Solitude and Commitment: On climbing, travel and life. A 2020 retro-post.
Climbing and the Runout
Runout: A lengthy or unknown distance between points of protection requiring committing moves and in some cases perceived as frightening or dangerous. May also be used as an adjective to describe a route or part of a route; or as a verb, for example to describe the act of running-out into unknown terrain.
In higher grades of traditional (trad) or aid climbing, sections of climbing are encountered where protection is not present or forthcoming. “I fancy I can get a piece in after that feature” I whisper to myself reassuringly; or simply “I fancy it”. This is my response to whatever imagined protection may lay ‘around the corner’. Or to whatever objective risk I estimate in my head… 2 metre fall or 5 metres? Clean? A pendulum-swing? I quiet my mind and run it out resolutely.
In trad it may be a sequence or a couple of runout moves. Moves to reach that next bomber piece on the tricky pitch of a climb. On aid it may be ten-, twenty-minutes of what feels like an eternity runout on the sharp-end. Negotiating sequences of body-weight only gear placements to reach potentially marginal protection only. Not just once or twice but over and over again for a one or several days of climbing.
Sharp-end: The end of the belay rope that is attached to the lead climber. “Being on the sharp end” refers to the act of lead climbing, which is considered more psychologically demanding than top-roping or following, since it may involve more route-finding, as well as the possibility of longer, more consequential falls.
The most challenging or difficult part of an activity.
Solitude and Commitment
Superficially these moments may seem scary, stressful, critical. But in all of these moments, only after I commit, my mind is quiet. Focused. Focused single-minded on the next movement in a sequence bringing me inevitably closer to a point of relative safety. These are moments of extreme clarity. These are also moments of control. Moments when I alone am absolutely, irrefutably in control of my destiny.
I yearn for these moments as a respite from the chaos, stresses and anxiety of normal life; and as affirmation of my personal agency.
Pyramids in Sudan
Diving
There are other times too. Preparing for a cave dive where amongst other risks, a physical ceiling prevents direct surfacing to air. Or technical diving where a non-physical but insidious “decompression ceiling” prevents direct surfacing, without risk of severe or fatal bends.
Apprehension gradually increases as I visualise the planned dive and emergency procedures until the moment that my face goes below the surface of the water. From that point of psychological commitment my mind turns to pure clarity and focus. Focused one-by-one on the sequence of movements that will complete the goal returning me to safety.
Driving
Hell, even that last-chance overtake on the final straight-away before the mountain pass. An on-the-fly estimated risk with catastrophic consequences but you know the machine, the gear, the placements… A low enough likelihood of consequence that you “fancy” your chances and resolve to commit. Only one thing for it, drop a gear, open the throttle and make the pass. I’d love to be a rally driver.
My vocation as an engineer is heavily predicated on risk-management. Perhaps that is all this article is really about? Risk-management. The runout is just allegory. No. It is more – the psychological or actual commitment of one’s being to an end.
Travel is like Climbing
In a moment of trepidation in downtown Cairo I caught myself whispering “I fancy I can make it”. I was about to commit myself by entering the Embassy of the Republic of the Sudan. Embarking on a solo overland backpacking journey from Cairo to Khartoum.
There would be many moments on this adventure when I would reassure myself in the same way. Assessing the risk and knowingly stepping out from social, legal or governmental forms protection. A kind of travel runout.
Embassy of the Republic of the Sudan; Cairo
It occurred to me that traveling really is a lot like climbing.
Often when people first develop an interest, they start of in a social setting, on predefined, objectively graded routes, with a guaranteed safety mechanism, partner, and ample insurance. The fixed routes and abundance of other participants are a motivation, a comfort and a point of interest. But perhaps there is a kernel of annoyance or a restriction.
This was me when I first joined the local climbing gym. I clawed my way up coloured-plastic grade 8 top-ropes with clenched teeth. The guided tour bus of climbing.
With time some people may yearn for the more intrepid experiences without giving up the convenient safety nets of the climbing gym. Perhaps they join their first local university club for a taste of outdoor sports climbing. A solid belay, no runouts – and fixed bolts reliably appear just right where you need them! The intrepid tour of climbing.
Some will still not be satisfied and begin to explore trad (traditional) climbing. One must locate and assess the route, select and rack up the required gear and place it correctly at specific intervals to ensure safety throughout the climb. You still have your partner or team for support. This is like organising your own overseas journey. Ensuring the transportation, accommodation and insurances are all in place to provide a safe and enjoyable trip.
This is how I found myself disembarking a bus into the far north-western tracts of Egyptian desert. Some 50km from the Libyan border, an Oasis dotted by mud-buildings, palms and the most ancient and remarkable mineral springs.
This is how I found myself one of only two foreigners on a passenger ship in the middle of a 525000 hectare lake, itself in the middle of the largest hot desert in the world. Nothing but burning sand for some 4000km to the West and beyond the hundreds of kilometers of desert to the East only the sea to be found.
I was entering a country with no diplomatic relations to my own. A country where I could not derive any consular assistance and would struggle to secure resources or evacuation in a state of emergency. A country which in the same year had suffered heinous state perpetrated genocides, continued civil war, and undergone a popular revolution overthrowing their dictator of 30-years. I was crossing the border from Egypt into the Republic of the Sudan, over Lake Nasser.
