Of Choss and Rockmelons

I have been lucky over the past year to have climbed with lots of people from different backgrounds. This has resulted in a constant acknowledgement of not knowing everything, met by enough curiosity that pushed me to learn something new from each one of them.

This constant opportunity for learning makes things exciting, especially in a sport where there are so many ways to tackle a problem. On this trip, we have members from five countries spread out across three continents, and this makes the whole experience even more exciting.

Over time, I have realised that these different opportunities for comparing techniques also come with the inevitable problem of translation between climbing grading systems. Luckily enough, over the past year, I’ve familiarised myself with the American system (thanks Ginger Dan). Anyhow, this is the story of the first climb with an Aussie – which ended up with me trying to understand another whacky system.

The walk-in was exciting. After a bit less than an hour of walking, we found ourselves above the cliffs scrambling with heavy bags (not the best option for everyone). After lowering Aleks and Janek, and improvising some abseils we reached some dense brush that we had to cross. Embracing the teachings of bushwhacking master Val, I charged the plants head-on and made my way through, leading the team towards the shade of a tree. Covered in scratches, we sat there and had a full look at the wall; by the look of it the west end seemed to be in the shade and so seemed the best area to look at first. Here the most prominent line was an off-width that waved its way up the wall nearly reaching the top.

Aleks and Janek sought respite from the sun in a cave neighbouring the climb. My eyes were desperately looking for another line, as well as a way to get off the wall once we reached the end of the off-width. A few lines seemed sensible alternatives from the bottom, and a tree would have got us down to the ground once finished.

The day of trad climbing was driven by Tad’s excitement, and the least I could do was to hand over the first lead. Aleks and Janek filmed Tad fight his way up the wall. Moving across a series of crimps, it was a relief to embrace a layback flake which offered lots of good gear.

 The difficulty of a first ascent ground up and onsight was now evident as we had to check the consistency of every hold before committing to it. Exhausted by a powerful move and having reached a point where multiple lines seemed viable, Tad built a belay to bring me up. After quickly meeting him and recovering all the gear on the way, it was my turn to make a fool out of myself.

I reckon I ventured up five different variations trying to avoid the offwidth. Unfortunately, all of these were either not possible given the amount of moss on the slabs, or they would have led me to a ledge from which an abseil would not be possible. It was inevitable, and the only way up was that huge crack that was silently waiting for the two of us to get on it.

Slowly making my way up the crack, I started to chuck rocks out of the way so that they wouldn’t fall on the rope. I avoided a large loose rock which Tad would try remove on his way up. Halfway through the crack, my nightmares became real, and I realised I couldn’t move. I was stuck in a crack, and it sucked.

I like to take my time and understand how to tackle the next section in the attempt to get to the next hold. Sometimes I am lucky, and this whole process happens unconsciously, making the whole series of movement flow together and bringing out a more pleasing experience on the wall. Not this time, I was stuck in a crack.

The advantage of being stuck is that you can’t fall, and you are not resting on gear. Unfortunately, I was alone and too far from Tad to chat about the weather. Inevitably, not concentrating on the route anymore, I started thinking ‘too much’. For an instant, I was scared, even though the climbing was easy. I have often been terrified of letting go, and for me, climbing has been a battle with my fears and my weaknesses. Mental game can often become more important than physical performance, and in Trad climbing this aspect can have an even greater influence when trying to Onsight. Thinking about it climbing has over time become both a medicine and a reason to heal, as having a strong body can be less important than having a strong mind. There have been times when climbing could only soften the difficulties of other overwhelming feelings, but then are times in which the movement on a wall made me feel at peace more than anything else.

The difference this time was that I had no line to guide me, so all of this was even harder.

Typically when climbing, I find myself in total discomfort followed by a moment of peace. I am still not able to control this feeling, but over the past year I found that a combination of breathing and ‘noting’ (meditation practice) allows me to collect my thoughts quicker. The initial discomfort was now white noise, and I was climbing again. Now don’t take my words to the letter, there is nothing comfortable about wedging any part of your body in a crack, but for some reason this was still fun.

Sometimes I scream out loud ‘chi me lo ha fatto fare’ when I am on lead, which means ‘who the hell made me do this?!’. These are the best moments to channel my Italian side, even though I am not fully able to express it as my hands are either holding me up or searching for a good piece of gear. 

The climbing was not hard, what concerned me was the inability to focus completely on the climbing as once again all the holds were not tested. At this point I needed the right incentive, and Tad shouted: ‘let’s finish this off and go home to have a rockmelon!’. No other words were needed. Unintuitively the way down was up, and as I was moving throughout the crack the longed-for abseil point was getting closer and closer. After pushing and pulling against the rock, my arms and my hands were full of scratches to the point that perhaps I wished I was bushwhacking. This feeling did not last long.

Coming out of the crack, there was a final wall to tackle. I looked around and placed some gear before throwing myself at two parallel cracks which led me to top of the climb. Once I reached the top, only half the work was done, now I had to make sure Tad could get to me. Looking down all I could see was his burnt neck and a pile of rope just in front of him. “Saaaafe”, I shouted, and his face beamed up at me. Now it was his turn, and unsurprisingly he was very excited. In the past few weeks we have all started loving his positive attitude that reflects in his climbing as he was smiling and talking shit while very quickly making his way up the crack. Once he reached the belay he was near as scratched and dark as me.

On his was up Tad did not have another climber or a rope below him, so his climbing was alternated with the occasional warning shout of “Rock below!” as he cleared the rock face of the final pieces of choss on his way up. Arriving at a larger block, he glanced below to make sure no one was in the trajectory of the fall. And screamed ‘rock’ as he already had kicked the block. From above I could just see Aleks and Janek leaving the crag to head back to camp because of the unbearable heat. On the blocks bumpy descent, it changed direction, leaving me very little time to warn them. Luckily, it was a close miss. Later in the evening as I was letting the others know of this, Val reminded me that sometimes things like this are part of the adventure, and everyone here is aware of the potential risks.

At this point, we just had to reach the safety of the tree on top of the crag and abseil down. Having coiled the rope and tightened two stopper knots at the ends of the rope, I started descending, only releasing as much rope as was needed and making sure the rock I was touching was solid. The novelty of good rock was not the only surprise that this crag had for me. As we expected long climbs, I had brought us 80m ropes, but as we begun the abseil it appeared to not be long enough. Once I was just above the first crack and the series of crimps I mentioned earlier, my fears were confirmed. A few feet below me, I could see the knot at the end of the rope which wasn’t touching the ground. Pulling myself closer to the rock and placing a cam, I had to unclip myself and reverse the first few moves of the route to get safely to the ground. With the climb at least 45m long, the lack of a rebelay on the way down only meant that Tad would experience the same problem.

While I was sorting out the gear, I saw him reach the ground with his belay plate on a sling. As his feet touched the ground, he realised that the knot was pushing against his belay plate and he was stuck. Given that he was touching the ground, it wasn’t a big deal until he pulled the rope without undoing the knot, and there we were again, stuck. This time, he was climbing the first crux with me pushing his arse up the wall so he could pull the rope down.

The first ascent of the trip was officially done! Now, we just had to walk home. I had enough time to familiarise myself with the Australian grading system as we sat in a cave neighbouring our route waiting for the sun to set before heading back to camp. In the end, we agreed on calling the route: Ser (Rockmelon) – E1 5c/f6a+/5.10d/19.