Momentum and The Black Rose

Lucky and I climbing The Nose in
4 Minutes (22) at Mount Alexandra a
few years ago. Photo taken
by Simon Vaughan.

Before I begin, I'd just like to say a few words about the recent passing of Toby Benham/Lucky Chance.

I knew Lucky briefly at school, and climbed with him quite a lot as he continued to recover after his accident in France. In recent years, I've kept in contact with him to some extent, though we haven't climbed together for quite a while.

The fact is, that in his demise, Climbing and Adventure Sport in Australia has lost a unique (and some might say: iconic) character. He lived every moment of his life in a manner that made him happy and gave him purpose, regardless of how others might perceive his actions. I think that that is an ideal more people should strive to achieve.

In the days to come, there will doubtless be criticism on social media sources about his life and how he came to this end. There will be commentary offered by people living beige lives (and with no desire to achieve anything more) who feel that they have the right to offer uninformed subjective judgement on the correct path to take through life. There will certainly be a typical over-the-top, knee-jerk reaction from various authorities trying to mitigate the "fallout" from this accident. But the fact of the matter is that in pursuing the things that made every day worth experiencing, Lucky was living his life, and making it so much more worthwhile than those who unquestioningly follow the predictable path set before them.

Was he crazy? Bloody oath he was, but that was what made him unique...

Lucky and an eclectic crew of climbers about to start up the iconic Clocks (22) at Balls Head, a few years ago.

Impetus (means Momentum)

Well, sort of:

impetus

/ˈɪmpɪtəs/

noun

The force or energy with which a body moves.

Synonyms: momentum, propulsion, impulsion, impelling force, motive force, driving force,continuing motion... (etc)

Interesting Factoid #1: The rap anchors
for The Sporting Complex are on the
near rock pagoda, just left of the middle
in this shot.

So, as regular readers (should I call you obscurists, or perhaps merely masochists?) will know, I've done a fair bit of new route development at The Sporting Complex in Medlow Bath. And when you're at The Sporting Complex, looking across at the wall immediately opposite (the Pole 28 crag), there is a single line that draws your attention.

The line in question as seen in the surrounding photos is the steep face on the lower tier perpendicular to the photographer's position, and after many days at The Sporting Complex (and with the rest of my bolted projects completed) I finally decided to go and investigate the line. I spent 3 days rapping different potential routes on the steep face, before settling on a plum line up the guts of the face that would become The Impetus Project.

On the basis that all falls are over clean air (due to its steepness), the climbing generally consists of long sections of steep, thin moves separated by "okay" holds, and that you rap directly over the route (more or less) to get to the belay, I made the decision to bolt it "sportingly". As such, there are 7 bolts in the entire 30m climb, with the first 3 close together at the start (to stop a potential ledge fall), and the last two close together near the top for the same reason. So, as you might imagine, there is the potential for some pretty exciting airtime. From this, the name for the line became clear: big falls... momentum... Impetus. 

Looking at The One Line (to Rule Them All!) which would become Impetus. If you can't spot it: perhaps it's time to give the game away and take up croquet. Interesting Factoid #2: The crag above Impetus is the main Pole 28 crag. The walls to the right of Impetus host a number of reasonably good gr22 pitches of climbing.

Abseiling the slab-arete to reach the belay ledge.

After practicing the route a few times, I dragged out Jason "Ninja" Nguyen (one of the younger generation of climbers who had been introduced to the world of outdoor climbing by being dragged up all manner of ludicrous adventure routes with me... to his credit he stuck it out for the duration), and we rapped in to tackle the route. Based on my previous laps, I estimated my chances of ticking it at 60% for a full day of work (about 3 laps, which was all I could handle considering the intensity of the route). As such, Jason was briefed and prepared for the possibility of catching some monolithic falls.

"Fist bump for good luck!". Ninja looking forward
to gaining some Impetus.