This is how I found myself woken at 3AM to be led by strangers into steerage amongst dozens of dark faces with limited or no English comprehension. I would be holding an insulin syringe in one hand, sugar in the other, confronted by a man slumped on the floor in diabetic coma. (A pensive nervous wreck, I joined the Muslims for their dawn prayers!)
This is how I found myself alone – within this vast, arid country – the only deranged sicko stepping off a bus halfway along an 800km highway in the middle of the burning desert, 300km from the nearest town. I had two options: hitch-hike out or sleep exposed in the sand with only the snakes and scorpions for company.
This is how I experienced the most tremendous and rewarding travel experiences of my life; and how I met so many of the kindest and most generous people on this planet.
Some of my friends on the ship to Sudan
Life and the Runout
After six months without working, an aid solo attempt at climbing Lord Gumtree in winter, and 4 months of challenging solo travel, I realise I am still reaching for that even greater piece of protection in an even bigger runout. I have used up a lot of my gear to get this far!
I have returned to my country still alone without a home. Without a job. Luckily I have secured some “aid placements” through family and friends to help me reach this next critical goal.
After every runout in life, even if I fall, I fancy I can reach the next piece just around the corner. Just like climbing.
In life as for climbing, don’t be overcome by the subjective fear of the fall. Assess the objective risks and consequences, prepare, and run it out!
If in doubt; run it out!
Very questionable advice
Addendum
In the time between writing and posting this article, my country has overcome the most devastating and extensive wildfires ever recorded.
The world has succumbed to a crippling pandemic – a situation which is still in flux.
At the beginning of the year I was fortunate to find a place to live (which would turn-out to be a COVID epicenter in my city) and a new employer with immediate travel requirements to Europe.
As Norwegian restaurants, and other businesses shutdown around me my last few ‘business’ meals were microwaved TV-dinners (a luxury compared to dehydrated hiking packets!).
I returned home on one of the last regular international flights. Many others were delayed and cancelled. I passed immigration 20-minutes prior to the implementation of unprecedented mandatory quarantine measures.
Now over twelve-months have passed without climbing or diving. A most unwelcome surface-interval.
A surface interval (SI) is the time that a diver remains out of the water between two dives. During this time, the nitrogen absorbed during the first dive continues to off-gas, or to be released from a diver’s body.
I am resolved to seek adventure in 2021, regardless of circumstances.
I suppose lock-downs, confinement, and home-working have taken their toll on my motivation. I did manage one notable adventureat the conclusion of 2021; but as it would turn out this was more than I’d bargained for. The pandemic has also taken it’s toll on my physical condition.
I am resolved to seek adventure in 2022, regardless how small.
Ozymandias is a classic and colossal aid climb situated on the North Wall of the Mount Buffalo Gorge. Ozymandias Direct takes the longest and steepest line, climbing over 280m. It is considered to be the premier Australian big-wall test piece.
I aid solo climbed Ozymandias Direct over a period of 4 days, spending 3 nights in hanging bivouacs. This was my first solo and first big-wall climbing experience.
Part 1 details preparation leading up to the climb.
Part 2 is a daily trip report with some beta and advice based on my lessons learned.
Driving the Great Alpine Road over Mt Hotham I briefly glimpsed the wildly exposed Razorback. A cloud-swept rocky spine spanning Mt Hotham and Mt Feathertop at summit height. An image that would stick in my mind.
Comparing the Razorback to the relatively sheltered Mt Buffalo gorge reduced any anxiety I had about Ozymandias.
In Bright I located a fantastic little outdoors shop, away from the main street. I bought some waterproof over-pants – much better than the plastic garbage bags I was otherwise intending to use as a skirt.
I arrived at the Buffalo lookout around 1300 and geared up in front of a confused family having a picnic. Departed towards the south side trail around 1400.
Ozymandias from the Tourist Lookout.Heading down the valley.
Approach via South Side Trail
The famous Mushroom Rock.
I cannot overstate the seriousness of this approach.
Descent is difficult with a backpack. Heinous with a haul-bag. Would have been impossible without solid trekking poles. Foreshadowing what I was about to embark upon, I found myself “aid-hiking”. Finding placements in the rock where the carbide tips of the poles could make purchase.
The heavy load on my back continually compromised my balance, forcing me to bear down on the poles. On some rocky slopes, I could see the pole flexing. Right on the margin of performance of my shoes and the poles; shifting the weight any further back onto my feet would risk the shoes sliding out. Shifting any further forwards would mean the poles buckling. Either way would mean tumbling down the gorge with a 40kg load on my back.
There were also narrow traverses where the surface was built up with plant matter and sand, making it difficult to find purchase with the poles. In other places were long ramps covered in loose scree.
This was the most imminently dangerous activity I have done – just the approach hike. The only thing I can imagine comparing it to would be alpine soloing without the snow.
The sections with fixed ropes prove brutal. The first is down a flowing water runnel, and filled with mud. I wrestled with the pig, half lowering it, half cutting it loose and throwing down the poles.
I later discovered the one casualty from this ordeal was my coffee filter cone – thankfully it was still functional.
Past the turn off to “Where Angels Fear to Tread”, was new ground for me.
Ozymandias from Angel’s Buttress.
