You know sometimes you leave on a trip just brimming with excitement knowing that it’s going to be an absolute blast.

You’re so excited and you can tell that everyone else is too and that in the morning everyone is going to be up at the crack of dawn and ready to go climbing.

Other times you go away with Edna…

 

But that’s not where our story begins.

 

Having organized to meet Alex and Edna at my house on Friday night I set about making a green curry early in the afternoon so that we could eat and go ASAP. After thinking that Alex would arrive first I was surprised to see Edna at about 5.30. We set about checking gear and unloading the stuff from his car in preparation for loading Alex’s Camira wagon when she arrived… Sound simple? Sure.

 

During the early planning phase we had discussed whether to hire a trailer, take two cars, take Tom’s parent’s camper trailer (if the Feral came along) or take Alex’s station wagon. After much debate (and the Bushfire lighting decision of the Feral to not go) we decided to take Alex’s wagon. Fine. Sorted. At 11.00pm the night before we leave for Moonarie I got a text message from Alex saying that she wasn’t too sure about whether her car was safe as it was underpowered, the lights didn’t work well and it wasn’t very safe… Maybe we should take a trailer…

 

“Hmmm interesting time to mention it.” I thought. After a few phone conversations I convinced Edna and Alex that it would be fine, we should use the Camira and I would drive the death trap all the way there if needed.

 

Back to preparing the gear.

 

Quang and I decided that it would be a good idea to fill my (6 years out of date) 3kg gas bottle so we loaded it into the car and went off looking for somewhere they didn’t speak English very well and would turn a blind eye to the expiry date stamped on the bottle. First place we went to was one of those petrol stations that does the cylinder exchange thing, so we went in just to enquire about how much it would cost to buy a new one and if they would give us anything for the old shit bottle we had. It turned out that yes, they did do exchanges on expired bottles and it was only $5 more than the normal exchange price. The guy there didn’t really know too much about it, but looked at the pricelist and just went with what it said. The bonus? Our bottle was a 3kg, the replacement was a 3.7kg; a new 3.7kg bottle from an outdoor shop would cost $30 plus it would have cost an additional $25 to fill, while it cost us $29 for an exchange bottle, full of gas! As soon as the guy said the price we couldn’t hand over the dough quick enough, we grabbed the new bottle and made off like bandits! Heh heh.

 

After loading the car and eating dinner we headed off. Listening to the fragments of a Smashing Pumpkins cassette that would play as we drove, we set out for our Moonarie trip only two hours after our planned departure time. Not Bad!

All went well, I ran over a bunny that decided it could beat the car across the road L poor little bunny, The Feral would have been YeeHaw-ing by that stage (and probably wondering if it was stuck under the car in a spot where it could be salvaged for her camp stew), and nearly hit a ‘roo that must have missed the car by inches. Oblivious to all this excitement, Edna and Alex slept like babies.

 

At this point you might be wondering why I haven’t called Alex “Gyro” at all; you’ll see.

 

We arrived at the campground some time just after midnight in true Sand-Baggers tradition and set up camp with a minimum of fuss. Edna made some ominous comments about how tired he was and we went to sleep.

 

Day 1: If it happens once it’s an Epic.

 

Having noticed the night before that we had forgotten to bring a kettle and matches, we had discussed the possibility of driving in to Wilpena to buy some (as well as firewood). Luckily, as Alex and I were leaving (Edna was still asleep) I noticed fellow climbers (and frequenters of the VR Gym) Tony and Bill out and about, preparing to hike up to the cliffs and asked if they had a spare billy. Thankfully, they did and lent it to us, saving a trip and unnecessary spending of cash, we could do without the matches (Action-Gimp fire lighting skills), and firewood was not that much of a deal.

 

Sleeping Beauty arose at the leisurely time of 10-10.30am and proceeded to have a nice quiet brekkie and coffee while Gimp looked wistfully at the so-near-yet-so-far cliffs that called out invitingly to be climbed. With climbing gear organized I began hopping excitedly from foot to foot as Edna finished his repast and then announced that he and Alex were going to go into Wilpena quickly to get wood and matches.

 

“Oh, okay, is it far?”

 

“About 15 minutes round trip.”

 

“Cool, I can handle that.” Doing the dishes while I waited, I looked occasionally to the cliffs that we would be hiking up to in a matter of minutes and couldn’t wait…

 

Almost an hour later after dishes were washed and dried and the camp was tidied and all gear checked and rechecked and I had been to the loo again and taken some photos and looked (more impatiently than wistfully) at the cliffs and gazed at my phone to confirm that it wasn’t just my imagination and that more than 15 minutes had most definitely passed I began to consider hiking up by myself to at least say that I had been up to the cliffs that day. If I even had the slightest inkling that there would be someone to climb with if I hiked up alone, Edna and Alex would have returned to an empty camp.

