Freaky climbing on the Moon

Above: Alice leading Hanging Fred Bonnet

Spooky shit on the Moon

Me and Alice went to Moonarie for a week of sunshine, nice rock and friendship. However before this happened we got completely freaked out. It wasn’t the climbing, which is often sustained, direct and steep, it wasn’t the odd bit of rock that broke off. It wasn’t even having to dig a poo hole every morning. We drove up there in a mammoth day of driving from Melbourne (14hrs), arriving where we thought we should be at around 9pm. We kind of knew where we should be, but drove around in the forest on unmarked tracks and paddocks for a bit just to make sure. After setting up the camper trailer (+++ luxury) we retired for bed to a breezy spooky night; lots of funny noises outside, a branch scraping on the roof of the trailer, and to top it off, around an hour later a vehicle drove up. Two individuals got out, walked up and said “hello in there, it’s the Police”. They also told us we weren’t allowed to camp there and that we would have to move on in the morning. Apparently there were some missing bushwalkers or something and they wondered if they were part of our party. So completely freaked out we once again retired to bed. We did eventually get the camping situation sorted, but it took a bit of frigging around. The first day was windy and a bit showery and quite cold. We did the 4 pitch ***13 classic “Garden Refuse Removed Cheaply”. Alice got a bit freaked out by the relatively hard moves (perhaps grade 14) on supposedly easy pitches eg. grade 9. Having been to moonarie once before I knew not to trust the grades, especially on the easy climbs. The climb its self was good fun, albeit cold and a bit wet. The next day the weather cleared and we launched up the mega classic ***15 face climb of Pagoda. Moonarie grading again featured here, with the crux pitch being very out there for 15….anyway, it was great fun. Next up we did some fun single pitch stuff, **16 Tim Tam and 19** The Prince which were both exciting, steep and fun. I had done Tim Tam on my earlier visit, but 2nding it after Alice, I definitely didn’t remember it being that hard last time! The next day, more quality including Alices epic 60m lead of Roaring Fourties *18, my lead of the mega mega classic Downwind of Angels ***19. We finished the day off with Outside chance **16 and Buckley’s **17.

Above: Alice leading Outside Chance


The next day we headed back to Checkers wall where Alice led the exposed traverse and face climb of Hanging Fred Bonnet ***18, and I thrashed around on Mr Ordinary **21. I completely buggered it up and could hardly clip the crux bolt let alone pull through. Alice styled it on 2^nd. On the way down, we headed to a small cliff called Goat Crag. I hit up Billy the Kid **19 which was fun, and Alice almost smashed her teeth when she snapped a foothold mantling over the final move. The next day we carried up our camping crap to the Top Camp. This is a big flat area with drystone rock walls constructed by climbers over the decades and an awesome place to camp. The next day we were up early to watch the sun rise and went over to hit up Thor variant pitch 1, a **16. Next I led the mega classic ***19 Pine crack pitch one. This was fucking awesome, a mixture of fun facey crack climbing and delicate groove climbing. Alice led the next pitch, another solid 19, taking a fall when she muddled up the sequence out of the roof, she had good gear in and got through next go. Of interest is her approach – being exceptionally flexible, she was able to do the full splits between the wall and lip of the roof!


Above: Tim Prussicking

Above: Alice leading the excellent first pitch of Roaring Forties. She also climbed the much less nice 2nd pitch combining the two in one 60m megapitch.

Above: Alice at topcamp

We rapped off at Thor ledge and headed over to the suspiciously graded classic ***15 Flying Buttress. We were moving fast but mucked a couple of bits up and ended up topping out in the dark. It took around an hour to get back down including descending the sketchy southern descent gully (which apparently has seen deaths…).

The next day Alice led the bloody hard one pitch *18 of the Seduction. She took a decent fall of the slightly undergraded crux before getting it next time – probably at least hard 19…Next up I led **21 Crawling in to Acid Rain – an excellent sustained face climb high up on Checkers Wall. It was quite steep and it found it very pumpy – luckily there was a small alcove halfway through that I could sit in to rest!