Another exposed fixed-rope traverse maneuvers to yet another more brutal rope section. Luckily with a haul-bag lower-off; unfortunately with a steep and awkward rope-ladder. Stupidly still with poles in one hand, I swung out, the pole got caught up in a flake causing me to strain my triceps.
Then a short roped down climb – more of a scramble. Compared to the huge difficulty donning/doffing the pig, it seemed easiest to down climb with it. The bag shifted and pulled me off-balance, again causing me to swing into the wall while still gripping the rope. I gripped so hard so as not to fall off as my hand and knuckles smashed into the gnarly granite with the force of full body weight and that of the pig.
Only when I got down from the rope and saw blood dripping all over did I realise something was wrong. Apart from cuts and scratches all over my right hand, one knuckle was missing a chunk. Not just cut, but a cavity scooped out of the front. I put on some band-aids and carried on.
Later that night, I would inspect the wound, and see what looked like distinct fleshy cords, as I flexed my finger.
As I descended into the gully floor I could hear flowing water. A beautiful sound. To save weight I only hiked in with 1 or 2 litres, which I had finished. I already felt exhausted, dehydrated and extremely hot but I knew for sure I could fill my 13 litres of water for the next 3 to 4 days.
Cooling down after the strenuous hike.
Crystal brook was flowing plentifully. The trail crossed a flowing pond where there were two cascades of ice-cold, fresh, mountain water.
A short way up hill from the brook, on the North side of the gully, I found what seemed like the only clearing. Unlike Big Grassy, this was nice and grassy. Just big enough for a couple of people to lie down. I set up my tarp and bivy-bag, expecting rain. The forecast predicted 15mm overnight.
I filled all the water bottles. The water was so cold I could only fill one bottle before changing hands. The brook was crystal clear, living up to it’s name (unlike big Grassy). I drank straight from the cascade it was so fresh and invigorating. I rinsed my face and hands and felt restored.
Pond and Cascade in Crystal Brook. Some Frosty Water Bottles!
I hiked up to the start of Ozy, first with the rack, then with the ropes. This was steep, wet and scrambly. I put the rack and ropes in garbage bags to protect them from the rain. From a small crows-nest across from the foot of Ozy (a good bivy option maybe for one) I pondered the climb. Specifically, how to solo the first pitch.
Gazing up from the foot of Ozymandias.
I set out to build my first ever solo anchor out of trad gear. All I could see was a knife-thin crack, a small shrub with exposed roots, and a dubious, rusty hex-head bolt.
The best I could manage in the crack was a brass RP micro-nut oriented for upwards pull, equalised to a small bootied ball nut (from The Shroud at Mt Arapiles) , all held in place by a directional-opposed HB micro-offset.
I equalised the nest of nuts to a sling around the base of the small shrub and brought it all up to the dubious hex-bolt.
Off to a good start. The next morning I would stick-clip the first (real) bolt, and clip off the pig to absorb some shock in a fall.
Night 0: Approach Bivouac
I returned to my makeshift camp, and laid down on a fallen down tree trunk. It crosses the path from Crystal Brook to the small clearing and Ozy. The tree was pointing out east and dead straight down the gorge, like a giants diving board. I stretched all my burning muscles and laid down to rest my back.
The Fallen Tree.
While I cooked dinner, I could see the sky flashing sporadically from above the gorge rim. I was unsure if this was people with torches or a camera, but I couldn’t see anybody. I couldn’t see at all above the rim of the gorge. A possum startled me in the twilight and observed me eating. He was probably quite familiar with climbers being in this area.
Finally a chance to stop and rest in my makeshift shelter. I took some time to inspect and clean the wounds on my hands. Flexing the finger I had smashed up earlier, to open up the wound I doused it liberally with hand-sanitiser and wiped it out. I could see what looked like distinct, fleshy cords nestled in a split within the scooped-out chunk of my knuckle. I checked for movement. Luckily they were not compromised. When I smashed into the wall, the rock must have carved out a chunk and as I was gripping so hard it just split down to the tendon.
Remembering the superglue I packed, I glued the split shut and capped over the hole. I continued to glue over the many other cuts on my fingers and hands, and the tip of my index finger I had sliced while packing on Friday.
By the time I had patched myself up, the storm rolled in over the rim. The sudden intensity and volume of rain was astonishing. I had to lower down the tarp to just above the bivy sack (just above my face), and prop up the centre with the haul-bag. I frantically pegged two corners with my only 2 pegs, and tied down the others to a log beside me.
As I was camped in the floor of a valley, everywhere became a water runnel. The heavy rain beat down my tarp, and huge amounts of run-off washed around my bivy sack. I tried to divert the water with any sticks and stones within reach. My efforts seemed to work – I stayed dry and fell asleep to the sounds of rain and thunder.
I woke once to the the feeling of crawling over my legs. It was the ravenous possum. In the morning I had to clean up my scattered rubbish bag.
Day 1: Pitch 1 to Big Grassy
Monday 22/04/19
Wake at 0500.
Packing up the bivouac before dawn.
I ate breakfast, packed up camp, and for the final time hiked up to the base of Ozymandias.
I discovered the crack holding my micro-anchor seeping water and the entire wall was wet. No hope for the pitch 1 free slab moves. I flaked my ropes into their rope bags, stick clipped the first bolt, and left my approach shoes on. I was on the wall by 0820 (much later than 0600 as scheduled!).
