Wild Adventure

Software Piracy in the Solomons

2009-01-22T07:21:00.003+11:00

I just spent a month in the Solomons and did some work fixing up the UNICEF network in Gizo. After having been introduced to a few local 'computer experts', I have come to the conclusion that general IT in the Solomons has deteriorated into the mess that I predicted where a 'computer expert' means that you are really good at pirating software (and making money out of it), but you lack in the skills of systems management (both machine and network) and general problem solving.

I was actually shocked at the level of software piracy and what people were doing to make money out of it. The thing that gets me is that the 'computer experts' don't want to pay for software licenses, but they are quite happy to make money themselves out of it. One guy I met had an HP Windows recovery disk set - he charged clients SBD$500 (about $100 Oz) to load the software, which he could then register by a phone call to Australia. The clients received no disks and no license key.

I saw invoices from two of the well know computer stores in Honiara that had either charged for software as an individual line item (and still loaded pirated versions) or included the price of the software in the bundle and loaded pirated software.

And so Mr HP Recovery Disks is considered a 'computer expert'. He couldn't even solve a simple Windows print spooler problem - and he had access to Google at work!! Here is a simple task for those who are interested - tell me what 99% of the causes are for the Windows print spooler service crashing?

Anyway, the point that I am getting at here is that the IT industry in the Solomons really needs to start looking at open source software if they are not going to pay for software licenses, and using it will go a long way to help people really becoming a 'computer expert'.

And I don't want to hear any of this 'Linux is too hard to use' rubbish. My wife has used Linux for at least three years quite happily and doesn't even notice that it's not Windows (apart from that it doesn't crash). All the computers that are out there in the Solomons in the One Laptop Per Child programme (well done David Leeming) are running Linux - they're not going to be scared when they see Ubuntu running on the machine at the local Internet cafe.

Which reminds me, I had a few beers with the owner of an Internet cafe in Gizo (another 'computer expert'), and he moaned about how computer viruses were destroying his system all the time (and all the software is pirated, highly likely not properly patched either). One thing that is big in the Solomons is the memory stick - lots of people use them. I tested three memory sticks and one external USB hard drive that were being used on the UNICEF network and every single one had viruses (it was a great demonstration for the boss there when I scanned his memory stick and found a virus - he looked like I had just proved to him that he had venereal disease). I asked the Cafe owner if he made people scan their memory sticks before using his machines - no. At UNICEF I loaded ClamWin onto all the machines so that memory sticks can be easily scanned before use - ClamWin is great for this because it has a simple user interface and does not run in the background and interfere with other anti-virus software. I also suggested to the Cafe owner that he try Ubuntu (I ordered disks from the Ubuntu website - free! - and asked them to be shipped to Gizo).

I'll write and post the story of the network I fixed up in Gizo. The lessons learned from it are relevant to nearly every computer network I have seen in the Solomons.

Off to the Solomon Islands!!

2008-12-11T17:46:00.003+11:00

Climbing Rack - old gear for new routes in the Western Province!

Well, we're (the family and I) are off to the Solomons Islands very shortly. I'll be reporting regularly using Blogger's email feature so that all I have to do is email the story, and it will be automatically published on the blog (hence this story, which is really a test email). If you see a picture with this post, the attaching a photo to the email feature is working too. We'll be hanging around Gizo most of the time, but I hope to get some climbing, tropical mountaineering, surfing, fishing, and the odd beer or six in (essential food group in the tropics). Solo, here we come!

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Google Map of Gizo Environs

The Cloisters, Orroral Ridge, ACT

2008-11-11T16:00:00.006+11:00

I'd planned to go climbing with Wallwombat at The Cloisters, a pile of granite rock on Orroral Ridge in the Namadgi National Park in the Australian Capital Territory, and so contacted Cuzzi Bro Brett and Owen to come along too. Brett hasn't climbed since we went to Arapiles, and Owen climbs well but hasn't done much trad climbing, so I thought it would be good experience for them to come along too. Owen turned up at my place at 10am on Sunday morning, and as I expected, Wallwombat sent me a text message at 10.15am saying he wasn't turning up. I hummed and hawed what to do at first, as I had never been to The Cloisters and usually like to go to a new crag with someone who knows the place first. In the end I decided we should go anyway as the weather was perfect, we had plenty of time, and we were all arranged to go anyway. A quick drive over to Brett's place and he was in the back of the car and we were off.

Orroral Ridge is an unusual place. It is at the top of a high hill (well, high for Australia that is) and has outcrops of VERY large granite boulders (tors) sprinkled along it for quite a distance. Because the boulders that make up the tors can be quite jumbled, the quality of the climbing can be quite mixed, and at times, short (i.e. there are lots of climbs there that are only about 10m long). Its a good place to find lots of tricky problems, and there's plenty of cracks if cracks are your thing. There is really only one road in (driving - you can walk in on fire trails from other directions) - Apollo Road. The road sounds spacey, and it is. The road was originally put in to access the Honeysuckle Creek tracking station, which was a huge satellite dish situated not far down from the top of Orroral Ridge, and so consequently it is well tarred and in good condition. The tracking station has long gone, though the site remains, and there is now a great little camp ground there. To access Orroral Ridge you turn right at the campground onto a good dirt road, and follow it all the way to the top of the hill. The road was put in to service a communications tower which was associated with the tracking station, but it is long gone too, and only a cement slab remains to mark it's passing. There is a group of boulders only a couple of minutes walk directly south of the carpark, and, not surprisingly, these are called Tower Rocks.

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We got to 'The Ridge' (got to talk like a cool Canberra climber now) carpark with no hassles - the dirt road is fine, even for my little Hyundai Getz. We grabbed our packs and headed off down the path that is on the eastern end of the carpark. The path meanders along the top of the ridge for quite a way, though it's quite obvious, until you get to a large area of flat rock and a few fallen trees. We had to search a bit before we found the path again, but it wasn't too hard (we placed some cairns on the way out, so it will be easier for other people who aren't familiar with the path) and after about ten minutes we were approaching the area of rocks known as 'The Belfry'. It's obvious why it's called that, as one of the central rocks of the tor is a soaring granite spire. Very pretty.

The path heads around the northern side of The Belfry, and after about two hundred metres it drops downhill (southwards) between two large boulders. Each boulder has a large cairn of rocks on top of them, so this turn-off is fairly obvious. The path then winds down and along the main line of the rocks that make up The Cloisters. The first part of the crag that will catch your eye are some lovely cracks that are begging to be climbed. I did a quick inspection, and though wanting to climb them, I thought they would not be appropriate for both the other guys - Brett needed something easier, and Owen is just getting into trad climbing, so something easier is always better when starting out.

What is Trad Climbing?(climbers who know this can by-pass this paragraph). Climbing has various different styles, or approaches. Trad, or traditional, climbing, is distinct by the fact that the climbers place and retrieve all their protection pieces (pro) as they climb - nothing is meant to be left on the rock, and bolts (permanent, like expansion bolts) are only placed in the rock if there is no other possible way of protecting that section. As the lead climber climbs, they place camming devices, nuts (little metal wedges), and various other cool little pieces of gear into cracks and crevices, then clip the rope onto the protection. The seconder stands at the bottom of the climb and belays the leader, ready to catch them on the rope if they fall. When the leader gets to the top of the pitch they set up an anchor point, then belay the seconder up the climb. The seconder removes the protection as they come up the climb.

We walked a bit further and came across the section of the crag known at the Simple Simon Slabs. Excellent! a couple of easy looking flaky cracks that weren’t too steep, with a nice little harder slab climb off to the right. We checked the guidebook and the two cracks were Smooth Dancer (9) - on the left - and Tarantella (10) - on the right. Climbs with a rating of 9 and 10 are not hard, so perfect for Brett after his working out on the couch for the last few months, and perfect for Owen to practice his trad leading skills without having to be too challenged by the climbing. I offered Owen the lead on Smooth Dancer and he agreed to go. We sorted our gear a bit, and then I did a small lesson on safe placing of gear with the guys in some of the small cracks at the base of the crag. Placing trad pro such as cams and nuts is not a perfect science, as rock is so variable it is often a compromise, but the principles are always the same, and I made sure Owen felt competent about placing the gear and leading. Without much more mucking around, Owen was off, leading up Smooth Dancer with Brett belaying him. I hassled them into using all the correct trad climbing calls, making sure they used each others names in each call (important when you are at crowded crags with people yelling out the same calls all over the place).

Owen leading Smooth Dancer

Owen led well, and before long he was at the top of the climb. He set up a good anchor and called down for the next climber. As there were three of us, and the climb was only 20 metres long, we had enough rope to tie a figure eight on a bight in the centre of the rope for Brett to tie into, and when he got to the top there would still be enough rope length left for me to tie into the end.

Owen - Smooth Dancer

Brett headed off up the climb, and reached the top without too many problems (though the step up the break in the middle is a bit scary for beginners).

Brett heading up Smooth Dancer

I then headed up, cleaning all the pro out and visually checking it before hand so as to give Owen feedback on his pro placement - every bit of gear looked fine by me!

Nick on Smooth Dancer

We then left Owen's rope in place on the anchor at the top, and rappelled (rapped) down it to the bottom of the crag. We had taken my rope as well, so we had rope to spare. I then headed off up Tarantella on lead. So different to Smooth Dancer as every bit of gear I was able to place was a nut, whereas Smooth Dancer was all cams (different shaped cracks take different types of pro). I cruised up it and then belayed the other two guys up.
As we now had two ropes up the top of the crag, we needed to get one back down to the bottom, so I suggested to Brett that we simulrap down the rope. This is where the rope is hanging down doubled up and only looped through an anchor at the top, and each climber raps down each piece of rope at the same time. As long as no-one gets off the rope before you both get to the ground, it is safe (and make sure you tie a figure eight knot in the end of each piece of rope so one person cannot rap off the end of the rope!). You can then pull one end of the rope and haul it back down the cliff. We reached the ground without problems and Owen started to rap down his rope. Before he got far I called out for him to stop and swing across the face and check out the conditions of the four bolts (and hangers) on Irish Sheila (17), the interesting looking slab climb a few metres to the right of Tarentella. Owen gave them a good check over and declared them "old, but OK". I got him to clip a quickdraw (two karabiners with a sling in between them) into the last one (at the bottom) and give it a good yank to check that it was sound. I got him to leave the quickdraw in and clip my rope into it before well hauled it back down the cliff. This way, the rope was already clipped into the first bolt on the climb and made the start a lot safer (being a slab with no features to place protection in, Irish sheila had four bolts up its main section). This is sort of like top-roping to the first bolt.

I started off on Irish Sheila, feeling light as I didn't have to haul the full rack of pro up the cliff, only having to take a few quickdraws clipped to my harness. I did the full slab start from the bottom, which we considered to be the crux as it was so smooth. Delicate moves, careful shoe smearing and splayed palms (also thinking "I'm Spiderman, I'm Spiderman") got me up to the flake above, then easy moves up to where the first bolt was. Then onto the real stuff.

Nick Leading Irish Sheila

Slab climbing is an interesting style of climbing. Being a slab, it means the rock is not vertical, merely steeply angled. It can also mean that there are next to no obvious holds or protrusions to place your feet and hands on. You look for slight bumps and raises in the rock, little crystal protrusions or edges, place your feet on them, pinch them with your fingers, and slowly move up. You feel like you could slide down at any time, but you ignore it (getting your 'slab head' happening) and move on. I moved up cautiously, clipping each bolt on the way with a quickdraw, then clipping the rope into the other end of the quickdraw. I started to notice further up the climb that there was faint bleaching of the rock where little crimpy hand-holds were, bleached lighter than the surrounding rock by the chalk (gymnasts chalk) that had been used by previous climbers. This can be a big help mentally as sometimes the way ahead on a slab just looks totally blank in regards to where to place your hands.

Nick - Irish Sheila - the climb follows the rope on the right

Gently, gently, then up to a final bulge at the top. No bolts. Ignore it, there are four good ones below. Move up again, smear, stay focused. The top! Elation. I knocked the bastard off. I rigged up the top belay and belayed Owen and Brett up.

Owen - Irish Sheila

Owen had one hang on the rope (he likes climbs with big holds) and Brett spent half the time pulling himself up the rope (the training on the couch for the last few months had helped him with that), but we all got up it in the end.
We decided to call it a day as it was starting to get late and the call of cold beer was becoming too enticing. We packed up the gear and headed back along the ridge top, placing a few more cairns as we went to help other newbies through the unobvious sections of the path in. Back to the house for a backyard sunset with barbeque, beer and bullshit. We'll be back to The Cloisters again - a great spot with some great climbs.

Booroomba Climbing Day with the CCA

2008-11-08T09:21:00.000+11:00

The Canberra Climbers' Association held another successful Booroomba Day on Sunday, 26th October 2008. The idea behind the CCA's Booroomba Days are to give climbers who don't have trad experience (or want to get out of the climbing gym) an introduction to outdoor/trad climbing. Booroomba is a great place to do this as there are plenty of lower grade routes and plenty of multi-pitch climbs to choose from, and everything from cracks to slabs - the usual granite menu.

We all met as per usual in front of the Tharwa Store for general introductions and to organise climbing teams. There were about 20 people all up in the end, with the number of leaders down a bit from last time due to a mass exodus to the Wolgan for the weekend by numerous beard strokers so as to stuff themselves full of dead goat. Due to the need for more leaders, I put my hand up to lead Sunstroke** (9), a nice, not too scary, three pitch slab climb which the guidebook says is 'one of the original routes done on the Northern Slabs, following the line of least resistance'. I hitched up with Owen and Chris to climb as a team of three.

We headed off to the Booroomba car park and made the slog up the hill, which always seems so much more fun with a fifteen kilo pack. I had to take it a bit easier this time as I was just recovering from a nasty cold, but that stomp up the Booroomba hill is great for clearing the lungs. I spared a thought for wallwombat on the way and reflected on how much fun he was missing out on by not coming along.

We organised ourselves in the 'top camp' area, signed off on the clubs climb register and headed off along the ridge to find the descent path to the Northern Slabs. This isn't so easy at the moment as the scrub is growing back thickly after the effects of the bushfires, and the ACT has had some good rain in the last couple of months. The path along the ridge of the Northern Slabs at present winds its way through waist high shrubs, concealing the path further on and making route finding difficult. We found the top of the descent path without getting too lost, and the top of the descent path is well marked with a couple of large cairns.

The descent path is nasty, with broken dirt interspersed with a loose scree of small granite rocks. At times you could almost glissade down the scree, and care had to be taken not to knock rocks down on those further down the path. I'm glad I didn't have my usual procession of porters with me carrying a gramaphone, typewriter and case of champagne.

As I mentioned, the scrub is growning back thickly at Booroomba, and due to the winter climbing lull and low level of access, the area around the base of the far Northern Slabs is especially thick with shrubs and saplings. Finding the way into the start of Sunstroke was not easy, but we got there in the end despite my attempt to kill Chris with a couple of soccer ball sized rocks (see, isn't it so much more fun than going to a climbing gym?).

We surveyed the bottom of the climb and I talked to the other guys about procedures, calls and general technique. Everyone was happy, so I led off up the first pitch. Sunstoke is a great Booroomba introduction climb due to the fact that it has a bit of everything - some committing slabby moves to start, up a chunky rain groove that you can get the toe of your shoe right into, then traverse diagonally to the left following the obvious break to the first belay, a slabby traverse on the second pitch over to the next belay, then a tricky move up a vertical face to a lovely, long, easy angled slab climb to the top. Owen led the second pitch, and I finished by leading the third, running the whole pitch out as there is not really anywhere to place pro anyway, and I think you've got to be trying pretty hard to fall on the third pitch of Sunstroke.

At the top of Sunstroke there is a nice stout tree to belay off, and a 50m rope just makes it. I'd recommend using a 60m rope though as we only just had enough length on the first and third pitch.

I was sitting at the top of the third pitch, on belay, waiting for Chris to head up to me, when I looked down at the big, dirty, rocky ledge in front of me, and noticed one of my Metolius screw gate 'biners sitting there, a couple of metres away. I knew I hadn't just dropped it, so I was a bit confused as to what it was doing there, then the penny dropped. Just before winter closed in I'd led Sunstroke with another mate - I'd been missing one of my Metolius 'biners since around that time, so the mystery was solved. My 'biner had sat there all of Winter waiting for me to come back. Booty is sweet, but there is something sweeter with your own booty!

We cleaned up the ropes and headed back to the top camp, grumbling as we went about the access path and how we should get a tick just for the approach. We sat down and had a bite to eat and decided to call it quits for the day. We'd had a hard approach and a great climb, but the long necks at the Tharwa store were getting just too damn attractive.

Blue Lake Analysis

2008-09-14T11:12:00.002+10:00

Lessons / analysis (please see the full story, below this post):

These are notes that I have made. They are not comprehensive or complete. Please feel free to comment on them.

Stay well clear of cornices, no matter how stable they look. The cornice fall at Blue Lake may have been survivable if it had only been the cornice that fell, but the cornice triggered secondary avalanches on the slope below which contributed to the bulk of the avalanche debris field.

When responding to an emergency - take your pack with you.
When Owen and I rushed over to help we left behind our packs as we had them off at the time. Owen had his gloves off and left his gloves with our packs. When he returned and was helping with the probing he was using some surgical gloves supplied by one of the paramedics. By that time I had retrieved my pack and was able to lend him my heavy duty, wool lined ice climbing gloves.
Later on when we were working we had no water, spare clothes, first aid kit etc. with us. Owen also became cold when we were called off the rescue effort as his clothing was still half a kilometre away where we had lunch. I had a down jacket with me and was able to lend Owen my polar fleece jacket until we picked up his pack.

Take comms when you have the opportunity – Owen, being a trainee Volunteer Ski Patroller, had been advised by his colleagues to take a VSP radio with him. Due to its weight, he elected not to take one with him. If we had had that radio we could have called in the emergency services a lot faster, and would have had extra manpower to work on the search of the avalanche debris field. We both had mobile phones on us, but there was no reception in the vicinity. I also own two small, light wieght 1 watt VHF radios. Due to oversight, I did not take these with me. If I had taken these with me, I would have been able to give one to Owen and kept one with myself, thereby allowing us to stay in communication during the time that he climbed Little Twynam for help. I would also have been able to communicate with him when he found the loose ski on the debris field, rather than wonder where he was and what he was doing after I saw him ski back across to us at the time that the Careflight helicopter appeared.

Pay close attention to any gear that may be on the avalanche debris field and concentrate your search in that area – I did not see the loose ski that Tom had been carrying, even though I carefully scanned the avalanche debris field. When Owen returned from calling the emergency services he noticed the ski and carried out an investigation in the area. He did not inform me (or I do not remember him informing me) when he returned to us that he had seen a ski.

From what I had seen from my perspective of the fall, I had felt that Tom was further down the hill from where we were searching, in the centre of the debris field. I had just finished reading McKay Jenkins' book 'White Death – In the Path of an Avalanche', and knew how difficult it could be to locate someone buried where there were no signs. I could only work on what Peter said he had seen, as he was the closest person to what had happened. I still felt at the time that Tom was located further down. If Owen had been on the scene earlier and noted the position of the loose ski, I would have been more adamant about searching in that area.

On later inspection of photos that I took, I realised that I could have walked out onto a rock formation called 'The Boulder', which was immediately to the south of the avalanche debris field. This would have given me the ability to look down on the avalanche debris field, and I may have spotted Tom's loose ski.

The Careflight chopper, flying close to the top of the cliff line, could have caused further cornice collapse, endangering the rescue team below. The helicopter crew should have been made aware that their downwash from the rotors may have triggered another cornice collapse if they had maneuvered too close to the top of the cliff face that the rescue team was working under.

Not enough probes were brought in fast enough (maybe due to not many being available in one spot)
Owen commented that he emphasised in the initial call to Ski Patrol that we needed personnel and avalanche probes. He was disappointed that not enough probes were delivered in the initial response.

Rescuers did not understand avalanche shoveling technique – when other rescue services personnel arrived some of them began excavating areas where probers indicated the victim may have been. They did not understand avalanche shoveling techniques where a hole should be dug using at least two people – one person doing the main excavation, with another person behind them removing the overburden that has been shoveled out. I attempted to improve their technique at the time.
We had problems with the expandable ski poles coming apart while probing (Black Diamond extendable poles). If I had brought the first aid kit with me, rather than leaving it 500 metres away where we had lunch, I would have been able to use the elastoplast tape to strengthen the poles. It is highly recommended that people use ski poles in the back country that can be easily converted into probes.

