Point Perpendicular Revisited

G'day everyone!

After a week of cold and rain in Sydney, I wasn't all that optimistic about our chances of fine weather for the long weekend. So jumping in the car at 6:15am on Saturday morning with only light wispy clouds in the sky, and with the sun peeping over the ocean was a very pleasant surprise.

Our destination for the weekend? Point Perpendicular, scene of last year's disastrous trip which resulted in shattered egos and lots of stolen gear. The plan was to link up with Andrew Jones and various other SRC guys for two days of climbing at the Point followed by the possibility of a sporty Monday climbing at Nowra.

After such an early start the traffic didn't present many problems, despite the RTAs insistence on closing down all but one lane near Wollongong and again near Kiama. After an uneventful trip, I arrived at the lighthouse carpark at 9:20am, 10 minutes ahead of schedule.

Andrew and co. arrived shortly after in a cloud of dust, and Andrew rolled out of the car, looking slightly dazed (it turns out he'd spent the previous night on the turps, reinforcing his reputation as a drinker of some repute!). James, Nicole, Ken, Stan and Ben all appeared from various places at about the same time and introductions were made all round.

With the wind and sea both up, the Bayside cliffs were the obvious choice, and so after moving all of the camping gear into the car with the alarm, off we headed. Andrew had his eye on "Room With a View" (9m grade 12) for a warm up, so with three separate groups of climbers (James and Nicole decided to climb near the lighthouse fence) we set up a couple of rap ropes and started playing.

Ken and I rapped into the main ledge at "Bob's Cliff", and warmed up on "Dogfish", a 5m grade 6. Although marginally overhanging, this climb offers some of the biggest jugs and most frictional rock in the known universe. A bomber placement or two (and one nasty passive #2 camalot) and I was up, feeling the final ghosts from my last trip drifting away.

Meanwhile Andrew and Jen had finished "Room With a View", so with my head now in gear I rapped into the tiny belay ledge and set a belay off bombers wires and the rap rope. Ken soon joined me and after strapping himself securely into the belay, commented on the huge seas crashing into the zawn 80m below us. I started up the corner, and almost immediately was forced to endure nice moves, good pro, massive exposure and the most fabulously frictional rock I think I have ever climbed on. Ken seconded in style, and pretty soon we were both wearing those stupid grins that good climbing seems to inflict on devotees of the sport.

Stan, Ben and Andrew had just finished an overhanging corner crack called "Self Raising Flower" (7m grade 15), so with the lure of getting something harder under our belts, we rapped in and had a lash. This climb ascends a surprisingly overhanging corner crack, with plenty of holds on both faces, and lots of stemming stances that make it a whole lot easier than it looks. Although there were a few sniggers at the amount of gear I placed (22 pieces over 7 metres isn't really that much!), I explained that I was merely practicing placing protection. I don't think anyone believed me...

By this time everyone had had enough of short boulder problems, so while Stan and Ben headed off to do "Grey Mist" (27m grade 17), Andrew rapped in to the base of "Over the Yardarm" (30m grade 14) and led it in fine style. Meanwhile the appointed camera man for this ascent (me) attempted to capture the moment: the trilogy of man, rock and ocean; the climber's almost trance like state of total concentration; the perfect yin/yang synergy between leader and second....

Well, actually I just took a truckload of photos, two or three of which came out pretty well (see )!

This great route offers some pleasant, relatively easy face climbing up to an exposed, undercut arete, which it then follows to the top. The climb offers a surprising amount of gear up until just below the top, at which point the gear runs out and the (thankfully short!) crux begins. With 80 odd metres of air below him and gear at his feet, Andrew took it pretty carefully up this section, but cruised it nonetheless (although the expression on his face could have been described as one of abject terror! Perhaps he was just feeling hung over! :-).

After we'd all seconded the route (sending Andrew into a state of mild hypothermia on the belay), Ken and I headed off to set up camp, while Andrew, James, Nicola and Jen headed off to do one last route.

A pleasant evening of red wine drinking, cooking, eating, red wine drinking, chatting, red wine drinking, didgeridoo, red wine drinking and finally a bit more red wine drinking finally sent us all into dream land (Andrew leading the red wine drinking, as you'd expect!).

Sunday dawned rather overcast, but once we'd actually got moving we realised that the clouds were high and wispy, and Saturday's breeze had died off. While Andrew, Jen, James and Nicola headed off to "warm up" on some 22s in the lighthouse enclosure, Ken and I headed back to the Bayside crags to have a go at "Elspeth" (13m grade 14), a climb that Andrew had recommended.

One look at it that early in the morning turned my stomach, so I decided to warm up on something less terrifying first. "Steel City Blues" (12m grade 9), the corner crack just to the right looked like an easy warm up, and since the two routes share a rap and a belay, there were other advantages as well.

After slowly setting up the rap ("Is 5 bomber bits of gear enough? How about 6?" "Should that be an alpine butterfly, rather than a clove hitch?" etc.), we headed down and again I set a bomber belay off wires (if I haven't already mentioned, there are some absolutely stonker wire placements at the Point!).

Being eager to get moving, I quickly started up the route, and despite the grade found it quite tricky. The moves themselves weren't difficult, however the crack itself is small and quite flared, making bomber placements rather elusive. I ended up placing some so-so gear and just pulling through until something decent came to hand. Definitely not a good climb for a beginner trad leader! Ken seconded with no problems, and after a quick bite to eat we rapped back in to attempt "Elspeth".

I must admit that, although only short, this route follows a rather intimidating line. First is the traverse left out over the gaping maw of the ocean. Then there's the apparently unprotected moves up the undercut arete to the top. From my stance at the belay, it was fairly obvious that there was going to be little chance of slinking right onto the less exposed face: the only visible holds were pretty much right up the arete.