Above: Me on Dryland

On our final day we knocked off some great climbs – Tomorrowland **18 finishing up Boltarama **19. Next up I led Fatal Flame **21 finishing up 16 With A Bullet **16. Finally I led ***22 Dry Land, a fantastic thin face climb that fires up the guts of the Great Wall. I was quite pleased with this lead a) cause it was an awesome climb and b) cause the gear was crap (lots of micronuts and RPs) and I didn’t fall off. It was almost 5 by the time I got up we didn’t have time for Al to second it, so I rapped off and got the gear. Unfortunately the ropes got stuck when we were pulling them….so 35m of prussicking and another abseil later, we got our ropes and scampered back to (bottom) camp in the dark…

The next day we packed up the considerable amount of crap we had brought and made the 14hour trek back to Melbourne. A fantastic trip allround. Definitely put it on your list. Sorry about the “and then we did this and then we did that” form that this report has taken – I’m hungover and couldn’t be arsed.

Urban Adventure with the LUMC XTCT

While Victoria’s rivers bulged with drought breaking rain, the LUMC X-Treme Creek Team ticked the Darebin Creek (cough cough, “stormwater drain”). Alex, although not a Cave Clan member, has adopted this local creek/ drain as his own. He frequently suggests trips, checks the gauge on the way to work, posts related comments on the Paddle Australia forum, and undertakes related ambassador-like duties such as shopping trolley and truck tire removal, concrete slap polishing and water tasting.

It was inevitable that sooner-or-later Alex would guide us down his run, so one wet, cold and lazy afternoon at the beginning of the mid-year holidays, Claire and I agreed to a quick trip. We donned wetsuits, and under Alex’s tutelage put-in under the Bell Street Bridge where the gauge read 0.75 meters (and rising). We were served our first face-full of water by the little wave beneath the bridge. The rain persisted for most of the trip, and the increased volume of water in the narrow creek channel made for a surprisingly swift run.

We paddled past bemused joggers and cyclists, picked the odd flower from the bank, played polo with a washed-up basketball, ploughed through the wave trains and raced the ducks downstream. Claire scouted from the eddy above an interesting wave and we all filed down until a river-wide clump of willow trees blocked our path. The writhing mass of roots and branches could be negotiated via an almost non-existent trickle at either the extreme left or right bank. Claire and Alex remained in their boats and hauled themselves over the low-lying rocks. Instead, I passed to the right relatively unencumbered, tried waiting for the others, but was washed down the main rapid. Here the gradient dropped significantly (I was surprised), and the course widened. I bounced down a series of sketchy rocks, (concrete slabs?) and signalled to the others who were still struggling upstream. Claire ran the rapid like a pro but came unstuck in an easier section when she failed to anticipate the sturdiness of a shoulder height tree branch. The shallow creek bed preventing her roll, but even after a quick swim in the muck Claire was smiling. A little cold, but not deterred, Claire emptied her boat and set a cracking pace down to our next obstacle.

Concrete steps set into the creek bed allow park users to cross the creek when it is not in flood, and with the onset of rain these have the potential to form waves and holes. Our level was on the low side of runnable, so we faced a number of scrappy narrow rapids. The short, tight, and fast rapids required some interesting navigation and balance. Amongst the concrete obstacles a small footbridge appeared, so we carefully avoided it and after a little more paddling enjoyed two more ‘stepping stone’ rapids.

We were losing light rapidly, and by the time we passed under the towering Hurstbridge train line it was pretty dark. The creek became increasingly narrow and snaked its path at the base of residential properties. An interesting logjam required an unnerving duck under a felled tree, and the creek soon met the Yarra River at the slalom training site.

This run would have more potential at a slightly higher level, but was surprisingly enjoyable due to the fast moving water and unique narrow and turbulent sections of white/ grey/ brown? water. I was most impressed by the narrow one-sided gorge-like sections where a high rock bank accentuated the narrowness of the creek. The speed of the water was similarly impressive.

I always love paddling an unknown section of river. The uncertainty, anticipation and realisation of all this flowing water always provide a surprise or two.

Be sure to ask Alex about his next urban adventure.

Note: Darebin Creek flows past the western boundary of La Trobe Uni. If its raining heavily check the Melbourne Water website and carry your boat over. Putting in at Plenty Road would have you about 3km above the Bell Street put-in described above.

