Awesome day and we're hungry! Freeze-dried dinners mean our only cooking is boiling water, and eat-in-the-pack means basically no dishes to wash. At left, I scrape the last scraps from dinner. (My notes say we had pad thai after Cornerstone, but this bag looks more like lamb fettucini to me. The Aussie-made meals that Col has picked up to replace the ones blocked by quarantine are heavy on the lamb varieties, and quite good.) We have allocated one "serves two" pack per person for each dinner, but they end up being low on calories for our needs (less than 1000 calories per pack). Right about now, I'm starting to wish for chocolate and other high-calorie supplements, which slipped through the cracks in our planning |
Wheels-down in Dubbo on a warm Australian morning, and there's Colin - the ultimate partner: no muss, no fuss, no attitude - ready to load me into the mother ship and head for the hills. A stop at the grocery store for instant coffee, cereal and dehydrated milk, and we pronounce ourselves ready to go. Most of our food load is freeze-dried dinners and clif bars. The extra purchases are breakfast. (Note to the wary: Australian quarantine regs. will stop anything containing meat, even freeze-dried meals, at the border. Only part of my large order from REI, shipped to Col, made it in, with the rest forwarded on to me in Tokyo, where it now resides in our "earthquake kit".) |
It starts with a near-perfect trip to Mt. Buffalo and Mt Arapiles in 2004 and a few scraps of conversation and e-mail: "Where should we go next year?" Hmmmm.... Rumors lurk of a backcountry area - few people, big routes. Some folks on a favorite climbing bulletin board chime in with beta. Warrambungles, huh? Hmmmm, again.... |
Warrambungles - 2005 |
It starts with a near-perfect trip to Mt. Buffalo and Mt Arapiles in 2004 and a few scraps of conversation and e-mail: "Where should we go next year?" Hmmmm.... Rumors lurk of a backcountry area - few people, big routes. Some folks on a favorite climbing bulletin board chime in with beta. Warrambungles, huh? Hmmmm, again.... |
...And suddenly here I am, with an office full of gear and a Friday night flight to Sydney, followed by a plane change to scenic Dubbo, Australia. Time to head for the door. |
It's a long trip, but I want to be ready. |
Wheels-down in Dubbo on a warm Australian morning, and there's Colin - the ultimate partner: no muss, no fuss, no attitude - ready to load me into the mother ship and head for the hills. A stop at the grocery store for instant coffee, cereal and dehydrated milk, and we pronounce ourselves ready to go. Most of our food load is freeze-dried dinners and clif bars. The extra purchases are breakfast. (Note to the wary: Australian quarantine regs. will stop anything containing meat, even freeze-dried meals, at the border. Only part of my large order from REI, shipped to Col, made it in, with the rest forwarded on to me in Tokyo, where it now resides in our "earthquake kit".) |
This is the mother ship, Col at the helm, during a pit stop in some pretty dull country outside of Dubbo. She suffered a catastrophic radiator meltdown not 300 meters from home en route back from our trip last year (after Col had dropped me at my hotel), but appears none the worse for wear this trip. |
Gee - what's that on the horizon? |
The 'Bungles lurk in (where else?) Warrambungles National Park. A stellar hiking destination, the park also features a hut perfectly situated for climbers. Reservations are required, and ours has been in place for months. We stop at the visitors center to pick of the hut key. One look at the view from the center has my palms sweating already. |
The climbing gear and ropes are in my pack already, so Col gets all the food and cooking gear, and he takes the cognac bottle as well. It's a pretty fair split, and we saddle up. The walk in to the Balor Hut is about 5 kilometers and fairly steep. On the other hand, they've been doing some serious trail work, and long sections of it are actually paved. And there are actual stairs at the steepest section at the end. Even a desk-weenie like me can't complain too much. |
We interrupt this fellow's (lady's?) snack, but he doesn't seen too perturbed. |
And in 90 minutes or so, even with our somewhat heavy packs, we reach our home from home for the week, in all it's sybaritic glory. |
The truth is that the outhouse - a sophisticated composting type - is actually more esthetic. (It's a rare backcountry bog to which you don't mind bringing a book, let me tell you...) |
And the view from the ridge beyond does not suck. That's the Breadknife behind me. Closed to climbing now, as the climbers kept sending rocks down onto the trail below, but fun to look at nonetheless. |
Wait - pan the camera left a little. Little more... Whoa! Yeah, baby... Belougery Spire. Let's climb that tomorrow. |
We boil water for our freeze-dried dinners (beef and pasta hot pot), and read about two pages before I'm out. Wake up at 6:30 for cereal and coffee with milk and saddle up. Drop our shoes and extra water at Belougery pinnacle (the little thumb sticking up just right of the main formation in the pic above) then traverse right around the base. Destination: Out and Beyond, Oz grade 14 (US 5.7). Unfortunately, we've got no bloody idea where it is, and the guidebook is a small and ambigous little pamphlet, which is not helping matters. |
Hmmmmm..... |
We follow some fourth class slabs up into a gully running between a small pinnacle and the main face, which might match the guide. I climb the pinnacle and then lean wildly out and get in a good yellow alien on the main wall. |