The route begins with some easy climbing through a 1.5m roof (which is exposed, especially since you start the pitch 40m off the ground), then launches straight into the lower crux as you turn the lip. The hardest move of the crux is just before you get your feet out from under the roof and onto the wall, and is followed by a long sequence of consistently pumpy technical thinness with no opportunity to clip. After battling through this (and dealing with the psychological impact of the potential airtime if you blow the last moves of the crux), you reach an "okay" hold and a clip, before following up with a few more powerful moves to some better holds and an awkward no-hands rest.

Immediately after the rest, you encounter The Dyno: a ridiculous jump move from a crimp, to a crimp, which -even at my height of 186cm/6ft 2in- I have to lose both feet to achieve. One you stick the dyno, you're then forced into some extreme body positions to make a number of very small, hard-to-hold, crimps a long way apart work for you.

A sequence-shot of me sticking the dyno move on the First Ascent.

From there to the top it's thin, techno-crimping, which requires poise to pull-off, and at which point -on the First Ascent-, finding myself literally shaking with stress, I had to force myself to hang on a tolerable "finger jug" to regain my composure before making the final moves up the headwall.

Yep, I was rather excited with the First Ascent... Don't worry,
it's chalk and will wash off in time.

Fortunately, I managed to keep it all together, and scored the first Ascent of Impetus (26) on my first shot of the day (after having warmed up at home), which is particularly good, as I'm not sure I would've had the disposition to have another lash at the whole climb if I'd fallen off on the top headwall.

Suffice to say, I was pretty excited to have succeeded, and after Ninja attempted to second the route (confirming that it is indeed hard in the process), we did some easier climbing for the rest of the day, then raced back home to meet up with the rest of the The Mount RiverCrew™ who were christening the newly constructed ShredShed™ (see my previous Blog Update) with a barbecue and beers... Not a bad way to end the day!

Ninja attempting to second Impetus.

Pulling the opening moves of the crux.

Learning the meaning of the route name by falling off the last hard move of the lower crux.

And here is a short composite video I put together of the First Ascent of the route (in the Red Shirt), and of another lap on it (in the Green Shirt). The crazy Dyno is at 1min 46sec:

Rock Climbing First Ascent - Impetus (26) in the Blue Mountains from P T on Vimeo.

 

 

The Black Rose

The Black Rose (27) at Hanging Rock is a route I've wanted to climb for a long time, mostly due to Simon Carter's iconic photo of Richard Rogers learning to fly:

Taken from the 2002 Blue Mountains Rock Climbing: 3rd Edition guidebook.

A unique view of Hanging Rock (taken from the
belay at the bottom of The Black Rose).
How does that thing not fall down?

The route has an intimidating reputation as it features a fully hanging belay situated over 150m of air, is relentlessly steep, and at a grade that guarantees some exciting falls. Furthermore, as Hanging Rock is in the sun for most of the day (and therefor only climbable in winter), features a 1-hour walkin, and a 50m jumar out at the end of the day, it's not a route to commit to on a whim. Despite years of admiring Simon's photo and coveting the line, this is the first time I've really felt strong enough to give it a proper lash, and as it will be Summer by the time I get back from my upcoming trip to Yosemite Valley (and thus too hot to climb it), I knew that this would be my only opportunity for quite some time. Considering the high levels of commitment this route demands, and no guarantee that I even could tick it, I decided to make this a rope-soloing mission, rather than drag out a belayer.

Despite my best efforts, it still took me the better part of an hour to hike out to Hanging Rock. More time was wasted as I struggled to work out exactly where the abseil needed to be made from (there are no anchors, and no clear line-of-sight on the route), but after an hour of cocking around I managed to make an abseil anchor by slinging a dubious bollard and backed it up off a nest of dubious half-placed cams. At this point intermittent showers were passing by, and the wind was so strong that it was at the limit of what I would consider tolerable for rapping in to this type of route (in the selfie photo below you can see the abseil rope coiled over my waste to stop the ends blowing around the arete and getting snagged), but eventually I found my misplaced testicles, gathered my fortitude, and committed to the abseil.