Owen should maybe have stayed and search with us, rather than calling in the rescue team. This is a hard one, as if we had found Tom earlier (just Peter and I), and he was requiring immediate evacuation, Owen's decision to call in rescue services could have been justified. On reading avalanche rescue documentation, the more appropriate course of action may have been for Owen to start the search with us, as time was of the essence, and he was the one who noticed the loose ski (one of Tom's) on the avalanche debris field when he returned. If his had occurred earlier, as stronger case could have been made to search in the vicinity of the loose ski. Again, this comment is made in hindsight.

Use ski poles that can be turned into avalanche probes – when buying new ski poles in the previous year, the Paddy Palin sales person suggested that I buy the Black Diamond poles that could convert into avalanche probes. I thought this was what I was buying at the time, but on closer inspection with the sales person it was found that the model they had sold me were not the model that could be converted. I told them not to worry, as when did we have avalanches in Australia?

A safety person should have been placed at the top of the cliff to warn off any onlookers in case they triggered further cornice collapses. There was clear and present danger of another cornice collapse on top of the rescue crew who was operating in the avalanche debris field, especially on the souther side as there was a cornice section that had not collapsed adjacent to Grey Buttress. If this had occurred there was potential for quite a few of the rescue crew to suffer a similar fate to Tom. If some other back country skiers had appeared at the top of the cliff line hoping to get a better view of the rescue activity, another cornice collapse may have been triggered. A safety person should have been stationed at the top of the cliff line, well away from the edge, with the responsibility of keeping any other back country travelers away from the cliff line. Rescue workers were not made aware enough of the imminent danger that was still present. When the policeman on the scene attempted to move everyone to the south of the avalanche debris field so that the snow ploughs could get to work, I loudly voiced my concern that anyone in that area would be in the danger zone. After that, people stayed clear of that area.

Always set the date / time on your camera – this was one of the few times that I had not done this after changing the batteries – the camera will then mark the time for you as you take the photos. I took plenty of photos of the different stages of the rescue attempt, but had difficulty marking the time that certain events occurred. If my camera date and time had been set correctly, the camera would have recorded the events chronologically for me as I took the photos.

Tom's body was found about 2/3 of the way down - from what I had seen I felt he was in that area as well, but his brother watched him fall from about 30 metres away and was adamant that he was in the area we were searching. I scanned the debris field as I climbed up next to it, but saw no indication of any gear on the surface. When Owen returned from calling in the rescue services he saw a loose ski on the debris field and carried out a solo search in the area - Tom was carrying his skis when he fell - this was not communicated effectively to me when he joined the main search, and I would have definitely searched in the area of the ski if I had known. In the end, Tom's body was found not far from the ski. Tom was also found about three metres under the surface, and from what I have read it is unlikely to survive being buried more than a metre deep. We had a good idea of his fall line as there were two marks above the cornice crack line where he tried to grab hold, and there was a well defined vertical slide mark down the first 20 metres where he was attempting to self arrest. I think his brothers estimation of Tom's position was muddled by the fact that at least two secondary avalanches were triggered by the falling cornice, which made a major contribution to the volume of the load and swept him further down the slope.

Probing can be a very time-consuming process if a thorough search is undertaken for a victim without a beacon. In the U.S., 86% of the 140 victims found (since 1950) by probing were already dead. Survival/rescue more than 2 m deep is relatively rare (about 4%). Probes should be used immediately after a visual search for surface clues, in coordination with the beacon search.

Blue Lake - That Day the Mountain Fell

2008-09-14T10:54:00.011+10:00

That day the mountain fell
There was something in the air.
We stopped, that sound? Just like the knell
Of doom, in which we were to share.
That's when the mountain fell.

A tremble neath our feet
That makes the heartbeat stop.
A tear – most horrible – though neat,
A crack that parts the mountain top -
That starts the heart to beat.

The avalanche starts down;
Relentless, surges on.
The snowface crumbles, smashed and broken,
The debris rumbles tonne on tonne.
No mercy has been shown.

Alan E.J. Andrews
from Skiing the Western Faces of Koscuisko [sic]

I write this story for a few reasons. I feel the most important one is make the story known (my version at least) so that this type of situation may be avoided in the future by those who share the love of skiing the wild back country of Kosciusko National Park (KNP). Another is to tell my story so that those who were not there will gain some insight into what happened – to dispel myth, rumor and speculation. The final, and perhaps the most selfish reason, is to purge my own demons.

Blue Lake is in the heart of the Main Range in KNP. It is a glacial cirque, which is a small circular valley surrounded by steep cliffs with a lake in the centre. If you had been standing on the spot sixteen thousand years ago you would have seen that the valley would have contained a glacier. As the last ice age retreated, so too did the glacier, finally melting to reveal the valley. To the north of Blue Lake, Mount Twynam and Little Twynam rise majestically above the surrounding landscape. To the east, there are easy slopes that descend into the Snowy River, with the Charlotte Pass ski resort just up and over the next hill.

Blue Lake is a popular destination for many visitors to KNP due to its natural beauty and remote ambiance. During summer it is visited by walkers who find it a perfect destination to sit and lunch and reflect on the wonders of the mountains. Rock climbers find the buttresses of the western walls a worthy spot to test their skills. In winter, especially in seasons of heavy snow fall when the central lake freezes over, back country skiers challenge themselves on the surrounding steep slopes of powder snow, and would-be mountaineers don crampons and ice axes and dream of harder mountains whilst picking their way up ice covered rocks.

I had planned a trip to Blue Lake for quite a while. I'm a member of both the Canberra Climbers Association and the Canberra Cross Country Ski Club and I had been wanting to get up there to take photos for a proposed new climbing guide book, and to recce the route in so as to lead a tour for the ski club. I needed a partner to ski in with, and had made contact with Owen Hrabanek though the ski club – he was wondering if anyone did any ice climbing and if there were any trips planned. I'd never met Owen before, but he said he had rock climbing experience and was a trainee Volunteer Ski Patroller at Perisher, so I knew he would be fit and would definitely be able to ski. You need at least one partner for safety reasons when traveling in the back country, and I was willing to go with Owen as the route would not be difficult, and is often the case with climbing, he was the only one willing to go with me on the day.

I met Owen as planned at the Guthega carpark at seven o'clock on Sunday morning, 17th of August, 2008. Guthega is a quiet ski resort to the west of Perisher on the Snowy River and is a favourite starting point for back country skiers heading onto the Main Range of KNP. Our plan for the day was to follow the Snowy River up to where the Blue Lake creek cut in, then follow the creek up to Blue Lake itself. I had brought along all the gear for ice climbing – ropes, crampons, harnesses and ice axes – and we divvied it up between us to even up the load. I'm a very careful back country skier (and had competed a NSW TAFE Ski Tour Leaders' course only a few weeks before) and so had emergency equipment with me such as a snow shovel, first aid kit, emergency shelter, cooking equipment and food. This made for a heavy pack on my part, but nothing I took was superfluous for what we were planning to do.

The day was shaping up to be perfect for back country ski touring – sunny, no clouds whatsover, a very light wind, and excellent snow cover. I had been watching the weather map like a hawk for days and knew that there was a high pressure system moving over the top of us – everything was falling into place for a perfect day on the Main Range.

Owen and I started off on our skis up the eastern bank of the Snowy River. Blue Cow Creek to the south of the resort had been snowed over, so there was no need to use the much feared and talked about flying fox to get to the other side. The snow was hard packed and still icy from the night before, but we knew that as the sun rose it would soften up the surface and make ski travel much easier. We were able to make an almost direct route to the Illawong suspension bridge a couple of kilometres up the river. We needed to cross over to the western bank of the Snowy River and the suspension bridge is often the only way to get to the other side. When we reached the suspension bridge I was surprised to see that sections of the Snowy River had been covered completely by snow, and that other skiers, gamer than I, had used these natural snow bridges to cross the river. There had obviously been a lot of snow this season.

After crossing to the western bank of The Snowy we more or less stayed on the contour, neither climbing nor descending, and followed the river south. We were not going at the pace that I had hoped to achieve, as Owen was skiing on older alpine touring gear – he was having trouble with one of the bindings which forced him to stop regularly – and was also using skins. Skins are material attachments that adhere to the bottom of skis to enable the user to climb straight up hills without slipping back, but on the straight and level or downhill they slow the skis down considerably. I was using almost-new back country skis that look like downhill skis, but have a patterned base that grips into the snow and allows the user to climb hills, but do not noticeably slow the skier down when skiing level or downhill. I did my brand new official ski tour leader best to break the trail the whole way, and stop regularly to allow Owen to catch up. After starting so early we had plenty of time up our sleeves, and the return route would be mostly downhill and quite fast, so I was not worried about our progress. The weather was so good that it was just great to be out on skis.

By the time we reached the junction of Blue Lake Creek and The Snowy we were a little tired, so we decided to rest and eat before making the final slog up to Blue Lake. This done, we donned our packs again, and I elected to walk up the steeper sections of the hill towards Hedley Tarn – another glacial lake that is down hill from, and fed by, Blue Lake. There were sections where the snow cover was quite icy, and with such a heavy backpack, walking was the easier option. We reached Hedley Tarn and were starting to flag a little, but on checking the map we realised that we only had to ski around the contour of the hill in front of us and we would be at Blue Lake shortly. We marveled at the snow cover and stiking scenery. By then we were above the tree line and were confronted by endless hills covered with the best snow cover I could remember seeing.

Owen traversing above Hedley Tarn

Blue Lake itself came into view around midday, and we elected to stop and lunch at the point where the creek exits the lake, which was completely iced over and covered with snow. The scenery was magnificent. Towering Mount Twynam to the north; the vast, featureless expanse of the frozen lake; and the imposing snow covered crags on the western wall of the cirque. There was another back country skier taking a break nearby, and we rested while chatting and watching his mate ski down the slopes to the north. We watched as he carved beautiful turns down a steep section, then a high traverse across the slope above the lake, before tearing down the hill to join our small group. The two new guys were hooting. They were quite young and competent and were obviously having a ball, and their good humor was infectious. We all started taking photos, exchanging cameras so we all had our partners in the picture. We ended up goofing off with them, taking their lead by doing silly poses, handstands and the like while taking shots with the main wall of the cirque in the back ground. I secretly wished I was like these two guys again – young, full of piss and vinegar, having a great time and not a care in the world. The weather and conditions were so good that it made everyone want to jump up and down.

Me and Owen at Blue Lake - the cornice that was to fall is circled

The two guys headed off and left Owen and I to ourselves. We sat down and ate lunch and surveyed the crags for ice climbing potential while discussing where the best place to climb would be. I looked directly across frozen lake at the main cliff line of the western wall, a distance of around five hundred metres, and noticed that there were big cornices built up along the top of the cliff line in the gullys between the buttresses (sections of rock protruding from the cliff line). A cornice is like a big lip that protrudes out horizontally from the top of a vertical snow bank. The wind blows the snow over the top of the cliff and it gradually accumulates until it looks like a frozen wave caught in the process of breaking. They are well known for being unstable and many a mountaineer has met their end by unknowing walking too close to the top of one and falling through, such as the legendary Hermann Buhl, who fell to his death through a cornice on Chogolisa in the Himalayas in 1957.

There was a vertical gully about sixty metres wide in the centre of the cliffline which at its top had biggest cornice of all. The snow covered cliff dropped about forty metres vertically below it with some protruding boulders, with another forty metres of very steep snow covered ground below that. Climbers know the buttress immediately to the south of this area as Grey Buttress. I remarked to Owen that there was no way we were going anywhere near those cornices and that the safest place to climb would be on the less steep northern side of the cirque. We scanned the safer looking area for rocks with the tell-tale glint of ice that would allow our ice axes and crampons to bite as we climbed.

By this time it was a quarter to one, but we were in no hurry to move, soaking up the sunshine and recuperating from the long haul we had just done with heavy packs. Owen then spotted another back country skier on the top of Grey Buttress, just to the left of the large cornice and drew my attention to him. At the same time, another skier appeared right above the centre of the largest cornice to the north of Grey Buttress. We both sensed the immediate danger that the second guy was in. I callously remarked that this was going to be a good photo opportunity. I seriously thought that he would just fall through the cornice and end up sliding down the slope below it, probably none the worse for wear. We were too far away to yell a warning, and by the time I thought about it, it was too late.

At that exact instance the cornice began to peal off from the left hand side of the cliff line. A big crack appeared in the snow right across the cliff as it broke like a wave. The guy, whom I now know to be Tom Carr-Boyd, was still on top of the cornice as it started to drop and he made an attempt to turn back, too late. We watched him fall for about twenty metres, then lost sight of him as snow was thrown into the air by the massive force. For the time that we could see him, he appeared to have turned back and faced the snow-covered cliff as he fell, and looked as though he was either scrabbling for holds, or was trying to swim his way to the top of the moving snow.

For a second or two we were stunned as we watched the falling cornice trigger secondary avalanches on the steep slope below. I have been asked since whether there was a lot of noise caused by the avalanche, or whether I heard yelling or warnings shouted by the others, but all I can remember is silence. There must have been some sound, but I think I suffered sensory overload watching the drama unfold before us.

I watched the skier who was on top of Grey Buttress immediately launch himself off the cliff, carve a few turns on the near vertical face, then stop on the right hand side of the avalanche debris field. I remember being mightily impressed by his skiing skills.

I swore loudly and yelled at Owen for us to get over there. We donned our skis and I yelled again at Owen to grab our snow shovel. We were about five hundred metres from where the bottom of the avalanche debris field stopped, but the ground was flat as it was the frozen lake surface and we moved very quickly. After a couple of hundred metres Owen yelled that he was going to try and get mobile phone reception and call for help, and threw the snow shovel over to me and turned back to climb Little Twynam, the hill to the north of our position.

I arrived at the bottom of the avalanche debris field, which had pushed out over the flat surface of the frozen lake for at least fifty metres, and was up to two metres thick, and I kept swearing over and over to myself in an attempt to get a grip on the situation. It was surreal, the volume of debris was enormous and couldn't believe that that much snow had dropped off the hill. The avalanche debris field extended for at least another fifty metres up the hill and stopped where the cliff line became more vertical. I climbed as fast as I could up the right hand side of the debris field, scanning it as I went to see if there was any sign of the guy who had just fallen. I tried to move out onto the debris field as broken blocks of snow obscured visibility somewhat, but its loose blocky nature forced me to move off it as I kept sinking up to my thighs, and I continued climbing up the clearer snow slope, scanning as I went. At the time I saw no sign of a person or any equipment in the avalanche debris. I could see the other guy at the top of the debris field, working at a frantic pace, but I did not know whether he had found the other guy or not.

Looking down onto the debris field where it has flowed out onto the lake - my ski is circled to give and indication of scale

I know from the literature and associated statistics that you have to find an avalanche victim as quickly as possible. The survival rate drops rapidly between fifteen and thirty minutes. Some avalanche victims end up close to the surface, and are easy to dig out (or in fact extract themselves). Others are able to form a pocket of air around their heads which enables them to keep breathing until they are found. Others are not so lucky. One of the characteristics of an avalanche is that when it is moving it is quite fluid, and one of the recommended techniques is to discard any equipment (skis, ski poles, etc.) and attempt to swim to the surface of it (literally). Once the avalanche stops it compresses itself and becomes quite compact underneath, much like when you pick up a handful of snow and crush it into a hard snow ball. This can trap the victim so that they cannot move, and may even compact so hard around the torso that it is impossible to breath, even if there is an air pocket.

I made it to the top of the avalanche debris field where the guy was probing like mad with his ski pole. I yelled at him if he knew where the other guy was, and he indicated that he had seen him go down in the area that he was working on. I asked if the person we were searching for had their skis on, and the answer was no. I mentioned that that was probably a better thing as survivability in an avalanche is greater without skis on. I did not ask my fellow rescuers name, I was too aware of the time constraints that were on us and just got to work. The guy who was probing indicated that he had set up snow cairns (blocks on top of each other) to indicate the area he was working on. I ripped the bottom half of my extendable ski pole out of its handle, and started probing with it upside down. I started working further down on an area he had not probed. I then realised that I need to be able to probe deeper, so pushed the basket off the bottom of my ski pole, then inserted it back into the handle so that it was like a spear, giving me about one and a half metres of probe depth. About this time I also realised we should be working in a slightly more co-ordinated fashion, and the two of us worked out a more systematic probing pattern, again marking out our search area with snow cairns.

The reasoning behind the probing is that you are hoping to hit the person with the probe, and that you can feel the person's body or equipment (such as a ski boot) with it. If there is any indication that someone or something underneath has been found, more intensive probing is carried out in that area, and if there is any further confirmation a snow shovel is used to excavate the area. I held my snow shovel in my left hand, and probed with my modified ski stock in my right. I swore at myself. The previous year the sales person at the Paddy Palin store at Jindabyne had tried to sell me ski stocks that converted into more adequate avalanche probes. “When do we get avalanches in Australia?” I'd asked. We'd had such dismal snow seasons that I had dismissed the possibility.

We worked harder than Trojans, probing across the slope with thirty centimetres between each probe. I would stop every couple of metres and scream out “Can you hear me!”, and listen for a second or so in the hope that the person under the snow could make a noise, then continue probing. After a short while, the other guy said “His name is Tom”, so I started calling his name instead. Again, I did not ask my fellow workers name – somehow it seemed too personal for the situation and would be a waste of time. We were highly aware that the clock was ticking and the sands of time were slipping though our hands. I could tell the other guy, though working like mad, was in shock. He was calling Tom's name way too gently and sadly. “Brother Tom” he was saying. He was firing himself up and trying to motivate himself by repeating “Not today Tom, not today”. I did not think at the time that is was his brother, as I also was in a frantic state of mind and, being married to a Melanesian, I am too used to the Melanesian use of the word brother to indicate a good friend.

We worked and worked, trying to cover as much of the area as possible. I tried to ignore the passage of time, concentrating on the probe, yell, listen sequence. I knew that the situation was getting worse as the minutes ticked by, but I had been reading some of Joe Simpson's writings lately, and I reflected on some of his points about mountaineering tragedies as I worked. He emphasises that you should never give up on someone until you know that all is lost. Never say that someone has not survived until you know that they have not survived. Even if the situation is obviously hopeless, be there and help others in their time of need. I used this philosophy to motivate myself and cursed myself for not being as fit as I had been the previous year as my energy started to wane.

After about forty minutes I realised we were going to need more people in the search, and could not believe that I had not seen any other skiers in that whole time, as I was randomly scanning the frozen lake surface and surrounding hills for other people who could potentially help as my energy levels dropped. I stood up and had a good look around the area below us and spotted two more back country skiers (who had been camping next to the lake and had just come back from a mornings tour). I started screaming like blue murder at them “HELP, HELP”. They were obviously stunned for a couple of minutes while they took in the scene before them. Just at that time I heard the sound of a helicopter, and I noticed Owen skiing back over the lake. Owen had climbed Little Twynam in record time until he moved into mobile phone range, and called the Ski Patrol emergency desk directly, informing them of the situation and that we needed a whole pile of people and avalanche probes (poles of thin tubular metal about 3-4 metres long). Owen had climbed the hill so fast that he had given himself muscle cramps in the legs and was having trouble moving quickly. By this time the Careflight helicopter was coming over the top, and the couple who had just appeared down on the lake skied the words “HELP” into the snow in large letters. As the chopper went overhead I raised both my arms over my head in an attempt to give the mountaineering rescue sign, and hoped that they saw me. After a couple of minutes of doing that I realised that it must be highly obvious where the avalanche was and that they would be able to see where we were working.

By that time, the couple who had been on the lake below reached us. We explained to them what had happened and they asked how long it had been. I shook my head and couldn't say much as I felt that admitting how long it had been would make the time span too real - I had checked my mobile phone clock and it was at least forty-five minutes – the time had gone way too quickly. They did not have ski poles that allowed us to remove the baskets, so I modified my other ski pole for them, and after a few false starts one of them decided to use a ski, which was better than nothing for probing. They too joined in the grid pattern and worked like mad. They were the first to ask the name of the person who I was working with, whose name was Peter, and they found out that Tom was Peter's brother, and told me. As I feared, this made things too personal for me. I introduced myself and kept probing.