 

At last Edna and Alex returned (having had a wonderful time shopping and using the apparently beautifully clean toilets) and proceeded to dither about getting ready to go. Lucky that Gimp didn’t have a gun.

 

At the delightful time of 1 ‘o-fucking-clock we started our hike up to Top Camp. Yay!

 

Deciding that The Great Wall was going to be too hot (it was about 30°C) we decided that climbing the nice cool Great Chimney via Shangri La (14), 105m was a good plan.

 

After loading the packs I told Edna that he had the ropes, quickdraws and redundant gear. As we geared up having decided that Alex would lead the first pitch I casually asked Quang where the quickdraws were.

 

“What quickdraws?”

 

“The ones in your pack.”

 

“I didn’t know they were in my pack.”

 

“It’s okay, we have enough cams with carabiners for Alex to do the first pitch, you belay her and I’ll jog back to the junction to get them…” I sighed, glad that he hadn’t left them at camp and muttering about Alzheimer’s and wasting more @!$#% time.

 

When I got back Alex was most of the way up the first pitch and doing well. I must say it was a pretty impressive effort to lead the first pitch of an unfamiliar route at a new and big cliff, and all on your first multi-pitch! Well done Alex!

 

Edna soon followed as did I and we were off.

 

Fortunately there was no rain to wash me off the second pitch this time, and armed with the right information about where to go (Edna had previously put me up it thinking it was Nervine), I found the climbing to be very good. Alex followed with relative ease and Edna brought up the rear (metaphorically as well as the fat one).

 

Alex, near the top of pitch 2 and Edna finishing off pitch 2, then Gimp

We all sauntered unroped up the third pitch (Nature walk up delightful grassy ravine) and set up for Edna’s assault on the fourth pitch.

 

As Quang started up I couldn’t help but experience a sense of Déjà vu as I noticed that the shadows had begun to creep across my limited view (we were in a chimney) of the valley. I reported this to Quang who happily continued to describe each hold and placement to me as he enjoyed leading the penultimate pitch.

 

After a slight pause where the climbing and pro became tricky with an exposed traverse (which also increased the dither factor), Edna moved up the wall relatively oblivious to the impending darkness giving us a commentary on the route as I glanced nervously at the shadow filled valley and the glowing-with-the-colours-of-sunset Chace Ranges. Naturally, satisfied with his negotiation of the crux, Edna regaled us with the obligatory narrative about the intricacies of the section.

“Ummmm, yeah, it’s getting dark Edna.”

 

“Okay,” came his unconcerned reply, followed a few moments later by more commentary.

 

“No, really dark.”

 

“Uh-huh. There’s a good hold here if you look, it’s really quite nice.”

 

“Less talk, more climb. It really is very dark down here now.” I said, thinking that it was fine for him; he wasn’t going to have to lead the last (crux) pitch in the dark.

 

“I don’t know whether I should go under this boulder or over it.”

 

“Dark. Really, really dark.”

 

“It’s not very stable, it might fall if I go under it… it would be easier to go that way, but I think the rope pulling might make it fall, it’s on a really good ledge one side, but then a really small ledge the other side.”

 

“Can you go over it?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Then do that.” I said, silently adding “quickly” to myself.

 

Finally Quang was at the next belay and ready to bring Alex up. After briefly mentioning that she might drive in to Wilpena for a shower when we got back Alex called out that’s me, and as there was very little light left I put my head torch on her and away she went.

 

By the time Alex was at the exposed traverse I was unable to see anything apart from what the torch was illuminating and had to be content to just sit there and listen once again to Edna’s description of the route.

 

“Sixteen!” I called.

 

“What’s that?” Asked Quang.

 

“The number of stars I can count. It’s more now, though, too many to count. Funny, it really is quite dark you know”

 

By this stage Alex was climbing in pitch black, with only a head torch and Beta from Quang on the fourth pitch of her first multi-pitch route, and managing to keep a fairly cool head about it. Maybe ignorance is bliss. I wasn’t quite so relaxed, knowing that the final and crux pitch was described as being a delicate corner with small holds.

 

When Alex reached the “perched block” some discussion ensued as to whether she should go under or over it. After some (read 5 minutes worth) to-ing and fro-ing it was decided that perhaps going around was the best option.

 

“Take your time now, it can’t get any darker.” I thought crouching with my head covered as invisible cricket ball sized rocks rained down, whizzing past my ears each one miraculously missing me by centimeters.

 

After what seemed an eternity it was finally time for me to climb the fourth pitch so that I could meet my doom on the final pitch. With a Maglite hanging from my hydropack to illuminate my foot placements I climbed often finding (as the downward pointing torch illuminated the rock below) that the small holds I had just been grasping were right next to much bigger ones.