A totally bomber slung-bollard!

A totally bomber nest of half-placed cams in dinnerplate ironstone.

The top 50m of the Hanging Rock cliffline is almost entirely composed of vegetation, dirt, scree, shale and general choss, necessitating that the 1st abseil rope be left in situ, and you Jumar out at the end of the day. After arriving at the bottom of this abseil, I rapped again (using my 2nd rope) over the top pitch (gr20) of The Black Rose, and finally had my first view of the money pitch of this infamous line.

From the belay at the bottom of P2, the gr27 first pitch looked intimidatingly exposed, improbably steep, and outrageously positioned. Suffice to say, I was feeling rather overwhelmed. I continued abseiling down the pitch, clipping into every bolt along the way (fortunately, the hideous carrots the route was originally equipped with have since been fully retrobolted on ringbolts in good condition). Reaching the belay below the 1st pitch (which is fully-hanging, and situated right on the very lip of the steep face, hanging above 150m of clean air), I set up my rope-soloing system, took a deep breath, and started up The Black Rose.

The climbing begins with some easy moves to a stance, then a few thin crimps to a bolt and the start of the crux. Despite being on Top Rope Solo (which is not so dissimilar from being on Top Rope), I was pretty freaked and had a lot of trouble committing to the crux initially. The fact of the matter is, that the isolation of rope soloing, the extreme exposure and terrifying steepness (meaning biiiiiig swings over the void whenever I fell off) of this climb, and the irrational fear of potential equipment failure was pushing my psyche right to the edge of acceptable levels.

The obligatory selfie taken from the belay below P2 of
The Black Rose, looking down at the infamous P1.

Eventually, though, I pushed on into the crux, which I solved with a hideous undercling and knee-scum out right, followed by some seriously tough (and sharp!) crimping with my right hand, a spot of tricky footwork, and finally a desperate blind slap to an incut crimp around the left side of the arete. At this point, your feet are getting quite rubbish, forcing some tic-tac sidepull crimping with your right hand and some trust in a few grains of sand (masquerading as footers) to throw again with your left hand to a better sidepull, and bring your right hand (and eventually entire body) around the left side of the arete. A few throws between ironstone slopers, and the crux is done.

Above this it is about grade 24 to the end of the pitch, featuring big moves between small intermediates, through continuing steepness to good horizontal breaks. This final section would be quite intimidating on lead, as -even though it is comparatively easy climbing- it is quite runout, and still terrifyingly exposed.

The sustained upper section of Pitch 1. Exposure much?

Arriving at the belay, I continued up the Gr20 Pitch 2 clean (which is fairly straightforward slab-and-face climbing, with a few thin moves to make it memorable, though with an unfortunate tendency towards being friable and a touch dirty), and eventually back to my fixed rope and the awaiting 50m Jumar back to the clifftop.

So, is The Black Rose any good?

Looking down at the crux of P1 of The Black Rose.
This section is unfathomably steep, and the fully hanging
 belay is right on the lip of the face below, directly
over the void.

If you were to rate the climb solely on the quality of its climbing, it wouldn't be worth the effort of going back for the tick. Though it has some good moves (and the sustained upper section is funky), the very pronounced short crux, extremely sharp large-grain sandstone, and an aroma of being a bit contrived (it's possible to climb up the face 2m right of the arete at about gr25, and link that into the post-crux top section of The Black Rose for a nice sustained pitch, though the current bolt positions don't allow this) don't do much to sell the climbing aspect of the climb. However, when you factor in the uniqueness of the position and features, and the obvious intimidating aura that the preceding reputation of this climb emits, it certainly warrants some attention. Though I do believe that I could tick this in a few shots, as I leave for America in a few days, I don't really have the time for it. Had this climb been a mind-blowing mega-classic, I might have scrambled all resources to get back there for the tick, but as it's not, I'm afraid that The Black Rose will have to wait until next season before I revisit it. The reality, if I'm honest, is that I'd go back to tick The Black Rose for its reputation, and not so much for the climb itself.