--Mikey

One Van, Two Bikes and “That Hill”

Mikey and I recently had occasion to take our bikes out for a couple of leisurely mountain bike rides. The occasion being that Mikey got his car fixed, mine was on its way, I’d recently got a kick-arse guide of some other LUMCers and we tend to do stuff like that from time to time. After consulting the possibilities we decided to take the VW of Doom out near Yan Yean Reservoir first and Kinglake afterwards.

The first ride started with a scenic, uphill climb (you don’t climb down a hill on a bike, come see me and I can explain it more) heading towards Kinglake. It may not have been the Alps or the Pyrenees for any Tour de France fans, but this wasn’t road riding (even though it was sealed to start) and the mist really made it pretty. The top of the climb left us a little warmer and definitely ready for a descent, but perhaps not what we were soon to encounter.

After a few Ks rolling up and down through some farmland, including what Mikey described as the steepest seeled road near Melbourne, we arrived at what we’d come for. The guide book gives a distinct warning to take caution on this particular hill, “The Yan Yean Drop-Off” – a “Decent with Attitude”. There was even a caution sign at the start as I approached, but I couldn’t read it all because Mikey barrelled-off in front of me, so I had to catch up. But we shouldn’t have been so hasty – this was not a hill to be shirked at, and a bigger gap between riders was definitely needed. It was that steep that you’d probably needed some gear to climb up back up for any climbers reading, and rough as anything to boot.

Large rocks look scary when you see them coming on a downhill section like this, and the shit-scared factor multiplies when all you can really see to react to is the rider in front. But even that wasn’t likely to happen, for amongst dodging the rocks and riding the brakes (which seemed to have little impact for either of us) I realised that I was picking up a little more speed than Mikey and edging within a few metres of him. “I’m going to have to stop!” I yelled out, anticipating a major stack, resulting in over-the-handle-bars action, and perhaps taking Mikey out in doing so. “What?” Mikey yelled back, not having heard what I’d said in his attempts to negotiate between rocks and a ditch. By that stage I’d realised that with this speed and this gradient, stopping was not happening, so I just continued being thrown around by this massive descent – being tossed into the aforesaid ditch and then thrown back out just as quick.

I’ve had some pretty nasty crashed that I didn’t see coming, and some that I’ve realised mid-motion, but on this hill it felt like I was going over the bars almost the entire way. I was seriously concerned that I’d be spending another month in a sling – at the least it would have been many metres of sliding on rock cutting open lycra and skin. Every bump threw the back wheel far more than what I’d usually be comfortable with, and every attempt to get myself over the back wheel was denied by another jolting rock. We’d let down the tyres, but we’d neglected to do the same with the saddles. “This is going to hurt” I kept reminding myself, and for a long time to – it was straight, steep and long – but I was able to make slight corrections with each threatening shove. Surely this was not a good idea without even inspecting what we had in store.

It kept going and we kept getting thrown around, with hands locked around the handlebars, index finger extended over the brake-lever. Eventually the hill sloped into a run out, with Mikey and I looking at each other speechless for a few moments. “I’ve never done anything like that on a bike”, were Mikey’s words, accompanied by a face both scared and exhilarated. I quickly agreed with amazement that I’d survived. We’d certainly approach that one with more caution next time – but it would take us a hell of a lot of convincing to do it again – but maybe not as much as another crazy ride we’ve done before, but you might not get that story out of us :p. The remainder of the ride was certainly not as exciting, a little up, a little down, a lot of calming our nerves and talking about what we’d just done. Oh yeah, and Mikey took us left when we should have gone right, a detour of about 15km involving a stretch of flat, boring, sealed surface including Plenty Road. The remainder of the day’s itinerary was left to my navigation.

On return to the car, we ate, a lot, called my mechanic, “The car’s good now – except for the clutch, you’ll need to replace it soon”…who cares, we almost get shredded on a seriously gnarly hill. We were ready for ride number two, but that was nowhere near as exciting. Out to Kinglake in the van, enjoyed the trails which were much more wooded this time, and even some fun sections of single track. We survived the “Yan Yean Drop-the-@#$%- Off” but came a little unstuck on some of the technical bits on this track, just some very low speed, “can’t get cleat out of pedal in time type stacks”, leaving us muddy and a little bruised at the end of the day. But it was certainly enjoyable and left us keen to ride out in that particular area again, if only to muck around jumping puddles. Some people say two-wheels are better than four – I can only agree when I do rides like this, especially when the uphill is paid off by a crazy descent.

