Having just been back to the UK for a quick one week visit to help sort through belongings, go on tip runs, pack boxes and dismantle furniture at my folks place, where they have lived for 40 years I still had a couple of days before I was due to go back to work. So what better way to get over my jetlag by going climbing:
It has been a fair while since I have managed to get Steve out for a climb. Seeing he was not working on Tuesday I picked him up after dropping Elseya off at College and we headed for Welly Dam. Key reasons for choosing this place being that there is no walk-in, it was near Bunbury, and of course we both love the routes here:
Seeing Steve is not climbing fit, or so he would profess, we interspersed the session with a couple of tea breaks. Allowing us to prepare for the next round but also to catch up on life. We had picked a picture perfect day… the rock was in great condition, humidity was low, the sky was blue and the temperature was lovely:
Considering Steve has not been out for a long time we were doing pretty well. We were being sensible and not pushing the grades, knocking off Murky Corner, BBQ and then one of Steve’s favourite routes Raging Torrent. The route has been the debate of so many people about being a sand bag and scary due to a high first bolt, so it is surprising that Steve loves it so:
He was so excited about going up that route that he forgot to take his belay device up, a kid in a candy store jumps to mind. Pocket Knife was next and it was on that one that the cracks started to appear. He made more of meal than needed at the start, but then composed himself before climbing the exciting flake and corner gracefully:
In view of feeling so good today Steve then decided he’d like to take on Savage Sausage Sniffer. It was warming up and the tops were off. The start this time posed no problem, and even at the start of the great quartz layback he was climbing in a powerful style and turned around and gleefully said “I’m feeling so strong” and “my forearms are recovering so quickly”:
It was literally 30 seconds later that his arms and forearms gave in and he dogged his was past the quartz band before managing to make the final moves up the bulge and headwall more cleanly. Definitely time for that second cuppa, during which the red tailed cockatoos flew by. Then to round up the numbers he had just enough energy to slap for the last hold on B Young:
Now you may have noticed that Steve was on second every time, he was being careful in view that he was on drugs, 24-7 chemo to be precise. Steve’s attitude has been to enjoy every day to the full. Also exercise has been proven to increase the ability to beat cancer, so I was pleased to have helped on that front. On a positive note the treatment is going really well:
Seeing I had Wednesday off as well, and the fact that our power company had decided to undertake critical maintenance work in our neck of the woods on that day, I had no choice but to go out. So I headed down to Cosy Corner. The opposite direction to Elseya’s college but Lisa had kindly offered to take her in, so we all left home at 8’ish but in opposite directions:
This time I was going solo and had in mind to knock off, as usual, six routes climbing each one twice. I had already decided on which lines to pick off, being the areas that Glen and I had not got too when we came last (and he broke his foot). I wanted to repeat a few of the lines I have been involved in putting up over years to see if they were as good as I thought they were:
A strong north easterly was blowing, but once over the edge I was shielded from the wind. The swell wasn’t too bad and so I could start every route from low down, occasionally feeling a bit of spray around my feet as the waves rolled up the wall. I started on two lines that Howsie and I had put up in late 2016, named Three Little Birds and Away from the Nest:
It was then time for the highest wall. Starting on Indecision, which Dan and I put up in mid-2015. Next up were two routes from way before my time, the deserved crag classic Loose Lips and Chick Point. The second being a route that doesn’t get as much attention as it should. The last line of the day was Escape Hatch, which Craig and I put up on my first visit here in mid-2006:
I was pleased to find all of the lines were really good. They were also in great condition, while winter should have set there was no seepage and not a damp patch to be seen. Before heading to the car to make a cuppa I checked out a small wall that I have often wondered about. On inspection I reckon there may be a couple more line to be had… maybe next time:
Safe to say I was over my jetlag and it was back to work on Thursday, which was also the day that winter finally hit… I doubt the crags will be in as good condition now so had timed my two days out perfectly.
Howsie and I made a hit list of crags to visit some two or was it three years back, the optimistic intention back then being to knock them off over the course of a year. Yesterday we had a big day out to tick one more of the list and at the rate we are going it’ll probably still be another year or two before we get to all of them. So in the dark of night we found ourselves on the road north heading to Perth, after probably not quite enough sleep:
We managed to negotiate the windy roads and many junctions that took us from the Roe Highway to the Darlington Estate with only one wrong turn. As such based on the estimation of travel time we were, as planned, walking in at first light. Parking off the narrow road was limited and there were already two cars there. As such we were a little surprised not to see anyone else and having the crag to ourselves, not that we were complaining about that:
It was about 45min to walk to the crag, maybe in part due to checking our location numerous times to make sure we were on the right path. A valley opened up to our east with a creekline that carved a progressively deeper valley the further south we wandered. Our eyes kept scanning the side of the track for the cairn that all available guides had mentioned. It was easy to see how people miss it as we only saw it went we looked back up the track:
Our destination today was the Darlington Boulders, not to be confused with the historic Darlington Boulders in the North Yorkshire, England. They finally started to appear after we descended down the side of the valley. The goat track eventually took us to a clearing were we set up ready for action. It was a cool crisp morning, but not too cold and the morning sun was on the face that we had decided to start the days adventures:
These boulders are stated to typify Perth climbing, so with having visited a few locations now you’d think we were prepared for the hard-as-nails granite. The main features on the slabs were cracks, many of which were shallow, flared and blind with crystals on every surface. This made placing gear tricky and while small wires were the go, and they were not always inspiring. This didn’t put us off and we soon ticked Fryaway and Andy Pandy (images above):
Next up was Pogue Mahone, a feisty bouldery start finally allowed Howsie to fiddle a couple of those very non-reassuring wires into a horizontal break. He then had to tentatively pad his way up the slab until he was above the wires, which is when we clipped the first bolt of the day. Much as it would be a nice idea to stick to trad, it would be very limiting here. We had both scoured the guide and had an idea of what we wanted to climb and so far we were on track:
The next and final line up the slab seemed to be severely over-graded. It didn’t take long to work past the initial and very cool bouldery start, then the middle of the slab was as it looked a cake walk. It was not until I had to make the moves over the final bulge that things got interesting, and I really wanted some good gear. With a statement that Steve had recently circulated round our group I found myself placing four wires to protect the last few moves:
The only one I had confidence in was the one below, the others comprised a half wire and two of my smallest RPs. It was not very reassuring as I would take a two plus meter fall on them if I didn’t manage the chicken wing moves up the very shallow seam while padding my feet on the flat slab, relying on nothing by friction. The rock certainly provided lots of friction, and it was a case of getting used to a style of climbing that we really don’t encounter in the South West:
After Teddy, it was time to hit a Fist Full of Friends. It was for this and one other route that we had brought as much gear as we had. A rare opportunity of a fist sized jam crack, that promised to chew up lots of cams of a similar size. So we had come prepared with a double set of cams, as well as hexes. Much as the line looked stellar but I was happy to give Howsie the lead, as I do get out a lot more and I know there are some fine jam crack awaiting me on the south coast:
The start proved to be everything we had hoped. Great deep jamming on solid rock. We were wondering if the course granite would rip our hands and forearms. Strangely however all of the jamming proved to be very secure and comfortable, and that comes from two people who really are not that good at jamming. Unfortunately after the first brilliant section the need for jamming disappeared and so while still fun the line didn’t live up to the hype:
It was then time for some Irish Stew, the first full sport line. It followed an arête and was impossible to read from the bottom. The first bolt looked crazily high considering the landing, but this deceptive line was brilliant. It kept you guessing the whole way up, with no real rests but if you were brave enough to keep moving it would give you just enough to keep hanging on. It was a line both of us thought was one of the best:
Knowing it was going to be a big day we had brought a hearty fest for lunch, plus a stove so we could make a cuppa . The idea being to make sure we paced ourselves and didn’t burn out. Having bagged six fun lines the morning was almost gone by the time we sat down for a snack. It however seemed too early to have lunch seeing we had had some breaky on the road. So after a relax, nibble and rehydrating ourselves we packed up to move onto the next boulder:
Most of the lines are located in one area but there are a few more boulders spread around the valley side. It wouldn’t have been right if we didn’t go and have a look at the Slot Machine, it appealed to both of us being a top to bottom crack. The bottom moves provided great finger locks, if your fingers like mine were small enough. After that the crack closed up and holds became more like small side pulls and the gear became non-existent:
Howsie was keen to bag this one and he was at the above spot for a long time working the gear and trying to sus out the next moves. The small wires were worse than those on Teddy, while the moves above were steeper, looked harder and went on for longer. He was there for ages to the point he opened up his knee before deciding it was too risky. So we set up a top rope and managed to climb it clean, whether we would have led it ground up we will never know:
It was then time to head to the slabs on the other side of the valley. So we shouldered our packs followed the goat track down and bashed a path up the other side. The granite here had a smoother texture. The black rock still had great friction but without the same protruding crystals. There were more edges and while there were a couple of trad and mixed lines, most were full sport. With a name like Bongo Man we just had to climb it, so that’s where we started:
I do like a good slab climb and so with renewed energy ate up the first few lines. Wild Honey Pie was a little strange as you had to zig zag a bit to get up but good fun. With relatively new looking bolts clipped there was not the same level of nervousness we had on some of the sketchy wire placements from the morning. The guide suggests climbing here in the morning, before retreating to the boulders and we had duly ignored that knowing better:
When I jumped on Captain Funkmaker’s Hot Pink Acid Jazz Dream I found out why we should have maybe done as suggested. The sun was poking it’s rays over the top of the slab making it impossible to see where to go. A thin crimping slab is not the place you want to let go with one hand to shield your eyes from the sun, so there were a few moments where I just had to trust I would find something and keep moving. We came off this line feeling our feet and fingertips:
As the sun moved round the real reason to climb here in the morning came into play, the heat started to rise and on such a clear still day there was no breeze to help keep the temperature down. So we had a choice, stop for some food and stay late or motor on for a couple more lines before our finger tips and feet forced us to stop. We went with the former and Howsie jumped on the very fun Turpentine, this and the former line were made more exciting as it had carrots:
We had no choice but to bag one more line, shame, as we had to retrieve a couple of draws. So off I set off on Lucky Legs, finishing the slab climbing as we had started it with tiny slab holds and friction moves. Every climb on the slabs was good fun and despite our tiring and hurting bodies this last line was equally enjoyable. When we got down there was one last line Howsie had on his list, he looked up at it longingly:
Then decided on the sensible option, leaving it along with a few others (including leading the Slot Machine) for a return trip. We had packed way too much gear and next time we would have a better idea of what we do and don’t need, so can travel lighter. It’ll be worth it as while it is not a massive walk in and out there are a number of steep sections and with a heavy pack our legs were burning:
After another bush bash to the creekline we found a way up the other side that was much clearer, so next time we know a better way in. The slabs on the western side were visually stunning being streaked black and cream. They dropped down into the valley with the Eastern Slabs clearly visible and the valley dropping down even further as it snaked round the corner. From here we could spy a number of other boulders, as yet unrecorded and maybe unexplored:
It was about 45min to get back, the walk up the valley side and the return hills certainly took their toll. All was forgiven though due to the great tranquil location, fun climbing and the amazing chorus of red and white tailed cockatoos that awaited us as we traversed the last leg of the walk. We managed to avoid the honky nuts that were being dropped from above, as the trees above were alive with these majestic birds and we lost count of how many we saw:
Back at the car we finally made use of what we had hauled in and out, the kettle went on and two hearty wraps were hungrily devoured. The tea along with more snacks kept us going the whole way home, and two and half hour later I had dropped Howsie home in time to tuck his boys up in bed and read them a bedtime story. I then made my way home as the sun lit up the sky for the last time on another great day:
My last email to most of you was a month back, since then I managed another solo top-rope mission and had a few weeks off. Then came Easter and the intention was to get out for a morning or two at the local crags, but that fell through so there was a last minute decision to gate crash Rongy and Wiggins trip to Eaglestone Rock. I’d been here once before about six years back so knew what to expect. As we approached the place and standing there for the first time it was hard to make out what the boys thought about the place:
It was a 500km/6hr trip from my place, after which we found ourselves in the middle of the Wheatbelt surrounded by mostly flat, cleared agricultural land. The last town we had driven through was Nungarin but there didn’t seem to be much there, much like the last few towns in truth. The rock we were destined for had been the first major landscape feature in a long time. The boys described it as looking like a pimple, as opposed to a mountain, in the landscape both from afar and when we got closer:
While it may seem like I’m not talking this place up read on. The large granite boulders provide a range of slabby routes up to 20m high. Most are fully equipped sport routes but there are a few trad and mixed lines. It is claimed that Australia’s largest raptor the Wedgetail eagle can occasional be seen perched atop the rock, and while only being a pimple on the landscape it is the highest point for a very long way so it is easy to imagine that being true. This vantage point also results in the routes having great backdrops and views:
The bottom section of the rock is generally slick and smooth and a number of routes require pure friction moves to get established. However, this soon gives way to great flakes and edges making for sustained and interesting lines. We didn’t bother unpacking the car when we arrived, instead heading up to the crowded rock face and picking off a few free lines to get a feel for the place. As we bagged a few routes it was clear that both Rongy and Wiggins were starting to warm up to the place:
What with the crowds there was going to be little chance of seeing any Wedgetail eagles on this trip. However, with two nights leaving us an afternoon, full day and morning to bag a few lines we would be having fun. It was only 16 degrees on our arrival mid-afternoon and in the sun it was fine, but once in the shade the breeze sent a chill to the bone. The forecast was for it to warm up a tad with each day, but the morning would no doubt feel cool with the mercury predicted to drop to the middle to low single digits:
I’m not intending to recount every line in this report but tallied that we hit 14 routes, some of which we ended up repeating. The grades here range from the low-teens to mid-twenties, plus a few projects of unknown grade. We were not climbing at our strongest by any means so we generally stuck to the teens, with a couple of 20s thrown in. On that first afternoon we racked up four routes, and being sport climbs we all lead a number of them. As the sun was setting Wiggins was eyeing off a boulder that he swore “would go”, but we never found out:
We watched the sun set from a vantage point, while the last few climbers finished up for the day. Having checked out a few of the local tourist websites to find more information about the place (unsuccessfully) I noted that they all mention that it’s a regular spot for climbers. When Howsie and I came here we had the place to ourselves except for the occasional traveller using the free campsite for an overnight stop. This time was a stark contrast from then, but this small place seemed big enough to handle the numbers:
Our first night was cold but knowing and being prepared for it made it manageable. As the morning light crept in Rongy and I headed up to the same vantage point we used the evening before to watch the sunrise. Eaglestone rock is flanked on its east and north by the shoreline of the Brown Lake, one of the many Wheatbelt salt lakes. With summer having just left us and autumn settling in there was no water in the lake but the morning light made it look like a normal water body instead of the salt crust that is was:
We had missed the full moon by one night, and as such it hung in the sky as the glorious morning light splashed across the orange face of the granite boulders. The Wheatfield’s, that looked like they had been recently been harvested, stretched out both to the west and south. We could hear a few birds calling out but other than that there was not a sound. The numerous scatterings of tents and caravans, which were located all around the pimple on the landscape seemed to be deserted on this Easter Sunday morning:
When we arrived we were a bit shocked, but not overly surprised, to see caravans and tents splattered around the rock as we drove in. Regardless of the numbers we managed to find a quiet spot, and while we saw numerous cars come and go during our stay we had this spot to ourselves. It’s a short walk to the crag and so there is no need to lug all the gear up. Plus being mostly sport climbing you can wander up with an even lighter load, which we did after a welcome breakfast. It certainly is a very convenient crag on so many levels:
Rongy and I wandered up ahead of Wiggins. While it was not a crack of dawn start to the day there wasn’t the sound of clinking metal coming from anywhere else. So while we had the pick of the crag we heading for a sedate start on a pleasantly graded slab in the sun. Another smooth glassy start, but that was becoming more familiar now. I brought a new pair of shoes up with me, bad move. They had way too much rubber and I couldn’t feel the rock in them, so I went back to my trusty old balding shoes:
As we moved onto the next line more and more people started to mill about. It started with mostly children, they were scrambling around the rocks in search of Easter Eggs while their parents no doubt were chilling at the campsites sipping their morning coffee in peace. We did took turns in leading but not in a strict rotational basis, for me it depended on whether I had done the route before as to whether I was keen to go first or not. So Rongy went up again under the watchful eyes of several children:
Wiggins didn’t wander up the crag with as light a load as we had, as he had brought his entire collection of camera and video gear. He confessed that it was a good thing that I’d come as he wasn’t sure how much climbing he’d get done and plus he was keen to capture the trip for a video. This resulted in the lines occasionally being chosen based on footage opportunities. Wiggins did jump on the rock, both on the floppy end and on second, but picking and choosing the lines to avoid aggravating a few niggles that he has being carrying:
The next line we headed for is one of the crag classics. On the first day it seemed that people were queueing up for it, and no doubt as everyone slowly made their way back up the same would happen today. For that reason despite being in the shade, which still felt pretty cold, we jumped on it. Howsie and I had tried the line but failed to get it clean. We managed all the moves and didn’t do any pre-placing of gear, but it was simply too sustained and pumpy for us back then when we were climbing pretty well:
So I went up first and after the first few moves up to and trying to get past the first runner, which in good sport climbing style was stick clipped, I slunk back to rest on the rope. It was clear that for me the route would be way too hard, so instead I continued up a new line of bolts that went to the left. We had been advised that this one came in at 20, so potentially more achievable. The move to get past the second bolt was massive, both Rongy and I had to snatch for it and risk falling if we missed it:
After that move it was great jugging until a compressed rockover move to get on the slab, which is where Wiggins (who cruised the long reach low down) struggled. We all gave it a few goes and while none of us got it clean, there was only one move for each of us that was our undoing. The fire wasn’t in the belly enough to want to keep working it, so content with our efforts we saved our finger tips and strength for the many other lines that we were yet to jump on. It was however the only line that we had to “work”:
We decided that it was time to climb in the sun again and with that we headed to the main face, and finally you get to see that there were in fact other climbers. It wasn’t one big group but a number of smaller ones, all from Perth. They were all friendly with not an ego amongst them, which makes all the difference. With such a large number of climbers here, I’m going to take a stab and say there were close to 20 at one point, there were inevitably ropes and draws left on routes. Everyone was however very chilled and had no issues with us using their gear:
Wiggins can be seen above making the initial tricky moves to get going on a very fine line, and looking back probably one of my favourite ones being very neat, classy, sustained and direct. It was the only route on which we saw Rongy struggle to get started; but after Wiggins and I managed to get the moves off the deck clean on lead he had no choice and of course managed it with style. Despite all the people the place still allowed me to capture those images that make it look like we were alone in the wilderness:
Lake Brown was a dazzling and brilliant, almost blinding, white. The top of the crag gave a great 360 view of the area and we could spy all the camping spots that were in use. Funnily the actually campsite, shown below, was relatively quiet. People were instead spread about in the bush finding their own tranquil spots in this little paradise amongst the Wheatfield’s. We didn’t wander down to the salt lake on this trip, I did think about it a few times but time just seemed to slip by:
We had only intended a quick’ish morning session before taking a break, but as it was time had really slipped by and it was past midday before we decided we really needed to take a break. The rock has awesome friction but that along with the crimpy style of climbing was a great recipe for making the fingertips tingle. All three of us wondered how we would hold up if we went too hard, so were happy to slow down and take a break:
It had only crept up to 21 degrees but with no breeze it felt warm being in the sun most of the time. So back at the car we shifted the seat into the little shade the car offered, had a brew and made some lunch. We certainly didn’t seem to be in any great rush, and slouched about for quite a while. Eventually however we were drawn back to the rock, encouraged maybe by the thought of placing some trad. This time Rongy carried up the trad gear, as we had in mind to bag a few mixed lines:
The first line to go was a tight chimney that eventually ended, although it seemed like it went on forever while I was squeezed into it, and continued up a fine flake system. This route was at the far right of the main face, below which the majority of climbers were camped. As you drive into this area you need to drive all the way round the pimple to get the campsite, which may be why so many people camp round the rock instead of at the campsite itself. I could see why the climbers would camp here though:
Next up Rongy wanted to try a route that had drawn his eye from the start. It was one that I had previously led, and Wiggins wasn’t keen to try it on lead so there was no bickering over who would jump on it first. The lower portion is a flaked crack system that starts very thin and on poor feet, it’s pumpy start is made even more so due to the need to place gear. Wiggins was on video duty and we got a sneak peak of some of the four plus hours of footage he took, some of the footage of this line was very cool just like this route:
Skin is limited and we were all wearing what little we had on our fingertips out. Rongy was very happy and satisfied, and rightly so, but his fingers were a tad sore after that last lead. So with Wiggins also keen to take a back seat I had to decide on a line. I have to admit that I procrastinated over this for a while and eventually went for the line in the middle of the wall that all three of us thought looked run out. I needn’t have worried as it climbed really well and never felt too bad, despite a few sketch moves (due to not finding the best holds!):
We had decided that we would get one more route in for the day, and offered to clean a route for one of the other climbers to retrieve his draws. Wiggins was done for the day so we took our time allowing him to get set up with a good angle for some more footage. He wasn’t intending to take it from the rap rope this time, as there was too much demand for its use but I had to include this image as it has such a great backdrop and also shows that this place was big enough to handle all the climbers:
The route followed the same chimney I had made use of so it made sense for Rongy to lead it this time. Unlike the morning and yesterday we were not pulling the rope on every line this afternoon, fatigue was starting to set in. This time instead of continuing up the chimney Rongy had to bridge across the gap to get established on the slabby blunt arête. It was a great exposed move on good holds. On second I was getting tired doing the back and footing and then could really feel myself tiring on the transition to the arête, definitely time to call it a day:
Most of the others climbers seemed to be thinking the same way and were content to hang about and chat rather than climb anymore. So we handed the gear over and left them to it as the shadows grew longer and the light changed to the evening glow. There were a few diehards amongst them and at night before the moon had risen, as we were at our camp, we could hear voices on the crag and some night climbing was underway. Something we’ve often talk about doing, but there was no motivation from our camp this time:
Instead we watched the sun set, made a brew and flopped in our chairs round the fire. Despite not being as cold this time, we were still donning ugg boots, down jackets and long trousers, despite having a warm fire. It was pretty late before any of us could be bothered to sort out food, instead sampling Wiggins beers. We did eventually break out the food and then spent some time trying to capture the rising moon, unsuccessfully for me. I then left them to it and sloped off to bed:
Wiggins was keen not to miss the sunrise on the last day so I was up early and had the kettle on ready. The good thing about getting up early was being able to use the one and only toilet at the campsite, without needing to stand in a queue or having people waiting impatiently outside. Now why I would mention this may seem strange, however I have to introduce the toilet as based on our observations we didn’t think it was designed to cope with the crowds it was experiencing on this long Easter weekend, I’ll leave you with that image:
Another crisp and clear sky. As the image above shows the morning light out to the horizon told us that we needed to get our skates on if we were to see the sun appear. So we scooted back up to our perch from where Wiggins set himself up to watch and record the sun saying hello to the world. Rongy didn’t join us this morning but when we got back to the camp he was up and about and better still breakfast was served! We were keen to get up and going this morning, so we could have a reasonable departure time:
So back up at the crag before anyone else was there we again procrastinated about which lines to pick off. We had already agreed it was one lead each before we needed to break camp and hit the road. I decided to go first, and went for a line I hadn’t led before. My thinking on going first being that if my fingertips complained on another route it’d give me an excuse not to try my chosen line. So I found myself on the usual balancy start moves, but it was the section after the first bolt that looked concerning. It looked run out and the holds didn’t seem as positive:
It was however awesome, just like every route we had been on during the trip. Eaglestone Rock may be a mere pimple but the climbing has class and style making it well worth the trip out. Rongy came up second, and he was struggling with the cold shady start so once atop the flake he sat there with his fingers warming up in the sun before continuing up the slabby section. Wiggins declined to follow this line instead capturing the footage and intending to save himself for one last lead:
Wiggins was up next and seeing we were intending to pick three lines from the main face he chose a line he did on the first day. We could all feel the last few days climbing and despite having done the line before it still made us stop, think and work. Rongy kindly belayed allowing me to run around getting images from several angles, we still had the place to ourselves. The wall to the right of the chimney has a great line that appealed but it was not to be on this trip, leaving the need for another visit:
It wasn’t until Rongy set off on his line that we had the company of other climbers, Wiggins had decided not to climb this one but instead used his vantage point to capture some footage from above. Rongy picked the runout looking route I had led late the previous day. He managed to find a much better hold, which made clipping the seemingly high third bolt far less sketchy that is had to be when I did it. Atop the rock for one last time there was a need for a final bit of circular footage that drew curious gazes, you’ll have to wait for the video to understand that:
Three climbs down and our bodies were telling us that was enough. So we went back down to break camp, make a brew and were on the road by 10:30. On the way back we drove the inland way, conscious that the return Easter Monday traffic into Perth was likely to be gnarly. It was a good move and the roads were mostly completely empty. As it turned out the inland route was no longer in distance or time than the way via Perth, something to note as Eaglestone Rock despite only being a pimple is worthy of another trip:
Saturday morning I was up at 5:30, not for climbing well not entirely. Elseya had a course in Perth that was due to start at 9am, so we were on the road early to make sure we got there on time. After dropping her off I headed out to the Adrenaline Vault to while away a few hours. It’s one of the bouldering gyms that have been popping up in Perth over the last few years, and the good news is that for bouldering you can go solo. It was fun but I think I went a bit hard and fast, climbing up and down all the easy stuff and a fair few of the next level ones before hitting the red routes. The place was just about all overhung and some of it seriously so, it was a real workout:
When I hit the red routes I teamed up with some guy from Brisbane, who had been stranded in Perth due to the gas works in the north being shut down because of the looming cyclone Veronica. He was tall, too tall. For every move he did I had to make two or at times three, but that pushed me and I was willing to the point that my fingertips were raw and the calluses on my soft office worker hands started to pop off. I was glad I only had just shy of 2 hours to climb before picking Elseya up! The next morning I was sore, so very sore, but I had committed to go out for a “real” climb. Craig and I plumped or Moses Rocks for a bit of ocean views and fun lines:
It was a low neap tide but the swell would be coming in rough, that with a seaward breeze made for great conditions. The rock was dry, none of that greasy salt spray feeling, and the friction was perfect. So we started on a little line I had been keeping an eye on to hit one day, sandwiched between two lines that Craig and I put up way back in 2009. Craig belayed from round the corner where the rock was dry and the water was hopefully not going to get him. Despite his belay perch looking dry he anchored in just in case, as I traversed in and headed up the narrow pillar:
I’m a bit of a slow starter and need a warm up climb or two, today was different I think I needed the whole day to warm up. That’s not true I was suffering so much from the day before that I never really got into the flow. Moses however, has an ability to make ever visit fun and this first climb did just that. Originally it looked like it may get a bit tricky and nervous in the second half but it never presented any great problems, just satisfying rounded friction holds in a great position. We reckon it may get a 12 at a push, so yet another one to add to the bucket of climbs we have done here that we have not bothered to write up:
Craig’s last trip out was on his birthday in August so he was happy for me to take the lead, what joy! So next up was an old favourite for some but not others. Hathersage just had to be climbed, I’ve probably said it before but this is the first route I ever climbed in WA… well attempted to climb, as I was soloing. I got as far as Craig is now before I decided it was better to back off. In today’s dry conditions this route was a gem, and Craig was looking comfortable and smooth. Making me think that maybe he should have a pop on the floppy end as well:
There was one line that was drawing him in, I certainly didn’t fancy leading it but he was comfortable that he could get to the carrot bolt and have enough strength left to then pull through. While I set myself up an anchor, off to one side with a directional piece below the climb, he prepared himself. I had to giggle as he popped a bolt plate in his mouth before setting off on this Shane Richardson route, a name that implies it wasn’t likely to be easy. I’d never been on Spoilt Bastard, yet another line named after a politically incorrect Viz comic character, so we were about to find out if the theory was right:
With a good position I managed to get some great images of Craig on lead, but decided to use this one of me giving it all. I had to yoyo a few times, with each attempt going from the deck up. It’s a proper roof that has some horizontal stances. All that steep jugging the day before would have set me up for this route, if there had been a few more recover day in-between. My muscles screamed out, but I finally pulled off the long reach up to rounded but surprisingly satisfying hold above the bolt. From there it became less horizontal and more relaxed, but that doesn’t take away the impressive lead for someone who hasn’t climbed for over half a year:
Being satisfied with his lead the rope was handed back to me. We were working our way rightwards along this broken set of small walls and buttresses, so I decided on a little number on Red Wall call Pickup. Kym put up this variation on the original route call Hickup and it is worthy line. I have to admit to once again struggling to hang on and probably climbed the route three or four times before I linked it all and topped out. Craig in his casual manner took his time and looked comfortable all the way. Too comfortable so I handed him the rope to pick the next line:
It wasn’t a hard decision, over to Hands Up Wall to hit the crag classic. The wind was swinging round and starting to come from the south, there was a distinct drop in the temperature and we wrapped up again. Wheely Things is all style, and while Craig climbed the route I ran round checking out multiple angles to get the best images. He never once looked on edge, however after following him up he said he didn’t really wanting to look down. Confessing that seeing me dancing round and checking out angles or anything else that catches my eye was at times a little disconcerting:
I love Wheely Things a great jamming route and one if you get right never feels too hard. Today it felt surprisingly good, in fact the most comfortable route all day. Maybe not needing to hold onto the rock with the palms of my ripped up hands helped. After enjoying that so much we decided one more route was in order, I had been ambitiously looking at the harder lines but ended up deciding to dial it back and cruise up Hands Up. While I set myself up to watch Craig follow me I spent most of the time watching the waves crashing in and out of the zawn. Moses has to be the best crag for watching waves:
We were both pretty shattered but felt there was time for one last play a little slab that always looks appealing. I’m sure I’ve played on this before and found a couple of lines that were not too bad. However, today it felt thin and technical. We worked a few vertical problems and then this last long rising traverse to sap the last of our mental strength, shred the last remnants of skin from the tips of our fingers and make our toes screaming out to be released from our shoes. It was another top day out at Moses Rocks, but I have to admit I was so very glad to flop onto the sofa when I got home:
This morning we had intended to go to Moses Rocks. During the drive, as Andrew and I were chatting it was however obvious that a rethink might be a good idea. It was not so much that we needed a place with more relaxed grades, but maybe a place that had routes that felt more secure. Moses is a great place if you don’t mind rounded smeary friction holds and a “more than fair share” of shallow flared cracks. So we instead headed down to Wilyabrup and on arrival, as predicted, there was a strong seaward wind. That meant we would be sheltered from it on the crag and the spray that the 4m swell would no doubt send into the air would be blown back out to sea:
We toyed with the main area but Andrew had been on most of the easier lines there and so for something different we went to the Organ Pipes. It had also been a little while since I’d been here myself, close to seven months in fact. It’s one of the lesser visited crags but I never get bored of it myself and think it is underrated, as it has a fine range of good old-school lines. Unsure of where his head was to start with I set things off up a fine arête. Feeling quite good I ambled up the second half forgetting to place any gear, before setting up and allowing Andrew to come up looking like batman with his cape being blown in the wind:
The air hung a little on the heavy side this morning and with the slightly raised humidity the rock was not quite perfect. This did mean that after first route the jackets came off and we soaked in the comfortable temperature. If we had known that we were coming here we would have brought a second rap rope, as the walk down isn’t that pleasant and is quite long. Fortunately a large boulder sat atop the main face and that allowed us to set up a system that wasn’t too much fuss, and one that also benefited us in other ways later on:
Me running it out on my line had not put Andrew of giving leading a go. So off he set up the steep wall on a great crack and shallow corner, his line (purposely chosen) had more options for gear and he seemed to be making adequate use of the opportunities. As he approached the last third he moved quickly without placing anything and then stopped at the top looking about as if he’d hit a road block. For a while I had to focus my attention, rather than my camera on him. At least until I realised that he was only checking out the best place to set up a belay:
The base of the route was on a bit of a slab, so I padded across this and pulled the rope after me placing it into a neat pile ready for him to take it up. I thought I had better not start climbing and leant back on the face to watch the waves, hoping to see a pod of dolphins. It was a perfect day to see surfing dolphins, with crisp clean and sizable waves. It was unfortunately not to be and despite both of us keeping an eye out we didn’t see any. Just as Andrew started to pull the rope up I looked down and saw something. Wiggins you may recall what went missing in August last year, and seven months on there is was rested on the little plant next to the rope:
So my lost black tricam was found once more. The pin wasn’t showing any signs of corrosion and the print on the label was less faded than the tricams that I had on my rack. However, the sling was looking a little furry. After inspecting it Andrew just laughed as I put it back on my rack. In my mind it can stay on there as an emergency piece for when there is nothing else left or that will fit, at least until I replace it. So if anyone is out climbing we me and needs to use a black tricam you may want to inspect the sling, it’s pretty obvious which one is less trustworthy:
The next route is a lovely corner with a sickle shaped roof. Very pleasant climbing up the corner that never gets tricky until you near the roof, which is where it starts to curve over your head to the left. The hand holds become more “interesting” and as you step away from the corner the feet become more slabby, it’s a great position and seems quite improbably. A few short moves later the arête is gained so it is not too bad, but as you can see by the concentration on Andrew’s face, it requires a degree of focus:
He then decided for his next lead it was time for a bit of fun, and plumped for one of the chimneys that Mikey had led approx. a year back during the sprint finish of his challenge to lead 10km of routes without any repeats. I didn’t mention it to Andrew but I did think that his sport climbing rope work (i.e. rope over the shoulder until the first piece) on this lead was a bit misplaced! It was while Andrew was mucking about on this climb, thoroughly enjoying himself I might add, that I spied another potential new route:
So next up I attempted a ground up FA of a yet to be named climb, which probably tells you that I didn’t manage a clean ascent. This steep little number seems to have been overlooked by anyone to date. The wall was wide enough and provided just enough holds to make it independent of the cracks and chimneys on either side. I managed to get to the final headwall but was thwarted after that, the smeary holds to get established on a high undercling were just too greasy for my liking. Especially seeing if I full committed the gear started to get further away from my feet and there was still a way to go:
We played on the line a few times and it definitely goes but will need a dry day and level head. After that bit of top roping it felt like we had already slipped into bad habits, and so what would it matter if we finished off the morning with a few more top ropes. In truth both of our arms were starting to feel the morning (or more to the point that last route) and the intention had after all been to just have a bit of fun. The rap anchor was perfectly placed to allow us to finish off on three lines. The crag classic up the crack and flake, my creation from my trip with Wiggins up the left wall and also another one of my projects up the right wall:
The humidity hadn’t left us and really showed on my old project up the right wall, the seemingly featureless face that provides the crux sequence was far more problematic for me than on my last trip here. So after my one lap on it today, interspersed with me spinning off it a few times with increasingly more painful finger tips, I had no desire to try and lead it. I showed Andrew the last piece of gear on the line, which if I failed to nail the crux would need to withstand not just a good length fall but also the pendulum that would result from the piece being off to one side. If it didn’t hold I’d hit the deck that was 10m below:
Considering Andrew was after relaxed lines today, by the time we were done the day had proven to be quite a workout and he had done really well. He even suggested to me that he needs a trad route to focus on and project. The idea being to hopefully encourage him to get to that bit more. I now have three trad projects at the Organ Pipes, two are sensible’ish and one may be a little silly. I did suggest he took one of them but he didn’t seem too keen. One thing is for sure I won’t be attempting a lead on any of them until we have a proper dry day and the rock feels good, either that or I need to learn to hang on like some of the wildlife:
So it began again early Sunday morning. The first rap into Wilyabrup was as the morning light was taking effect, this image was later in the morning allowing a crisper image. We thought the morning may have felt crisp after it had rained all day long on the Saturday, but it soon warmed up. Better still our gamble that the rock would be dry despite all the rain paid off, at least on most routes. Each time we rapped down my trusty old, retired from leading, dynamic rope we were covered in green flecks of material that were detaching from the sheaf due to the belay devices, um maybe it is time to retire this rope:
Why Wilyabrup… well several reasons including it was Howsie’s choice as he had his eye on a line I mentioned during our last visit. Secondly I had a plan. Having had it suggested that I was maybe going soft, as a result of some of my recent write-ups, I decided that I needed to toughen up. There were a number of indicators pointing me to this notion: firstly as I have mentioned before the climbing video called Odyssey, which brought back my old ethics of attempting ground up ascents no matter the difficulty; and secondly, I’ve just read a book call The Black Cliff which is all about the history of Clogwyn dúr Addr:
We started the morning gently a lap on Hope, which I always enjoy, carrying only a single set of wires for gear. Then Howsie jumped on Thunder Thighs, a route he had not been on before. As I belayed I had a tickle on my ankle only to find a bull ant checking me out, with two more very close by. So my attention moved from climber to biter and making sure that as I fed the rope out I didn’t inadvertently come into close contact with an angry bull ant. Soon I was following Howsie up this very fine route, as I contemplated my next route:
I’d only climbed once on the Clogwyn dúr Addr or Cloggy as is more often than not referred to, and I realised that in my North Wales write up the place didn’t even get a mention! My climbing partner at the time got spooked by the place, a shame as the place is steep in history and has amazing routes. The book released in the early 70s was a riveting read, with many epics since the early 1900s through to the late 60s. Hemp ropes moving onto nylons with some reservations; only slings to start with moving onto pebbles and then pegs. Thirty meter runouts were not uncommon and often the boldest leaders had no one to follow them up, so they would unrope and finish the route by soloing up. These guys were serious hard men:
So after absorbing all this bravado from both the screen and pages I decided to take on the route, which just a few weeks back I had top roped with the intention of Wiggins doing a bit of filming. After the gentle warm up routes I stood below the wall and chatted away happily as I started up. The tri-cam I suspected looked OK, as long as I didn’t swing to the right on a fall. Then it was the committing move up to the horizontal rail, the point of no return. I mentioned that casually and in the next second pulled up to be greeted by wet holds. Fiddling gear into the horizontal wasn’t easy, I had to pull up each time on tiring arms to check it. Every time it looked dodgy:
So keeping in mind Joe Brown’s attitude of two pegs (but not more) being acceptable on any one pitch I clipped the rusty looking peg. No longer quiet so chatty and relaxed I inched through the crux moves to step rightwards before reaching up to gain the upper crack, and then it was game on. Gear looked fiddly and my arms were tiring, so I didn’t hang about too long looking about. The peg was getting further and further away and the dodgy gear I placed next to it popped. Keeping in mind the stories I had recently read I pushed on. I almost slipped off at the top before managing to flop over the edge feeling both exhausted and exhilarated. My arms hurt, it’s a short but sharp route and strangely I felt like I wanted to climb it again, but preferably in dry conditions:
Howsie lapped the route up and came away feeling like he couldn’t back off the route that had inspired him to come back to Wilyabrup. So soon he was starting up Steel Wall, heading for the more sensibly bolted Pascals Route. Not having been on this line, or Simply Suicide that shares the same bottom two thirds’ish, he had to find his way and I gave nothing away. This meant hanging on the steep start as he figured out the best way up the first crux section. Once on the ledge came the second very fingery and the most committing crux section. Crimping down probably harder than he should have his forearms were now starting to tire:
He managed to get within 6m of the top of the route, only one more bolt to reach and then it would have been the glory run. He attempted to reach it a heap of times but kept falling off, eventually after three quarters of an hour he had no choice but to give up… he was out of gas. I reckon the old boys would have been proud of his tenacity even though it didn’t pay off this time, although they may have sneered at the “drilled in bolts”. The only drilled in bolt (singular) on Cloggy was put in by Pete Crew while on lead in 1963, it was chopped in later years as gear options increased. Feeling good I led the pitch and Howsie managed to cruise the upper crux sequence, bearing down on a sloper to gain valuable inches to reach a better hold and then heave over the bulge:
It was still relatively early on this trip so we had time for more. Due to the way the arms were feeling after the last two routes we decided to dial things back. A pleasant amble up Setting Sun was followed by yet another bolted route of Fishing with Dynamite. The last route was just easy enough to be achievable but hard enough to provide a final workout, and sap our arms of any strength they had left. No matter that three of our routes weren’t trad and scary and the other two were easy trad lines, I think that while I attempt to shake this going soft image one scary route on each trip out is enough to get the ball rolling. After all the other side of my old attitude to climbing was, and always will be, to enjoy being out and climbing no matter what the grade:
Atop the last climb we got chatting to a travelling climber, who was taking his girlfriend out on her second outdoor climbing trip. Despite his years of climbing experience and obvious ability his belay looked dodgy to us, and then he showed us his rope… the sheaf was not wearing like my trusty retired dynamic rope but was completed disintegrated in parts. The core was exposed but he showed us that it was still in good condition to make it OK to keep using for a bit longer. We were pleased to be leaving before anything untoward happened, and rest assured that trusty dynamic rope retired from leading has been permanently retired:
The dawn of a long weekend was upon us and early Saturday morning I was at Smiths Beach, as the light was changing. My aim was to grab a quick climb in before we had to head to Perth for Elseya’s dance competitions. It was a bit of a surprise to see so many surfers already milling about both in and out of the water so early in the morning. I realise they like (some) climbers are early risers but I always though cloudy, low light periods were when you were of higher risk of becoming shark bait as you pretend to be a seal in the ocean:
It was a cool morning, with darker clouds looming out to ocean and they looked like they might bring rain. While the rock was dry I could feel the moisture hang heavy in the air as I rapped into the zawn for the first line of the day. The rock here has plenty of friction and today it didn’t feel like it had that salty coating this place can get. So while it was likely to be a bit sweaty due to the rising humidity, and with the possibility of a shower I was confident that should hopefully not stop me from cranking:
After a long break of having been to Smiths Beach, I recently climbed here with Howsie and since then I’d been keen to head back. The lines aren’t that long but certainly feel intense on lead, so there are not many people who are keen to join me when I mention this place. Today however I was flying solo (again) and that allowed me to eye up the steeper lines of the very photogenic Camelot Wall. Named so due to the rock lending itself to those active and passive camming devices, I reckon it’d be hard to lead any of the routes without them:
The intention was to start from the right and work my way leftwards. The main reason being the easiest line I had in mind was at the far right, allowing me a warm up route. Another advantage was that if the swell started to pick up there was less likelihood of being hit by the waves. They get channelled in through the narrowing rocks and at times can hide the pillar from view as white water is thrown deep into the zawn. I hadn’t checked the ocean conditions so didn’t know what was to come, and to start with a few waves were getting pretty close:
I have to admit that despite having a rope above me I was nervous about the second line on my list. King Arthur is the direct version of the first line I ever climbed here. Craig and I came here and eyed up all the lines on this wall, plumping on what seemed most feasible. As we climbed the rain set in, and that added to the shallow, flared vertical crack made it on that day just too scary a proposition. We instead avoided the direct line and used the chimney to its right, so creating Lady Guinevere. We didn’t complete King Arthur until about a month later:
I’ve recently watched a climbing video called Odyssey. Climbers well above my lowly status were on-sighting epic traditional lines in England, typical of the British ground up climbing ethic. Climbing the lines I had put up at Smiths Beach with that same attitude back in 2010, such as Lady of the Lake, made me realise that (as some have put it) I’m possibly starting to “go soft”. Lady of the Lake in particular is a line of that former form, the shallow very flared crack with some dubious rock and no gear is pretty intimidating. In fact I’ve never seen anyone climb it and since the first ascent that includes me:
The last line on the wall for the day was to be The Holy Grail, a very fine line but sparsely protected. It felt nervous on the first lap but second time I started to wonder if it earns the grade I originally gave, from a technical perspective certainly not. However, from an on-sight perspective and taking into account the position, gear and risks it is probably reasonable. Keeping in mind my “softening up”, the one line which I have been on numerous times that I do think is a bit of a sand bag relative to the other climbs here is King Arthur. But damn it’s good:
While the sky was still cloudy there were patches of blue appearing. Unlike last weekend I was spared any rain, but sweat was dripping down my face. As I topped out on the second lap on this last route the sun started to light up the opposite wall. This place heats up quickly when the sun hits the walls so it was time to pack up and head home. Before packing the bag I scrambled across the other side to take a few snaps of Camelot Wall. Of particular note and in stark contrast to my recent trips to Wilyabrup is the distinction lack of chalk, this place doesn’t get the attention it deserves:
Scrambling back to my pack I decided to solo up Child’s Play, which is by far the easiest recorded route here. It was so much fun that I decided to impose my top-rope solo requirements of climbing it a second time. This also allowed me to take a rare selfie. The 12 second timer on my camera didn’t allow me enough time to get very high but now I’m immortalised in digital pixels you get the picture. Then it was back home and time to get ready to drive to Perth and watch the dance troupes do their thing:
Last night the final few acts were hip hop, and a couple of the troupes provided us with what came across as a very aggressive, angry and almost intimidating routines. This added to the screeching banshee fans who were sat right behind us made it was both Lisa and I agreed an unpleasant end to the dance competitions. We drove home straight after with our ears ringing getting home just before midnight. I woke up about 6:30 and made a brew, threw my gear into the pack and headed out to Castle rock. As I walked to the crag my ears retuned to some sense of normality and were enjoying the sound of a big mob of short-billed black cockatoos, as they feasted on gumnuts:
Finally after a several weeks of wondering when it might happen again Mr Blue Sky came out to play. Which I will qualify with “on a weekend when I wanted to climb”! Castle Rock gets early sun so I ran the risk of sweating off the rock with a slightly later start. However, there was a cool breeze and that helped keep it sane start to a day that was predicated to go above 30 degrees. With dry rock and a warm but not too hot sun, and once again going solo, I managed to climb all the lines I had in mind bar one. That one was just a bit to testy for me today. Um maybe before I soften up anymore I think I need to get on the pointy end again:
Back in time when we lived in Central Australia we used to work at Ooromina Homestead. On one occasion a local film company was showing an American crew around. They were scouting for rugged outback cliffs on which to shoot a car advert. I can no longer remember which make of car it was, but the local fella thought I’d make a good candidate for the person scaling the cliffs to get back to their car. Sadly nothing ever came of that, but today came a second chance to be on the other side of the lens:
I met Wiggings in Capel and as with his past films he wanted to record the whole adventure, and this meant attaching the camera to the car as we drove out of Capel. Before we got to the highway we pulled over to take the camera off the car, and it was then he realised that the lens cap was nowhere to be found. So we retraced our foot and tyre tracks back to the pub carpark, and as we drove out of capel a second time we spotted the lens half a kilometre away from where it had been no doubt fallen off the bonnet of the car. So it was “take two” and we were back on the road:
The sky behind us was a mix of clear skies above with distant clouds, clouds which looked like the burning embers of a dying fire. Back in the UK the old saying is “red sky at night shepherds delight, red sky in the morning shepherds warning”, I didn’t know till now but the original rhyme is an old maritime verse and it has been around for a couple of millennia. This morning the skies were red, which meant that clear skies to the east were allowing the sun to light up the underside of moisture-bearing clouds. The saying assumes that more potential rain clouds are coming in from the west:
We all know what assuming does, and after all who bothers with old folk lore when you have a weather forecast. Both Wiggins and I had been checking it during the week and the morning was to be dry with only the very light chance of a very small sprinkle in the late afternoon. The forecast was proving right as we turned onto gravel road of Wilyabrup Road. We stopped here and the camera was mounted on the car one more time. This time we made sure that the lens cap was placed somewhere safe. As we drove in we saw plenty of roos in the adjacent paddocks, but none of them hopped out in front of us now that we wanted that to happen for the footage:
On the walk in things were looking good, no wind, a cool morning and dry conditions. Then as we came over the crest of the Leeuwin ridge we saw what was coming. Out to ocean and both north and south of our chosen destination there was a hazy look, which would normally only mean one thing. Sure enough as we got within 100m of the crag rain started to fall, even by Craig’s standards. Not only that but as we stood on the edge looking out the wind was obviously coming from the north straight down the coast. While these conditions don’t faze me climbing wise they were certainly not the best conditions for filming:
I’d come prepared to top-rope solo, allowing Wiggins to run about and film the events. It was also his first time of using his Wiral® LITE outdoors, which is a suspension cable system on which you can attach your camera. The good thing with this system being that unlike drones it can be used in confined spaces and through trees. We remained ever hopeful that the weather would clear up, so we agreed on the best place for him to set the cable up a choice predominately made to make sure we could avoid the wind (as much as possible):
I then set myself up with a few warm up lines running up Inner Space to start with. Unfortunately it didn’t seem that optimism was going to win the day on this occasion and while the rain would ease off a bit, each time it came back in. I’d done two laps on the first route and conditions were not looking great, so Wiggins understandably had not put his camera on the cable. Seeing I was on top rope I simply moved the system across to Water Fall Second Folly and went for two more laps, hoping that by the time I’d come back up things might improve:
By now the whole face was wet and dripping. For those that know the compact gneiss that forms Wilyabrup, a layered hybrid of granite and sedimentary rock, they will realise that it is not absorbent and any water makes those slopey holds pretty spicy. That added to the steep headwall on which handholds are everything made the climbing extra exciting. I needed to focus pretty hard to pull the last few moves. While Wiggins didn’t want to get his fancy-pants camera gear wet there was always my trusty and beat-up point and shot, with which he caught some great images of me pulling faces as I focused on those last few moves:
With two climbs in the bag, no filming done, the cable system packed away and rain falling in every direction we were just about ready to pack up when I mentioned this climb as one I had my eye on. Wiggins suggested I give it a go anyway, so off I set up Real Woman Accept It For What It Is. A strange name and I have no idea of the history or whether it may be deemed sexist or not. That said back in 1985 when it was put up I’m sure they didn’t worry about political correctness quite so much. I’m not sure of anyone who has led this climb, the bottom half seems to have no gear and it is pretty steep and sustained:
My arms were burning as I topped out. Wiggins then kindly reminded me of my self-proclaimed ethics of doing each route twice when I was top-roping, um… So back down I went for “take two”. Truth be told the second lap is usually more comfortable for me and I even spotted a possible tri-cam placement in the lower wall that might make it a slightly more sane lead. The top out is certainly protectable but pumpy and I wonder what it would feel like to be hanging on those holds while fiddling gear in. One to ponder when conditions improve:
This climb would have been the perfect choice based on where the cable system was previously placed, and as it happened the sky had started to clear up after my two laps. So we agreed that I’d take a rest while the system was set up for a second time, so we could get some footage. Wiggins went back down Left Hand Crack to set up the anchor point for the cable, you may recall that being a line I’d been on during my last two trips to Wilyabrup. Not today however as it is the low point of the shelf and as such was today running with water:
Next task was to run the cable to the second anchor point, he’s got a 50m and 100m cable so it can span quite a long distance. While it may seem a difficult system to set up for these sorts of locations, bear in mind that it has been designed equally for dealing with those locations that drones just can’t go. This was a relatively easy setup and he had things in place pretty quickly, fortunately he was using the yellow cable so you can see it in the image. There is also a black cable which would be less obvious in footage when the camera angle can’t avoid the cable.