Beginning the Jumar back up to the clifftop, a torrential storm moved in, featuring horizontal rain blown directly onto the face and subsequently drenching the route, thus negating any chance to check out Oranges Poranges (25) or The Great Outdoors (23) nearby. Though this made for an exciting (and wet) finish to a bloody exciting day, I still had the hour long trudge back to my car before it was over. No one can say that I don't suffer for my art!

With my trip to the US of A beginning in a few days, and lasting for at least 2 months (at least 1 month of which will be spent in Yosemite Valley), this might be my last blog update for a while. Since I don't have a laptop, or a tablet, or any other similar fandangled technology, I cannot promise any comprehensive updates of my activities, but as much as possible I will try to post a few short blurbs and the odd photo or two during my absence.

In the meantime, be safe, climb hard, and pursue the obscure and ridiculous... After all, it's what I'll be doing.

The Mount RiverCrew™ and the ShredShed™ (OR: 5 Dudes and Their Woody - Nothing Suss!)

Preamble: 

 

I've long had this theory about Mount Riverview (where I am -technically- a resident) in the Blue Mountains, and its links to Island Tameness and Isolated Island Syndrome. Keeping the explanation simple:

Island Tameness refers to a loss of fear of predators found in prey animals in environments where they simply have no predators... Think of the Dodo, for example, and how it had no fear of Mariners who harvested them into extinction.

Isolated Island Syndrome pertains to the flora and fauna on an isolated island (a controlled environment) settling in to a very specific homeostatic environment which seldom has reason to evolve or change.

So, what does this have to do with Mount Riverview? Well I've long held the belief (read: excuse) that because Mount Riverview sits on an isolated ridgeline to nowhere, with no reason whatsoever for any outsider (non-resident) to travel there, we've lost any fear of predators, and have settled into a homeostatic environment where we have no reason to evolve to counter outside threats or improve beyond our simple existence. In short, I've long believed that it's made us all a bit soft, and I hold myself up as the living embodiment of this theory.

Recently, our homeostatic environment was turbulently disrupted with the invasion of several outsiders, who -as with the demise of the Dodo- were only too happy to wack us stagnating Mount Riverview Residents over the head unless we evolved to counter the threat. Ben Jenga sauntered in from Valley Heights, Mitch Perkins flanked from the Hawkesbury Region, and Strong Geoff has been slowly encroaching on our borders for some time now (he resides on the border of Mount Riverview and East Blaxland). With 3 strong climbers (and me) now occupying this isolated little ridgeline, it was time to embrace evolution by natural selection, and start toughening up to these outside threats.

So naturally, as climbers, this evolution translated to building a unified training environment -in the form of a Woody- in the back shed of my house. 

After some initial preparation of the shed (read: throwing out all the junk I had stored in there and knocking down the ancient partitions and shelving), we were ready to commence construction...

The Shed, as Jenga, Lara and I began dismantling the interior.

The interior office partitions come down.

 

The (mostly) empty shed awaiting a new Woody. The beer bottles on the right were like that when we got here...

Building the Woody:

 

On the weekend of the 15th of August, Strong Geoff, Ben Jenga, Mitch and myself were joined by Damion Best (who had been granted a greencard as an honorary citizen of Mount Riv, due to an ongoing relationship with one of the local wallabies -they both have a similar amount of fur), and set to the task at hand.

As with any good worksite, we began by carefully organising and strategically positioning our tools:

Our initial drawn designs were perhaps a bit primitive, but fortunately Jenga "had the design clearly in his head", so we began construction on that premise. 

Did I mention that one of our number is a Draftsman? No, really... I'm serious.

Cue the A-Team Montage theme song...

First up came the main bearers, which were probably the most technical aspect of the project, due to the varying angle of the Woody.