I was surprised that Owen had not appeared at the top of the debris field with us, and it was a long time before he did. He had apparently seen a loose ski somewhere in the debris field and had carried out his own probing in that area. I didn't find out until later that Tom carrying his skis in his hands when the cornice collapsed.

By this time the helicopter had worked out a position to hover, and it lowered a doctor with a winch cable, who then made his way up to our position. Skidoos also started to appear with the first Ski Patrol, National Parks, and other rescue workers who brought along snow shovels and some avalanche probes. Gradually, over the next half hour, more and more skidoos turned up with extra rescue personnel, and an expanded search pattern was set out with the extra people who were on hand.

Probing

By this time I had been probing for an hour and a half non-stop, and had to have a break. I actually changed over to working with the shovel on any areas that may have given some indication of where Tom was, helping clear excavated snow while another rescue team member dug the actual holes. I really needed to drink some water, and used some of Peters, but realised that the others such as Owen, and the two skiers who were helping first were going to need water too, so I descended down the slope (again, scanning the debris field), and skied over to my pack, packed everything into it, and skied back to the search area. I had a Jetboil gas cooker in my gear, so I fired it up and started to melt snow for people to drink after the water that I had been carrying had been used up. I first used the water to make black tea, with the hope of enticing Peter out of the probe team (there were now more people than probes) and getting him to drink a brew. Even with hot tea, there was no way Peter was going to stop. I marveled at his stamina and ability to keep on working. By this time we had been going for two and a half to three hours.

Time had obviously slipped away and I could tell be the way the rescue workers were acting that it was now a process of recovery, not rescue. One of the rescue guys got a radio call, and said out loud to everyone that there had been “another” fatality over at Perisher. I remember thinking how thoughtless this was as we had not found anyone deceased yet. By this time the rescue team had brought in two snow plow cats from Charlotte Pass and had pushed a snow road in from the Kusciouszko road and up to Blue Lake to enable easier access for skidoos. They then pushed the road all away around the northern side of the lake, staying high and off the frozen lake surface.

Rescue team probing

The shadows were starting to get longer and we were obviously going to start losing light soon. A general announcement was made by those who were now in charge of the rescue crews that everyone was to move off the slope and away from the avalanche debris field. The snow ploughs were then going to be used to clear the debris field in an attempt to locate Tom more quickly. It took a while to sink in what was happening, and eventually most of the rescue team was moved down and out of harms way to the side of the lake. I packed up my gear and was about to move off, when Peter came over and thanked me for helping. I was almost too embarrassed to say 'no worries', and made my way down the hill.

The full perspective - the rescue team can be seen probing at the top of the debris field

Owen then joined me down where most of the skidoos were parked on the side of the lake, and the other two skiers who helped at the beginning met up with us as well. I introduced myself to the others, but I was so tired that I have, to my chagrin, forgotten their names. The bloke was from Canberra, and his female friend was from Tasmania. Luckily Owen, through his Ski Patrol activities, knew many of the skidoo drivers and we organised to be taken back to our cars at Guthega. That was an adventure in itself, being driven from Blue Lake, to Charlotte Pass, Perisher, and then Guthega on the back of a skidoo, but we arrived in one piece. Just as we were dropped off, one of the skidoo drivers received a call on his radio to inform him that they had found Tom at 5.45pm - he was actually a good way down the slope from where we were searching, and was found under three metres of debris. The sad thing is that he was found in the vicinity of the ski that Owen had seen. We had all tried hard, and without the benefit of hindsight, we had all worked to the best of our ability and knowledge.

I dropped in at Jindabyne police station on the way home, to give a statement as instructed by the policeman on the scene, but they were too busy, told me to give it later at Queanbeyan, and I went gladly on my way, almost too tired to drive, but wanting nothing more than to shower and sleep in my own bed. I also finally rang my wife, who screamed at me down the phone. “What was that for?” I asked. “I'm so glad to hear your voice”, she said. The news had traveled way faster than we had, and for a few hours no-one knew what the details of the accident were. All my family knew was that a skier (some reports said climber) had died in an avalanche at Blue Lake, and they knew that I was there and hadn't reported in. They had all assumed it had been me.

Update: The two skiers who came to help me and Peter were Don Driscoll from Canberra, and his friend Ami from Tasmania. Don's family also were worried that is was Don who had been taken in the avalanche. I have met up with Don in Canberra since.

Arapiles Chockstone Gathering 2008

2008-06-10T16:23:00.003+10:00

We (Mr Pip –a.k.a. Cuzzy Bro Brett - & I ) managed to get out of Canberra right on time at 6am on the Friday morning before the Queens Birthday long weekend. We had the topo from the Sydney Rockies website that had the beta on the best route from Wagga to Horsham. It’s almost a straight line on reasonable country roads across vast flat plains. One of the biggest problems we had was arriving at towns like Denilequin and having to work out which road to take out of town to the next place. We managed to make it Arapiles in ten hours, with various stops for fuel, food, shopping, and a beer at the pub at Minyip (sorry Love, we’ve only got Pots… - I misheard and thought I was back in Nimbin for a minute, but then realized we’d entered the land of Pots Only Pubs).

Bard Buttress, Mount Arapiles, Victoria, Australia

Arapiles!! Look at all that fricken rock! After the initial shock of having too much rock to look at, we wandered around The Pines trying to find any other Chockstone Gathering people. We stopped and asked a South American guy, Juan, if he knew where Dave (a.k.a. Widewetandslippery) was. Dave seems to know everyone, so it was worth a shot. “Yeah, actually, I met him today” said Juan “here he comes now”. We looked across The Pines to see a grinning WW&S sauntering across the road. He was camped over in The Gums area, the non-piney campsite to the north, so we headed over there and set up camp with him.

We went for a late afternoon walk around the crag and checked out some routes on Tiger Wall, Castle Rock, and the Organ Pipes. A little later Rod (a.k.a. IdratherbeclimbingM9) arrived on his motorbike, so by later in the evening we had the start of a gathering and some plans for climbing. After the mega drive and a couple of beers an early evening was definitely in order.

Chockstone Camp!

We took it easy getting started the next morning as the sun comes up later in western Victoria, and we weren’t in any rush anyhow. Arapiles is a crag to ease into slowly. WW&S suggested we start on some single pitch routes on the left hand side of the Central Gully or the Organ Pipes area. The five minute walk in to the crag was extremely strenuous, and we were soon ogling what was on offer. WW&S suggested we walk further down the hill, and he slipped in behind a rock tower and the main face of the wall and down climbed a steep gully. Mr Pip and I followed, and as we were handing our packs down WW&S let out a string of expletives that are usually a fair indication that something serious and/or painful has just occurred. I arrived to find him clutching his leg, with a hundred kilo-ish boulder lying on the ground next to him, dislodged from its original position. As WW&S had stepped on the corner of the rock it had dislodged, rolling against his leg. Quick action on WW&S’s part had resulted in him only suffering from a badly bruised leg. Muki (a.k.a .Bomber Pro), had turned up that morning as well and was preparing to climb nearby with IdratherbeclimbingM9 when he heard the commotion. He was quickly on the scene with a First Aid kit and professional attitude and had WW&S checked out and fixed up with an elastic bandage. I was prepared to bail at that point and get WW&S back to camp to get an ice pack on the bruise, but he insisted that we (those left unwounded) should climb first.

Nick leads on the Hornpipe start to Digeridoo

After a bit of consultation, WW&S suggested that Didgeridoo (11) would be a good route to start with. It was going to be my first lead at Arapiles, so something easy sounded fine by me. I was soon to find out that Arapiles is one big sandbag and the routes are all graded about five grades lower than what they would be elsewhere. The moves up the first part of the climb were nice, but as I moved into the climb’s broken crack I missed the step to the left to move out onto the face of the rock. I didn’t get too worried as this was our first climb, Mr Pip had to second, and I didn’t want him put off by pushing him on anything to difficult to start with. If you stay on the right on Didgeridoo it turns into a wide ledge that leads into the back of a gully. It had a good flat spot for belaying from. I plugged into the wall and belayed Mr Pip up. Whilst standing there I was able to look straight across at IdratherbeclimbingM9, then Bomber Pro’s wife Jen, cranking through the roof on Jen’s Climb (19), which was next to us.

Rod Kerr (64) pulling through the roof on Jen's Climb (19)

After getting safely to the gully behind Didgeridoo, I ducked up and around the Didgeridoo pillar to find three people camped on top of the rap station which has about enough space on the associated knife edge ridge for a mountain goat. I didn’t think we were going to shift them quickly, so we decided to rap off the pine tree that is growing out of the center of the gully. I started to abseil down and dislodged some stones and yelled “Rock!!”. I thought that would clear out the crowd at the bottom of the crag, but it didn’t bring about much of a reaction. I looked back up at Mr Pip, who was sitting next to the pine tree rap station, when a fist sized rock came barreling past him, obviously dislodged by the climbers up behind us. The rock ricocheted a few times and then bounced out towards the base of the climb. At the same time Maddy, Bomber Pro and Jen’s very small and cute daughter (3yrs?) walked up the path and into the firing line. I stood aghast halfway down the abseil and watched as the rock made straight for Maddy, who was blissfully unaware of the implications of my manic screams of “Rock!!”. At the last moment the rock dropped, hit the ground about 30cm in front of her, and exploded into pieces. At the same time Maddy put her hands to her face and miraculously avoided injury. They must make these kids tough at Natimuk – she didn’t even cry. Maybe she just hangs out at the base of crags so much that falling rocks are just part of her world.

After the morning’s excitement we decided that going back to camp would be a whole lot safer, and my medical recommendation of an ice pack on WW&S’s bruise and a beer for the pain was eagerly accepted. Back at camp we got WW&S into a comfy position and cooked up a very late breakfast.

Mr Pip and I decided that we had to at least get another climb in, so we went off for a bit of a recce by ourselves. We settled on Ali’s Face (9), which is the face next to Ali’s, and in the guide book is assumed to be the original Ali’s. This looked fine to us as it got us up into that part of the crag without too much effort so we could have a bit of a look around. I climbed to the rap station at the top and tied in just as the rescue helicopter arrived to pick up the broken ankles accident over at Kitten Wall. The chopper kept buzzing the top of the crag in the vicinity of The Bard for about twenty minutes, making it impossible to hear what Mr Pip was yelling from below, or for him to hear me. Mr Pip eventually made it up, then I belayed him down as he moved over and grabbed the Ali’s chains and scrambled back down Ali’s. I then rapped off the very nice double chains and down climbed the last few metres.

Nick leads on Ali's Face

We’d had a very interesting, and at times a bit too exciting, introduction to Arapiles. The beer definitely tasted better than usual that evening. We sat around talking about what we had done that day and decided that we had discovered a variant finish for Didgeridoo, which we decided to call Didgeridon’t.

I slept in a bit on the Sunday morning, then headed over to The Pines to find IdratherbeclimbingM9 who was helping with the official camp clean up (organized by the VCC I believe - grab a plastic bag and pick up rubbish). I got stuck into picking up rubbish too, and it was a good way to cruise around The Pines and check out who was there (for the record, there were more Coopers beer bottle tops than any other – Carlton came in second). IdratherbeclimbingM9 and I caught up with Ross (a.k.a. rhinckle), who was camped at the other side of The Pines.

We got back to the Chockstone camp in The Gums, sorted our gear, and headed off for Tiger Wall. IdratherbeclimbingM9 and rhinkle decided to climb the immortal classic, The Bard (12). Amazingly, they got the climb to themselves. The rest of us (WW&S, Mr Pip, Bomber Pro and I) decided on Kestrel (12), an eye catching deep corner crack. WW&S led, while Mr Pip belayed.

I headed downhill a bit with Bomber to belay him on a sport climb (a grade 23?) he was trying to wire. He soloed up the easy (??) side until he was high enough to die if he fell, then traversed across and threaded the rope through the rings at the top. I fooled myself that I was spotting him, and was more than relieved when he was safely tied in. I lowered him down and he started up the climb. The crux is only a few metres off the ground, where you have to lean right and have all your weight on a tiny hold under your right foot, and reach up high with your right hand to a nasty sharp hold. On about the third go Bomber all but made it, the sharpness of the small handhold doing him in. He gave the move a few more goes, then decided to finish the rest of the climb for the hell of it.

Bomber and I headed back up to Kestrel to find Mr Pip just getting into the crux of Kestrel – a grovelly little chimney which isn’t fun if you are not good at groveling. Poor old Mr Pip gave it his best shot, but in the end just got himself too exhausted. Even my encouragement of Fantini ethics and that we’d all look away while he climbed the rope did no good, so WW&S lowered him.

Just as this was going on there was a pained yelp from the American climber a few metres to our right. He had just copped a rock to his left cheek bone from the climbers above him. He was more shocked than injured, and THEN decided to put his helmet on. There is a common theme involving falling rocks and Arapiles starting to develop here.

I roped up and followed WW&S up Kestrel. It well deserves its two star rating. It’s a great one to do as an early climb at Arapiles as it gets you used to the height without the wild exposure. While I was groveling, thrashing and grunting, Bomber gave Mr Pip some technique lessons in some of the accessible cracks at the bottom of the climb. Brett (Mr Pip) really appreciated someone of Bomber’s experience and ability giving him the time to help him improve his climbing. I topped out and clipped into the chains, then Bomber cruised up the climb behind us. The view was fantastic and the climbing exhilarating. We rapped down on twin ropes and headed back for our last night at Arapiles.

The weather on the Sunday night was really warm. There was only a light Norwester blowing, and it made me think of approaching rain. From the Chockstone camp we had a front row seat view of the Bard Buttress, and we could see there were a couple of crews climbing The Bard. What High Sport, I thought, get out there and climb it with head torches! We all grabbed beers and walked up the road a bit and sat down on the log fencing in the dark and watched as head torches bobbed their way up and down the Bard Buttress. I entertained the idea of top roping The Plaque crag with head torches, and we even got to the point of getting a rope up there, but the alcohol fueled bravado wore off when it was discovered that there were no belay stations there and rhinkle started acting a bit weird and said he was going to tie off at the top of the crag and rap down without a harness. A retreat was definitely easier than having to wait around for an ambulance, so we headed back to camp to find other like minded ground huggers.

We all wandered over to the VCC camp in The Pines and had a breif chat, then went and sat around with some NSW crew who were down from the Bluies. I talked to a German guy, Sascha, who was from the area in Germany where they climb with only knotted rope for protection. I asked him if it worked as well as normal pro, and he said he didn't know, as he was too scared to fall on it and test it out. We staggered back to camp for a quick feed and a very deep sleep for all.

Rod gives the weekend the thumbs up!

During the night the rain came. Light and steady, there must have been hundreds of farmers in the surrounding district who would have been more than pleased. Time to get the Winter wheat crop in!We had a wet morning, though it never rained too hard, and we went for a final walk to the Northern end of the crag. The Watchtower Crack, Arachnus, The Watchtower Chimney – soaring lines for the ticklist for next time. There's Kachoong! So much rock, so little time. We packed our soggy gear into the Go Anywhere Getz and said our goodbyes to the rest of the Chockstone crew – October long weekend – we'll be back!!

Brindabella Journeys

2008-05-04T09:23:00.019+10:00

It snowed on the Brindabella Ranges on the last weekend of April. The Brindabellas run north/south - the Australian Capital Territory and New South Wales border runs along the top. The higher peaks get snow, but this then causes problems with access. There is only one road in, which comes from the north and follows the ridge line. The eastern side of the range is Namadgi National Park, and the park rangers control the gates along the road. If it looks too snowy, they lock the gates. Luckily this time the road was open to Mount Franklin, which is the site of the old Canberra Alpine Club ski chalet (burnt down 2003). There are still some ski runs on the hill, though they are short and are being slowly reclaimed by the snow gums.

The journey from Canberra to the Mount Franklin car park was 60 km, at least half of this was on dirt road - the road from Uriarra up to the Piccadilly Circus turnoff was bouncy at times - but the Mount Franklin Road, which follows the ridge, is quite good (blind corners! drive slow!). From the car park to the site of the old chalet is only 300m - there now stands a new picnic shelter (totally useless when a snowy south wester is blowing).

Mt Franklin Hut

The old toilet block still survives, and is quite serviceable. The parks service still maintain it as a public convenience. It would also be quite useful as a storm shelter as there is plenty of space inside - at least you wouldn't have to go far if nature called!!

The Mt Franklin Conveniences

I put my skis on (my old Fischer Crown light tourers - perfect for rock scraping) and headed off up the track to the top of Mt Franklin, which was only about a kilometre away. The track had a useable cover of snow - the trees on the western side act like a snow fence and cause a snow drift along the path. The only problem is that the parks service has been throwing logs and branches all along the sides of the path in an attempt to reclaim the old ski run that the path follows - this made it really dicy on the way down as you have to stick to a narrow path and side step down any steep bits.

Mt Franklin Track

It was great to be out on the skis again, working out the rusty bits in my technique. The weather was quite blizzardy too - alternating between fluffly snow and chittering ice which bounced noisily off the hood of my Mammut soft shell. I love being out solo in this sort of weather - it gives me time to think about what I am doing and how my gear is performing - situational awareness - confidence - character building!!.

The climb to the top of the hill, and then on to the trig station didn't take too long - I took my time though as with so much fresh uneven snow on the track it was difficult to know what laid under the lumpy bits. Once on top of the hill it is fine though - an open alpine meadow with scattered trees.

Mt Franklin Trig Station

I had a bit of a look around the trig station, though the fresh lumpy snow (lots of grass tussocks underneath) didn't inspire me to attempt any downhill runs. I took some photos of the icy Snow Gums (no koala bears here!!) and headed back down the hill.

It very icy version of Eucalyptus pauciflora ssp. niphophila

The journey back down was slow as I had to side step on my skis most of the way - there was way too much potential for broken legs with all the snow covered logs next to the track. As I got back to the car there was a couple of guys there with shovels trying to pack as much snow as they could into the tray of their pickup truck - a surprise for the kids at home I suppose - though it would make a great party esky - you could chill a lot of beer with their pile of snow.

The journey up Mt Franklin got me thinking again about the rest of the Brindabellas. I've had plans for about five years to venture further down the mountain range, though again access is difficult if the road access has been cut. I'd been toying with the idea of walking in to Pryor's Hut, which is at the base of Mount Gingera (1857m), another eight kilometres down the road. The plan was to walk up from the carpark at Corin Dam - I'd read as much information about it that I could find and was confident that I could do it solo.

Pryor's Hut is a lovely old mountain hut that was built about fifty years ago for staff of the botanic gardens, who were planting arboretums along the top of the Brindabellas to trial cool climate tree species. It has a couple of rooms, benches, and two lovely stone fireplaces. It is now maintained by the Kosciuszko Huts Association. It is a great place to base yourself for a bit of remote backcountry skiing - the area holds the snow quite well over winter, especially if it's a good snow year.

I've been planning to do a weekend at Pryor's Hut when the snow is good, so I wanted to walk in on the proposed route before it snowed so that I was up to speed on what the access would be like. I'd looked at the map many times, but refrained from working out what the climb out of the valley from Corin Dam was going to be like. I could see that it was steep.

I drove to Corin Dam on Saturday 2nd of May and got to the car park just before dawn. I scouted around a bit and found the path "right behind the toilet block" as had been reported by others. I took a well loaded day pack, as going solo you have to be prepared for anything, and I wanted to know what it was like climbing that hill with a decent weight on my back. The track, though not heavily used, is quite obvious and is marked with pink tape tied to the trees. I started off just as there was enough light to see where I was going.

It was steep to start with. Very steep. I climbed the first hundred metres or so as if I was climbing a granite slab - up on the toes of my shoes, leaning forward, and heading straight up. The slope then backed off a bit, but it was still steep and sustained. Towards the top I was having to rest every 50m or so - all I could think of was how hard it must be doing the final stages of high Himalayan peaks.

Walk up this - for an hour...

When I reached about half-way up the slope, the sun came over the far hill and lit the path up. I was really starting to heat up now, so it was a good excuse to stop, unzip my jacket and take a photo.

The Sunlit Climb to Stockyard Spur

The morning was beautiful and peaceful, with only an occasional bird call. I kept my head down and pushed on. It was a hard slog, but the hill started to level out. I came upon a bushwalking cairn and then noticed a lightly used vehicle track heading off along Stockyard Spur towards my destination. I'd made it to the top of the hill! 600 metre climb, 1.5 kilometres, 1 hour.