More up and down to come

Pete

(And please excuse the lack of photos, we were busy riding)

Tim and Alice’s offwidth adventures

Me and Alice recently went climbing at Arapiles and the Grampians for a week or so. Whilst we did many challenging and interesting climbs, a few stand out as having that something extra special.

One day at Arapiles, we decided to do the classic crack struggle ‘Electra’ (grade 19). I cleverly suggested that we climb it as two pitches instead of one, meaning I could lead the relatively short and supposedly easier first pitch and Alice would have to lead the fire-breathing offwidth classic second pitch. I kind of cocked up the first pitch and ended up falling off and ripping the recently healed skin off the back of my left hand (injured on the nearby classic ‘Wizard of Ice’ a couple of weeks earlier). I was pissed at falling off, but after contaminating the climb with sufficient blood I got through on the next go.

Alice then set out on her journey up the second pitch. This pitch is offwidth – it’s not a crack that you can hand jam in a conventional sense and it’s not a chimney that you can chimney climb in a conventional sense. It’s in-between. You kind of stick various parts of your body in and squirm your way up. Alice led it like a champ – a fair bit of sketchy squirming and a few whimpers were necessary, but she got up it, and made her way up the relatively pleasant upper crack and across the majestic juggy headwall without any issues. This quite impressed the hardperson American we had been socializing with – he had already been impressed with Alice’s no-nonsense lead of Hyena a couple of days earlier (another ye olde fashioned crack climb). He and his friend had come up to the cliff that morning intending to climb Electra. He noted with a certain bemusement that it was unusual that, in the middle of winter, midweek, surrounded by pleasant classic non-crack climbs, that there should be a queue on the horrendous offwidth.


Fast forward a few days in to the future and Alice and I found ourselves at the base of “Genuine Wage Overhang” (grade 20) at Mt Stapylton in the Grampians. To give an impression of its steepness, the authors of the guidebook note that when you are standing underneath the lip (the edge of the overhang) you are closer to the lip than the start of the climb. Overhanging probably 40 degrees, this is one intimidating climb. The pictures don't do justice the the overhanging-ness. I had seen it previously when wandering in the area looking at other climbs, and knew we would need some big gear (gear = protection to stop a fall). Thus we brought two #4 camalots with us. These are about as big as most people normally own, but they weren’t quite big enough.

I set off up the climb, cautiously jamming bits of my body in it and using the small face holds next to the crack. I put in one of the big cams just before the roof got steeper (to almost horizontal), stuck my leg up and in the crack and shoved part of my arm in. This seemed to work and I was able to squirm around without falling off. I discovered a small face hold after this that was quite positive (good to hold on to) and this helped me establish myself in a kind-of-chimneying-kind-of-sticking-half my-shoulder-in-the-crack position. I squirmed upwards, in the process scraping skin off various parts of my body until I was about 3 meters above the cam. Here the crack started to get wider, so I figured I should stick the other big cam in before it got too wide. I played around with the cam for a few minutes until satisfied the placement was good. Gradually the wall next to me opened up a bit and I could get more positive foot holds for chimneying, but I was starting to get a bit concerned about how far above the cam I was, and how far I had to go. A good arm bar (this is where you jam your arm in the crack between your elbow and the palm of your hand) gave me some time to de-stress and work out a strategy for the rest of the climb. I came up with two options. A) jump off. B) keep climbing. I chose B. Alice assured me that I wasn’t going to deck (hit the ground) so I kept climbing.


Eventually, about 5 or so meters after placing the last cam, I latched on to the nice positive holds in the guts of the chimney and hauled myself up, where I put in 5 (!) pieces of gear, just because I could. I don’t think I would have hit the ground if I had come off, but I would have taken a massive winger (fall) and come very close! Alice seconded me, getting to use the prussics when she fell off the crux, but she styled the rest of the climb and we had a bit of a de-stressing hug when we were re-united at the belay ledge. All in all, two mega classic climbs!