Unfortunately, the rock above is extremely loose and the moves are pretty hard. Way harder than Oz 14 ought to be. I prove conclusively that the yellow alien is good by falling on it twice. We switch over and Col tries with the same result. On his second try he does a really neat controlled fall back across from the main wall to the pinnacle. We decide this is not the way, pull the gear and traverse further left to an easier ramp. Up we go, Col leading. Unfortunately, we get off route again somehow. I lead the second pitch, which the guide says traverses right on sketchy pro to "loose blocks". (In retrospect, I suspect that I didn't traverse far enough, but who knows?) We give up on the guide. Col takes over the lead and guns a long one. I take a short one to reposition us on an easy ramp, and Col fires up again. Here I am below following the ramp. Where the heck are we, exactly? |
I take a last one that tops us out. At right, Col follows. Gorgeous day, fun outing. Who the heck cares what we climbed? Here's Col on top. |
Well, that was pretty freakin' cool, but conversation over dinner finds us both agreeing that we'd like to try something tomorrow with a bit less likelihood of getting lost. How about Cornerstone Rib Direct? Hard to get lost on a knife-edge arete. Yup - that'll work. Next morning, it's coffee and cereal for breakfast after our normal 6:30 wakeup, and off we go to Crater Bluff. |
Walk and walk....then suddenly see it looming through the trees. The hair on the back of my neck stands straight up. |
For a better look, check this out (shot on a different day, which explains the different light). Cornerstone Rib Direct (Oz 14; US 5.7) runs just right of the center of the formation in this picture - up the buttress and then straight up the incredible, light gray ribbon of the central arete, before continuing to the top. I beg for pitch three, supposedly the crux arete pitch, and Col agrees, so I end up leading pitches one, three and five. |
Here's Col looking relaxed on the lead on pitch 2, with the arete itself looming above. |
And again on the upper arete pitch (pitch 4). |
This is the view down from one of the upper pitches. (I can't remember how many we took to climb it. I think Col topped us out on pitch 6, so maybe this is the final belay? Or there may have been a 5-easy final roped scramble after this.) In any case, look at me - way the heck down there; must have been a long pitch. |
Awesome day and we're hungry! Freeze-dried dinners mean our only cooking is boiling water, and eat-in-the-pack means basically no dishes to wash. At left, I scrape the last scraps from dinner. (My notes say we had pad thai after Cornerstone, but this bag looks more like lamb fettucini to me. The Aussie-made meals that Col has picked up to replace the ones blocked by quarantine are heavy on the lamb varieties, and quite good.) We have allocated one "serves two" pack per person for each dinner, but they end up being low on calories for our needs (less than 1000 calories per pack). Right about now, I'm starting to wish for chocolate and other high-calorie supplements, which slipped through the cracks in our planning |
The plan for the next day is to walk out to Crater Mountain (not to be confused with Crater Bluff), scope out the start to other, more difficult objectives, and climb Bastion Buttress. Unfortunately, we're not very bright. We find the rocks, but then manage to walk right past what we're looking for, and on and on - all the way to the far end of the cliff. Guess we'd better turn around. Duh! By the time we get back and get oriented, it's 11:40, and we decide that prudence prohibits us getting on anything big. Feeling stupid, we walked back to the hut. Ahhh, home sweet home! |
The descent off Crater Bluff is through a monstrous water catchment gully, appropriately nicknamed "green glacier". Some gingerly walking and downclimbing through the glacier lead to two long raps to the base. Here's Col, looking pretty pleased with the day's outing, as he makes his way down the green glacier. What a cool spot. |
Four bunks per side and no other occupants, so Col takes one side and I take the other. Observe Col's neatly made bed, dinners hanging from the central roofbeam on the left and garbage on the right. Cognac on the table (the Jim Beam bottle is some previous occupant's leftover candleholder). All's right with the world... |
But wait - what about our calorie deficit? And even more important, what about our BEER deficit??? In a flash, the decision is made, packs are shouldered and we beat feet downhill for the car. First stop is badly need showers at the virtually deserted Camp Blackwell (one of the park's car-accessible campgrounds). As we pull out of the lot, enjoying our brief freedom from stench, we spot an unusual roadside attraction. Emus. Extreme coolness!! |
We drive down into the town of Coonabarabran and hit the supermarket for dried salami, doritos, nuts, chocolate, more breakfast cereal and BEER!! We down a quick draft or two in the pub of the Imperial Hotel (is there a town anywhere in Oz that doesn't have an Imperial Hotel or a Royal Hotel or both?), then stroll a bit. Finally the restaurant opens and we gorge. Then it's back back up to the trailhead, arriving in twilight. Throw on the food and beer-loaded packs and away we go. The light fades and the headlamps go on. Then suddenly lightning and thunder erupt from ahead of us: a full-on barrage. Col is fit from cycling and youth and he takes off up the steepening path, while I try to stay with him, sucking wind. He seems to be adjusting his pace by ear to my breathing. Whenever cardiac arrest seems imminent, he slows down a little. And suddenly, there we are - unrained on, but the beneficial effects of our showers negated by a fresh layer of drying sweat. Whew!! Here's me, looking a bit damp from exertion, but nonetheless pleased with a pack full of snacks and beer. |
It ain't over yet. Click "next" for the second half. Or not. |