Pitch 1 Anchor: Ropes are set and ready to climb.
Pitch 1
Aiding the usually freed first pitch makes it cruxy right off the deck. The aid moves required precarious consecutive talon and cliff-hanger placements with many falls onto the water-fountain micro-nut shrub anchor. Luckily the slab is well protected by fixed bolt runners.
Pitch 2
Lot’s of hook moves. Consecutive cam-hooks. Felt like the aid crux.
Cam hook blew, two-hooks up and the piece below me ripped out (small cam). 8 to 10m fall. My first big whipper.
Pitch 3
Jesus nut was a brass micro-nut directional opposed to a cam!
Jesus nut, or Jesus pin, is a slang term for the main rotor retaining nut which holds the main rotor to the mast of some helicopters.
Another use for the term is found in rock climbing, in which it refers to the first piece of protection (some of which are also called “nuts”) placed on a pitch. In addition, the Jesus nut prevents the possibility of a factor-two fall onto the belay anchor.
Lots of bomber cam-hooks. I skipped the left-hand ledge (but bootied an offset nut from it 🙂 as there is no rope drag leading solo and went direct to Big Grassy. The final move to gain Big Grassy is not a mantle. More like panicked squirming as you grip onto a tussock of grass, feet skating, trying not to pull it out.
Hauling the pig up, my stomach is aching. It’s already dark. I am so hungry and each heavy lunge on the haul system raises my food only a metre closer. The haul bag gets hung-up. I cannot raise it any further. My prospects of dinner are further delayed while I rig a 3-to-1 advantage pulley system. The bag comes unstuck but now every lunge raises my food only 30cm…
I finished setting up the anchor and bivouac at 2020 after 12 hours consistent climbing. Food and sleep were a matter of urgency!
Night 1: Big Grassy
Big Grassy is neither big nor grassy…
Night fall. The moon is rising big and red. Set up hammock and tarp across corner. Establish camp.
The only flat area is just big enough to set up a stove or take a shit (whoever said not to shit where you eat never bivied on Big Grassy).
Cooked and ate on the sloping ledge. Retired to the hammock to write in my journal and get some much needed sleep.
Day 2: Big Grassy to the Great Roof
Tuesday 23/04/19
Wake at 0500
First morning on Big Grassy! I brew some coffee and enjoy the sunrise across the valley.
The only flat-spot on Big Grassy.Hammock Bivy set-up over Big Grassy.Early morning view from Big Grassy.
Not expecting to return, I pack down all of the shelter and equipment, preparing it into the haul-bag. I embark on the next day’s pitches.
Pondering the day ahead – The Great Roof!
Pitch 4 and 5
Pitch 4 seemed straight-forward climbing – but I don’t remember much. I think I was on auto-pilot (not a good state of mind in the circumstances).
After cleaning and hauling I progressed up to the Great Roof capping pitch 5. The roof grew bigger and more intimidating the closer I came. I had planned to pull through the roof, climb pitch 6 and reach the Gledhill Bivy for the night.
I had already made some small mistakes with my system, and suffered another stuck haul-bag, greatly slowing me down. One big mistake would stop me altogether.
It was getting late in the afternoon. My head ached and I was losing focus. I was calculating if I could just make the lead to Gledhill Bivy before dark and then haul in the dark. The idea of leading the difficult Roof after sunset was daunting. Frustrated, I rappelled down to the P4/P5 anchor, so I could jug back up the haul line and clean the pitch.
As I clipped into my jumars and began to jug, I noticed the lead line not getting taught. Maybe a lot of friction on the rope… Maybe the knot (alpine butterfly) had capsized. Surely not… perhaps I had tied it wrong? I could have anchored the free end where I was situated but I decided against this idea and jugged back up the haul line which I had just rappelled. I discovered I hadn’t fixed the lead line!
At this point it was obvious to me that exhaustion and dehydration were impacting my awareness. That was it. I decided I was on “tilt” (to use a poker term) and would stop for the day.
I lowered the pig two pitches back to Big Grassy, belaying it down on an ATC (it was fairly technical to rig a belay device into the loaded haul-line while hanging from the anchor. The pre-rigged far-end haul device payed dividends). I reestablished the camp which I had only packed up that morning, and dug in for another night on BG.
On Day 2 I have now committed my contingency supplies.
A friend later commented on this story that the biggest risk in soloing is that there is nobody around to stop you making stupid mistakes.
Under the roof, on rappel.Big Grassy in view, retreating from the Great Roof.
Night 2: Big Grassy
I was startled awake when by a voice below yelling “rope fixed, ready to haul!”. There had been no voices around me for days. I got out of my bag as quickly as possible so I could explain I didn’t realise they were coming up. I knew there were another party descending into the gorge today but I expected they’d only fix the first 2-3 pitches and camp in the gully below. I’m not sure if I surprised them as well. Maybe they thought I’d reached Gledhill Bivy.
I had my hammock strung across all the anchor bolts. I case the party below wanted to come up to Big Grassy, I free up a pair of bolts on the right hand side. This meant re-suspending my hammock onto a bomber nut placement. Aid-camping! There would be more of that to come!
The other party chose to bivy on the small ledge below and left of Big Grassy. In the morning I glanced down and saw them laying like sardines. They had brought a portaledge. Cramped but softer, more versatile and infinitely more comfortable than the rocky slope of Big Grassy.