The final part being attaching the remote controlled pulley system, with camera attached. By now my arms were feeling fully recovered and ready for action, and I had no concerns about the climb that scared me earlier today. However, just as he placed the camera on the cable a few drops started to fall, the clouds moved in and that heavy greyness fell around us as the drops became more frequent and heavier. Geez is it really summer, and what went wrong with the forecast? Yet another “take two” as the camera went back in the bag and we decided once again to pack up:
This time we walked out, and as we did the sun came out and while it was only in patches it really did look like it might clear up. We checked the weather forecast and that hadn’t changed at all, no rain predicted and no rain having been identified as having fell at the closets weather station. We decided not to go back down but we did stop for a short while on the final part of the track back out. The system was set up between two trees and I walked up and down the walk track with my pack on doing my best to act natural:
So while there will be no climbing footage from this trip at least Wiggins got to trial the system. Next time the weather gods will hopefully be more considerate, the forecast might be more accurate or who knows we might put faith into the old folklore or just cross our fingers and go for it.
Whilst I have been quiet on the email front for few weeks that is not to say that I have not been getting out. It’s been a strange summer climbing season so far, you’d expect everyone would be busting to get out but it has not been the case. For our local crew there have been a variety of reasons including people studying, objectionable job rosters, general life, and of course injuries of which I report yet another in my last email. As it turned out Glen had every right to say that his foot “hurt like hell”, as he managed to sustain a clean break to his talus. If you are keen to watch a bit of GroPro footage of the gripping bone breaking moment check out his story and video (Weekend Whipper: How to Break an Ankle):
Two weeks back it was again all quiet on the climbing talk front so I shouldered my pack ready for my second top-rope solo trip of the year. Another beautiful cool blue sky morning on Wilyabrup rock in perfect conditions, only marred by the smell of the rotting roo carcass on the way in! After a couple of runs of each of the six great lines I still had the crag all to myself. Last week Rongy and I headed out, he’d not been climbing much and so wanted a cruisey morning of fun. We did exactly that but this time a southerly made the already cool morning chilly and wintery, and in addition the rock didn’t feel that great and friction is everyone on Wilyabrup rock. So we will blame that for our seemingly lack of ability on that day:
Yesterday I headed back to Wilyabrup for a third successive weekend with Howsie. Another early 4:30 wakeup time to get there for just after first light and just in time to make use of the facilities, which I’m only telling you in case you were wondering why there is an image of a doorway above. Starting a day-off in darkness seems a little crazy, but all is forgiven when you arrive at your destination in time to watch the world wake up. We of course had the place to ourselves, but we didn’t have to ponder too long where to head too. Despite Howsie having climbed here many, many times he confessed that there were heaps of routes he had never been on. That didn’t mean to say he had climbed all the routes within his capability, so today he was going to be breaking new ground and take all the leads:
We started with Sirius, one of the very few two pitch climbs at Wilyabrup. It’s quite staggering that he had not been on this before, it’s the iconic easy grade line on the majestic Steel Wall. A face that can be seen in many a coffee table climbing book. Like Rongy he too has been relatively absent from the outdoors, so the first few pieces of gear took a bit longer to place. However, once underway he made short work of the great traverse across the face of Steel Wall. I might add that Steve’s insitu pink tricam that I have often photographed and included in my reports has gone, if you want to see why check out Wiggin’s really cool video (Washed up punks training laps):
An interchangeable belay was set up so we could swap over, remember Howsie was to be the leader for the day. So I settled down and watched the waves as he set off on pitch two. Up the arête and round the corner to follow the fun rounded cracks with an impressive amount of exposure falling below him. One of my favourite images that I have taken was of Wiggins leading this pitch, and it is deservedly included as an introductory image to Wilyabrup in the South West WA Rock Guide. Atop the crag we shifted the rap across and went back to the belay at the end of the first pitch, where I settled in once more:
The first bolt on this line is relative high, depending on your stature. For me care is required in making the first clip. However, with an extra four inches of height on me Howsie has a reach that allows him to at times make some sequences a little easier, or where sport climbing comes safer. This line was never claimed, despite someone going to the effort of bolting it. So when writing the guide it seemed appropriate to simply call it Unclaimed. A dull name for a route that deserves more attention. It’s a ripper with thin delicate climbing for the first half, and just when you think you’ll never sustain the climbing, and that the route is a complete and utter sandbag, the holds become increasingly more generous. As such it’s a real test of your mind, and Howsie’s was in perfect tune:
The next chosen route took us back down to the same belay and another climb that starts from the traverse of Sirius. In truth it is the upper part of a climb that starts from the deck, but the first half is substantially more difficult being almost 50% harder. Hence for us mere mortals the upper half is both long enough and worthy enough to be climbed in isolation. So it was back down the same rap for one last time, um maybe one day I’ll buy a rope protector. We again made use of the same belay set up. This time it did however require a bit of clever rope work, just to make sure that me belaying 4m off line didn’t result in any gear being pulled:
This line was of the same grade as the last, so well within Howsie’s capability. I jumped on this line at the recommendation of the local outdoor adventure tour operator Mick; he stated is was right up my street. He was not wrong it’s very good, but interestingly I’ve never seen anyone else ever attempt it. In truth it is not as technical as the last climb but being full trad and with gear that is hard to find and place earns the grade. Any energy saved by having less technical climbing is quickly lost by the time taken hold on trying to protect the line. Added to that the gear, certainly to start with, is verging on marginal. It is not until this fine wire placement comes that a degree of confidence seeps back into your body to steady the nerves:
By the time you get the above wire in you are already a fair way up (as shown below), so this line really can mess with your head. Mick was right it really is my kind of climb, and as it turned out Howsie’s too. A couple of moves after the good wire some reasonable gear can be found as shown above, and then the gear runs dry almost to the top of the crag but on thankfully better holds. While it may seem crazy to have belayed from the side for this line the images of Howsie on lead were worth it, unfortunately however for you I couldn’t overload the email with them. Jumping on this line again certainly makes me want to lead it again:
We kept the rap line in place but moved away from Steel Wall, Howsie had already set his mind on which routes he wanted to bag next. The Unbolted and the Beautiful, put up and named by yours truly after there had been some dodging route development in the early 2010s. So off he set with clear instructions on ensuring a good multi-directional carcass catcher first piece of gear. I was hoping to get a few different angles of someone climbing this line, and the only way to do that is to have the (relative) freedom to move about:
I was very pleased that he led the line as intended. I’ve witnessed a number of people sneaking into the vertical crack of Thunder Thighs, which takes away the excitement and uncertainty of the crux sequence. That said the upper section is equally good, the wall steepens up and there is a bit of a runout to reach the first good horizontal and bomber pro. As I was happily wandering about checking out angles I got a fright when another climber asked if he could pass by. He was heading to Steel Wall to top rope solo some of the classics, so as he wandered along to set up I followed Howsie up yet another fine lead:
Now you may think that I’m not getting much of a work out doing all this top-rope soloing and then letting someone else take all the leads. I do however take my time going up, checking holds and gear placements, both used and missed. I also fully sort the gear taken out as I climb, as only someone as OCD as I would, forcing me to stay in positions for longer even if they are at times less secure positions. For his next chosen route he confessed that he had followed Mikie up it once, but had not led it himself. As he set off on Rhys’s Rapid Retreat I was pleased to see the multi-directional carcass catcher being placed first:
He worked his way up to the small capping rooflet, above which balancy crux moves require some serious focus. He seemed to freeze for some time eyeing up the options. It was almost as if he was looking for an invisible positive crimp or maybe jug to pull past the next move, and each time he moved up it showed. This crux however requires high footwork and trust in a low, small and slopey side pull. His arms were starting to go, and from my experience of watching Rhys climb this line the move to back under the rooflet is difficult and even more so when tired. So when he tried it I wasn’t overly surprised, and was ready to catch him, as he slipped with well-placed gear close enough to make it a safe fall:
It was a great effort, being his sixth successive lead on unfamiliar routes each being physically or/and mentally sustained at their grade. After a brief rest he fired past the crux with confidence and made short work of the remainder of the route. I cleaned the line and when we got back to the bags it seemed there was plenty of time for one more route. Understandably Howsie was more than happy to offer the lead over, so I decided on a line that I backed off just the previous week with Rongy. Left Hand Crack is a good test piece in its own right. However many years back Kym and I climbed a variant finish, which is what I backed off last week:
You almost climb the entire vertical Left Hand Crack route before stepping left to establish yourself on an large under-cling on very marginal feet. I was happy in that the initial crack posed no difficulties, and in fact felt really good. You then have to stay in a tenuous position sort some gear and then tentatively move left. Despite it being late summer the under-cling was wet, making me more nervous move much more slowly and hold on that much harder. It’s a great traditional thrutch trying to under-cling and then move into unseen (but incredibly good) jams, all the while wondering how you are going to get any gear in and added to that having to trust slopey smeary footholds:
The footholds do improve and finally the hanging block turning into a much easier side pull, but all that came well after my mental energy had been well and truly sapped. After resting on the gear part way along I managed to finish the line off in an extremely vocal fashion, only realising after the event that I had a large family observing my antics from the ledge that can be seen in the background. I’m very pleased to say that Howsie followed in great style and managed a clean second to wrap up a very fine morning’s climbing. All that remained was to pulled the rap line and pack up, and having all the gear on top of the crag meant our legs were thankfully saved from the walk back up the crag:
With a New Year’s resolution of quitting the smokes and beer Glen was keen to try out and see just how awful or not it would be getting up for an early climb. Word had it that the usual crags were likely to be busy, due to an organised trip by the Perth climbers so today we decided on Cosy Corner. This is the most southerly crag along the South West’s Cape Leeuwin/Naturalist coastline, and as such takes a little bit longer to get too. Glen was up and raring to go at 5 when I picked him up, and by 6:30 we were at the crag and ready to rap in:
There were two cars in the carpark ahead of us, who had camped overnight. So we let them be and walked off along the cliff to get set up from the platform that leads to the gentle introduction climbs to this area. While there is a scramble down, and it is possible to boulder along the black basalt rocks at the base of the cliff we opted to rap in. The tide was low enough to make the scramble less risky, but it just seemed to make sense to rap in and save time:
Being a new location for Glen I set things off on Crystal Corner, which set the scene for how things would go today. The sharp rock bit into our fingertips, which were still feeling cold. Bomber gear was on hand when most needed, as you climb on rounded cracks and flakes which will happily slice your skin if you didn’t take your time. That may not make the place sound inviting but the routes are fun and you can’t beat the location. As any good real estate agent will say, location is everything:
Not only had Glen not been here before, it was also his first time of leading in some time. Feeling bit rusty he was keen to ease back into the feeling that only being on the sharp end can give you. So I sent him up what would normally be the warm up climb called Bland, which it is not. Plenty of gear, good holds and fine moves which he enjoyed thoroughly. He will hopefully have some footage on his GoPro, but it was playing up a bit so we shall have to wait and see:
This place looks like it should have stack so routes, but much of it is ledgey and blocky. Hidden gems are to be found and I have my eye on two walls that I reckon will yield half a dozen or more lines. These will be left for a future jaunt down this way. It has always felt like it is a long way to come for a climb but really it wasn’t that far and maybe my trips here can become a little more frequent. I’ve only been here four times in 13 years, and that includes today’s visit:
For now Glen and I were aiming to enjoy a chilled climb and the fabulous belay positions with the water lapping just below our feet. This included repeating the very fine Crystal Cut, for which the first third feels like you are climbing up a wall of quartz. Spreadeagled positions and a big reach onto the headwall all the while trying not to allow the crystals to cut you. It feels a little unnerving knowing how brittle quartz can be, making pulling on the holds that bit more exciting:
All the while Glen had been spying a wall that has no routes on it yet. It looked long with a few good sections but also a bit easy angled. So we talked about chucking a rope down it to see if it was worthy, but first we decided to finish this section of the cliff off by climbing the last route. Bad Directions is a Steve and Leanne route. Steve somehow managed to mistake a rib for a corner (how we will never know) and so became this fun line. It does however have a worrying large flake half way up, which Glen said was “flexing”:
I just laughed that off and told him to follow the line round the flake. He eventually went for it and I think he surprised himself when he climbed the left trending crack with tiny feet holds on the slab. He was finally trusting his feet and looking good. The flake was still worrying him so he went further left and placed a high piece of gear in the climb I start us off on. That was someway off to the left, before he gingerly stepped back right to get onto his line. Once above the flake it requires gaining a ledge that is somewhat awkward:
He was looking and feeling confident. So much so in fact that he passed the obvious easy and bomber gear before trying to mount the ledge. Once he started he couldn’t reverse the move and almost slipped, he tried again and this time called out that he was off. He fell initially down but then swung wildly left, tumbling over himself as the piece he had placed off to the far left took tension. It looked pretty spectacular and immediately afterwards he was talking to me, which was good but he did manage to injure his ankle:
Being a well-trained State Emergency Service volunteer trained in vertical rescue he managed to undertake a self-rescue, as I looked on helplessly from below. Luckily the rap rope was within reach and he used a couple of prussics to get to the top, tie off and then belay me up. I was greeted by one bloodied knee, one swelling ankle and a big smiling face. He managed to get to a good position where we took his shoes off and I placed a compression bandage, a little tighter than normal, round the ankle that was forming an egg:
The good news was that his knee that had been plaguing him for some 18 months or more was absolutely fine. We decided that while the adrenaline was still pumping through his body, it was probably best he tried to hobble back to the car. Leaving me to throw everything into the two bags and pack horse them out. As I looked over my shoulder I saw him inching his way out like an old man:
As I strode across the rocks I wasn’t catching up with Glen. As I got closer I could see the carpark was packed. Despite all these cars no other climbers were in sight, it really is a place that does not get the attention it deserves. Either that or we have a different view on and/or reason for climbing to others. Despite the little mishap Glen has already committed to coming back to Cosy Corner, it’s charm had certainly caught his attention. We briefly discussed the last route and agreed it may be a tad of a sand bag. That would however not be due to Steve, but probably me if my memory serves right:
Like all the people who flock here for the beach, Glen was also following a growing crowd. His crowd however was that of local climbers who seem to want to stuff up their ankles, now making it number three is a short period of time.