With the bearers and their associated reinforcement sorted, the panels (with holes and T-nuts already installed) were screwed on.

 

 

The others -clearly recognising my genius and natural adeptness with power tools- assigned me the complex task of marking up the T-nut placements and drilling the holes. Oh, and I also bought lunch. And Beer. And documented the construction process.



 

With the basic panels installed, we took to the more complex task of constructing and installing the "feature" panels (all of which were also T-nutted) to fully enclose the face of the Woody.

Finally, with the weekend over and most of the construction completed, the others went back home to their "normal" lives, while Damo and I sanded and painted the Woody, ready for it's grand opening.

Oh look, they let me use ANOTHER
powertool! My abilities are endless!

The Christening:

 

On the evening of the 21st August, the construction team was joined by Ninja (Jason), and Lara and Elise (Ben and Mitch's significant others) for the christening. Geoff supplied the barbecue, Elise cooked up a storm, and the entire group set about installing the several hundred holds we'd managed to acquire.

Not even CLOSE to the total number of holds awaiting installation.

Ninja approves the height of the Woody.

PICTURED HERE: The total number of jugs these crushers put on the Woody.

The completed Woody at the end of the night.

The First Session:

 

On the evening of Monday 24th August -our traditional gym training night-, Ben, Mitch and Myself were joined by Ninja, Lindsay, Ben (Guns) Young, Will Krampitz and Dan Cross for the first session on the new Woody.

Oh look, a picture of ME actually training. I'm gonna be a crusher!

The Peanut Gallery. (Left to Right) Lindsay, Dan, Ninja and Jenga. Mitch is climbing (visible in the reflection).

Left to Right: Will, Jenga, Lindsay and Ninja.

So, all seemed to be going great, and it wouldn't take a prognosticator to foresee a great deal of convenient training in my near future... But, inevitably (perhaps more so, where training and myself are concerned) I had an awkward fall while heel-toe-camming near the end of the night, and managed to rupture something in the side of my knee. So, in the interim I'm relegated to hangboarding, limping around, and being bored out of my brain. Typical.

So, what's next for the Woody? Well, some sort of roof-cap at the very top seems likely; at the right-hand side there is about 1m of additional room in which to add another panel; and the rest of the group has another few hundred holds on order (and en route). I'm also psyched on some roof cracks and crack-features to add to the training environment (I've used primitive roof-crack devices in the past to train steep crack climbing) which has been met with... um... "mixed opinions" by the others... But they'll come around to my way of thinking, I'm sure!

At any rate, there's now 3 weeks remaining until I'm off to Yosemite; I've managed to recently send the last of my bolted Projects - Impetus (more on that in my next update); and I have a few obscure goals I want to achieve before I depart (in particular, because I return right at the onslaught of summer). Add to this my downtime while my knee heals... and it's looking like quite a tight schedule.

We'll just have to see if I can fit it all in.

I also wanted to say a big thanks to Lara and Elise, who visited us during the Woody construction, bearing treats and gifts (and beer!).

a² + b² = c² in Gariwerd

"Since of all things numbers are by nature the first, in numbers they (the Pythagoreans) thought they perceived many analogies to things that exist and are produced, more than in fire, and earth, and Avater; as that a certain affection of numbers was justice; a certain other affection, soul and intellect; another, opportunity; and of the rest, so to say, each in like manner; and moreover, seeing the affections and ratios of what pertains to harmony to consist in numbers, since other things seemed in their entire nature to be formed in the likeness of numbers, and in all nature numbers are the first, they supposed the elements of numbers to be the elements of all things."

- Commentary by Sir William Smith in 1870 on the Pythagoreans, the philosophers who studied under Pythagoras.

a² + b² = c²: 

 

Let's face it, who wouldn't want to climb this?