My apologies to the Godwin brothers if I came off abrupt – I was keen to make my presence known and get back into my warm sleeping-bag as quickly as possible!
That night a booming explosion resonated through the valley, like lightening had struck the bottom. I suppose it was the sound of rockfall.
Day 3: Big Grassy to Gledhill Bivy
Wednesday 24/04/19
Wake at 0500
Treated to an epic sunrise on Big Grassy.
Another day begins on Big Grassy with a phenomenal sunrise! I am pleased that the next two pitches are already fixed and cleaned a 60m haul to the Great Roof ready to go. I feel comfortable to relax and enjoy the sunset over my coffee, taking many photos.
The valley comes to life.
Packing up the camp I say another last goodbye to Big Grassy.
Sorting gear on Big Grassy.Ready to leave Big Grassy. This is about the whole area. The long, flat rock is on a significant angle.
Pitch 4 and 5
Jugged back up my fixed line, while “far-end” hauling the bag past the edge on pitch 5 where it got stuck yesterday. Continued up line and top-end hauled into the Great Roof. Having a far-end haul system in situ on the bag is a great advantage and practically mandatory for solo when there is no partner to guide the bag. Muscling the pig over a lip on a 3-1 takes a great deal of time and energy and damages the pig.
Yes – the Great Roof to Big Grassy on a plumb line is less than 60m.
The belay under the Great Roof was two rusty carrot bolts sticking out uncomfortably far from the rock. I equalised these a metre or so down to a newer fixed hanger, to form a reasonable anchor to haul from. For lead this required some finagling with a lower carrot bolt to yield a redundancy for the upward force.
Anchor below the Great Roof.
Pitch 6
Pulling through the roof, I was surprised to find none of the vaunted fixed gear, and aided off a previously glue-reinforced flake that would flex out precariously under body-weight. The glue had since detached from the wall.
Ready to pull through the roof – out over the void. The bendy death-flake visible right of carrot-bolts.Bare crack and the expando death-flake.
The roof moves hanging on aiders were wildly exposed. Cutting the bag loose and swinging it out was a nerve-wracking experience, but not as much as rapping back own the haul line into free-space, over the roof, metres away from the wall and 160m off the deck. I had to pull myself back into the anchor with jumars.
Rappel over the roof. Slung bendy death-flake as “the Jesus nut” – epitome of psychological pro.
Psychological protection is a term for piece of protection that everyone knows will not hold a fall, but makes the climber feel better about having gear beneath them anyhow.
I jugged back up into the Gledhill Bivy, cleaning as I went. After hauling ,I docked everything and roughly planned out the hammock anchors. I utilised a three-piece natural anchor in order to avoid the awful rusty carrots that I was even nervous to aid on (definitely NO bounce tests). This also resulted in a better hang.
Gledhill Bivy Hammock Anchor with natural pro.
The Gledhill Bivy is a perfect book-corner protected from the elements by a smaller, but substantial roof.
Gledhill Bivy protecting roof.
Pitch 7
Navigating the Pontooth was a thrutchy and torturous ordeal. The Pontooth is a huge, overhanging, pointed fang of rock disguising a bottomless body-sized off-width beneath it. This hidden Pea-Pod narrows towards the top, forcing your feet out over the void while your arms and shoulders thrutch around deeply, just managing to clip the old brittle-tat on an ancient rusty piton. The next piton is in an absurd horizontal break under a chockstone! But you have to aid off it, maneuvering out over space.
I surmounted the Pontooth, thinking VERY carefully about the task of cleaning out the deep-set yellow cam in the offwidth. I fixed the lines and rapped back down to Gledhill Bivy, and set up the nights hanging belay. Cleaning the Pontooth will be a job for tomorrow.
I made sure to keep a good pair of bolts clean near the corner in-case the party below me fixed up to Gledhill Bivy.
Setting up the Bivy; hanging above the void.Left to right: The other hammock anchor, haul-bag dock and main tie-in point.Cooling my feet after a long day in the aiders.
Thanks to the fixed lines on pitches 4 and 5 it was a relatively early finish (before dusk!). I was able to put on my warm clothes, boil water for a cup of tea, lay back in the hammock and enjoy my lofty perch above the clouds. As it got darker and colder I got into my bag and started dinner. The dehydrated meal pouch made a great hot water bottle as it was cooking!
Boiling water on my DIY hanging stove.Enjoying the evening sky with a cup of tea.View to the South Side and “Angels”.
Night 3: Gledhill Bivy
Roof over my head tonight.
A restless and cold night strung-out in the hammock, 200m off the deck. The insulating down of my sleeping bag, compressed under my weight in the hammock, severely reducing it’s effectiveness.
As an inexperienced hammock sleeper, I found myself pushing my arm slightly to create tension in the fabric and support my head. As soon I would nod off to sleep, my arm would relax, and my head roll off the side. Needless to say, that woke me up very suddenly! Eventually I figured out a way to get more secure in the hammock, but rolling around at night 200m up does not bear thinking about! I wonder if anyone has woken startled hanging on their tether…
Late in the night there was another booming roar of rock-fall. The powerful echo through the valley jolted me awake during the night.
