Winds at Wilsons Prom

Weekend Report of the 27th of March 1999

For a change of scenery Nick and I decided to visit Wilsons Promontory in Victoria's far south. The actual National Park is the furthest southerly point of the Australian mainland so is prone to evil weather and a million tourists. The park is extensive, many walks are multi day affairs covering many hundreds of kilometres. We had been invited by Ben Hargraves to stay at his place during the weekend. He is involved in writing a climbing management report for the Wilsons Prom Park for the National Parks. What a job! He gets paid to climb and stay at the Prom for eight weeks.

After two hours of driving we reached the entrance to the park. A bit of name dropping later and we were through the entry gate without paying. The drive from the gate to the township of Tidal River was a mission in itself. The distance was only twenty or so kilometres but the amount of suicidal wildlife meant we had to drive at 60km/h the whole way. The first wombat we missed required a sideways slide onto the dirt on the side of the road followed by I crazy swing back onto the road. The adrenalin was pumping after that effort. During the rest of the road we spotted eleven other wombats, heaps of kangaroos and wallabies, hundreds of rabbits, a fox and even a deer! It was a cute furry animal safari. We arrived at Ben's abode quite nervously wrecked, it had required the 100% concentration of both of us to avoid hitting the abundant wildlife. Just outside Bens house was a big wombat casually chewing on the grass. I could walk right up to it and studied it closely. They look just like Koalas which run around on the ground. It eventually got mildly disturbed by me and scampered off to it home under Ben's house.

Ben welcomed us with loud music and some chilled beers. We got straight down into heated discussion about National Parks and there interpretations of climbers. Ben had a huge file off all the Victorian climbing areas climbing management policies. Very interesting stuff indeed. Ben told us his next door neighbour had complained about the volume of his music, it was soon apparent why. Ben enjoyed nothing more than cranking up his considerable system to ear blowing decibels. The house he had been given free of charge was a great little unit. It had two bedrooms, hot shower, dining room and came with assorted surf boards. We crashed some time around 1 am.

We all awoke early as we hadn't made plans for the next days adventure. The weather was looking a tad sketchy but we still thought a climb would be in order. After sorting out our three racks we broke them down to one single multi cam mega rack. The climb on our agenda was Catchalot (21), the only three star route in the guide and located on the summit of Mt Bishop. As Ben is employed to research the climbing in Wilson's Prom he started his time clock as we started up the mountain. The bastard gets paid to go climbing! In the standard wandering National Park way the track was 4km long but the summit would have only been a kilometre from the car park. The walk in very nice with amazing views over the entire Wilsons Prom area. Forty minutes later we had reached the summit. The wind picked up as we made our way down to the large granite monolith that Catchalot lurked behind. Our first impressions of the climb were awe. It climbed a perfect thin flake up an otherwise unclimbable white granite face. The start was marred somewhat by the fact you had to climb a chimney then swing right to gain the flake. It looked perfect and I was racking up before anyone else had a chance.

The rough granite bit into my back and the crystals started puncturing my boots as soon as I entered the chimney. I ambled up for ten metres with no pro until I got to a large chicken head jug poking out. I slung this and ventured further up the chimney. The guide described a bolt that you clip before you traverse right onto the face and flake. I hunted for ages trying to get the bolt and eventually gave up and downclimbed back to the ground. My feet were killing as I had only brought my super sport shoes. We all looked from the ground but couldn't see the bolt. I then soloed up a short crack on the back of the block and rapped down the route to see if the bolt was still in place. I found it hidden behind a block and a further couple of metres higher than I had climbed. After dismantling the rap rope I set off for my second attempt. The chimney went easily this time and I clipped the bolt easily from a good bridging stance. The next moves were the crux, a delicate step right whilst cranking on some little nubbins. After a few tries I worked this sequence out and grappled the start of the flake. The next fifteen metres were some of the best granite climbing I have ever done. Superb laybacking and some little jams behind a thin flake with great pro and delicate footwork. The rock is very rough, you are constantly standing up on single large crystals. By the time I reached the top the wind had begun to howl. The onsight had been great but I wasn't looking forward to the belay. Without a jumper I began to feel rather exposed to the elements! Nick and Ben seconded cleanly.

The wall left of the chimney of Catchalot is an inspiring arete. The guidebook didn't list a route up it so we decided to rap down and check out its possibility. As soon as I lowered off the edge I spotted the first of four bolts. The route had been done before. Fairly disappointed by this fact we all decided it was still worth an ascent. Nick racked up and led off whilst I walked back onto the slabs below the climb and watched with my binoculars. The start is a delicate traverse from the left past a bolt then it turns into a steep jug haul up amazing huge chickenheads. This section requires slinging your handholds as pro and cranking some long reach moves. Nick cranked through the initial section and was going for the biggest jug when his foothold snapped off. I watched in my binoculars as he feel down onto a tied of chickenhead, just like the one that had snapped under his weight. Luckily it held and he lowered quickly, yet delicately back to the ground. Had the protection chickenhead snapped he would have grounded out for sure as he was considerably run out from the first bolt.

