it can get to use for protection or camouflage:
On a day that was not quite as clear, and just when I thought there would be nothing to write home about I came across a very stunning looking fish, this one was probably about a foot long and maybe a tad more. I immediately took a snap from the surface and have cropped the image for you. As soon as I duck dived to get a closer inspection the fish was gone, I did find it again but yet again it darted off like a flash and the image I got is even more blurry. It is a Long-snout Boarfish, another solitary fish and one that I really hope to find again one day:
Just before my weekend away climbing Lisa and I went down after work one day and the water didn’t look too bad, but was a bit choppy on top. All those jelly fish that were around before seemed to be disappearing, so I wondered what I might find in the less that ideal conditions. Then I came across this very colourful anemone, I’m guessing it is a Tube Anemone but I cannot find anything online that looks like it. It is also possible that it is a Bead Anemone, as it looks like it has the blobby body to retract in unlike other Tube Anemones I’ve seen:
On that last dive and as I made my way back to the beach I came across a shoal of whitebait. So did a bit of duck diving and they erratically shot this way and that in what looked like organised chaos, and would no doubt have made that ripple effect on the surface if it had not been quite so choppy. That was the last dive from which I have pulled this emails images from so I hope you enjoyed the collection of hits, which some of you may remember was a great way to get a compilation of the stars on 45 when vinyl was the way to go:
After a great Saturday morning climbing, the mercury was creeping up to 30 as I got home. The trees swayed and the wind was up, so I guessed that a snorkel to cool down would be out of the question. However, I was wrong. There was not a stir on the flat waters off the beach, no waves and no swell. Not only that but the water looked clear, I could see the sand without any murkiness floating in the water, so my hopes were up. However, before I could head out I needed to get home clear my climbing gear away and at least say hello to Lisa:
There are not heaps of images in this email, which might indicate that I didn’t see much. But there was lots to see and the conditions were perfect. Today I just didn’t fancy chasing the fish round trying to get that perfect image. I was content with bobbing out on the surface for most of the time just taking in the amazing colours and light, and just enjoying seeing the life dart this way and that but mostly scamper for cover as they saw me nearing them. Straight off the beach a large school of small fish circled me and followed me for a while as I went out:
I kept seeing jelly fish, not the hideous stingers that are sure to arrive just in time for the school holidays when all the tourists rock up and invade the beach, but gentle jelly looking creatures. You can feel them as they slip along your body as you swim along. I would normally try to avoid disturbing them but the ocean was full of them, it was quite literally a jelly soup out there. I tried to capture a few close up but they are so translucent that the camera’s auto focus doesn’t pick them up:
With it being so clear the sunlight had an unobstructed journey through the water and bounced off, seemingly dancing, on the gently swaying weeds. In these conditions just sitting there watching the kelp is an amazingly calming experience. I know there are many creatures hidden away in there but today there was no sense of need to search them out. The kelp gentle swaying with jelly fish all around was enough. I spied leather jackets, box fish, the biggest globe fish I have seen and even the odd squid keeping a healthy distance from me:
I did duck dive a few times to see what was round. Sea stars, sand gobblers, hermit crabs tucked in their rented shells and even a crab that very quickly scuttled under a rock shelf. I also found and was intrigued by a couple of corals that were coated in tiny black things. The only way I can describe them is they looked like tadpoles, a bulbous head and skinny tail, which seemed to be what was sticking them to the coral. I found quite a few like this and can only assume these are eggs, if these conditions continue it’s going to be a good snorkelling season:
I was starting to feel cold, I don’t wear a wetsuit on some boardies. I can last about 45min in the water before I need to get out and it felt like I was getting close to that point. I was not going to rush back to the shore so took my time. Swimming over the last rocky reef with kelp I spied someone looking back at me. I stayed here for a while and this fish would poke it’s head out and watch me then, as if in a seductive dance slowly come out and swish about above the weed before going back in, and then repeat the exercise:
This continued for quite a few rounds, and I daren’t duck dive in case I scared him away. Instead I enjoyed it from above, the water was fairly shallow here and with the clarity I had a perfectly good view from above. I don’t recall seeing this fish before, so was keen to identify it and am pretty sure it is a Herring Cale, the striking almost glowing blue streak in the tail giving it away. Eventually I had to keep moving, so I made my way back over the sands to the beach where the waters warmed up. Tomorrow promises to be just as good, I’ve got my fingers crossed:
Last weekend I bailed on a trip out, mostly due to having work done at our house but also due to not feeling that great. It had been a busy few weeks and life stuff had simply got in the way of climbing, which for me is pretty unusual. Lisa and I tend to cram stacks in during the week and attempt to keep our weekends as free as possible for the fun stuff, but sometimes it just doesn’t work out that way. This weekend I was keen to get out and the conditions were looking good, Rongy jumped at the chance and Craig was a last minute straggler:
We plumped for Wilyabrup, there was some discussion going on with Glen and Lou. However, they seemed content with a later start, somewhere more cruisy, and were also eyeing up proximity to a brewery for an after climb beer! So while they were probably fast asleep we were stood on top of the cliffs at just past 5:30 on Saturday, watching the dolphins seemingly playing dangerously close to the reef and risking getting stuck. There was one car in the carpark already but as made our way down it was evident that we were the first climbers of the day:
We parked our gear in the usual place under the capping roof near the classic of Hope. In the path lay a very big rock, and we were umming and ahhing about where it had come from. It had the obvious signs of impacts so it had come from above, but there were no obvious rock scars on the face above of a freshly fallen block that stuck out. The only possibility that we could see was a niche on Glory and so it was that Craig put forward that he would climb Glory to see if we could find out. However he was not all that keen on the first lead:
Now we would normally start a day relatively sensibly, by warming up and then increasing the pace as we went. But I was keen to jump on a few things that I haven’t climbed in a while and so we set ourselves that task. Thinking about the criteria I headed for the Unbolted and the Beautiful. At grade 16 this probably is not that bad a grade, but some would no doubt question the warm up nature of this route. It’s a little bit of a sand bag but having put it up I was fully prepared for the delights it had on offer, taking my time and hanging on holds to stretch out:
Once we were all up we Craig was probably getting his head into gear for Glory, a much more sensible warm up climb. However, as we sorted the gear and coiled the rope I noticed the tell-tell signs at the top of Glory, clearly someone had rolled a rock along the top and pushed it over the edge. We looked down and it was pretty clear that is where the rock had come from, you really have to question the sense in what they had done. But more importantly it meant Craig didn’t need to climb Glory simply to find out where the rock came from:
So it was that we found ourselves, after a bit of coaxing from Rongy and myself at the base of Fat Chance. Last weekend Howsie had put the word out that he was bring a few newbies out to throw a couple of lines down and give them a go. Craig joined them, and more for him than them he threw a rope down Fat Chance for a play. As such he had done a couple of laps on this fine route just recently and was feeling like he might be able to pull off a lead. He also has two distinct advantages over us mere mortals and made the route look like a cake walk:
His first advantage is reach, whist not overall tall and just a smidge taller than myself he has a crazy ape index that can give him several inches greater reach. Obviously this results in him bypassing tricky sections by simply getting the next hold. Next is his mechanic forearms, working on forklifts day in day out he has remarkable grip strength and so can hold onto things that others struggle on. Now while he was keeping pace with Rongy and I today, keep in mind that he has only been out climbing a handful of times this year and does no training:
The great thing about climbing with three is that I got to bring my rap rope to allow me to check out a few different camera angles. It hadn’t been used for the first or second route, but I carried it up on this one as the next line would offer some opportunities. For Craig’s route I was able to use some long slings and simple hang off them over the edge of where Rongy is sat as he watched me struggle a bit on this route. While Glen didn’t join us today I thought he would appreciate this image of the first placement of my newly purchased small cams:
When Rongy first jumped in to say he was keen he had two places in mind, Smiths Beach or Willies. The first purely because we don’t go there very often, as it is pretty damn scary, and the second as he (and I) both had unfinished business here from our last trip. So it seemed only natural after Craig had jumped the grade up to 20 with Fat Chance, that Rongy take on Stormbringer at 22. He knew what to expect and needed to get the bottom section clean but also in an efficient way to conserve his energy for the middle section:
It was not to be, and he took a couple of falls on the lower section and eventually worked out a new approach to make the long reach up to the side pull. It looked powerful but he was happy with it, and so he pondered going back down to get the whole route clean. So he started from the deck and again struggled to get this move in one hit. This time he didn’t go back down and made his way to the ledge beneath the next steep wall. While there is a ledge it provides very little comfort or rest, as the wall above leans out to push you back:
Worse still the holds are rounded and marginal, that is the case from the very first holds until some way past the third bolt. So it is a good six meters of very steep, sustained climbing on insecure holds for both your hands and feet! He was way too pumped from the bottom section and ended up taking some good falls giving it everything he had. Finally he got to the last third of the climb, here it turns to trad and easies off. You just don’t realise it, as by the time you get there your arms are screaming with pain:
I was next up and tried the bottom Rongy’s way coming off spectacularly and with rope stretch brushing the ground as I swung down. So I tried to recall what I did last time, which seemed so easy. Second attempt and I worked out what I had done, much easier and more secure. I don’t mind admitting that I struggled on the middle wall, I had to rest up and on the second attempt just went for it, slipping off the last few holds. I was climbing in a style that would not have got up there on lead! Craig however seemed to float his way up this route without a fault… um:
Now there was no way we could keep inching up the grade, forearms were starting to feel it. I instead continued on Rongy’s unfinished business approach so went for Mid-Wall Crisis, knocking a couple of grades off to come down to 20. Craig hung off the rap and so I took a bit more time to rest up until he was in position. This line seemed not to offer too many difficulties, or so it seemed both from below and Rongy and my memory. My failing last time was to climb it after five pretty full on routes and to have missed a crucial hold that I now know off:
Sure enough while there were some long reaches and moves of trust, but things flowed. Then came the traverse and I found myself hanging on small hand and foot holds, some very delicate moves were required, and while there was a thank god hold in sight, it was several moves away still. I’m not sure how I held on but I did and managed a clean ascent, and was very pleased. Even more so when Craig and then Rongy who also both managed to climb it clean rated the route but also reckoned it was worthy of the grade:
Craig was probably tiring but we convinced him to keep the charge going, even if the pace was slipping a little. With talked about routes, and avoiding the obvious Glory, came up with two options Fishing With Dynamite at 19 or Blubber Boy at 18. Two very contrasting routes one a steep wall and one a slab, one fully bolted the other all trad. He went for the latter, which I found interesting. My thinking being the insecure nature and small gear, while being a grade less, made Blubber Boy mess with your head way more on lead… and so it did:
The middle section is a slick slab with micro wires for gear and even they are hard to place and a little more spaced than you would like. This really played on Craig’s mind but he eventually made his way up and we know the wire placements, while small, were good as he rested on a couple. While we were keen on routes we hadn’t done too often, Rongy and I had climbed this last time, but his thinking was that this would only be his second time on the route and secretly he is probably building up his confidence to take the floppy end on this line next time:
Craig kept his cool and finally got the reward of the upper section, bigger holds more gear and a light at the end of the tunnel. It was a top effort after the first four routes which all provided a more than adequate strength sapping experience. Rongy lapped up the line, inspecting the gear as he went and probably storing important beta in his memory for when he leads this one. I then followed up and we pulled the rap line to move on for one last climb. An even six lines with two leads each seemed a nice way to finish the morning:
So after all Craig’s dreams of being able to climb Glory as one of his leads, Rongy plumped for that very line. This was in part due to the morning wearing on, this way we could dump a heap of gear at the top of the line to save hauling it up, and we could climb with our packs to avoid the walk back up the steps. All very worthy points and so it was he set off with just my tri-cams and slings. The route was in full sun and it was biting, we wondered if Lou and Glen had made it out and what time. They don’t seem to mind climbing in the heat and sun but it’s not for me:
I came second cleaning the gear and checking for our friendly carpet python. No joy he was not around, and as Rongy said it would have been too hot for him in the sun by this time of the day. As I made my way to the last wall below the top the evidence of the rock being pushed off kept coming. The holds were all sandy and dirty, but we pulled off the last few moves and once all atop packed up walking out by midday. All feeling very good about the morning we felt like we deserved a treat so stopped in at Carbunup for an ice-cream on the way home:
Not put off by my last venture off Peppy I went back in yesterday. While the ocean looked deceptively calm, there was still a underlying swell, resulting in the water being swished back and forth. All that turbulence brings with it a stirring of the pot and as such any loose weed, and of course the fine sediments, get mobilised in the water. That said it wasn’t too bad visibility wise so I persisted. I scanned the pocketed limestone reef, which provide a haven for the Purple Urchin. This is the most common urchin in the area, yet strangely they are not all purple:
There are a few favourite spots for me to go, as I know where fish like to hide away in caves in the reef. At one I found a Shaw’s Cowfish, after a couple of duck dives this one didn’t swim off to the safety of the nooks and crannies. It did however turn it’s body to look you in the eye, with just one of its eyes. This results in it being hard to get a nice side on image, but eventually it obliged resulting in me being able to leave it alone. At this location there is another fish I see regularly that darts for cover, one day I hope to get an image of that one so I can identify it:
On this dive I finally sussed out a trick to keeping my googles from misting up that works (for me). I’ve tried many approaches, and have finally realised that toothpaste is the go… as long as you don’t wipe it on or off with your fingers. The grease on your fingers for some reason results in the mask misting up. So with clear goggles the slightly disturbed conditions didn’t put me off as much as usual. Eventually however it was time to head back in, as I was cooling down, and it was in the wide open sandy area that I came across this Western Smooth Boxfish:
I make an effort to spend some time in the wide sandy patches between the reef and beach, you never know what you’ll come across and have seen some amazing sights. Today other than the boxfish there was not much to see. However, as I swam along the shoreline I noticed how the wavy pattern in the sand, which usually runs or near parallel to the shore, changed. There was a distinct patch some 20-30m wide where the wavy pattern was much larger and more pronounced. There was any obvious reason for this that I could figure out:
Today instead of a morning snorkel I spent half the day in the garden clearing the passion fruit off the shed. Sounds like a small job, but it was not and it took us the whole morning. I’m glad it was an early start as we avoided the heat of the day, and by midday I was ready to jump in the water regardless of what it was like out there. The ocean looked a little wavy but that was fine I just needed to cool off. Once out over the reef I was very pleasantly surprised to find clear waters and great visibility:
When the visibility is like this I’m more comfortable going out further and checking new places. I scoured the reef and found stacks of sea stars but my favourite one has to be the Biscuit Sea Star, shown above. As well as reef the coast has healthy patches of sea grass and I scoured that too. Sea grass is an important barometer of the condition of the bay, supporting a vast array of sea life such as this Shore Crab. While the clarity of this image is not great, belying my claim of clear conditions, it is a rare sight for me to see crabs feasting like this so I had to include it:
As I checked out the unfamiliar territory, with a mask that wasn’t misting up and clear waters, I spied what is commonly referred to as a Sea Cucumber. They are in fact Sand Gobblers, for the very obvious reason. A bit like a worm, as they crawl around on the sea floor, they take in the soil that lies in front of them digesting the rich organic film that coats the sand. I often see the characteristic trail of deposited sand in the smaller sandy patches in-between reefs and weed, but rarely do I see these fells out in the open as they feast:
As I bobbed about in the increasingly rough surface, the waters remained clear below and I spied another Sea Cucumber tucking against an open crevice. I’m going to take a stab in the dark, well a guess informed by Google, and say that these were Herrmann’s Sea Cucumber’s. I had an incline that some species are a delicacy in various countries, and assuming I have identified it correctly this species is also referred to as curryfish. Being harvested commercially in some areas such as Indonesia and used for soups:
Google also tells me that this species was originally not harvested because the flesh would easily disintegrate, but modern processing methods have overcome that making them a high value product. The field guide, which I check out these finds in, suggests further that the leathery skin is transformed into a gelatinous concoction during cooking. Sounds delightful! I kept finding more and more Sea Cucumbers, but am pleased to say that I took only photos leaving them in place. So if we do offer you as summer salad it won’t contain these cucumbers:
Sandbagged 