Anyone who has been blessed enough to climb with me in the last year or so (basically, since I went to Eureka and ticked Archimedes Principle, and subsequently wet my pants at the mere site of Pythagoras Theorem) has had to listen to me frothing over a return trip to the Grampians National Park with the sole objective of ticking that reputable, ridiculous grade 26 Trad stemming corner. If you can't look at the photo to the right without peeing yourself in awe (or terror, I'll also accept terror), then you need to surrender your climbing gear and take up croquet.

So, with about 1.5 months to go before I leave for Yosemite, I seized on the famously stunning weather (read: hideous weather) at this time of year to team up with my old buddy Scotty Wearin from Natimuk to lay siege to the beautiful Eureka Walls in the Grampians.

As predicted, the weather was utterly shit. But amidst arctic conditions ("welcome to VictArctica, New South Welshman"), freak storms that destroyed Scotty's tent on the first night and blew away my Gazebo-cum-TentCity structure, I managed to spend 6 days up at Eureka Wall tackling Pythagoras Theorem and a number of other routes.

Scotty Wearin modelling VictArctica attire:
400 layers of clothing and an expression
of despair.

Eureka Wall is famous in particular for the spectacular Archimedes Principle (25), an improbable 45m face-climb all on Trad gear that tackles the aesthetic black streak up the guts of the wall. For the sake of a few laughs, I've included a video of Ben JengA and myself taking some big falls on our Onsight and Flash attempts on Eureka last year, a bit further below.

Pythagoras Theorem is the other "mega classic" route on this wall, and, for a trad climber in Australia is a very big "tick" to aspire to. Working this route is no small task, with a 35min uphill slog each day to get to Eureka Wall, the route in question is 40m long and on gear (although it does have 3 carrot bolts after the crux, which -funnily enough- are harder to equip than the trad gear), and it's in the Victoria Range part of the Grampians, which is more popular as a Sport Climbing destination then as a trad destination, in particular because it's quite a drive from world famous Tapian Wall. Regardless, it's worth pointing out that Eureka Wall is covered in Classic routes (even aside from Archimedes Principle and Pythagoras Theorem) which are extremely rewarding to climb in their own right, for anyone who will put in the effort to climb here.

Rock Climbing in the Grampians - Archimedes Principle (Trad 25) - Big Falls from P T on Vimeo.

Extreme stemming on Pythagoras Theorem.

At any rate, aside from tackling a few other climbs in the area, I threw myself at Pythagoras Theorem, blowing the Onsight at the lower crux (some tricky laybacking), and getting utterly shut down by the main crux: a 3m section of near-blank slippery Grampians rock, with holds that are only usable in the conventional sense of the word holds at about Grade 30... but with some tricky footwork, can be exploited to climb the corner at a more reasonable Gr26. On the Second day, I finally figured out the crux, which involved (for me) an 11-foot-movement sequence to negotiate 3m of climbing, smearing my feet and hands and doing my utmost to form the hypotenuse of this ridiculous corner feature, and thus demonstrate the c² of Pythagoras Theorem (a² + b² = c²). The stress on my groin and hips of this extreme stemming became so bad, that on the morning of the 3rd day working the route, I fell out of my van as I attempted to step out of it and my hips simply gave out, landing flat on my face. Good Morning Victoria!

This route can be quite stressful to work, as the bizarre movement, extreme body positions utilising muscles seldom used in climbing, and unpredictable nature of the "smear" moves, lead to some surprising (and probably hilarious, for the belayer) falls. Nevertheless, on my 3rd day at Eureka Walls, and on my 3rd lead attempt (6th lap total, including 2 top rope laps, and one Rope Solo lap to equip the route), I managed to keep it all together and score a clean lead lap on one of my long-term Climbing Goals. Can you say "dream send"? I've attached a half-arsed video below of the Send (and spliced in a bit of video from a previous attempt). Take note of the ridiculous starting move... it's not so bad when you've got the cam pre-placed, but on my Onsight attempt I was convinced I was going to die.

Rock Climbing in the Grampians - Pythagoras Theorem (Trad 26) from P T on Vimeo.

Me climbing Return to Gariwerd (22).