After a lot of umming and ahhing I was convinced to have a crack and finishing the climb off. I started out feeling rather shaky and testing every hold I used. I was soon at Nick's high point and slung another jug as additional pro. I cranked the move, avoiding the newly broken off rock stain, and got positioned on the arete. I was really pumped at this stage and had only slung jugs as pro below. The bolt I was to clip was smashed in too far so it took three separate brands of hangers before I finally could clip into some good gear. I was mega gripped but continued on. The angle was just under vertical so you could rest okay between moves. The next ten metres were some of the thinnest crystal cranking I have ever done. I didn't trust any of the holds, but they all held and I slowly but surely gained height. With feet almost exploding and finger tendons at braking point I latched the top jug and pulled up. I got the onsight of this amazing arete which is properly about grade 22. Ben seconded it, finding it really desperate and only just making it to the top. Nick declined to third as we had made it look like an epic.

The afternoon was spent bouldering on the rocks at Squeaky Beach. These have to be some of the best naturally formed problems in the State, in an amazing location right on the beach. Most of the problems are quite bold, about six metres high but with only sand to fall on it was crazy fun. We ticked a few faces, cracks and corners before finally donning wetsuits and hitting the surf. It was six in the arvo and quite rainy but we still had a most enjoyable time. We shared the body board and malibu and fought the super rough surf. I copped a blow to the head and shin from the malibu and also got some bad leg cramps. The water wasn't that cold but the air temperature must have been below ten degrees with the wind chill. The encroaching darkness soon forced us back to Ben's house. We cooked a large vege curry and played cards late into the night.

It was raining heavily when we awoke but it soon cleared as we made our way to Tongue Point. The forty minute walk along the peninsular is very spectacular. You are quite high above the sea and on your right is a huge surf break that stretches at least a kilometre out to sea. Tongue Point is a newly developed granite sea cliff that is described by most as the best sea cliff in Victoria (that isn't saying much!). The access to the cliff was banned a few years ago because of the fear of erosion caused by the climber track. The track to the cliff is so small it is a joke. If it wasn't for Ben showing us its location we would have missed it. The track is less than a hundred metres long as is nothing compared to the official walking tracks of Parks Victoria. We got to the top of the cliff and were hit by a huge gale. The wind was stronger than the day before and the sea at the base of the cliff was monstrous. I replaced a very rusty chain at the top which was one of the worst I have ever seen. It was placed five years ago and had become completely brown and flaky with rust. That is what salt water does to non-stainless bolts! We layered up with thermals, fleece and gortexs and set up the rap. The base rock ledge that the climbs start off looked like it was close to getting a battering from the huge swell below. Some of the spray from the waves was going over the top of the cliff which is thirty metres high! With much fear I started lowering over the edge. I tried throwing the ropes over the edge but they were thrown back into my face from the wind. I eventually managed to coil the ropes in my hand and feed it out as I slowly descended. It was a complety crazy location, huge winds, mad surf and less than perfect looking rock. The base of the cliff was drier than it looked form the top. The actual pounding surf was about ten metres from the ledge. The swell was so big it bulged up higher than the ledge before it came crashing down onto the rocks in front. Nick and Ben followed me down bringing the rest of the lead gear. We scrambled up on some ledges to the left of the cliff to get a better view of the crag. A supposed 14 that climbs a free standing pillar was getting smashed by the waves. There was no way we could do that! The guide reckoned you could swim at the base and that it had 'nice snorkelling'. What a joke! You would die going within five metres of the ocean on this day. We checked out some crack three star crack lines which were all fairly hard grade 23 - 25. We also scrambled to the right side to see if it was possible to retreat out by walking up a gully. The escape route was blocked by huge crashing waves and screaming wind so we took the only option and decided to climb out. I volunteered again and we pulled the ropes, removing our only method of easy escape. I decided to climb the route we had rapped down, a fun looking grade 17 face.

The route was a thoroughly absorbing lead on very rough featured granite. The pro was quite tricky to place and I used double ropes so I could place more gear and wander around on the face. The top was quite wet but the rock was so frictional that it presented no problems. By the time I had set up the belay the tide was starting to rise and the waves were getting perilously close to Nick and Ben. They seconded quickly and after a quick group discussion we decided to bail and go swimming. Just over the other side of the peninsula was a great little beach called Fairy Cove. Nick and Ben went for a body surf whilst I cranked a few short boulder problems. The weather was perfect and windless on this side. Nick spotted some seals off the rocks and we sat and watched them for several minutes as they played in the surf. You never got a good look at them, you would just see a flipper emerge from the water or a tail flicking in the waves. I had no idea that seals were in waters around Victoria.

We spent the rest of the afternoon flying kites and surfing at the beach in front of Bens house. It was a most excellent weekend.