Day 4: Gledhill Bivy to Summit
Thursday 25/05/19
Wake at 0530
Today I wake up on a bed of clouds!
Bed of clouds.
I notice a tiny prick of light on the south side. I watched as another party descend the south side trail, weaving their way through the many obstacles. Later in the morning they would begin climbing Where Angels Fear to Tread. I wonder how they fared entombed in the rising cloud.
A party descending south side trail, headed for Where Angels Fear to Tread.
The last day on the wall, with only two pitches left to lead, I take some extra time in the morning. I relax with my freshly brewed coffee and enjoy another perfect sunrise appearing out over the valley below!
The valley is hidden.The sun rising above the clouds.Ready for a new day!Clouds receding as the sun heats the valley.
The cloud seemed to be receding as the sun heated up the valley. This wouldn’t be the case for long.
Don’t forget to brush your teeth.Gledhill Bivy – I don’t want to leave.Suspect old carrot-bolts with red hero loops. These were major points I had to aid-off, both climbing and when moving around the bivy.Big-Wall Accoutrements – everything must be clipped off!
I gradually put on my climbing clothes, packed everything up and prepared to move out. First I lowered out the bag, then I lowered out myself!
I jugged up P7 cleaning my gear from yesterday, up and over the roof that protected me through the night. And the dreaded Pontooth. Pitch 8 offers a hanging belay on a bomb-proof anchor. Nice.
As good as it gets!
Pitch 8
By now, the valley was covered by a bed of cloud, and whispy tendrils were licking their way up the sides of the gorge. As I climbed, the cloud kept rising faster, engulfing my haul bag some 30m below.
Cloud rising up the valley.Cloud up to the pig!Contemplating a simple but critically exposed and run-out free move to gain the ledge below the P8 chimney; meanwhile the clouds a closing in!View to the south side – Angels Buttress hidden from view.
The top of pitch 8 is an “easy” chimney. I found it cramped and thrutchy, particular as I had to dig in deep for aid placements. The moist, cloudy air, and early morning condensation, combined with my badly worn down approach shoes, offered little purchase. I thrutched my way up with a combination of aid and free moves, and pulled through the top beneath a big choke-boulder. Cleaning the chimney would prove to be much more tedious.
Now I am at the base of the head-wall, relieved that it is early in the day, and I have only one more pitch to go. I sat and enjoyed my last compressed beetroot-patty roll, admiring the stunning expanse.
As I was solo on a 60m rope, I had enough rope to traverse left to the front of the summit-block, and anchor to the hauling anchor. This required a long runner off a shrub, to keep the lead line away from the corner of the summit block and low horizontal break underneath. I was then able to flick and maneuver the tagged-up haul line, over the shrubs on the ledge and rig it up for rappel – much better than climbing back down the dreaded chimney!
Cutting the haul bag loose from the P7/P8 anchor was a spectacle, as it trundled, spun and swung out left into the cloud. I mad sure to cry out just in case another hapless climber were in it’s path.
Pitch 9
The final pitch, starting beside the beautiful lofty perch of the Alan Gledhill memorial plaque.
Alan and Geoff were first ascensionists of the Direct pitches 5-7; where their namesake bivouac is situated.Breathtaking view from the plaque ledge.
This final 30m crack is the first and only part of the climb 300m requiring the #5, and second #4 Camalots I had tagged all the way up. It is a big, almost off-width crack, larger than a fist crack and eats up #5s and #4s. For the most part a straight-forward and pleasant affair to cam jug with small pro on the left.
This is a false sense of security as once you get higher up, the crack flares out wider and the pro on the left drys-up. Now I wish I had brought double #5s! I managed to JUST scrape through by planting the #4 arm-deep into the crack and top-stepping my aiders. This way I could just stretch-out to reach what turned out to be the shittiest, mankiest rivets on the entire climb. Rusty, bent downwards and pulling out! I was afraid to even body-weight onto these yet alone assume they provided any realistic protection!
My final placement for the climb was a gold hex.
Ozymandias Direct Summit
Finally, I pulled onto the summit block but no time to celebrate yet. The barrier fence provided a convenient anchor to rappel, jug and haul from.
By around 1500 I had completed the logistics and finally climbed over the fence, elated. After four days on the wall (and an appalling hike), I had achieved the climb I had dreamed of for so long, in the best style I could.
Exhausted but happy.On top of the summit block.The cloud had finally cleared.
All that was left to do was the long walk back to the south side of the gorge. I bumped into several more bemused tourists who wondered why I was so dirty, smelly and battered, carrying a ridiculously oversized pack. Some seemed incredulous when I tried to explain.
Half-way back I doffed and hid my equipment where I could retrieve it later by car.
Singing out the intentions book with busted knuckles.
Although I managed Pitch 9 with double #4 and a single #5, if one or both of those manky rivets ever pulled out (very likely), it would become a sketchy bat-hook move at best. In this case I feel as though a second #5 would be almost mandatory, or a #4 with a bit of wood. If you are not tall, then I suggest the second #5 would be comforting anyway. Consider this if you attempt Ozy direct, as it would be very bad indeed being unable to ascend just metres from the top!
The scooped-out knuckle, caked in superglue and wall-scum.Thigh contusions from falling into the wall with gear hanging on harness.