The Road Along Stockyard Spur

The walk along Stockyard Spur to the Mt Franklin Road is about four kilometres. There is a bit of up and down, with a couple of small hills to take slowly after all that climbing, but it was easy walking in a sub-alpine bush setting. It would be great for skiing after a good snow fall. Before I knew it I was at the Mt Franklin Road - I turned left and walked for about ten minutes along the well maintained dirt road, and there was Pryor's Hut - a very welcome site. And even better - I'd made the walk in 2 hours.

Pryor's Hut

The hut inside was a clean as a mountain hut can be - with a good fire going in the stone fireplace, a couple of friends, and some good cheer, it would be very cosy. I set up my MSR Whisperlite stove and put some chilli noodles on to cook - even though the sky was clear and blue it was still quite early and it was about 2 degrees Celsius outside (the weather station is on the next hill - Mt Ginini - and all the weather data is published to the web every half an hour - very convenient - Mt Ginini weather station observatons).

I went for a walk around the area after a quick recarb of noodles. There is a clean pit toilet outside (with paper!) and there is a small arboretum of exotic Pines planted nearby. I walked up the road a bit and looked up at Mount Gingera, which is about another 200m higher than the hut. The hill had plenty of treeless slopes, which would be perfect for carving up after good fall of snow. The last of the summer Paper Daisies were flowering, adding some bright colour to the cold mountain.

Australian Paper Daisy

I didn't want to waste too much time or energy, as this was merely a scouting mission, so I went back to the hut, grabbed my gear, and headed back from whence I came. I stopped at one of the small tors (granite outcrops) along Stockyard Spur and snapped a shot of the mountains to the west. There's plenty more hills to be climbed out there!

Looking West From Stockyard Spur

The walk back down the hill was no piece of cake either - because it was so steep it had to be done slowly with a lot of side-stepping. I tried to clear the track a bit as I went, and build more track marking cairns as an excuse for a break. I made it back to the car park in two hours.

This trip, though tiring and highlight the fact that I will be requiring a bit more training, established the fact that it is possible to climb to Pryor's Hut and back for the weekend. I want to do a couple of ski tours up there this winter - if I can con a couple of other masochists to climb the hill with me. I think that climbing the hill, then skiing for the day, then walking out, would be not just too tiring, but not much fun either if done as a day tour. You really need to plan to bed down in the hut for the night, then head out the next day. This place has great potential - especially with rising fuel prices - for a quick last minute local ski tour after a good fall of snow.

Welcome Leleana

2008-05-04T09:01:00.005+10:00

Welcome to the world Leleana - it's going to be one big adventure!

Leleana Julie Makini Reese
Born 7th April 2008, 2.9kg

The Fortress Revisited

2008-04-25T07:36:00.011+10:00

I finally got back up to The Fortress, ACT, with Widewetandslippery and Wallwombat (of Chockstone fame) in early March, 2008. We did a more extensive inspection of the crag this time and decided on doing Blood On His Lips (16) first - nice easy crack and great as a warm up.

Blood On His Lips (16), The Fortress, ACT

The climbing is easy up the crack, but there is a small slab move at the top which messes with your head if you haven't had to smear for a while.

Widewetandslippery on the lead.

We then headed back up to the main outcrop of rocks and had a go at Flying Arkwright (16). This is such an interesting looking crack that you just have to do it. Remember this was first climbed as a solo effort in 1975. It's changed a bit since then - at the bottom of the climb the bushfires have sooted up the overhanging wall at the start - you have to lay back with your feet against the wall and it's as slippery as featureless marble. Widewetandslippery proved it was doable on the lead. It's got a great little off-width at the top to exit.

WW&S leading on Flying Arkwright. Me on belay, contemplating how my new Fantini ethics will help get me up the route.

We abseiled off the top of the rock, as the guide-book-suggested grovel down the exit crack didn't appeal to us. The belay bolts have been chopped, but there is a big boulder that you can sling a rope around - just don't let it get caught around the bottom of the boulder.

We next sized up Sentry Duty (15). Sentry Duty starts as a double crack, leading to a sentry box half-way up the climb.

WW&S doubling his on-lead crack fun on Sentry Duty

The sentry box provides a good resting ledge before attacking the crux. The granite changes at the top into real hand ripping stuff - jambing is painful! WW&S was smart and taped up - I had to hang in the crack for a bit to unstick the biner on the end of a cam - it had turned sideways in the crack and did not want to move - my feet were turned side on in the crack and stuck fine - the hands were not so fine - I had to grab the rope for relief before the biner would play nice. Great exposed move out of the sentry box though.

Nick having painful jambing fun on Sentry Duty - sentry box beneath

The Fortress is a great spot for an easy mornings climbing. There is a bolt ladder (3 bolts) on the north western side of the big mushroom rock on top - the bolts looked good and will have to go at a later date!

Square Rock ACT

2008-02-17T10:53:00.010+11:00

This trip was a preliminary recce of a grander scheme – to check out the crags at Mt. McKeahnie in the ACT. When I was up at Legoland with Brother Colin, widewetandslippery and wallwombat last week, I spied across the hills and far away a massive granite crag that was lit by sunlight on an otherwise gloomy day. I pointed it out to the other guys and became determined to find out what it was. On checking the topo I figured it to be Mt. McKeahnie. I studied a few of my ACT walking guides and found that there is a walk in to the McKeanie trig, then from there it is a couple of kilometres along the ridge to the top of Mt McKeahnie proper. One of my guides suggested visiting Square Rock, which is off the track on the way to the trig, and had a photo of some fine granite boulders. With a name like Square Rock, you've got to have a look, and I figured the walk in would be a good study of what the access to the ultimate objective would be like (and I hadn't done any exercise all week).

Square Rock is a big granite crag way down Corin Road in the Southern ACT. The ACT Granite guide notes it as having 'a great position and some good climbs', but a very long walk in. Woos bags, it's only three kilometres. I drove down there at lunchtime on Saturday, the plan was to assess the walk-in and maybe do some roped solo climbing (yep, I am Nicky No Friends this weekend...). To get there, you drive down Corin Road for 13.5 kilometres and there is a car park at Smokers Flat – well signed etc. The initial part of the walk parrallels the road, but then cuts across it.

Square Rock Track

Not far up the track there is a walkers register. Better sign in just to be safe. The track is open and well stomped. It climbs gently through open forest, and any stairs are well formed out of solid granite blocks. As you rise to the ridge granite outcrops and boulders start to appear and your brain clicks into climbing mode and can't help but spot small lines and problems.

Boulders on the track

I carried a pack with a full climbing kit and rope, as well as a couple of litres of water, so by the time I got to the 'Square Rock 1 km” sign, I felt like I was only just starting to warm up (i.e. things stopped hurting). The last kilometre in is easy through undulating forest. The nice thing about the forest here is that it was obviously not completely hammered by the bush fires, and a lot of the big trees have reshot and in a few years the walk in will be in full shade most of the way.

A sign of good things to come...

Square Rock is a classic ACT granite crag in the style of Orroral Ridge, but more vertical and less bouldery than somewhere like Legoland. There is lots of rock there. There is a metal tourist stair onto the top of the crag, and the main boulder on the top of this has a couple of climbs on it. Changing of the Guard (24) is obvious by the line of bolts with older style hangers. I scrambled down to the left where there is an obvious gully, and got a much better idea of the extent of the crag. It's all cracky, slabby, chimneyey granite goodness. And no other metal to be seen on the whole crag. There's lots to be climbed, with plenty of soaring exposed lines, as well as many smaller typical granite problems.

Sorry, no photos of the crag yet. Guess where my batteries went flat.

I poked around and picked out lines and scrambled back up through the guts of the crag. The only real climbing I ended up doing was soloing up a small chimney so that I didn't have to walk around that part of the crag. There are only three named climbs for Square Rock in the guide, so for practically the whole place you just have to make it up as you go along. My mind had changed about doing much climbing there as the car was a long walk away (if you had a busted ankle) and I was going to a party that night that had free beer, so discretion is the better part of ensuring your fair share of the said free beer. Also, it was really worth it just to get in there and have a look for future reference. (I should mention that as soon as I put my boots on to do the chimney, I stood on a flake of granite that was on the ground that snapped and gouged my shin as only granite will do which suddenly made me feel more mortal at the base of a big empty crag).

The walk back out is really easy due to the path dropping gently most of the way. I stopped off at one set of boulders next to the track and did a few gentle boulder problems just to get my hands on some rock. You could spend plenty of time just checking out the bits of rock that are scattered along the Square Rock walk.

Views along the track

Square Rock itself it definitely worth a visit. It would be a nice crag to walk into the night before and camp – especially in summer where making an early start is the preferred option. The track is so good that you could walk in at night with head torches without any problems. It's also nice to go to a crag that feels undeveloped - I can appreciate where the anti-bolting crew are coming from. Next, Mt McKeahnie!

The Fortress - ACT Granite

2008-02-02T08:20:00.000+11:00

The Fortress

We went climbing last weekend at The Fortress, a small granite crag on Corin Road, in the Australian Capital Territory. This is a classic granite tor that has a nice variety of interesting, though small, climbs.

Brett inside The Fortress

We were interested in the crack climbs, and ended up climbing Sentry Duty (15).

Brett in front of Sentry Duty

The Sentry Duty crack lays off to the left, leading to a 'sentry box' ledge just past half way. This allows you to get some good protection in before you lead up out of the sentry box, which is the crux. There is a big juggy hold just up to the left as you come up out of the sentry box, then onto the top is easy.

Nick leading on Sentry Duty

The Fortress is a great place to climb on Summer mornings, and looks like it will be great for warmer winter afternoons. The access is also fantastic, as you can drive up a forestry road right to the crag.

Open Source Software in the Solomon Islands

2008-02-01T18:02:00.000+11:00

Hi all,

I was just reading an email from a Solomon Islands Information Technology Working Group mailing list about the latest computer virus getting around Honiara. This gives me the excuse to come back to one of my favorite subjects - Linux. Computer viruses get around Honiara like the latest Flu or bout of Redeye. The reason for this is that the vast majority of people there are using pirated software that is not updated. Running freeware antivirus is just not enough to prevent the spread of data and time destroying malware.

Next time you have to blow away a computer, consider loading the latest version of Ubuntu 7.10 - it's fantastic. Reasons to consider it are:

- You will not be prone to being attacked by viruses etc.
- It is very fast to install, and comes with staka software all loaded at the same time - no swapping five disks to get your basic operating system and office software etc. onto the machine
- It integrates perfectly with Windows and Mac machines - OpenOffice 2.3 is a great office suite - it even loads Windows fonts automatically now
- If you are trying to do something and the codecs or drivers are not loaded, Ubuntu will ask you if you want to load the software (this requires an Internet connection) - if you say yes it will go and find the software and load it
- The amount of high quality software available with Ubuntu is staggering - there is drop down list menu item that says 'add / remove software' - this shows you a list of software that is available to you - tick a menu item on something you want, and it will download and install the software and all the dependencies automatically
- When I loaded Ubuntu, it recognised and set up my HP three-in-one printer/scanner/copier without having to load any additional drivers - same goes for my Kodak digital camera - Windows will not do this
- if you want to get geeky and start doing more technical things like web site design / photo manipulation / sound studio production / (ke kara!) programming - the tools are all available - there is no need to load pirate software or time limited demo software

Also consider running Linux on your servers - especially file servers. I had fantastic success in Honiara running Linux as a file server for many organisations in town - I also ran Clam Antivirus so that any infected files that were put onto the server were dealt with (and the good thing was that none of the Viruses could affect the file server itself). Apart from the incredible stability of the file servers, they themselves always stay virus free.

Give it a go!!

Red Rocks Gorge - ACT

2008-01-13T07:21:00.000+11:00

The crag at Red Rocks Gorge in the ACT is open again. It is closed between the 1st of August and 1st of January to allow the Peregrine Falcons to crap all over the crag in peace. I don't mind, I like taking a crap in private too.

Iceman (aka in non Chocky life as Gavin Evans) and I met at the Kambah pools car park around 4.30pm. It was a perfect Canberra summer afternoon - temperature in the high twenties, no clouds, and a touch of a cooling easterly breeze. We planned to climb Red Rocks Gorge, which is about ten minutes walk further upstream from the Kambah Rocks crag. We weren't sure if we'd make it across the river to the crag, so we were both wearing nylon shorts and sluggos in the event of a swim.

The walk in from the car park takes about half an hour, but you then need to spend at least another twenty minutes finding a spot to cross the river, which at the moment is flowing fairly well. The guide says there is a goat track leading from the main walking track down to the river, but due to no-one accessing the crag for a while, and the recent rain, it looks like the goats have not been doing their job.

We finally found a spot to cross the river at the Northern end of the crag. The water was about waste deep and required careful foot placement as the water is flowing fairly strongly and the river bed is a jumble of rocks. Make sure you have your mobile phone etc. wrapped up in plastic bags.

Red Rocks is very impressive on first sighting. A highly featured orange cliff that soars above the Murrumbidgee River. The river itself cuts through numerous small craggy gorges and boulders that we though had plenty of potential for some short deep water soloing. The other nice feature of the climbing there is that the crag is in full shade later in the afternoon in Summer. With the combination of shade and the breeze blowing along the river, the conditions were perfect.

The Neither of us had been to the crag before, so we poked around a bit trying to interpret the topo (nice simple colour one - available at Mountain Designs in Canberra). We eventually settled on doing the two easier sports routes at either end of the crag, Ingrid Bergmann (16) and Willie the Pooh (16). There was also an interesting looking trad climb, Corner Crack (14), which we filed for future reference.

We started on Ingrid Bergmann, with Iceman leading. The crux, as I was to find, is quite interesting, and Iceman got flash pumped on it trying to find the move through it. He rested for a few minutes then had another crack at it, moving up easily this time and making the lower offs with no problems. Seconding it was a bit easier as I was able to following Iceman's chalk marks, though the move through the crux was a challenge. The climb was a bit short (10m), and with a bit more time it would be nice to pump some laps on it. The only problem we found with it is that because of the recent rain and climbing ban, there was heaps of dirt covering certain sections of the climb. A bit more cleaning would greatly improve it (or is that just winging? Maybe I should just take my own advice and "toughen up Princess!!").

We then walked along the base of the crag, working out the routes according to the topo. There were some really nice looking, and much longer, 18s and 20s (Instant Inches, Red Sorghum, Tahini, Bosch Imperialist, Willy Wonka) that would be great to have a go at when we had more time. It also looked like there was the potential to put up a few more lines there as well. The dried head of a Galah lay at the bottom of the cliff as evidence of the previous residence of the falcons. Galahs still look like they are laughing even when their heads are detached from their bodies.

We got to the other end of the crag and checked out Willie the Pooh. It was a little hard to decipher at first as four climbs start in the same spot, but by getting back from the crag a bit it was easier to spot the lines of bolt plates up the cliff. Iceman headed off on lead again, determined not to get pumped again.

Willie the Pooh, even though not hard, has some great sections, the characteristics of each one being quite different from the next. The start is chunky and straight forward, the next section is a blank wall with some small holds and blocky ledges on the left hand side and top, you then move up into a blocky bulge that has some thank god juggy ledges as you come over the bulge, then the top out is over a smooth slab that leans into the cave that holds the lower offs. Iceman was hooting when he got to the top. On seconding it, I could see why. It was a great little climb with enough variation to please the whole family. And no dirt this time. Again, it would be a great climb to chuck a few laps on.

The sun was just setting as we started to pack up the gear, and I just happened to find a six pack of VB in my backpack. We had a beer and looked at the climbs to the left of where we had just climbed. They had a lot more height in them and looked much more challenging. We agreed to come back later and give them a crack.

We had a fun and soggy crossing of the river again, and finding the goat track back up to main path was more of a challenge than the two routes we had just done. The strategically placed Native Raspberry and the odd weedy Rose bush made for prickly route finding. We made it to the main track without too many scratches and slogged back to the car park with another beer while talking standard post cragging climbers crap. We arrived at the cars without much light to spare at 9pm.

I can highly recommend an afternoons climb at Red Rocks, though give yourself plenty of time. The walk in and out is much more of an epic than the climbs themselves.

Nail Biter - Gibralter Peak, ACT

2008-01-09T06:32:00.000+11:00

After seeing a photo of Nail Biter (16) - (Gibraltar Peak) on Chocktone's 'Guess The Route' forum thread, I made up my mind on what I was going to climb on the following weekend. The photo of Nail Biter showed a classic looking granite crack - but as I was warned - short. Upon further investigation I also found out that THAT was the climb on the back of the ACT Granite guide.

I lined up my cuzzi bro Brett to climb with me on the Sunday. He'd just spent the last six weeks on the couch (literally - for two weeks over Christmas he didn't even move to his bed to sleep), so it was time for a bit of a weekend workout. As it turned out, it was a perfect day for it too. Calm, clear skies, and not too hot.

Gibraltar Peak

We drove into Gibraltar from the Corin Road side, but where the map notes pine forest, there was nothing but regenerating bush. The 2003 fires had obviously creamed the place, and it has not been replanted since. The road wasn't too rough, but the recent heavy rain had carved some good sized ruts into the road surface. We managed to get the Hyundai Getz go anywhere vehicle through most of it, until we got to one that was just not crossable, so we had to leave the car and walk in for the last few kilometres. A large four wheel drive would be highly recommended if you don't like walking uphill in the full sun with a heavy pack on your back for a few kilometres.

The final walk up to Gibraltar Peak is a good warm up. The peak is a prominent pile of very large boulders, so it was almost impossible for noobies like us to get lost. The fire trail starts to rise steeply up to the top of the hill, then a solid set of granite stairs lead into the guts of the large granite boulders.

Even if we hadn't gone climbing, the walk would have been worth it. The view from Gibraltar across the Brindabella Ranges and the ACT is brilliant. The mega pile of granite boulders that make up Gibraltar Peak are very impressive. A veritable feast for any lover of granite climbing. We had a bit of a poke around, and over the first rise, there it was. The Nailbiter Spike. We bashed around in the bush a bit, trying to find the paths through the boulders. As with the base of Booroomba, the regrowth after the bush fires is really thick, making many of the well worn paths obscure to start with. We made it to the base of Nail Biter without any problems, and made a good inspection of the climb.

Brett in front of Nail Biter

The start of Nail Biter is quite accessible. An easy slab slopes up to the start of the crack. On first view the crack itself looked very climbable, just wide enough for hand jamming, but on further inspection I noted that the face on the left hand side of the crack stuck out about six to eight centimetres more than the face on the right hand side. I could see from the start that the approach would be to layback up the crack, with hands grabbing the right hand side and feet firmly planted against the left hand side. Even though the climb looked relatively easy, it had the extra benefit of exposure, being on a big granite spike stuck out on a hill with slabs dropping away from the base.

I hummed and hawed a bit, trying to get my brain into climbing mode, when Brett suggested that he lead the climb. I was impressed with his eagerness, but I wasn't impressed that he had never led on trad before, and that he had spent the last six weeks on the couch. He was adamant though, so I offered to set up the first bits of pro just to make sure that the start was safe. He started strongly, and made it up to about a third of the way up the climb, where the crack has a prominent wedgy 'V' in it that you can wedge your foot into for an easy resting point. The crack then thins a bit, and the face bulges out, forming the crux of the climb. Brett placed another couple of pieces of protection, stuffed around for a bit, then the lounge lizard training started to take effect. Brett got pumped really quickly and started to loose strength. He hung off a cam for a bit, then had another go, but to no avail. I lowered him down, then suggested we take a break and that I would lead the climb from there on.

Brett on lead

After a break, we changed gear around and Brett got on belay. Laying back up the crack worked beautifully, and I made it to the 'V' section quickly. I checked Brett's pro placements, then reached up as high as I could and placed a nut and clipped the rope in. At first I attempted to climb the crux face-on to the crack, but I wasn't getting very far. I then thought "what the hell am I doing?" - the crack is made for laying back. I changed my stance to laying back, and I blasted up and through the crux. I was going so strongly that I didn't stop and place any pro, and by then the face was starting to round out, so I was fairly safe. The only problem though was being in the lay back stance as the face started to flatten out. I was grovelling a bit as gravity took over and started to smear the right hand side of my body against the rock. A few more moves and I was at the top. I clipped into the belay bolts on the top and was elated.