After succeeding in ticking Pythagoras Theorem, I was also blown away by a few easier trad routes in the vicinity, which I was lucky enough to Onsight as warmups on separate days. Return to Gariwerd (Trad 22) is on the Eureka Towers, about 15min extra walk above Eureka Wall, and is -in all reality- like a smaller, tamer, and easier version of Archimedes Principle. It forges a very improbable line, all on gear, up a 25m section of immaculate and aesthetic rock, and might very well be the best 22 I've ever climbed in Australia. Sailing Away (Trad 23) at Red Sail is a line which is visible from before you even leave the car (and commence your 40min walk up the hill), as The Red Sail is a narrow, proud, tower of vibrant red rock that stands out amongst it's neighboring rock outcroppings. The line itself follows a sharp grey arete for 45m on the right side of the tower, with some rather bold runouts at the start (with fiddly gear), and steep arete-slapping pumpiness (and a few spaced bolts) right at the end. Though somewhat inferior rock for the Gramps, and perhaps not as mega as some of the other more well-known routes here, Sailing Away is a line on a proud feature on an even prouder feature, and is a line I've salivated over for years.

The Red Sail. Sailing Away (23) climbs the arete
on the right up to the top roof.

The line of Return to Gariwerd (22)... Aesthetic perfection.

My rope showing the line of Pavlov's Dog (29).

Aside from some sport climbing elsewhere in the Victoria Range, the other line that utterly blew my mind was Kent Patterson's Pavlov's Dog (29), a 40m sport route up the right side of Eureka Wall. Aside from the amazing climbing, perfect rock, and aesthetic beauty of this line, it's almost as if Kent went out to bolt a line that is specifically tailored to every one of my strengths: it's ridiculously sustained (there's one "jug" on the entire route), in the "slightly steep" category, stressfully long, each of its 5 cruxes are solved with a nice mix of power and technical trickery, and it oozes inspiration from every sandstone pore. One of the best lines I've ever been on anywhere in Australia, and one that I'm almost desparate to get back to tick. Below I've attached a half-arsed video I made of one of my Top Rope Soloing laps of this masterpiece.

Rock Climbing in the Grampians - Pavlov's Dog (29) from P T on Vimeo.

So, all in all, a very successful trip to the Grampians, despite the weather doing its best to ruin the experience. As Scotty went back to Uni, and the number of available climbing partners thinned due to the cold and rubbish weather, I did a few days of exploring and a number of rope soloing adventures, before eventually returning to The Blueys with the goal of trying to tackle some harder climbs (to really test myself, and actually project something properly, for once), and also visit a few of the adventurous crags which are "winter only" crags before I head off to America.

Advanced Air, Yeah Yeah!

 

Now back in the Blueys, I did a day working an amazing gr28 Trad route Pit Fighter at the new crag The Pit at Katoomba, and made good progress on that one; I bolted a new line below Pole 28 -Impetus-, which -aside from being a stunning, sustained, and rather bold line in its own right- is the line that you look at when looking out from The Sporting Complex at Medlow Bath; Neil Monteith sent his awesome new line at The Sporting Complex Buckley's Chance (Hard 24), and I did the First Ascent of the obvious, classic, super-sustained linkup of Buckley's Chance and Being and Nothingness, Thus Spoke Zarathustra (26); and my old partner in crime Stephen Varney and I headed out to a crag that I've wanted to visit for years: Bald Head.

Pit Fighter (Trad 28), this shot doesn't convey the steepness!

Me climbing Neil Monteith's new line:
Buckley's Chance (24).

A shot from the top of The Sporting Complex, looking over at my new line Impetus below Pole 28. Impetus tackles the
obvious steep face (which faces left in the photo) in the middle of the shot, with some rather ridiculous runouts.