Back home I had many bruises, cuts, and abrasions to take care of, mostly on the hands. Some big impact contusions I only discovered later, which must’ve been from falling into the wall with protection hanging between my thighs and the wall. Small price to pay for such a wonderful adventure!
Ozymandias is a colossal classic aid climb situated on the North Wall of the Mount Buffalo Gorge. Ozymandias Direct takes the longest and steepest line, climbing over 280m. It is considered to be the premier Australian big-wall test piece.
I aid solo climbed Ozymandias Direct over a period of 4 days, spending 3 nights in hanging bivouacs. This was my first solo and first big-wall climbing experience.
Part 1 details preparation leading up to the climb.
Part 2 is a daily trip report with lots of photos, some beta and and some advice from my lessons learned.
Background
I met a traveller from an antique land Who said: “Two vast and trunkless legs of stone Stand in the desert . . . Near them, on the sand, Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown, And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command, Tell that its sculptor well those passions read Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things, The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed: And on the pedestal these words appear: ‘My name is Ozymandias, king of kings: Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!’ Nothing beside remains. Round the decay Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare The lone and level sands stretch far away.”
Percy Bysshe Shelley, 1818
Since my humble beginnings in outdoor climbing I have heard brutal and awe inspiring stories of Ozymandias. A intimidating granite gargantuan, split by a relentless crack system, terraced with great roofs, and guarded by a committing and dangerous approach. The wildly exposed 280m normally undertaken with clean-aid techniques requiring gear hauling and overnight big-wall tactics. It has always been in my mind to one day attempt an ascent. My regular climbing partner once suggested the proper way would be for me to climb Ozy with another burgeoning big-wall climber, for the ultimate adventure.
My first trip to Mt Buffalo and my first Trad lead experience involved a committed start on a ledge some 30 metres below the hang-glider ramp, just as some form of alpine pulse-storm appeared out of nowhere. Thank god for the abrasive Buffalo granite. Later I was introduced to the Gorge “big routes” by my regular partner Dan, with a 9 hour free ascent of Where Angels Fear to Tread, a 280m grade 17 fist-crack in mid 2016. Later that year I cut my aid climbing teeth with Dan on the exposed and committing Defender of the Faith. This was an 11 hour ordeal including the multiple rappel approach, covering the first 3 pitches at M3 and a final rope-climb. These experiences taught me the criticality of speed and efficiency to undertaking big routes on a time frame.
Promise
Months and years passed without an opportunity to get on Ozy. I wanted to prove to myself that I was still able to undertake such an epic adventure so going one step further I secretly promised to climb Ozymandias solo by my 30th birthday.
Over the next year I began endurance training through long distance mixed-terrain bike rides. This involved over 1000km in 8-weeks culminating in a 7-hour 120km ride with 1,160m elevation gain, 4-weeks out. Better late than never, I set out the month before my 31st.
Ozymandias. Unknown climbers on Big Grassy, May 2016. Unknown climbers on Big Grassy, May 2016.
Day -1: Ozymandias Direct Final Preparation
Sat 20/04/19
Up after midnight, I make final packing arrangements, schedule and Topo notes. I try on the loaded haul bag for the first time, and the weight is shocking. Who knows how I will manage the south-side track. Dan had suggested two walk-ins may be necessary. I hope not being such a heinous approach (both the benefit and drawback of this approach is that retreat becomes a very unappealing option).
It finally occurs to me why my hamstrings have been aching – the previous days moving out of my home for the last year. Good warm-up I suppose.
Plan is to descend/approach via the south side gorge trail, carrying only 2 litres water for the hike in. The remaining 12 litres of water will be filled from Crystal Brook in the valley floor during the first bivouac. Based on a common 2-day/2-person ascent, the climb solo is planned to span 3 days and 2 nights with hanging bivouacs at Big Grassy and the Gledhill Bivvy. Food and water is calculated for 4 days. In the worst case scenario, a retreat back into the valley should yield additional water but a very daunting escape.
Ozymandias Day 0
Descend South Side Trail 2hr
Fix P1; 24m 2hr
Slab free-moves, stick clip first bolt?
Up past 2 bolts, free easily to bolt, ramp into corner
Bivouac Valley Floor?
Ozymandias Day 1
0600 Jumar, haul P1; 2hr
0800 Lead, clean, haul P2; 3hr
Small RPs to #3, #4 cams. Cam hooks.
1100 Lead, clean, haul P3; 3hr
Aid Crux. Medium wires, RPs, micro-cams ,fixed-gear, hooks.
Up corner, slightly right into continuation, then eventually move left to small ledge.
Grade 10 free moves to gain Big Grassy.
1400 Fix P4; 1hr; 1hr
1500 Bivouac Big Grassy
Ozymandias Day 2
0600 Jumar, haul P4; 2hr
0800 Lead, clean, haul P5 (to Roof); 3hr
Don’t go left. Small/medium wires, small cams.
Corner to yellow roof.
1100 Lead, clean, haul P6 (thru Roof); 3hr
Fixed gear through roof. RPs, wires, tie-offs for old bolts. Bolts to hanging belay (Gledhill Bivvy). Bolts to roof.
1400 Fix P7; 1hr
Small wires to #4 cams. Move right before pulling thru roof. Cam-jug past the pontooth (fang). Some fixed gear.