On top of the Nailbiter Spike

After some water and a look around, I set the belay to bring Brett up. He moved fairly strongly, had a bit of a hang before the crux again, got laying back under control for a bit, then as he came over the bulge where the face backs off, he changed to a front on hand jamming technique and moved up strongly. "That's the trick!" I thought. Instead of grovelling over the top in lay back mode, change to a front-on hand jam. Brett made it to the top and we shook hands and marvelled at the view for a bit. I then lowered Brett back down so that he could clean a couple of the bits of pro that had been left in place. One thing that we had to be careful of while doing this was getting the rope caught in the crack. We had to unweight the rope a couple of times and flick it out of the crack. I cleaned up and had an easy abseil back down.

Brett on top

The day was starting to move on by then, as we had made a late start. We thought about the long walk back to the car and the cold, homebrewed fermented yeast health drink and ready to barbeque pork spare ribs that awaited us back at the house, and decided to call it a day. We had achieved our objective - climb Nail Biter. It may not have been in the finest style, but we had learnt a lot and would climb it with style another time.

Nail Biter - classic crack

Climbing With The Great Fantini

2008-01-09T06:26:00.000+11:00

In one of those co-incidences of life, early in 2007 I ended up with John Fantini as my landlord. These days he lives most of the year in Canada, then returns to Australia for a while during the Australian summer. While I rent the house, John keeps the majority of the garage to store gear and his car, so when he is in Australia I see him when he's picking up some gear or repairing something around the house.

I've only been getting back into climbing and had just bought a pile of new gear, including a reasonably comprehensive trad rack, so when John came back from Canada at the beginning of December I was as eager as a proud new father to show off my new gear to him. He cast an expert eye over it and was pleased with what he saw. "I didn't bring any gear with me this time" he said "we'l have to go climbing and use your gear" Perfect! At first he was talking about going to Point Perpendicular, then it transpired that we would do a day up at Booroomba with a couple of other guys from the Canberra Climbers'Association.

John, Jamie and Oliver picked me up at my house on Saturday morning in Jamie's trusty old Subaru. I sat in the back with Oliver and tried not too talk too much (hard for me) while Jamie and John sat in the front and swapped stories about climbs from around the world. Jamie and John are both obviously very well travelled with experience on a lot of crags in a lot of countries. We arrived at the Booroomba car park without any dramas and went through the ritual of sorting gear and who was taking what. There was light cloud cover so the hike up the hill was not too bad - head down, one foot in front of the other, look at the wildflowers. I chatted with John a bit on the way up about what he'd been up to in Canada and other idle chatter.

We arrived at the campsite at the top of the crag and, as it was only my second time to Booroomba and I hardly knew the place, I took the back seat on route choice and plan of action for the day. The guys decided that John and I would do Determinant (15, 144m), while Jamie and Oliver would climb to the left of us. Determinant is one of the original climbs of Booroomba. We did the standard slog down the broken gully to the bottom of the crag, then bashed through the rapidly growing undergrowth that is being encouraged by the recent plentiful rainfall that the ACT has been experiencing. Not having to been to Booroomba for about eight years, John was surprised at how much the bush had been hammered by the bushfires, and was amazed that the crag was now a whitish hue, rather than it's darker, pre-bushfire form.

We started at the bottom of Determinant at about mid-morning. The cloud was increasing a bit due to the approaching cold front, which made the belay quite pleasant and without glare. John disappeared off up the slab of the first pitch. Watching John Fantini climb is an experience. He climbs with purpose, deliberation and economy that belie his years. Hunt, place pro, test, clip, move. As I was about to find out when cleaning the pro, when Fantini places protection you know you can trust it. I was glad to have Jamie over to my left belaying Oliver on their climb. I have only just started using a Grigri and Jamie gave me some beta on the best way to hold it and feed the rope. John was moving quickly so I needed to feed the rope fast. He moved out of sight, and then he stopped. I waited quite a while before he called down "I'm just getting my slab head together". John prefers his climbs vertical, and just needed that slab psyche adjustment like so many of us require when getting onto granite. Before long he was moving again and was calling "on belay!", and it was my turn. I started strongly, and soon came to the point on the slab that John had been deliberating over. I called up to him that I could see what he meant. I chalked up, trusted my feet, moved with care. Ahhhh, granite, you slabby head muck. The next couple of pitches were cracks, slabs, and some traverse, with a great section of laying back up a big corner crack with lovely foot smearing gripiness on the opposite wall. I was pleased when John complimented me with how fast I moved up. I mumbled some pathetic comment about how I always moved fast when I was scared. I wasn't really scared, it was more that the climbing was very sustained, and I don't like to linger unless I have a good spot to rest. Where I was slowing down was when I was cleaning the pro. When John places pro he places it brilliantly, which makes it really hard to clean at times. My gear cleaning tool got a good work out. At one point I had to remove a friend by grabbing the cam lever with the hook of the tool and slowly work the friend out sideways.

Half way up Determinant (The Prow)

For the last pitch of the climb, we moved to the right across a broken, shrubby ledge to Terminant Corner. Terminant Corner is a brilliant corner crack that soars to the top of the crag. The start is a bit desperate and off-width, and really makes you work on your crack technique. The top section of the crack backs away from being so vertical and turns into a corner that you can poke the toes of your shoes into, and the crack accommodates open hand jamming with ease. Beautiful, relaxing hand jamming all the way to the blocky top of the pitch. I'd even rappel back down there sometime in the future to do just that section of the climb again. The blocky section at the top had me grovelling a bit, with a step across a void to the right to exit. It didn't make me feel any better that John had placed three bits of pro in the same place here, indicating to me that he felt the exposure as well. I bush bashed the last few metres of the climb to John's belay, and was complimented with a "well done". Jamie and Oliver had just finished their climb also, so we trouped back along the top of the crag to the camp site.

John Fantini starting up Terminant Corner

Over a bite to eat and plenty of water, the guys started hatching a plan for the rest of the day. It was early afternoon by then and I'd worked hard on Determinant, and I was sure there was a long-neck with my name on it down at the Tharwa store. I would have been quite happy to call it a day then and there and gone home quite satisfied. But it was not to be. A plan was being hatched and I could see that I was meant to be part of it. "Right then!" said John, "Integral Crack!". My knees knocked a bit and my lower lip trembled, and I said in my best bumbly-trying-not-to-sound-pathetic voice "how about I hang off a rope while you guys climb it and take photos?" Everyone stopped talking. Jamie and Oliver gave me a look that was halfway between fear and the look that is reserved for people who have just farted in front of The Queen. The birds stopped singing. The sky darkened and thunder sounded far off in the distance. A chill wind crossed the camp site, and then all was still. Fantini fixed me with a steely gaze and said "when someone gives you the end of a rope, you f@#$%en climb mate. Climb the rope, step on bolts if you have too, it doesn't matter. It's all experience." I had no choice, I was climbing.

I had been pre-psyched about Integral (20, 48m) - it was the first climb I had ever been shown at Booroomba when I went there with Aaron Jones. He had talked about it with reverence, and it looked like a vertical, holdless face to me at the time. I'd also read about people getting psyched by the exposure, and comments on the climb such as "bring your mental stamina" had not improved my opinion. When we reached the bottom of the climb it didn't look so bad. It was no where near as vertical as I'd remembered, though it still looked a little featureless. Even though it's a crack, it's not a wide crack, and is mostly used for the placing of the pro, with the majority of the climbing happening on the slabs to the side of the crack.

Jamie and Oliver had decided to do No Beans for Bonzo (23?), which starts just to the left of Integral. As John climbed I watched him like a hawk for beta on the route. I chatted with Jamie as he belayed Oliver, and Jamie gave me more beta, as he had done Integral a few times at least. John placed plenty of pro all the way up the crack. I watched him tackle the final crux, which is the obvious bulge at the top of the climb, but could not really see what he was doing at that distance. Before long, John was calling "on belay!" and I was ready to move. Jamie started off up No Beans not long after me, so it was calming to have someone shadowing me on the crag.

Oliver leads No Beans for Bonzo (left), John leads Integral Crack (right)

I got past the first crux without too much problem, and slowly and carefully moved up. Just after halfway up the climb I got to a nut that I could just not get out. It was hard to get the nut tool out and use it as I felt I was attached to the rock by the tips of my boots and some crimpy finger tips. I worked on it for a bit, then slipped. As is usual with slab falls, they are often not scary, just annoying. My hands went flat to the face, my boots smeared, the rope took my weight. Jamie was nearby and I commented to him that I was going to have to leave the pro. He was doing Integral after us and promised to clean it for me. I move on up and reached another desperate section. Two crimpy finger holds and a tiny foot hold to my left. I took a breath, yelled "f@#% it" and moved up. "That's the attitude", called Jamie. Then I reached the final crux, a vertical bulging section about 80% of the way up the climb. My foot placement was good, so I had time to inspect the route, but I just could not see a way up. I worked at if for a while, but felt defeated. "You'll have to lower me!" I yelled up the cliff. By then Jamie had topped out and I couldn't see the other guys. "I can't get past this section" I yelled "you'll have to lower me!". No response. For quite a few minutes I stood there expecting some kind of reaction. Nothing. Time to get really pathetic. "I'm old, fat and weak. You'll have to lower me!" I yelled again. "What was that?" I heard John ask the other guys. I heard Jamie tell him "he said he's old, fat and weak". At least I knew now my message was getting through. "Take your weight on the rope!" yelled John. Hang-dog on the rope? I hadn't though of that, through my blinkered ethics. I leant back and hung for a while. I went over things. The guys were going to think I was pathetic. I wasn't scared. I wasn't pumped. I was fatigued though. I hung there for a few minutes and I felt much better. My head was in a better space and I was more positive. "I can't see a way past this section!" I yelled up the cliff. "Climb the rope; pull on the gear; it doesn't matter; just climb!" Yelled John. "Bugger it!", I thought. I grabbed the rope with both hands leant back, and hand over hand Batmaned up the rope and over the bulge. I only had to do it for a few metres and there was a lovely big flat topped flake to grab. I transferred back to the rock face and moved again. I'd left a couple of other bits of pro in the rock, but wasn't concerned about them at that moment. The top of the climb was an easy exit with plenty of good holds. I topped out, a little bit ashamed, but got a round of "well dones" from the guys. I'd made it to the top, and had my ethics reshaped somewhat on the way.

We all rapped back down on double ropes attached to the anchor chain at the top of Integral, and Jamie and Oliver set up to have a go at Integral themselves. I looked up the crack at the bits of pro I had left there and thought about the climbing law implications. "Look at all that booty!" commented Jamie. "You bastard", I said politely, "that's what I was just thinking". "Don't worry" said Jamie "I'll clean it for you".

John asked me if I wanted to have a go at anything else, but I said I was too fatigued. It had been a big day as it was. He was getting ready to have a go a No Beans for Bonzo, when the first drops of rain began to fall.

I didn't have a waterproof bag for my camera, so I decided to head back up to the camp site with the rope and make sure things didn't get too wet. When I got there I bagged the rope and pushed all the packs under a log. I put my rain jacket on and headed back to the top of the crag, just in time to find the guys all coming back. John had bailed on climbing due to the rain. We chatted for a bit, ate some dates that John shared around, then headed back down to the car. When we got there I looked at my mobile "It's a quarter past six!" I exclaimed. I was surprised because the cloudy sky had obscured the ability to mark the time by the sun, and it didn't feel that late. "Only a quarter past six!" declared The Great Fantini "drop me off at the National Library bouldering wall on the way back and I'll do some laps with some weight in my pack!" We all laughed, though we knew he was half serious. The guy's a climbing machine.

Canberra Climbers’ Association Introductory Sports and Top Rope Climbing at Kambah Rocks

2007-12-06T07:01:00.000+11:00

The CCA held an “Introductory Sports and Top Rope Climbing at Kambah Rocks” afternoon on the 4th of December 2007. Huey the weather god was smiling on us with sun and warmth, which was a change from the rain and thunderstorms that we’d had for the previous week. I turned up at the Kambah Pools carpark at about a quarter to five, and chanced on Gavin (a.k.a. Iceman) getting his gear out of his car boot. We slogged up the path that follows the river to the crag together – it always seems so much quicker when you’re with someone who’ll walk the same pace and talk climbing crap.

We arrived at the tourist lookout over the Kambah Rocks crag to find evidence of climbing activity all over the place. There were slings and ropes tied off on anything that would hold them and plenty of people at the bottom of the crag. I peered over the safety railing of the lookout at the small crowd below and yelled “rock!”, just to see who would look up. (Yeah, OK, small things… ). A quick hop down the access track and we were at the bottom of the crag with the troops. There must have been at least ten people there, in various stages of climbing, belaying, or just hanging out and talking. Kambah Rocks had been transformed into a climbing gym!

I checked out the scene for a bit and thought that the ‘sports’ idea had been a bit ambitious. Even though there are some bolted climbs on the cliff, the bolt plates looked like there were home made from galvanised angle iron about twenty years ago, and the bolts looked less trustable than a junkie in a drug deal. Needless to say, everyone was top roping. I had a chat with Chip, a Canadian guy who is on sabatical at the ANU, who was belaying on The Bummer (14). I had done the climb a couple of times, so I started to give some beta to the guy on the climb, who was having a little trouble on the crux. This just prompted Chip to hand me the rope when it was free to “show us how it’s done”. No problem, I got up and through it. Gavin then had a go, and climbed it with much better style. Chip then had a go, and I realised we had all climbed it differently each time. So much for beta on that one.

Gavin then suggested we have a go at Vandalism Behaviour (17), the climb to the right of The Bummer. I asked him to go up first while I belayed, so I could see how it was done. Another stylish climb by Gavin, who came down saying how crimpy the top was and that you had to move through the crux quickly. I tied in and had a go. I was pleased to move up and through the crux without too much problem. A little crimpy, but plenty to hold onto.

I then took a break for a bit, and watched the guys having a go at the climbs in the centre of the crag - Standing Room Only (21), Scrofula (22), Closed Circuit (20) and Charlotte Sometimes (19). Gavin wanted a go at Closed Circuit, so I belayed him with my new GriGri. I warned him that it was the first time I had used a GriGri (I’m old school figure of eight or stitch plate), but I was assured there was nothing to it. A quick double check of how I had rigged it, and he was off. The climb starts with a small overhang, then follows a rounded arete with a series of small blocky holds and not much for your feet in places. Without much trouble Gavin banged the top and asked to be lowered. I was initially shocked when I looked down at the GriGri – the fricken thing’s pulled apart! I then realised that was what it was meant to do as part of the camming action. I pulled up the small handle and worked out how to lower with it – Gavin had to endure a bit of bouncing until I got the action smooth. I then had a go at the route, cheating a bit by dynoing over the overhang at the start, then making it halfway up to where the crux was, but started to loose forearm and hand strength as I searched for somewhere to put my left foot. Flagging fast, I asked Gavin to take me on the rope, I then had a couple more goes at the crux from a hanging start, but my strength had gone. I was lowered to the bottom, rested a bit, then had a couple more goes at the start of the route, but my energy was spent. At least I have some training goals now for strength improvement.

We sat down for a while and watched the others, a few people turned up and a few left, but there was still plenty of climbing happening. One of the ladies was having a go at Prosthetics (18), but the start was a bit slippery due to the recent rain, and the actively growing Blackberry bush at the base of the crag made the start a bit more interesting. We were joking that the climb should have two gradings – with and without Blackberry bush, and that is was there to make sure you didn’t fall off on the start. The others finished having a go at the route, and Gavin roped up and went for it. The route zig zags a bit, following a corner with an overhang in the middle. Again no problems for Gavin as he moved left of the overhang and up and over the top to the finish. My turn then. I faltered a bit on the start until I tried a different approach. I got to the overhang and couldn’t quite make the move to the left, everytime I stepped left and tried to smear on a sloper it would slip due to the dampness, which required a lot more armwork to get across. Again my forearms began to flag. I rested and had a go a couple more times but it was time to call it a day. I could see weeks of forearm curls ahead of me. Next time this climb would be mine.

The light was starting to fade and everyone had done everything they wanted to do, so we started to pack up. There were eight of us left in the end, so I figure there must have been 15-20 people there over the course of the afternoon. At the top of the crag we discussed getting some new anchor bolts put in place, while some of the lucky ones sipped beers (note to self – don’t forget beer or camera next time). We headed back to the cars, talking more climbing crap (sorry, everyone agreed that Melbourne was a crap place for climbing, and that Sydney was the best, but I reckon Canberra has a lot going for it). Half of the group headed off up through the cow paddocks, which is the shortcut to a closer parking spot, while the rest of us head back along the track to the car park. We all agreed that it had been a top afternoon and that we should have more – well done CCA.

Booroomba Day with the Canberra Climbing Association

2007-11-20T20:13:00.000+11:00

We all met in the car park at Tharwa shops at 8am on Sunday. There was a great turnout, with somewhere close to forty people in the group that was milling around. Zac Zaharias (El Presidente of the Canberra Climbing Association and general climbing legend) called us all together and gave us a run down on the agenda for the day. He went on to explain that it was an introductory climbing day for Booroomba Rocks, those magical granite slabs in the Namadgi National Park (Australian Capital Territory, Australia - if you're not sure - Google Map it!!). The people standing behind Zac were club members and Booroomba Old Hands - he told us to pair off with one of the club members and make sure we sign up and pay our membership dues for the Canberra Climbing Association before departing.

I'd turned up with my cuzzi bro Brett, so I figured we could climb as a group of three and zeroed in on one of the older guys who was standing there. When doing these kinds of things, I always prefer being with an experienced Old Hand. I'd learnt this with the Canberra Cross Country Ski Club when I skied one day with Paul Krebs, who was in his early sixties. We were climbing hills and doing downhill and I was a bit too full of beans, so Paul asked me if I knew the story of the old bull and the young bull. I replied that I didn't, so he told me: "there was this old bull and young bull walking down the road, when they spotted a paddock full of cows 'lets run down there, jump the fence and f@#% a couple of those cows', said the young bull. 'Nope', said the old bull, 'were going to stroll down there, slowly push under the fence, and f@#% the whole lot of them' ". He was referring to hills of course, but I've had greater respect for my elders in outdoor pursuits ever since. So we ended up climbing with Keith, who has forty years climbing experience and is a walking Booroomba guide book.

We set off from Tharwa and met in the Booroomba car park, sorted gear, had routes allocated, and headed off up the hill to the top of the crag. Everyone always grumbles about the walk up the hill at Booroomba, but it's certainly a good warm-up for a day of climbing. We dumped our packs around the logs at the top of the hill and got our kit together. Keith explained we were going to do the first pitch of Denethor (14), most of Counterbalance (14), and Ivory Coast (14), which were mostly on the Northern Slabs. To access the bottom of Denethor we had to scramble down a steep sort of gully, then bush bash for twenty minutes along the bottom of the crag. Keith was pointing out the various routes along the way, when he spotted a mate of his that was leading another Booroomba noob. "Hey Keith, are you going to the Henry Barber talk?" his mate asked. "Yeah, for sure" Keith replied. "I haven't seen him since 1975 and it would be nice to catch up with him". Goddam, I though, this guy's climbed with Henry Barber. "Yeah" Keith continued. "I haven't seen him since I did The Nose at El Cap". My goddam turned into a Jesus Christ and I wondered if we should be climbing with this guy. I had visions of him dragging us up routes with crimpy little crystal holds with wild exposure and twenty metre runouts. As we walked on I asked Keith if I had heard properly and had he climbed with Henry Barber. He said he had, but that Barber was in a league of his own because he used to climb all day every day. "And you climbed The Nose?" I asked. Yep, he said. "How long did it take?" I probed. "About a day and a half" said Keith, "we made it to camp six on the first day". I calmed down a bit by then and was impressed by our leader's experience. Maybe it wasn't going to be so scary.

We arrived at the bottom of Denethor and had to wait a few minutes for the team in front of us to move up, and then we climbed the small slab to the bottom of the first pitch of Denethor. Keith was to lead, Brett heading up in the middle and dragging up the second rope, with me coming up behind and cleaning. Denethor wasn't too bad, though a bit wet and slippery at the bottom. We followed the crack in the corner up to the next belay ledge. Keith then explained we were going to head over to the left and head up Counterbalance.

Scoping out Counterbalance

The old Fear Factor started to creep in a bit as I watched Keith traverse over the slab and then look up at the never ending, seemingly featureless, granite slab in front of him. He carefully placed pro and moved off up the slab. I watched his moves carefully so that I could beta Brett. Once Keith called 'safe' and 'on belay' Brett headed off, albeit a little shakily. I gave him some beta and the route that Keith took, and he started moving strongly once he was on-route.