Bald Head in Blackheath is -when viewed from the Bells Line of Road side of the Grose Valley- possibly one of the most aesthetic walls in the Blue Mountains. Its vibrant Tiger Stripes and long, blank faces, visible from over 20km away and perched high over the valley below, have called to me for years. Unfortunately, it's aspect that faces the sun for most of the day, 50min+ walkin, lack of traffic, rap-in climb-out routes, and pitches around the 50m mark has always kept prospective belayers away. Stephen, as it turns out, is a sucker for punishment, and was only too happy to investigate Bald Head with me.

Bald Head main face (Sector 1) from the ledge.
Maybe not quite as spectacular up close.

Bald Head Main Face (Sector 1). The Tiger Stripes are
distinctive.

Bald Head Main Face from further away. The stripes and long,
blank faces are eye-catching even from a distance.

The walk in probably took us 1.5 hours due to getting lost when the trail ended in the middle of nowhere, and finding the first climb -Advanced Air Studio (20)- likely took another 45min due to some rather crap crag/Access details in the old 2002 Blue Mountains Climbing guidebook (the last one to cover Bald Head). Furthermore, finding the main sector later in the day took us at least another 1.5 hours of rather sketchy cliff-edge bush-bashing (fortunately, I've updated all of the access and crag/route navigation details for Bald Head on TheCrag at: http://www.thecrag.com/climbing/australia/blue-mountains/blackheath-area/area/12013003 ), but nevertheless we still managed to get some climbing in.

You know you're totally not going to have an
epic when this is all that's stopping you
falling 150m into the Grose Valley.

Advanced Air Studio (20) is probably the only climb anyone
knows about at Bald Head, and is a 30m long sport route that starts from a small ledge you rap into, and follows a ridiculously exposed arete feature positioned 150m above the Grose Valley. Somehow, despite the fact that both Stephen and I usually carry Bolt Plates everywhere we climb, we both managed to leave them in the car, which inevitably (applying Murphey's Law) meant that the rap anchors and belay bolts turned out to be carrot bolts, necessitating some totally safe improvisation.

Stephen on Advanced Air Studio (20).

Stephen lead the pitch and I followed him on Second, to find that -despite the testicle-shrinking exposure and enjoyable climbing- the moderately crap rock leads to a pitch of climbing which isn't really the Classic it's cracked up to be. The climbing is hard at the grade, and gets continuously harder all the way to the top-out. Not a bad route by any means, but hardly worth the 50min+ walk.

Looking down at Stephen from the
top of The Dimerisation Interface (22). It's a bit exposed, no?

Next up, after losing most of the day trying to locate it, we rapped in to tackle The Dimerisation Interface (22), a 52m face route at a different part of Bald Head. I scored the Onsight on this pitch, which was thoroughly enjoyable, and climbs like the crux moves of Mirrorball (21) at Pierces Pass, again and again for 52m. Extremely long, quite sustained, and unrelentingly thin, it is marred (in my opinion) by somewhat fragile rock, and being somewhat limited in the range of moves encompassed within its length. I also thought it was quite hard at the grade, but knowing that the First Ascensionist -Megan Turnbull- is something of a gecko when it comes to thin face climbing, I'm hardly surprised.
 
As the day drew to a close, accompanied by quite a few dark ales, it was clear that Bald Head warrants another visit from us. We'd barely scratched the surface of the climbs here, and the aesthetics (and exposure) of the area offer the sort of inspiration that I love in the Blueys. Now that I know how to get to the crag, and how to navigate around it without the sort of cocking around we suffered today,
another trek here won't be such a mission. Hopefully I'll have time to return before I head off to America.

Stephen on the lower crux of The Dimerisation Interface (22).

In the meantime, the Mount RiverCrew (an "elite" group of climbers (and me) who -bizarrely- all live in the tiny suburb of Mount Riverview in the Lower Blue Mountains) have written off climbing this weekend so as to build a new Woody. So, prospective Climbing objectives and goals need to wait until next week, before I can decide exactly what adventures are on the cards.

I suspect I'll be able to think of something... I'll let you know what I come up with...