Before either Ken or I lost our nerve, I quickly started out the traverse. Thankfully the first couple of moves are pretty easy, following two basically juggy horizontal breaks that take as much bomber gear as you can place. Once at the arete, the exposure really started kicking in, and every move felt about 4 grades harder. A couple of shaky moves up and I'd reached the last visible gear on the route. Thankfully the break quickly took a bomber #1 camalot and a sinker large wire. Unfortunately this also meant I had no choice but to attack the blank section.

I procrastinated for a bit, decided I wasn't getting any mentally stronger, and launched into the moves. A couple of easy moves led to a stance of sorts, with the gear at foot level. A full stretch above me was a large pocket with positive sidepulls, that proved to be the key hold. Unfortunately I'd latched it with my left hand. A high step and a terrifying but easy match / cross through on the pocket and I had the hold as God had intended. Unfortunately, this also meant that my left foot was dangling over nothing (well, nothing for 80 vertical metres or so!). A high step in under my body got it back on terra firma, smearing on that thankfully amazingly frictional Pt Perp rock. A flag / smear with the right foot, big reach with the left hand and I'd gained the obligatory jug!

WOOHOO!!

What a way to pull a crux!! 1.5m above bomber gear, with 3m of rock and 80m of air between me and the pounding surf ()!

A surprisingly good sling around the jug steadied the nerves, then off again. An interesting side pull that leaves you hanging right out over the middle of Jervis Bay, a slightly shaky mantel and I was up, with a huge uncontrollable grin splitting the dial.

"What a fantastic climb!" Ken looked unconvinced, and commented on how badly I'd been shaking as I pulled the crux. Having been in complete control and in a state of total calm the entire time, I denied getting the shakes, and suggested he get his eyesight tested. A dead silence fell, which made me realise that Ken was probably at least as apprehensive as I had been. And he didn't have any prussiks!

Damn! I should have lent him my set and given him a quick explanation on how they work. Too late for an explanation, but with a bit of slack on the rap rope I slid down my prussiks and told him just to keep them handy (without explaining what he might need them for!).

Ken silently pulled out the belay and started out the traverse. A couple of apprehensive moments and he'd gained the gear at the base of the crux. He grimly pulled it out and then silently approached the crux. With visions of teaching Ken how to prussik while he hung 80m above Jervis Bay running through my head, I kept the rope as tight as possible, and was grateful to see him gain the key jug after a brief struggle. A quick top out and he was up, and if I thought my grin had been broad, his was enormous!!

Still full of adrenalin after the route, we grabbed some more lunch and took our time dismantling the rap rope and tidying up the gear. We then rejoined Andrew, Jen, James and Nicola at the lighthouse enclosure.

Andrew was halfway up a rather loose looking grade 17 arete ("Little Red Riding Hood"), with James practicing his best Nowra dogging poses on the sport route to the right ("When the Levee Breaks", grade 19). I quickly rapped in with the camera and started happily snapping away at Andrew, who was in a great position out on the arete (). Jen then seconded Andrew, leaving all the gear in place and backclipping a rope for me. From the belay ledge it was obvious that although there were some loose looking blocks, the route avoided most of the worst ones and actually headed up a really good looking arete.

Jen seconded in fine style, and I followed soon after. This climb is excellent, with great gear, with some big exposure up the arete, and two hands free ledges to rest and depump on. The crux was up the final, steep arete, and is well protected by a fixed hanger at the start and good small cams higher up. Andrew managed to totally wedge a small quadcam at the top, but after much cursing and loud comments on drunkards placing gear I finally wiggled it out.

With the Budawangs disappearing behind a wall of rain 50 odd kilometres to the south west, Andrew decided to do one last climb: the 19 sport route James and Nicola had just finished. Jen was a bit worried about getting wet, so she elected to stay up top "and look after the gear". This left me as belay bunny, so Andrew and I rapped in and he quickly got to work.

The initial face looks quite chossy, but the rock is amazingly hard, the moves are really nice and the two fixed hangers provide ample protection. Andrew also placed that same bloody quadcam before manteling onto the little halfway ledge that lets you rest and scope out the crux section. A brief rest and he was off again, up the steep and blank looking headwall.

After cruising past the first hanger above the ledge, Andrew got increasingly sketchy, clipping the next hanger with a bit of a struggle. From a small "rest" (ie. a hold you can actually stop at!) he placed his final quickdraw in his teeth, and soldiered on.

Within seconds his legs were resembling the finest Janome: going at about 90 beats per minute and with machine like precision. As he pulled up to the clipping holds, I heard a muffled (and slightly hysterical) "mmmmm nnnnn ttrrrbbblllle!!" (which I later found out means "I'm in trouble!" in quickdraw-in-mouth language!). A sketchy, saliva coated clip, and an even more desperate gather of the rope and he was clipped, with nothing between him and the top but 6 feet of pocketed, slightly overhanging sandstone. A few more tenuous moments and he was up, almost too pumped for the easy top out mantel.

On second I stuggled up this route, and while I managed to get it clean, there were a few extremely tenuous moments (like a dyno above the 4th bracket 'cause I was too pumped to do the move statically!). Almost as soon as I'd topped out, whales appeared just off the rocks, and cruised slowly past, surfacing every 5 to 10 minutes. Great stuff!

With most of Jervis Bay now hidden by the approaching curtain of rain, we beat a hurried retreat to the cars. After two days of fantastic climbing, no one felt up to Nowra on Monday, so while I headed straight back to Sydney, Andrew and co took a slower trip via a winery (suprise, surprise!).

All in all an excellent weekend!