Keith heading up Counterbalance

I experience the pangs of the lonely fear of the tail-end bunny once Brett was away and out of sight, and before I knew it, it was my turn. The traverse across to the bottom of Counterbalance was a bit sketchy, but once you start up the route there are a series of juggy holds, followed by a bit of standard slab technique.

That's me getting slab technique under control - Counterbalance

The rest of the route up to an ample, shrubby belay ledge was nice climbing, with our brains and bodies finally starting to get the hang of moving over granite. I felt like Spiderman as I finished our third and final pitch of Counterbalance. By then Keith was starting to warm to us aswell. We were obviously not complete bumblies and were rising to the challenge.

Brett on our last pitch of Counterbalance

We then moved across the broken, shrubby terrace between Counterbalance and Ivory Coast. We couldn't see the climb from the belay ledge, and as we watched Keith make the first moves up we were making copious mental notes about which holds were where as the start looked and felt very exposed (repeat to yourself: "it's only a bouldering problem"). Brett headed off, with me giving him heaps of beta, then he was gone. When my turn came, I started a little left of Brett's start, as the corner that was there looked like a better option, but I then had to traverse right to clean out the pro in a very exposed position. I wanted out of that spot and up the slab as fast as possible. Once I started moving up I felt much better, and then I spotted the flake of all flakes. Up the middle of Ivory Coast is a most beautiful granite flake. For some reason the guide book says it is delicate, but I whacked it and gripped it hard and pulled and it felt like it was made out of steel. Hand over hand, with feet smearing the champagne bubble granite to the left of the flake's edge, I moved up strongly, gaining confidence with each movement. Before I knew it, the flake was over, leading to some standard slab movement to reach the top. I almost wished I could rap back down and do the flake again, it felt so good.

Brett moving to the top of Ivory Coast

The rest of the climb to the top was more or less easy scrambling over steep, bouldery ground to the top of the crag. I insisted to Keith that we stayed roped together because if anything happened to Brett, I would die twice. His mother (my wife's aunty), five foot nothing and from a matriarchal tribal group in the Solomon Islands that Captain Cook called "the fiercest head hunters in the Pacific" would kill me, then his father (an Aussie) would dig up my body and kill me again. We gained the top with no dramas, and were all happy to drink our last reserves of water and put some comfortable shoes on. For the last couple of pitches my big toes had been killing me, and the relief was wonderful.

We trouped back through the bush to where we had all dumped our packs, and chatted to some other noobs (and Old Hands) that were experiencing that post-climb euphoria (hi Iceman!!). We thanked Keith and made a promise of beers at the next CCA meeting and headed back down to the car. The people who returned to the car were not the same people who left that morning. We had popped our Booroomba cherries.

"The Rock" Climbing Weekend

2007-11-12T21:48:00.001+11:00

If you are going to go climbing, how could you not be attracted to a place called “The Rock”! The Rock Nature Reserve, a few kilometres west of The Rock township, is 360ish hectares of (mainly) remanant bushland surrounded by farms, with a massive escarpment of rock rising 364 metres above the surrounding plains.

"The Rock"

I drove down from Canberra on Saturday afternoon, arriving at The Rock Nature Reserve a couple of hours before sunset. The car park is decently kitted out with good dunnies and a modern covered picnic area with tables, two free gas barbeques and a tap with town water.

Being a noob to the area and not knowing the tracks, I just headed off through the bush in the general direction of The Towers, which is the north facing end of The Rock escarpment. The climb up through the bush is not too bad, taking about twenty minutes, even if you do it by the direct route. The bush is fairly sparse and easy to navigate through.

As you get closer to the cliff face you start to notice that there is a lot of rock there. Heaps of rock. I was a bit dissapointed with the area that I arrived at first (north eastern facing cliff), which had plenty of potential climbs, but it is covered with a thick layer of moss and lichen. As you head further north along the cliff towards The Towers area the moss and lichen dissapears and the rock is quite clean. I had with me the guide book that was included with a 1998 edition of Rock magazine, and was glad to see that many of the climbs starts are well marked with white paint and have obviously withstood the test of time and the elements. The rock leans off to the right and has a lot of overhanging blocks, with every climb looking interesting and different. As I departed the cliff face, one of the nesting Peregrine Falcons spotted me and started to circle and call, so I made a mental note to watch out for them the next day.

I was back at the nature reserve at dawn on Sunday morning, and took the opportunity of the cooler temperatures to walk along the tourist track to the Main Face, which is the Southeast facing cliff of The Rock. Again, the walk was not too bad with the track switching back through open bush as it climbed up to the cliff face. As I got close to the Main Face I spotted the rare and endangered Senecio garlandii (Woolly Ragwort), so I now knew what to look for as far as being carefull of what I stomped on.

Don't stomp that Woolly Ragwort!

The Main Face of The Rock again was very impressive, with many potential routes all over the face. Once I get used to the place I really want to attempt The Rock Face Route (120m, 15). The guide book notes that it is “a classic climb and the first done at The Rock”, and that “the exposure is a grade 15 on its own”. After taking a few photos I headed back down to the carpark to get my gear ready for the day.

The Main Face

Steve and Brad turned up in the carpark at about 9.30, and we discussed gear a bit, then headed off to The Tower area. It was already getting quite warm, so we worked up a reasonable sweat on the walk in. On arrival, we got our gear out and discussed what we were going to attempt first. One of the first things we all agreed we would do is get our helmets on. The base of the crag is littered with rocks, many of them obviously quite fresh – those numerous overhangs obviously let go of bits frequently.

We agreed on doing Mrs Fairy (35m,12) first, with Steve leading, me on belay, then coming up second, and Brad bringing up the rear. Steve was hassling hard to get me to lead the route, but I had never climbed there before, and the angle of the rock and the different conditions wierded me out. Steve knew the routes quite well so I was more than happy for him to lead while I got used to the place.

I soon found out how different the climbing is on The Rock’s rock. It looks like there are lots of holds and lines (it is often referred to as being quite similar to the Arapiles), but due to the lean in the strata, everything seems off angle and upside down. There are plenty of juggy holds once you get going, but there are also plenty that require laying off and and a bit of thinking. Mrs Fairy heads up a crack to a bit of a roof, you then step left onto a slab, then up the slab to the first belay ledge. When I got to that first belay ledge I felt like I had to re-orient my head as to what was vertical. I really liked the brain work of the climb though. I clipped in with Steve to the belay point, and sought shade and chatted while Brad came up last. You’ve really got to watch your footing too as there are piles of rocks on the ledges that are perfect for kicking onto your second’s head. Brad made it to the belay ledge, and then lead up a small chimney to the top of the climb. We all made it to the top, then admired the view for a few minutes (while getting hassled by our resident Peregrine Falcon) before rapping back down on some very solid looking stainless rapping points. Mrs Fairy was an excellent introduction to the peculiarities of The Rock and I was really getting to like the place.

After a quick drink we were ready to have a go at another climb. Steve was pushing for me to lead again, but I wasn’t quite ready, and Brad wanted a go at leading something easy anyway. We decided on Traverse #1 (30m, 10). The climb goes directly up a crack, but no-one could decide what the top of the climb was. Brad decided to make it hard on himself by going off route and finishing on a grade 15/16 bulge to the right of the exit gully. He feaked out a bit as he felt a bit exposed on lead going over the bulge, but cruised it in the end.

Brad leading Traverse #1

It was a good one to lead, as pro placement wasn’t easy due to the flairing cracks, and the top belay took quite a bit of work to get set up. Poor old Brad was struggling a bit by himself up the top while setting up the top belay, but he got the job done in the end.

Brad on top belay Traverse #1

I followed up behind, with Steve coming up on the end. It was a nice easy one to finish on, and I felt much more at home on the type of rock in the end. I felt I was now ready to lead, but it would have to wait until another day.

Steve on Traverse #1

It was getting way too hot, we had been out in the sun for quite a few hours, and I didn’t want to test how cranky I could make my wife, who was waiting down in the carpark. I’ll just have to return another day with my cuzzi bro and drag his butt up a few of The Tower routes.

Steve topping out, Traverse #1

Steve and Brad rapped back down, while I went down a gully further to the south as I wanted to see what it was like (it wasn’t until I read the Plan of Management for the place afterwards that it said that this was being discouraged due to the erosion it causes – doh!). I packed my gear up and thanked the guys for a great day and headed back down to the car park by myself. My wife was in a surprisingly good mood (considering she just spent the last five hours in the carpark), and we jumped in the car and head back into The Rock township. I noticed a pub just on the other side of town, so we stopped for a quick beer on some very green lawn before heading back to Canberra. This place was getting even better. Now, hadn’t I just spotted a small house for sale on the main street?

Rock Climbing - Kambah Rocks

2007-09-18T19:21:00.000+10:00

Went to Kambah Rocks (River Crags) – Canberra - on Sunday with my wife’s cousin (Brett) for his first rock climb. Brett flashed The Bummer (14) on his first ever climb. We met up with a guy, Bogdani, who was self belaying on what I think was Romance in the Cow Paddocks (20). Real nice guy. He gave Brett some belay training and backed up Brett’s belay of my climbing, which was woefully weak after cross-country skiing for eight hours on Saturday (climbed from Guthega to Mt Twynam, down to Watson’s Crags and back). That’s my excuse anyway and I’m sticking with it. My wife had a good time taking photos of us and trying to catch the elusive fish in the river (plenty jumping, not biting). My wife even enjoyed the walk in, which is about 20 minutes from the car park, following the river.

Brett climbs "The Bummer" (14)

The rock there is really fantastic (basalt – nice to have a choice other than granite), and is super hard and grippy. Plenty of interesting routes there, and heaps of bouldering potential around that area of the river. This is going to be a great place for summer afternoons when the rock face is in the shade.

Nick on "The Bummer"

How to Lead a CCCSC Ski Tour (Not!) - Mt. Twynam Tour

2007-09-18T18:36:00.000+10:00

We met in the Guthega car park and got away a bit after nine. There were five of us in the group – Rosemary, Barry, Dave Drohan, Monika Binder and I. This was the first tour I have led, so I knew I had plenty to learn. I had already learnt lesson number one: be more organised with co-ordinating people on the tour and transport! There had been some confusion over who was coming and with whom, but in the end we all ended up at the right place at the right time.

We walked up the at times obscure path from Guthega towards the bridge across the Snowy River near the Illawong Lodge, as the snow is now fast disappearing from those lower west facing slopes and there was only snow in patches. Not far out from Guthega the group had to cross a side creek that cut across the track. There is a small flying fox to aid in the creek crossing, but when we reached it there were some snow boarders trying to cross the creek by rock hopping, and a few people in the group decided this was the go (why any cross country skier would follow a snow boarder’s example is beyond me ;-). After a wet bum and a few wet boots the group decided that the flying fox was definitely the way to cross the creek – those rocks are really slippery! Lesson number two: always use the flying fox! The rest of the ski-less hike to the bridge , about two kilometres, was quite pleasant and very scenic, with views of the Snowy River and a backdrop of the snow covered Main Range.

Walking up to Illawong Hut bridge

The bridge near Illawong Hut is a very stout steel suspension bridge, but is only wide enough for walking across single file. From the other side of the bridge we were on the snow and onto our skis. We headed up the hill, staying on the north side of Twynam Creek, and more or less following it all the way up the hill to Little Twynam. The snow was firm, but the cover was more than adequate the whole way. We took morning tea just below Little Twynam, sitting on a big rock and enjoying the sunshine and windless blue skies. We had certainly picked the right day to be on the Main Range. I had spent a long time looking at the map in the months before this tour, but had never been up in that area. Dave Drohan and Barry certainly knew their way, so I relied on them to suggest the best route. Barry was a mine of information. He has cross country skied for over forty years and could point at every peak and creek and name them. He could also telemark with style. Lesson three: the tour leader doesn’t need to know everything; rather they should know how to make the best use of those team members who do!

We then set course for Mt. Twynam, which was not too far away, but the hike up the last bit of the hill was very steep. I had decided to wear my leather boots with my wide telemarking skis and soon learnt it was not a good idea. I was herringboning up the steep slope, until the slope became so steep that my boots were twisting and the skis were staying flat on the slope face! I gave in and walked the last hundred metres up the slope with my skis under my arms. Lesson number four – don’t try a new boot/ski combination when you are leading the tour!

Looking towards Mt. Twynam

We lunched on top of Mt Twynam, with an eagles eye view up and down the range. The western side of the main range was covered in low thick cloud, which kept on spilling up and threatening to cover the main range. At one time we thought the weather was going to clag in as cloud spilled over the top of Mt Twynam, but it quickly cleared and turned back into a windless sunny day.

Dave suggested that we ski down to Watson’s Crags, which was only about a kilometre away and gave us some great views of the western faces of the main range. The rest of the group skied up onto Watson’s Crags (for bragging rights), while I waited with the packs and took photos of the spectacular view down Watson’s Creek. I also wanted to rest a bit as my boot/ski combination was starting to really hurt my feet. After that we skied back up to the top of Twynam, with Barry lagging behind a bit. Dave volunteered to bring up the rear with Barry while I went ahead with Rosemary and Monika.

The hill up to Watsons Crags

When we arrived back on the top of Twynam I realised that I had not packed my second water bottle in the fluster to get out of the Guthega car park. Monika kindly offered me her spare bottle of water, which I was quite embarrassed, though relieved, to take from her. I sweat heavily and always need at least two litres when going on a long tour or lesson. I did have my MSR stove and a pot on hand and could have melted snow, but it would have been too disruptive of the tour. Lesson five: always take plenty of water, and if you are the tour leader, take extra water in case one of the group members runs out!

On top of Twynam we discussed what we wanted to do next. Barry was feeling a bit taxed after the haul up the hill and wanted to head back down to the Illawong bridge. I was happy to accompany him as my boots and skis were annoying me too much and I also didn’t want him to head off on his own. Dave, Monika and Rosemary wanted to take a longer and more scenic route down to Guthega dam. We decided to split into two groups, made sure everyone had each others mobile phone numbers, with each party taking a small walkie talky each that Barry had brought along in his pack. We agreed to attempt to contact each other every half hour, and meet up back at Guthega.

Barry and I took the direct route down the hill, following Twynam Creek, with me fighting my skis the whole way and Barry carving beautiful telemark turns. I was surprised to see on the way down that there were quite a few people out on the main range that day, who were obviously taking advantage of the adequate snow and perfect weather conditions. Then it was skis off and back across the Illawong Hut bridge and the walk back along the track to Guthega. Why is it that the last few kilometres of a decent trek always seems to be twice as long as they were at the beginning?

The track was a combination of decent, though narrow, path, and some remaining snowdrifts, with some sections quite muddy from constant stomping from walkers’ boots. I was following Barry, who was a lot surer of the path than I, when we came across one of the muddy sections. I lost my footing, and did one of those ‘trying to regain your balance’ dances while trying to not fall down the hill from the path. I finally stumbled backwards and ended up on my bum right in the middle of the muddiest section of the path. Black oozing mud (and probably a few wombat droppings mixed in) liberally coated my behind. This is not a good look for a tour leader – you are meant to look slightly more in control when leading a CCCSC tour. Lesson five: don’t fall on your bum in a pool of mud when anyone in the group you are leading is looking. This is perfectly OK to do when you are not leading, and will probably result in sympathy.

Just as Barry and muddy bumbed I approached the small side creek with the flying fox we had a call on the walkie talky from Dave Drohan, saying that their group (splitters!) had decided to come back down to Illawong after all and were now making their way along the path behind us. After the flying fox crossing and a final slog, Barry and I made it back into Guthega, just as the others caught up with us. It had been a big day. We chatted in the car park and changed into warm clothes just as the sun was setting, and I was looking forward to a hot coffee and the lights of Canberra.

So leading my first tour had been a good experience – plenty of lessons had been learnt on my part, and everyone seemed to have had a good time during the tour. I was doubly pleased as I had not properly been up on top of the main range before, and I had been able to look at some of the west facing slopes of the Main Range, in all their dramatic glory.

Kosciuszko Tour

2007-09-06T20:28:00.000+10:00

This year’s Kosciuszko Tour was another epic that will be talked about for years to come and will surely be used as another yardstick to measure difficulty. As the race candidates stood and chatted in the sunshine in Thredbo village before the start, little did they know what they were about to be in for.

The organisation of the race went well, and everyone seemed to make it from Bullocks Flat to Eagles Nest at the top of Thredbo without much trouble. A sign of what was to come was the way the chairlift bucked and rocked as we approached the top of the hill. It was literally blowing a gale as we exited the chairlift, and as we sat around in the Eagles Nest restaurant waiting for the pre-race briefing it was obvious it was not going to let up. In the briefing we were told that wind was blowing at about 80km an hour, but it was OK once you got over the top of the hill. Bruce Porter was running the start, and informed us that we would do a mass, rather than staggered, start, partly due to the fact that he didn’t want to stand around in the conditions any longer than necessary. Within about half an hour of him saying that, I’m sure that every competitor agreed with him.

The starting line was just behind Eagles Nest, with the ‘rated’ skiers at the front, and the rest of us sorted roughly according to age and / or ability. Bruce counted down the start and we were off. As we all soon found out, the wind was blasting right into our faces for the first kilometre or so, with the long haul up the hill to the Kosciuszko Lookout area the hardest. The surface was pure ice, with not a skerrick of soft snow. Even the track that the skidoo had chopped up seemed to be ice hard. It was a brutal haul up the hill from the start, with finesse and style counting for nought. It was head down and slog hard against the oppressive foes of wind and ice. My skis became crampons, my poles became ice axes, digging in hard with both to gain purchase and headway. I was glad I had been getting some time in at the gym as this was a brute strength start to the race. I wondered at times if I would make it to the top of that first big hill. As I got to the top a couple of other competitors realised the futility of their battle against the elements, and took a lift to the top on the race marshals’ skidoos. “Protest!” I yelled out jokingly to Ann as she hopped off a skidoo, but not one competitor would have blamed her for her decision.

I decided to jump into the tracks on the downhill into the top of the Snowy River, but my three-pin bindings were too wide for the ice hard tracks and they kept on catching on the icy sides and threatened to send me sprawling. I jumped out of the tracks and committed myself to skittering downhill on the sheet ice. The track to the Snowy bridge and down to Charlotte Pass was fairly uneventful, but I was cringing at the thought of anyone watching me as I fought to keep control on the slippery ice in a howling side wind. A couple of times I was sent sprawling as a gust of wind caught me in a state of unbalance. A few people passed me (including Osmo - going on 80 – so there’s hope for me in old age yet), but I was amazed that I had left behind the main pack of the race. A lot of people must have taken their time on the first big hill.

The view to the West of the track was quite awe inspiring, with the Main Range a mass of rounded white peaks against a deep blue sky. I would have loved to have stopped and taken some photos. As I got close to Charlotte Pass I was overtaken by Rosemary, and I was starting to realise the performance penalty of my light touring skis. Rosemary was on racing skis, and was able to glide along on the slight downhill sections of the track, whereas I had to double-pole to maintain the same speed. The snow had started to soften by Charlotte Pass also, so it was a bit slower, but a lot more controllable.

I grabbed a drink at the drink station without stopping, and managed to cram the empty cup into my pocket as I reached the top of the service road into Charlotte Pass. Rosemary and another competitor looked as though they were picking their way carefully down the hill, whereas I kicked on as much speed as possible, tucked into a crouch and locked into a skidoo track. I hooted as I flew past the others – maybe those light touring skis I had on did have some advantage! The problem was when I got to the bottom of the hill, where the flags marking the track cut over a berm of snow on the side of the road and cut a hard left hand turn. With the speed I had on, I was committed, so I bounced over the berm and did my best to turn. I went sprawling without any damage, and was back on my feet in a flash in an attempt to minimise my embarrassment in front of those I had just passed.

The track then followed Spencers Creek around to the bridge on the Kosciuszko Road. There was no snow on the bridge, so it was skis off and a quick trot across the bridge. Rosemary had caught me again by then and we paced each other through Betts Camp. The next bridge at Betts Camp was pretty much the same as the last one, no snow and a quick ski-less trot to get over it. I had a quick break there as I was stopping to get my skis on anyway, taking a long draught on my water bottle, watching Rosemary disappear off up the hill. From there it was the long incline up to Perisher Pass. My light touring skis again showed some advantage as I started to close the gap on Rosemary and Osmo, nearly catching them at the Pass. All advantage disappeared as we crested the hill and started to head down the hill into Perisher. Yet again I was double poling to maintain the same speed as those gliding along on their racing skis.