1500 Bivouac Gledhill Bivvy (*Hanging)
Ozymandias Day 3
0700 Jumar, haul P7
0900 Lead, clean, haul P8 (haul to left); 3hr
Up/right to a ledge, up chimney, belay below summit-block. Easy Chimney, a bit run-out.
1200 Lead, clean, haul P9; 3hr
Cam-jug #4 and #5. Small pro in crack to left.
1500 *Top Out*. Walk back to stone shelter via tourist-track.
Ozymandias Day 4
Contingency
Ozymandias Packing List
The majority of items to be packed into haul-bag AKA the “pig”, with small items separated into top pocket. Food, cookware, toiletries and warm-clothes in separate packing cells. Bulk water packed into the base with shelter and warm-clothes at the top. Food, cooking and sleeping-bag under that.
Waste container clipped to pig during approach/withdraw and tagged from the bottom by a 3m cord during climb (trust me this cord cannot be made long enough!). Walking poles and #4 and #5 cams also tagged from the pig during climb.
Notice the rope hanks are coupled together by a reef knot. This is to drape over the top of the pack while the hanks are tied back with a sling.
Water and Cooking
Water 12 litres (coke bottles)
Hanging Stove
Small Cook Set
Small Gas Canister
Coffee pour-over set (cone + filters)
Enamel cup
Bottle Sling (thin cord)
General Gear
Wag Bags x4 (including rationed toilet paper)
Waste container (for sh*t)
Hand-Sanitiser
AAA Batteries x9
Lighter (2 of 2)
Headlamp (2 of 2)
UHF Radio
Micro-towel
Paracetamol
Bandaids
Lip Balm (2 of 2)
Sunscreen (miniature)
Insect Repellent (miniature)
Sunglasses (with cord)
Garbage Bag (folded)
Pen and Small Pad
Hiking Poles x2
Go-Pro + Batteries
Climbing Shoes for P1?
Accessory ‘biners and small cord for clipping-off various items
Topo laminated in packing tape
Shelter and Sleeping
Tarp
Hammock
Bivvy Sack
Foam pad (simple)
Synthetic sleeping bag
Alloy tent pegs x2
Extra cord (para cord)
Food
Dehydrated Meals x4 (Dinner)
Cliff Bars x3 (+ 2 left in car)
Museli Bars x4
Up and Go Liquid Breakfast x3
Tea Bags (Chai) x4
Coffee (Ground) ziplock bag, several tablespoons
Dark Chocolate
Cheese roll with beetroot vegetarian burger patty in foil, compressed to tennis-ball size x4 (Lunch)
Close-up of the gears…
Clothes
Synthetics and Wool only for warmth in wet conditions.
Merino Wool Thermals (top+bottom)
Merino Wool T-shirt
Hooded Synthetic Fleece
Synthetic Puffer Vest
Synthetic Hiking Pants
Briefs x2
Wool socks x2
Thinsulate Beanie
Lightweight Rain Shell
Rain shell over-pants
Approach shoes (for approach and aid climbing)
Protective Gloves
Emergency / Items on person
Emergency and primary first aid items in case of injury or entrapment and separation from the haul-bag. Carried on-person when away from belay. Redundant sources of light, fire and some water is split between Camel Back and Haul-Bag.
Camel Back (Mountain biking style, carried on back when climbing and front during approach)
Emergency thermal blanket (folded)
Garbage Bags x2 (folded)
Compass
Sports tape
Super Glue
Whistle
Knife
Lighter (1 of 2)
Headlamp (1 of 2)
Digital Watch
Opiate tablets
Band-aids (a few)
Lip Balm (1 of 2)
Lunch, Snack, Water, Rain-shell as required
More gears…
Climbing Equipment / The “Rack”
60m Dynamic climbing rope x2
Rope Bags x2 (re-usable green shopping bags – perfect fit!)
Harness
Cams #0.1 to #2 + #4 doubles
Cams #3, #5 single
Medium RPs (brass micronuts, Double #3)
Medium HBs (offset brass micronuts)
Peenuts (offset aluminium micronuts)
Nuts (doubles of small to medium, singles of large sizes)
Hexes
Black Diamond Talon Hook x1
Black Diamond Cliff Hanger Hook Large x1
Medium Moses Cam Hooks x2
Narrow Moses Cam Hooks x2
Hero Loops (several, tape with waterknot)
Bungee cord loops (for virtual “rebelays”)
Prusik cords x 3
Micro-Traxion haul device x1
Roll N Lock Haul device (for remote-end hauling) x1
Pulley x1
General Carabiners x30
Locking Biners x7
Slings x4
Bolt Hangers x 6
ATC Belay device
Gri-Gri (death-modified)
Aiders x2
Daisy-chains x2
Jumars x2
Nut tool x2 (1 on harness, one in pig)
Cordellete x1
Large Sling x1
Freshly slung hooks.
Base-weight as carried on approach
Approximate base-weight as carried on approach, IE. including food but only 3l of water. This totaled 34.6kg; 40% of my body-weight at the time. Over half the weigh is represented by the ropes and rack.
Base weight on the approach approximately 34.6kg – 40% my body weight at the time. Loaded up on the approach. Ozymandias in the background (buttress to the left with the great yellow roof).
Check out Part 2 where I launch into the daily trip-report and don’t forget to subscribe below for more cursed ascents.
