Is like a hot bath for the mind
Training the mind is just as important as training the body(?)
The day started with breakfast. Egg roll for me, and oats with yogurt for Dany. Maybe oats is why her mind is so strong.
We chewed and watched the sun rise over the Fingal valley. Light winds stroking the giant eucalyptus. It made the ears of a small wallaby perk. It could also have been a reaction to the sound of my coffee cup placed on the table.
To the northwest, light and fluffy blanket of fog cuddle the small town below us. Lush hills with paddocks, dotted with sheep, separated by a windy dirt road.
Two wedge-tail eagles circling silently above, listening to the sheep, the magpies, the pink robins and the kookaburras.
Behind us, to the southwest, a huge 200 meter cliff yawns behind a dense forest of acacia and eucalyptus, embracing the first rays of light.
The sun is drying the night’s chill off the streaks of black and orange dolorite features. It looks like a Jackson Pollock painting.
It’s too hot to climb here in summer, but clear and calm days like this in the middle of winter provide the perfect conditions for exercising the mind and the body.
No one owns these magnificent rock formations lutruwitta is famous for. Even if colonisers declare them as property and capital. They do not belong to anyone.
The rocks were there before people, and will continue to stand proud long after we’re gone.
They are not there for people, but over the years people developed a deep connection by using them for direction, shelter, ceremony and recreation.
So we approach with respect for the history of the region, etiquette and wishes of those who live there now.
We make ourselves known to Andrew, the local crag steward who lives at the foot of the cliff. He is working in his garden and greets us as we approach.
He recognises us from a previous visit and after sussing out our climbing apatite for the day, he generously offer us to borrow some extra safety gear for our vanilla mission.
Bare rock, as this cliff face is known, has an abundance of hard sport climbing routes which require commitment and experience to ascend. Many have multiple pitches and are above our level of experience.
We wanted to do “Tomorrow’s Dream” – a grade 19, 3 pitch route stretching 100 meters vertically.
The prospect of a hot bath in the sunset on our Airbnb deck was more appealing to us than being stuck on a dark and cold cliff overnight, so we opted to do the first pitch only, a 30 meters, grade 16 line described in the guide as: “Delightful climbing up the black slab to a narrow ledge, then traverse right for 5m to the next line of bolts up a steeper slab to double bolt belay at apex of orange triangle of rock”.
To understand how routes are graded, think of anything between 1-10 as easy scramble or climbing a ladder. The Australian way of grading takes into account only the physical and technical aspects to determine the ‘difficulty’ level.
Climbing grades between 10-20 get increasingly harder if all you climbed before were ladders. As the grades get higher, the movement, endurance, problem solving, balance, route planning and most importantly, the teasing of my mental and physical limits attract me to this dangerous sport.
Climbing grades above 30 is mostly possible for people who dedicate most of their life to climbing and eat rock flakes with tiger snake milk for breakfast.
Paraphrasing ancient wisdom may help explain the dangers of relaying only on a numerical grading system to make decisions:
‘No climber climbs the same route twice – for it is not the same route, and they are not the same climber.’
Judging a climb simply by the number representing the grade is foolish and irresponsible.
Furthermore, “leading” has a greater risk of injury than “top rope”. Does it make the climbing mentally harder?
The conditions, rock quality, how far apart the next piece of protection is, all add up in my mind to increase the heart rate, cause muscles to freeze or legs to shake uncontrollably as adrenaline and lactic acid spread through the body and take control over my mind.
in a controlled environment, such as the climbing gym, I’m too sedated by pumping music and chalk inhalation to get excited. I still enjoy it for the movement, but out in nature, far away from hospitals, where the beauty and enormity of nature answers the questions of why I climb, and why I want to stay fit and alive for as long as I can – to enjoy this privilege and immersive perspective of the world.
A good idea for staying alive is to have a contingency plan. Avoid committing to something you wouldn’t want to tell your grandma about. Because she’s old, and you don’t want to make her worry.
Anyway, the people who developed ‘Tomorrows Dream’ (usually, it’s strong and brave men) decided that the difficulty level of the first pitch is 16.
We got to the base of the route after a short scramble, and chatted with a guy from the mainland who was belaying his partner as she gracefully cruised up the route Dany and I wanted to do. The guy was very friendly and shared his love story for the wild climbing in Tassie, and how it compared to the mainland. After his partner was secure at the end of the first pitch, he went up after her and they both disappeared in a the vertical maze of rock above us.
It was our turn.
There is always a moment when Dany and I climb together when it’s time to decide who goes first to lead the route and place the protection. I am very rarely keen to go first.
Dany have been here before and led the route successfully. She said it’s “more like an 18” and encouraged me to get up first.
For the next what felt like forever but was about 20 minutes, I was certain it was one of the worst ideas in the history of ideas.
The first 10 meters crushed my confidence and ego to the size of a chickpea. I could not find the holds, I was going the wrong way, tunnel vision. I could not think.
At some point I looked back and down and realised I am about 3 meters up and across from the last clip, and a fall now, on the slab, even with Dany’s expert belay, will result in a big swing and potentially hitting the ground and taking Dany out too.
Letting go now will be a stupid idea. It would be safer to try and get to the next bolt and rest. I knew Dany was worried because she didn’t say anything.
I just needed to breath slower, look around, feel the rock and carefully step up to the next clipping point. But my legs couldn’t stop shaking. I had the Elvis.
This drama went on for 20 long minutes, as I slowly made it through the 12 bolts making up the 30 meter route.
When I finally reached the anchor, nothing changed – the view of the valley was still spectacular, the trees and birds were all there looking at me, not understanding what all the drama was about. But I felt like a different person.
A winner? No. More like a lucky survivor…
Dany lowered me. We stayed and had lunch at the base of the route and climbed it a couple more times on top rope. The mood shifted from existential to a fun day out.
On top rope, the movement was flowing, the heart and breathing steady, and the holds were all there, my mind was just absent when I led it, and it almost broke my body.
Heading to the hot bath now.
On the way to the car we passed a massive boulder where Andrew and friends were playing, warming up and developing short and hard routes closer to home.
They invited us to jump on one of the routes graded 26.
The top rope was there, Ingvar was there ready to belay, and I still had a tickle from all the adrenaline of Tomorrow’s Dream.
I jumped in the harness, tied in, and with Andrew’s reassuring and encouraging instructions, managed to execute all the moves of the route (with some complimentary grunting and resting). Andrew knows exactly where the tiniest crimps on the rock were and could describe them almost poetically as he guided me through.
I don’t think I ever attempted a grade 26. The experienced folk on the ground seemed impressed by my ability, given I failed to tie my safety knot properly the first time. I was impressed too.
Dany jumped on it and got through the first section before giving up. “You are so strong” she tells me after. But considering the day we had, I feel like she is mentally much stronger, which makes her physically more confident in her abilities, which inspires me to be more calm and collected like her when leading. I barely made it today, but I was not calm and collected at all.
In a day of climbing I’ve ascended a grade 16 and a 26. On first impressions, the 26 was fun and challenging and the 16 was an horrendous shit show.
But the numbers, as we’ve seen, mean very little, they are only a guide, the rest is the experience, the people, the beauty and the danger.
The day can be summarised as a triumph of holding two contradicting notions as true reality:
I want to understand my limits, but I also want to stay safe and live another day.
I am scared and hurt, but I’m also learning and having fun.
I want to be immersed in warm water, but I also want to feel the fresh breeze.
Duality, kind of like the nature of light.
The bath was extra special that night.