Over the line!

Pain and fatigue were starting to creep in as the road dropped down into Perisher Village. All I wanted to do now was see that finish line. Finally I rounded the last corner and the finish line was close. I saw my son Oskar waiting there, and I yelled out to him. He spotted me, and he ran off to get my wife Salome so that they could watch me finish. I made a lunge at the line as I skied over it, lost my balance, and ended up sprawled in a heap. Oskar was standing there, so I gave him a hug. I looked over at Gwen, who was a finish line judge, and asked if I had finished. “Yep, you’ve finished” she said. Oskar looked at me sprawled on the ground and said with all the innocence of youth “Did you do that the whole way, Daddy?” I didn’t care, I was over the line.

Climbing With Kids

2007-08-25T09:14:00.000+10:00

I was lucky a few weeks ago to be able to buy a whole lot of climbing gear for an absolute bargain price. Harnesses, ropes, helmets, camming devices, quickdraws, the lot. I got in contact with a couple of guys who were getting out of climbing and they just wanted to give their gear to a good home. The only thing I have had to buy is a kids climbing harness, a Petzl Simba. These harnesses are great as they are not only the right size, but they are a full body harness, with webbing going over the shoulders. They also clip in at the sternum area, so that if there is a fall the child will be held in the upright position.

I figured that the best thing for a first climb for Oskar was something very easy that would inspire confidence and get him used to how all the gear works. We went camping for the weekend at our favorite place, Pebbly Beach. There are lots of sea cliffs here with wide rock shelves in front of them, so I knew there would be something appropriate. After a bit of searching, we found one section of cliff on the northern end of Pebbly Beach that was about four or five metres high, with lots of big holds.

Oskar topping out on Rocky Cliff

I scrambled up the cliff and anchored to a stout tree. With the rope set up, and the harness on and tested, I ran Oskar through “climbing speak”, so that we knew what each other was saying (on belay!, climb when ready, climbing, watch me, etc.) and so that there would be no slip up in procedures. He climbed a really easy route to start with, and I realized that kids are just natural climbers. The big thing was having the rope and harness there, which gave him confidence knowing that he could not fall far. Also, rather than use one of the bigger climbing helmets, we used his skiing helmet for head protection. I know it’s not a proper climbing helmet, but it was not going to fall off and it was more than sufficient if he was going to whack his head against the cliff.

After the initial route I encouraged him to try a couple of harder ones further to the left. It was interesting to see him get stuck on “the crux”, then figure it out, then on the second climb he knew the moves to get past the hard bit. I then told him that he had to give the routes a name, as he was the first person to climb them and that was his prerogative. The first one he named “Rocky Cliff”, which seemed sensible enough. I then explained that he could give them interesting names, so after the third route he said “this ones named Yugio, and the one in the middle is called Big Eye” (it had a big bucket hold in the middle shaped like an eye).

Getting Yugio wired!

About an hour was enough, and we packed up the gear and headed back around to the beach. There is something very primal and satisfying about climbing. It’s a combination of being outdoors, adrenalin, exercise, technical knowledge, and gear freak satisfaction. It is also a great confidence builder for children, knowing that they can do something to push their abilities while staying safe (as well as learn about climbing gear and techniques of course!!).

Snow Survival Weekend

2007-07-30T18:38:00.000+10:00

Twelve of us ended up on this year’s Snow Survival Weekend with Noel Mungovan. I had to prod my wife Salome a bit to come along on it. “We’re going to build and sleep in snow caves?” she asked incredulously. “Character building!” said I “I bet you don’t know many people who have slept in a snow cave!” “My mother will ring you up and ask you if you are trying to kill me” said she. You can take the girl out of the tropics, but it’s hard to take the tropics out of the girl… What would she prefer to be doing – sitting on a warm beach in the sun with a fishing rod and cold ale? Madness!!

When we arrived at our starting point, Guthega village, it was misty and overcast and there were fairly regular snow showers. There was a bit of snow and slush on the road, which was OK as it enabled me to ski up the road back to Guthega from the overnight parking area, which was only about one kilometre away, but one kilometre seems a lot further when walking in plastic ski boots. The snow itself was quite good – nice and powdery on top with a firm base.

The group started out from Guthega central at about 10am on Saturday morning. We headed down the road to the Guthega dam, getting used to that extra weight on our backs while skiing. There were four guys from ADFA in the group who wore snow shoes, so they had a relatively easy time. If you are serious about going back country though, you have to get used to that weight while skiing. We crossed the dam and headed up the ridge of the hill that faces Guthega village and drops into the Snowy River below the dam wall. Salome and I slowly worked our way up the hill at the back of the group with continuous easy traverses, then a final slog up the last steep bit with a climbing traverse. Noel was looking for an area of deep windblown snow that would allow us to dig into the hill and create caves, and this did not occur until we were close to the top of the ridge.

Some of us stopped and lunched for a bit while recovering from the climb. Two kilometres uphill with heavy packs and ski gear is certainly a good work out. The younger crew amongst us, such as the “Army Guys” as they became known, were already digging into the deep drifts of snow to construct their snow caves. Depending where they were dug, the different caves had different characteristics. The Army Guys had a big thick drift of snow in which they constructed a complete command and control centre, Phong and his group created what I called a big wombat hole that could sleep three, Jo-Anne and Lee built a 'standard' cave, while Salome and I completed a cave that was started by Noel in his classic “T” excavation, which becomes the walkway and two sleeping platforms. Ours was much smaller than the others as we struck rock a couple of metres into the snow drift. We ended up digging one sleeping platform along the slope to fit my longer frame. Once we had filled in the exposed entrance with some snow blocks, we had quite a snug hole in the snow.

Salome digging the snow cave

After a couple of hours, when we were all satisfied with the caves we had created, Noel called us all over to a flatter area and demonstrated his trench shelter, which is a hole cut into the ground, covered over with skis, stocks and a tarp, then covered over with snow to stop the tarp flapping and to insulate the hole. The idea behind this shelter is that it can accommodate up to two people, is quick to build, and can be build in areas of quite shallow snow.

Noel's trench shelter

Dinner was a fairly quick and functional affair for Salome and I. We wanted to get it done before dark, and we wanted to get in and curled up in our sleeping bags a soon as possible. The wind was still blowing, and the odd snow shower and wafts of spindrift made our sleeping bags seem very inviting. We had an iPod with a whole lot of ABC radio shows on it, so we could share the headset with an earpiece each while curled up in our bags. Salome and I both had plastic tarps to encase our sleeping bags, so we were well cocooned once we were in our bags and zipped up. We slept reasonably in our hole in the snow, with the odd wake up and grumble about drips from both of us. Dawn was very pretty with a pale pink light being cast across the tops of Blue Cow and Blue Calf Mountains, which were in direct view from the entrance of our snow cave. Gone was the fog and snow of the previous day, with a fantastic view up onto the Main Range.

Dawn over Guthega

We had a leisurely breakfast and slowly packed our gear, then set about collapsing in the caves we had so carefully constructed the day before. Half the group elected to walk and snowshoe down the hill, while the more gung-ho kept their skis on and tackled the descent. We were lucky in that the steeper sections of the hill also had some wide treeless slopes that allowed us to carry out long traverses while descending slowly, and the snow was soft and powdery on that side of the hill. About a third of the way down the hill Noel suggested that it would be a good place to stop and practice turns. There were some nice slopes with good snow and Noel turned it into a Telemarking lesson for those who were interested. I stayed for a short while then headed downhill after Salome, Jo-Anne and Lee who were all on foot, the thought of a hot pie and coffee at Jindabyne being too alluring.

I had a couple of long comfortable traverses down to the Guthega Dam wall, and met up with Salome et al. there. We all trudged up the hill to Guthega central and were soon ensconced in the main building at Guthega, waiting for Noel and the others to return, watching them work their way down the hill opposite us while we munched on various snacks. We had all acquired some valuable skills and knowledge while getting plenty of exercise moving piles of snow. It’s good to know what you can do when you need to and that is what the weekend taught us. Yes you’ll be tired, yes you’ll be cold, but yes you will be alive to tell the tale. Thanks again to Noel for a great weekend, and for sharing with us skills that may just be the determining factor when we are out there in a harsh environment.

Perisher to Charlotte Pass Tour

2007-07-23T18:06:00.000+10:00

22nd July, 2007

We met, as per usual, at the National Parks building in Perisher. At first it was confusing trying to work out who else was on the tour as NSW Nordic was out in force and the building was packed. A bunch of cross country skiers assembled in the same space all look like the same creature, without much variation between the NSW and ACT sub-species, though the NSW Nordic people were well rugged up while the Canberra people were bouncing around in t-shirts talking about how warm it was. Skiing through a month of blizzards will have this affect on cross-country skiers.

Our intrepid leader, John Ridley, called us into a huddle before we set off. Laying the map on a table, he pointed out the route and the game plan. “We ski up the road to Charlotte Pass and meet at the bar at the Chalet, drink lots of beer, and make a name for the Canberra Cross Country Ski Club!” With a rousing cheer the assembled group poured out of the National Parks building, happy with our objective of showing the Charlotte Pass downhill skiers and snow boarders a thing or two about partying.

Eight of us started on the climb up the road to Perisher Gap, with four more to catch up with us later. Some story about keys and Jindabyne and we have to go back and we’ll see you up there. The day was absolutely glorious, with only the lightest of breezes and not a cloud to be seen. I’ll have to remember to take a baseball cap with me to wear on these types of days, as a beanie is overkill and offers little sun protection.

The group re-assembled at Perisher Gap, with a head count to make sure no-one had been taken out by one of the Perisher Blue skidoo drivers who seemed intent on killing themselves or anyone who was in their way. We then worked our way down the road to Betts Camp, where we took a break for a cuppa and a look around. A few of us had a couple of runs down one of the small hills there, and were quite surprised to find the snow fluffy and powdery in spite of the previous cold clear nights.

Spencers Creek bridge

We then headed to the Spencers Creek bridge, where the picnic tables were buried in snow almost up to the table tops. Leaving the road, we followed the snow pole line into Charlotte Pass without much drama and commandeered a couple of the picnic tables in front of The Chalet. John checked the time and declared we had accomplished the trip, albeit at an easy pace, in two hours and ten minutes.

Some of the group bought lunch at The Chalet, some had brought their own, and a few ales were sampled from the very convenient bar. Sitting out in the sun, with the uncrowded, civilised atmosphere of Charlotte Pass, and a beer or two, had us all agreeing that this was the way to do a ski tour. To cap it off, it was discovered that the poma was free to use, no lift pass required, so Margaret, Karl, Steve and I made use of the facilities for around half an hour. By this time the laggers of the group arrived, amid much cheering from the advance party. We were now a group of twelve. After an easy lunch the decision was made to travel back to Perisher via the Porcupine Rocks route. Steve Warild and I stayed behind at The Pass for another half an hour, taking advantage of the poma.

Lunch at The Chalet, Charlotte Pass

After eight or ten runs down the sparsely populated slopes, Steve and I headed off to catch up with the group. I had to work quite a bit harder than Steve, who had light skinny skis with no pattern on the base. My telemarking skis had no-where near the glide that Steve was getting out of his slippery gear. We caught up with the group on the ridge to the south of Betts Camp and as a group worked our way to the top of the hill near Mount Wheatley. From there it was only three kilometres back into Perisher and mostly downhill. There were a few thrills and spills on the way down, with leader John breaking one of his stocks on the way. The consensus seemed to be that John was quite happy about the situation as he was able to use for the repair job the gaffer tape that he had been carrying around in his pack for the last three years. We all made it back to the Perisher National Parks building at about 4.30pm, with most of us quite relieved to have finished after such a long day, and emanating that tired glow of a quite reasonable achievement. For most of us the real battle was about to begin – the Sunday night ski traffic drive back to Canberra! Thanks again to John Ridley for a great day.

Oskar's First Ski Tour

2007-07-09T18:07:00.000+10:00

Google Maps link to Smiggins Holes

It was a fantastic start to the snow season in Kosciuszko National Park, the best that I can remember. It had been snowing continuously for two weeks, and it showed. Thick dry snow in abundance. Salome was off on a ski lesson, so Oskar and I went to look at the cross country ski races near the Perisher Nordic Shelter, then head off on our skis to Smiggins Holes and meet up with Salome there once she finished her lesson.

The weather was close to white out when we started at 9am, but then it cleared enough to give a few kilometres visibility. It continued to snow on and off, which kept up for most of the day. We started off from the Perisher fire station, and tracked up to the hollow below the Nordic Shelter. The creek next to the fire station was completely covered over with snow, which I had never seen before in that place. There was one hole through the snow down to the flowing water of the creek, which showed the depth of the snow at that place to be at least sixty centimetres.

It only took us a few minutes to get to the spot where the race meeting was being held. Someone obviously had the barbeque at the Nordic Shelter going as the aroma of fried onions and sausages wafted through the air. Flags had been set up to denote the racing tracks for the races, and young people were lined up ready to start in the next race. Oskar and I watched one race start, young men who soon zoomed off into the mist amid yells of encouragement from the crowd. They soon re-appeared and flew down the hill and around a corner to disappear off into the mist again. It looked like quite exciting stuff. We were starting to cool down, so we decided to head off on our jaunt to Smiggins.

Oskar on tour

The trip between Perisher and Smiggins isn’t long, only a few kilometres, but for a six year old it is quite good for a first real tour, especially as the snow was thick and fresh and we would not be travelling quickly. There is also a bit of variation in terrain, as the first half is a gentle upward slope over open ground, and the second half is downhill amongst the trees. The other point in our favour is that there is a free shuttle bus between Smiggins and Perisher, so that we didn’t need to do the return trip on skis.

We started from the eastern side of the Perisher car park. There is normally a creek here and the snow is usually quite patchy. Not today. There was lovely thick fresh snow as far as the eye could see. We actually had to step up half a metre onto the snow from the car park. We headed in an easterly direction towards the pass that connects Perisher to Smiggins, with me breaking the trail out in front and Oskar following up behind. He started to baulk a bit when I pointed out how far we were going, but the trick I have found to motivate a little person is to set small objectives and achieve them one after the other. I pointed out to him the trees just before the pass, and said that we could stop there for a drink and to eat the chocolate cake that we had in our packs. The wind was coming from the south-west, so it was behind us all the way, which made it a bit more pleasant when it was snowing and also made the going a bit easier.

Perisher resort in the background

We reached the trees in about half an hour, with me having to stop regularly to let Oskar catch up. The skis he was on were not particularly fast, as I had converted some old Fischer downhill kids skis into cross country skis by using a Dremel to cut a pattern into the base, and changed the bindings for some light weight three pin ones. The extra drag the skis had actually came in quite handy as Oskar loves going down hill as fast as he can, so the extra drag the skis have provide a bit of a safety factor. We went around to the sheltered side of the trees, which are Snow Gums, Eucalyptus pauciflora. The nice thing about these trees is that apart from having very attractive bark and interesting shapes, they often have a piece of branch sticking out that is very convenient for hanging your pack on.

Once we were refreshed, we headed through the small pass, downhill towards Smiggins. Oskar tried various techniques for going downhill, which mainly involved going straight in one direction until he hit a thick, soft patch of snow. He was coming down one section that was actually on the road that occurs there, when he fell over and decided to rest for a minute. At that moment the trail grooming machine decided to come looming over the hill behind him. These trail grooming machines are enormous. They have four big tracks that are a couple of metres wide, and they drag a big rotating brush behind them. The idea is that they follow the commonly used trails, packing the snow down and grooming the top, thereby making it easier for the downhill skiers and boarders to run on. I could see that this monster of a machine was heading for Oskar and that he wasn’t aware of it. I was a good thirty metres away from him so there was not much I could do but yell at him and point him into the trees that were next to him. He finally looked at the machine heading in his direction (which showed no sign of stopping – I’m sure they hadn’t seen him) and in a flurry of skis and stocks he scrabbled his way into the trees. This scared him quite a bit and he was a bit upset, but when this sort of stuff happens I always reassure him and tell him that he did the right thing. I was also glad that I did not have to dig my son out of the snow after being squashed in there by the trail groomer (the snow was quite thick).

We kept on heading downhill, with Oskar getting a bit frustrated that the thick powdery snow was not letting him go as fast as he expected, and was putting him off balance. We finally got to the bottom of the hill, which delivers you right into the middle of the mayhem of the ski resort. Oskar was quite pleased with himself that he had “got somewhere”. We then spent a while climbing up the nicely groomed slopes and skiing downhill, with me trying to encourage Oskar to start snow-ploughing and working on his turns, to no avail. I was quite surprised when he tackled a substantial section of hill and ended up at the bottom still upright. The next time he went from a little higher up, and has he started to gain speed I could see he was headed straight for a person who was stationary on the slope. Oskar turned. He then headed down the hill and straight at another person. He turned again. So much for snow ploughing. I was quite pleased though that he was looking quite in control on his skis when he had a bit of speed up.

It always concerns me that on cross country skis Oskar is always a bit of a slow moving target for the skiers and boarders that are coming down the slopes, especially the ones that don’t quite have control. What I do then is to climb the hill with Oskar, always staying on the uphill side of him, so that if any errant downhiller looks like that are about to plough into us I can apply a blocking manoeuvre. Being bigger than most people I hope that my mass will make up for their acceleration (force equals mass times acceleration, right?). The other thing I tell Oskar to do is that if looks like he is about to be bowled over by someone he should duck down and hopefully they will go over the top. It used to work for me when I was little (many moons ago!).

Great spot for lunch

We mucked around and did some runs, then headed off up to the cross country trails on the eastern side of Smiggins. We snuck in behind some trees out of the wind, had a bit of lunch, then decided to go back to the shelter of the resort when the snow started to really come down. We had a snack at the canteen there and decided to hop the bus back to Perisher, bring the car back to Smiggins, and wait for Salome to come back from her ski lesson. While waiting we went into one of the gift shops at Smiggins, and Oskar was very chuffed to get a Perisher Blue Resort hat pin and stick it into his skiing beanie. Well on his way to becoming a snow rat.

Solo Tour on the Perisher Range

2007-07-02T18:10:00.000+10:00

It’s been a great start to the 2007 snow season in Kosciuszko National Park. By the end of June there was a good cover and hard pack. Rain in the last week of June caused a good dump from earlier in that week to go hard and icy, but it was followed by decent falls of dry powder. The wind blown higher areas had patches of sheet ice, but the displaced powder was deposited into thick drifts on the east facing slopes.

On Saturday 30th June I headed off on a solo tour, intending to cross the Perisher Range between Mount Perisher and The Paralyser, then head north toward Illawong Hut and scout the route up to Mount Twynam for a future ski tour. I started off at the National Parks facilities in Perisher after seeing my wife off on a lesson with a group from the ski club. I collared Noel Mungovan, one of the instructors, before I went and showed him on the map where I was going. I explained if my wife flagged me as lost that night, that’s where I’d be. The weather was marginal, with a full overcast sky, gusty winds and snow showers.

I started off by heading up the Kosciuszko Road towards Betts Camp. The road had a good cover of snow, and the oversnow transport that operates between Perisher and Charlotte Pass had packed it down nicely and added some tracks that I slotted into. As I came over the Perisher Gap I realised the southerly wind was quite strong and persistent. When I tried to get off the road and onto the seemingly thick fresh snow along the side I found out that it was actually wind-blown ice. The rain a few days earlier had turned the previous dump into ice and the wind had blown it clean of the latest falls of powder.

Looking from the pass down to Betts Camp area

I headed down the road to about a kilometre past the Gap, and just before where Guthrie Creek passes under the road I went to the north side of the road and started heading in a northerly direction up the valley between The Paralyser and Mount Perisher. I kept to the eastern side of the valley and tried to follow the contour as much as possible, with the intention of climbing up the head of the valley. By then the snow was coming down continuously and I decided I should put on my Gore-Tex overpants, so I pulled in behind a large granite boulder that provided some protection from the weather. Getting gaiters and plastic ski boots off and back on again is an interesting process in thick snow, but having a small tree next to you to grab for balance and to hang things on certainly makes it easier. I was fully rugged up after that. Full Gore-Tex jacket and pants, light woollen balaclava, beanie, jacket hood over the top and goggles. As long as I kept moving I was quite warm and comfortable.

Kitted out, including iPod

I reached the head of the valley and started the climb up the hill to the pass at the top. I managed to do it in two long climbing traverses as the snow cover was thick enough to cover most small obstacles and the head of the valley is mostly treeless. The climb was not too much of an effort, and the pass between Mount Perisher and The Paralyser is wide, fairly flat and also treeless, so after reaching the crest of the hill you descend into a wide, flatish, open bowl of snow. The ground to the north dropped gently into various valleys, dotted with small peaks between them, and looked like a great spot to investigate. If you follow any of the creek lines here you end up in Guthega, so getting lost is not a problem. My main worry was that the weather was not letting up, and it was making progress slow and a bit painful as my goggles were constantly fogging up. Oh for a sunny day in t-shirt and sunglasses – but then two weeks ago we were praying for snow, so I couldn’t complain. I put plan B into action, which was to stay closer to the resort area in case the weather turned really nasty.

I decided to turn east and try and get on top of a hill where I could get mobile phone coverage so as to call my wife and find out when her lesson was going to finish. I followed the contours around the hill, aiming for the pass between Mount Perisher and Back Perisher Mountain. As I worked my way closer to the pass I noticed a snow pole line heading from the pass down into Farm Creek. As I found out later, this is an old pole line that takes you down into Guthega. At least I have plenty of places to investigate later when the weather gets better.

Iced up Snow Gum (Eucalyptus pauciflora)

As I moved closer to the pass I started to encounter more patches of ice. This section of the hill (northern spur of Mount Perisher) was much more exposed to the wind and was therefore being blown clean of the new snow. I climbed too high on the spur, and although I managed to get into mobile range, I was surrounded by boulders and icy snow. I attempted to pick my way down to the pass, but discretion being the better part of valour, I took my skis of and stomped a hundred metres down, digging my heals into the icy crust as I went.

The wind was howling through the pass, and had blown all the new snow off the icy under surface, leaving only sheet ice to ski on. I put my skis on and let the wind blow me up the gentle slope, the ice having next to no friction. I then descended into Sun Valley, traversing and kick-turning the really steep sections, getting in runs and a few turns on the easier bits. Before long I was back amongst the crowds of the resort, though glad to be heading for shelter where I could site down and relax out of the weather. Oh, and didn’t the supermarket above the ski-tube station have a sign indicating they sold beer?

A little later I was sitting in the National Parks facility, waiting for my wife to return from the lesson, having a pain relieving bevvy and chatting to a couple of guys who were going snow camping. National Parks has put up some information boards there, and one had the history of the naming of The Paralyser and Mount Perisher. James Spencer, a pioneer in Kosciuszko, was herding cattle and had experienced two blizzards in the area; one he said was a paralyser and the other a perisher, hence the naming of the hills. After poking around up there for the day with all my nice modern gear in marginal weather, I could sympathise with him.

Schlink Hut Tour

2007-06-12T18:10:00.000+10:00

The Schlink Hut Tour originally started out as the first organized tour of the snow season for the Canberra Cross Country Ski Club, but in the end it was just Salome and I. We had really been taken by the idea and had been planning and getting our gear ready, so when the tour leader pulled out and told us that no-one else had shown any interest, we decided to go by ourselves.

Schlink Hut is an ex-Snowy Mountains Authority workers hut at the top of the high valley that heads from the Guthega Power Station at Munyang to Schlink Pass. Schlink Hut is then about one and a half kilometers past Schlink Pass. The aim of the tour was to head up the valley and stay at Schlink Hut and hopefully do some cross-country skiing.

We started at the power station at Munyang, where we parked the car. The good thing about the parking lot here is that it is one of the few places that high in the Kosciuszko Natonal Park where you can park your car overnight for multiple days. When we got to the car park, it was lightly raining with no let up. We got our Gore-Tex on, our packs organized, and decided to head up the road on the south side of the valley, as the distance was shorter, and there was a mountain hut not too far up the valley in case we decided to call it a day early, which ended up being a good idea. The haul up the hill was steep, but with the knowledge that we could gain altitude quickly made us push on and also kept us warm against the constant light rain. We rested regularly on the climb, but not too long as we started to get cold if we waited too long. The problem with taking a new route is that there are no familiar land marks to mark off the distance gone, and a map only helps to let you know you are heading in the right direction. We finally got to the top of the hill and had a few dips up and down on the road when we reached a sign that said ‘Horse Camp Hut 400 metres*’. Poor Salome was not enjoying herself so we made the decision to have a look at the hut, and if it was suitable, top there for the night as it was getting on to mid afternoon and the rain had not really let up.

Cutting wood at Horse Camp Hut

The hut was nestled amongst the snow gums, with a small clearing in front, an out toilet built on a solid concrete slab, and a small babbling creek of clear mountain water behind it. We opened the door and it had that wonderful hut smell off musty wood smoke. It was dry and sheltered, which was good enough for us. We dumped our gear down and checked out the facilities. There was a small room to the left, which had wooden bunk beds and a pot belly stove, while the main room had a large table, a big open fire place and plenty of kindling in the fuel box. On the wall on a nail were a couple of bow saws, so I headed outside to find some larger wood to cut up. Before long we had a good fire going (Salome, being a Solomon Islander, knows how to make a fire!), and I had four or five big logs cut up to get a big fire going. We hung all our wet gear up from the hooks on the ceiling and settled in for the night. A little later in the evening a couple of guys turned up, one of whom was also a ski club member. They were old bushwalking buddies for many years, and had walked up the hill in the dark and the cold. They were very glad we had the fire going. They pitched their tents outside, while we opted to sleep inside on one of the bunks. We had a very pleasant evening with a few drinks and more than a few stories.

In the morning Salome and I were up early, getting our gear ready to go and having breakfast. The other guys slept in taking advantage of the quiet privacy of their tents (one each, spaced well apart so as not to bother each other with snoring!). The track from Horse Camp Hut up to Schlink Pass follows a contour that carries a big water pipe (mostly buried), with a few dips, that then crosses the creek at a weir, then climbs steeply back to the main road, passes Whites River hut, and up to Schlink Pass. We made it up to the pass by late morning, resting in the sunshine and disappointed at the lack of snow.

Salome on the track to Schlink Pass

We headed on down the gently sloping road to Schlink Hut, but were put off when we found the hut was already occupied by a group of guys who obviously knew each other very well, and the hut itself was not in a very aesthetic position. If there was deep snow everywhere it may have been different, but we didn’t feel there was much reason to stay there. We headed back up to the pass and met the people staying at Whites River Hut, a couple of nice older guys with two children who were looking for somewhere to hide a winter stash of food to collect later in the season when skiing while one of the guys wife stayed down at the hut. We asked them if there was any room at the hut and they were very friendly and told us there was plenty of room and go right ahead. We were relieved to hear that as by then we were getting a bit track weary and wanted a sure base for the night. We got to the hut with the signs of a cold front heading our way, and had a pleasant evening around the pot belly stove again with a few drinks and stories.

Schlink Pass

During the night is snowed, so we woke to a morning of grey* skies and a new light layer of snow all over the ground and trees. The other people in the hut were up and about and ready to go early, as they had a much longer distance to drive home than we had. After they left, it started to snow quite heavily, so we decided to stay a while and see if we could get a bit of skiing in. The weather cleared a bit and I managed to get out on my new skis for a while, but there wasn’t really enough snow to do anything serious. I could tell that those new skis could turn though - just enough to wet my appetite.

Whites River Hut

It then started to snow heavily again, so we decided to get going in case it turned into a real blizzard. On with the Gore-Tex again, on with the packs and off down the road. Getting over the creek to get out of Whites River was a fun bit of rock hopping, but once back on the road the going was not too bad. We headed back along the contour track to Horse Camp Hut, as we figured it would be a good place to stop for a rest in case the weather was nasty. As it was, there were only light snow showers, with a bit of sun showing through by the time we reached the hut. By then we were thinking of a warm car and dry socks, so after a short break we made the last blast through to the car, which took a bit over an hour with easy going on the last few uphill parts of the road.

The journey to Schlinks was a good trek to get used to the conditions of the valley, what to expect from the huts, and which road to take to get there and back. It was a very magical place and felt like we were entering and leaving the valley of a mountain folk straight from Tolkien. With a good covering of snow, the place will be magic.

* Aussie / British spelling.

First Ski of the 2007 Season

2007-06-06T17:54:00.000+10:00

I’d been watching the Bureau of Meteorology website like a hawk for two weeks, waiting for the first signs of snow, and then it happened. A couple of lovely cold fronts blasting out of Antarctica, coupled with cold air at the 850hPa level and enough moisture and bam, we received our first snow of the season. Everyone in Canberra kept on complaining about how cold it was, I just kept grinning.
We drove up to Perisher on the 2nd of June, and were rewarded with enough snow on the tops of the higher hills and the east facing slopes to do a bit of touring and test out our new gear. We started on the front valley at Perisher in front of the resort, where there was enough snow to muck around a bit and practice some technique. The place was almost deserted as the lifts and snow making had not started and the beginning of the official season was a couple of weeks off. Salome had only been on skis once before last season, and Oskar had only had a short go once last season, so there was plenty to practice. Oskar was getting a bit frustrated as he thought he could ‘just do it’ – maybe we shouldn’t have watched the Youtube videos the night before of guys hotdogging in deep powder! Once Salome and Oskar started concentrating on their technique though, they got it under control. We mucked around on the slope for about an hour, and I noticed Oskar’s gloves starting to get wet as he had been falling over a bit. I told Salome and Oskar to hang around the spot we were at, about a third of the way up the front valley slope, while I zoomed back to the car to pick up Oskar’s back up gloves. When I got back, I couldn’t find them. After a couple of yells I worked out where they were – next to the top of the Village Eight chair lift! They had stomped their way right up to the top of the hill and I was suitably impressed.

Skiing amongst the Snow Gums

We worked our way along the top of the ridge amongst the Snow Gums as the weather started to deteriorate. The forecast cold front was moving in, but our gear was keeping us warm and dry and more snow was falling. The snow that was there was nice thick powder and a pleasure to ski in after last years ice. We worked our way over to the top of Happy Valley and followed the road down. Salome was a bit put off by the hills, but got in plenty of practice side stepping the descent. Oskar invented his own style of downhill technique by crouching right down on his skis and going for it whenever possible. He felt safe doing this as by crouching down he didn’t have far to fall.

Salome side-stepping down Happy Valley

We stopped at the small canteen (which was closed) near the bottom of Happy Valley. It was very nice to be out in the resort without the usual madding crowd and with light snow falling. We had lunch and a rest then set off to the bottom of the hill, then followed the creek line back to the main resort. All in all, a very pleasant start to the season.

Pebbly Beach - Durras Mountain

2007-05-13T07:06:00.000+10:00

We went car camping at the beginning of May at Pebbly Beach, which is not far north of Batemans Bay on the New South Wales.

Pebbly Beach Google Map Link

Pebbly Beach has a lot going for it - for car camping the facilities are really good, the beach is clean and uncrowded, lots of (safe) wildlife everywhere, and you can go walking, fishing, surfing, or just sit on the beach and do nothing! If walking is your thing, there is a walk along the coast or up to the top of Durras Mountain, which is an 8km return hike with a 285 metre climb. The fishing is either beach fishing (my preference) or off the rocks at either end of the beach.

Fishing at Pebbly Beach

Oskar (six years) and I did the walk up Durras Mountain early on Sunday morning. It starts off as an amble through coastal forest before dropping down into a small bay. We came across a mob of kangaroos grazing next to the path. They are used to humans, but are still wild and will not allow you to get too close. We later came across a very big lone male who was at least six feet tall and easily 100 kilograms (sorry for mixing my units of measure, it's the aviator in me...). One thing you do not want to do is hassle these guys - show some respect because if they get angry they can balance back on their tail and rip your guts out with their very stong hind claws - 'nuff said - just look and take photos and they will leave you alone too.

Oskar with Eastern Grey Kangaroos

Once passing the small bay the path climbs gently towards the next point, then a national parks sign directs you to the path that heads up to the top of Durras Mountain. It is fairly obvious as it is an old logging road that is slowly recovering and has a well worn path. The path climbs up through Spotted Gum forest and towards the top of the hill the vegetation changes and becomes more lush as the soil changes into what looks like a basalt derived soil. The top of the hill is an old farm, which must have been taking advantage of the good soil. There is not much to see but a few old fence posts and water tanks, and the view of the coast is obscured by all the regrowth in what were old paddocks. There were plenty of wallabies and kangaroos to be seen though, which were taking advantage of the morning sun and the remnant lush grass of the old farm. You can keep walking north from here to the coastal town of Kiola. We had a snack and headed back down to pebbly beach.

Small bay north of Pebbly Beach

The camping area at Pebbly Beach is very well appointed for car camping, with level sites with bench seating, metal barbeque areas and firewood supplied. The camping area is set back from the beach amongst the forest. There is a covered communal kitchen area with gas hotplates and burners, and a kitchen sink. The bathroom blocks are clean, but the showers only have cold water if you are a cold water wimp.

Pebbly Beach camping site

The wildlife we saw at Pebbly Beach was: wallabies, kangaroos, Lyre Birds, Kookaburras, parrots, possums ( Oskar had great fun blowing rasberries at them to scare them off when they kept on hanging around the camp at night ), ducks and finches.

Rendezvous Creek Walk

2007-04-29T13:08:00.000+10:00

Rendezvous Creek is in the Namadgi National Park on the southern side of Canberra. We went there on the recommendation of a guide book, now obviously a bit out of date. The attraction is a cave of aboriginal artwork, as well as the striking hills and countryside. The guide book was out of date as the hut that was mentioned has been burnt down (on purpose according to someone from the Kosciuszko Huts Association), and the sign posts leading to the cave have been removed. It is a pleasant and easy walk, and I'm sure the cave could be found with some extra time and a bit of searching.

Park your car at a small carpark about 150 metres to the south of the creek on the western side of the rode. There is a stile to help cross the fence. Then follow the road through the open paddocks that are now home to hundreds of kangaroos. The road is well used and well marked on the map. Follow the road up the valley. At approximately four kilometres the road goes through an old fence with some hefty fence posts, and immediately in front of you should be the remains of the cattlemans hut that was there. There are a few burnt stumps and a block of bricks that was the base of the fireplace. If you look down to the creek on your right you will notice a set of old stockyards.

Salome and kangaroos, Rendezvous Creek

The aboriginal artwork cave is meant to be a 1.8 kilometre walk up to the southern side of the valley, but there were no signs of the previously reported posts, and a sign at the beginning of the walk said that they were closed due to fire damage in the 2003 bushfires. We kept on following the road for another couple of kilometres, until it petered out into a vague track. The track meets a fence at this point and turns towards the creek. We stopped near the creek and had lunch in a wonderfully secluded spot with nothing but the birds to keep us company. Mental note to further explore up this valley later with camping gear.

View up the Rendezvous Creek valley.

We turned back and followed the track to where the hut ruins were, then left the track and walked down to the creek to follow it back to the carpark. The kangaroos (and the frost) keep the lush creek vegetation under control and it is easy walking over soft green grass and sedge.

Mt Franklin Walk

2007-04-29T10:46:00.000+10:00

Mt Franklin is situated to the west of Canberra city, on the Brindabella Ranges that run along the western border of the Australian Capital Territory. It is certainly not a high mountain, but it has a lot of history in its place as the one of the first areas for a ski club to be situated in Australia. There are still remnants of the original cleared runs, the old Austin A40 that was used as a ski tow, and there is a nice new day hut being constructed to replace the original Canberra Alpine Club that was burnt down in a previous bushfire. The Mount Franklin road along the top of the Brindabellas is dirt, but is in very good condition. A normal family sedan can easily be driven as long as there is no snow. The car park is well signposted.
The walk up the hill is fairly steep in places, but as it goes through the middle of the old main ski run it is wide and open. It takes about half an hour at an easy pace to get to the top. The new day hut is about a third of the way up - great place to stop for lunch on the way back down.

Oskar on the Mt Franklin trig.

At the top of the hill is a trig station, and fantastic views of the surrounding Brindabellas. Just down from the trig is one of the old ski runs, with a rusting Austin A40 sitting there as a reminder of the time it was used to power the ski tow. Walk back down to the day hut. There are pit toilets there, and the new hut is a very interesting construction of corrugated iron obviously designed to withstand further bushfires. I was pleased to see this as I want to ski the Brindabellas if we get a good dump of snow in winter. There is the Bulls Head and Bendora huts at one end of the road, and Pryor's Hut at the southern end, but there was nothing in between since the Canberra Alpine Club's lodge had burnt down. This facility now provides shelter in the middle section of the road.

Mt Franklin Hut

Charlotte's Pass to Kosciuszko

2007-04-29T09:15:00.000+10:00

In mid April we decided to do the walk from Charlotte's Pass to the top of Mount Kosciuszko, the highest mountain in Australia. It is not a difficult walk for anyone that is reasonably fit, but it is a very interesting walk as it is in Australia's true alpine country. We started the walk from the Charlotte's Pass car park, return to Kosciuszko is 18 kilometres. If you are less inclined for a long walk, you can drive to Thredbo, take the chair lift to the top of the hill, and have an easy walk of about 8 kilometres, which as I found out later a lot of people tend to do.

The initial walk from Charlotte's Pass is fairly easy, as the walk is along a well maintained dirt road that has gentle hills. After about four kilometres (one hour at an easy pace), you reach the Snowy River crossing. Along the way you will notice that the only trees, the snow gums, disappear at an elevation of about 1800 metres, and are replaced by alpine herb fields. To the west are magnificent views of the Main Range.

Snowy River valley in the background.

After crossing the Snowy River, the road heads up a reasonable incline for another two kilometres to Seaman's Hut. This is a very robust stone walled hut that was built in 1937 by the family of a New York man who, whilst skiing with a friend, perished on the slopes of Kosciuszko after being caught out in a blizzard. The hut has a pot belly stove, plenty of fire wood, and some emergency food supplies that other visitors have left. Be warned that the weather can change very rapidly in these alpine areas and that all walkers / skiers should carry adequate gear and should always have a plan 'B'. We carried in our packs Gore-Tex pants and jackets, a first aid kit, compact stove, cooking gear and dried food, water and other small utensils. I also carried a map and compass. "To walk along a road?" you may ask. If you don't know the road or where you are, the map and compass are great. It is also an easy way to practice navigation skills. Having the gear and being properly prepared are not only good practice, but is really good training for the ski season when you are going to need to carry more or less the same stuff. Plan B? OK, things turn to crap and you have to stay the night in Seaman's Hut ( note: it is for emergency purposes only). At least you can stay warm and won't be hungry. When coming down the hill later, I met up with a park ranger who had also been the instructor in a telemark skiing lesson I had a few years ago. He told me that the same time last year he was up on the hill and it snowed so hard they had to ski out (I'm sure he was praying for it, hence the reason he had his skis with him, now that's prepared!!. OK, maybe he is just a complete snow rat).

We reached the hut after a good uphill climb. It is a great place to rest. Fill in the visitors book and read the history presentations that are on the wall. From here to the top of Kosciuszko it is 3 kilometres. My wife decided to rest at Seaman's Hut, while I carried on solo to the summit. This is a good option for walkers who are not as strong and who aren't fussed about bagging a hill.

Seaman's Hut

I felt a bit lonely, heading off by myself in the 'wilderness' and not knowing what was ahead. As I came around the corner of the road towards Rawson's Pass, I saw what was ahead. A whole pile of excavators and trucks, and about a hundred people in various stages of ascent on the hill. So much for wilderness! The National Parks is constructing Australia's highest toilet block at Rawson's Pass, which is at the base of the final climb to the top of Kosciuszko, hence the construction gear. All the other people had come along the relatively easy path from Thredbo - there were even people with babies in prams. The climb to the top is easy, with a well maintained path all the way. The view wasn't brilliant due to the low visibility caused by smoke (it's burning season - all the farmers burn off all the stuff they want to burn at the end of summer and before winter hits), but it was still a great vista.

OK, it's not Everest, but the view is nice.

After about ten minutes on the top I walked back down to Seaman's Hut and my waiting wife. The walk back was fairly easy, but that last kilometre is always a real killer! Total time, five hours with plenty of stops. Grade: easy as long as you are fit.

Welcome

2007-04-28T08:53:00.000+10:00

Welcome to the Wild Adventure blog. I'll be putting up different outdoor adventures as they happen, plus cross country ski reports for the Australian winter, mostly centered around Kuscioszko National Park.