 

“Did you see the balanced boulder?” Quang asked as I negotiated an awkward underclinging traverse to the belay ledge.

 

“I didn’t see much of anything.” I replied gazing upwards with trepidation at the final pitch.

 

Noticing the direction of my gaze, Quang assured me that it looked just like my type of climb, “It’s a good corner, with crimpy holds, you should find it easy, and it’s not too long.”

 

Pausing for a photo I geared up and headed up the thankfully short and tricky-but-good last pitch with the aid of my head torch.

Just before sending up The Gimp in total darkness on the last (crux) pitch of Shangri La

As I reached the summit I was greeted by a huge and almost full moon, and set about making a belay thinking that things hadn’t turned out so bad after all, and that I really had enjoyed myself immensely. Things always seem better after you summit, especially when it’s on a route that has previously beaten you.

 

As Alex came up she seemed to move with relative ease, and was surprisingly calm about the whole affair. As she topped out on her first ever multi-pitch route she seemed to be very satisfied with her efforts, and she had every right. I wonder how many people have finished their first multi-pitch in the dark (without it being their last).

 

Glad to be alive, Gimp and Alex look down at Edna

Edna followed easily and we were soon at the top feeling much happier about things in general. After posing for the obligatory summit shots for Alex’s first big route we set about heading back to the descent gully in our climbing shoes as we had left our descent shoes at the bottom thinking we would abseil back down. Obviously this was no longer an option as we weren’t sure how close the chains were. As we blundered through the scrub Alex casually remarked that when we got back she might drive in to Wilpena to have a shower. We nodded and told her about the absolutely amazing view of Wilpena Pound that you could see during daylight from where we were. Adding that she would see it tomorrow when we got to the top earlier.

It was a little dark at the summit

Some time later, and after many near-misses with orb spiders on my part (never leave the trail, or walk between trees Gimp) we were back at the campsite, pausing briefly to say hi to Rob Baker and then a couple of very drunk Kiwis who were visiting eh?

 

By the time we got to our camp it was 10.30pm. Just in time for dinner!

 

 

And beer, and wine. As it was so late, Alex thought that she might just have a sponge bath and have a shower in Wilpena in the morning.

 

 

Day 2: If it happens twice you’re fuckwits!

 

Gimp rose shortly after sunrise and set about cooking breakfast, bacon, baked beans, tomato and eggs. Yum! 

 

Alex rose soon after and appeared to be distracted by the smell of food from her thoughts of a shower and set about happily making some tea.

 

Princess Edna arose in a leisurely manner just in time to have breakfast served by his manservant Gimp, and actually spoilt us all by condescending to making coffee. Lucky us!

Would you believe it? We actually left the campgrounds at about 10.00am and were at the junction by the astounding time of 11.00-11.15!

Albeit stuffed!

 

Following a short recovery break we set about organizing the gear that we had left at the junction overnight. I asked Edna if he had any toilet paper and he told me that he did, in the top of the backpack.

“Cool, can you bring it?”

“Yep.”

Then we headed around towards The Ramparts to check out a route called Kneedeep Chimney.

 

Upon hearing what we were intending to climb, Rob Baker advised us that it wouldn’t be such a great idea. One look confirmed his thoughts for us: a heinous looking offwidth thing that was as black as midnight! Our other target Garden Refuse Removed Cheaply (13) [GRRC] was already being climbed by a group who somehow had made it up before us! God only knows how they managed that!

 

Rob recommended we try a single pitch route called Moondance (15). A route which he said was good, only 25m in length, and had chains at the top. I think he was hoping that we would be able to finish it before dark. We were suspicious of a Sand-Bag, but set off anyway.

 

Looking in the guidebook I soon located the topo with Moondance wall in it and spotted the route marked by an “M” and we made the 10 minute hike around to Callitris Corner.

 

After scrambling onto the base of the route poor Gimp found that nature had begun to call a little too insistently to be ignored any longer and asked Edna for the toilet paper.

 

“What toilet paper?”

 

“You are kidding right?”

 

“Why would I have toilet paper?” Edna asked.

 

“Ohhhh no, please!” I thought, “Because you said you would bring some.” I replied rather urgently.

 

“No, I left it at the junction, can you wait, or head back there?”

 

“Not a chance, oh well, grass and leaves.” I was actually surprised to find that curled bark actually worked quite well.

 

Ten minutes later a relieved Gimp was tying in to climb Moondance, remarking that it looked higher than 25 metres.

 

“I might have a shower at Wilpena when we get back tonight.” Added Alex.

 

After climbing up to a very big ledge that surprisingly was not mentioned in the guidebook I walked some 12m away from the face to the edge of the ledge (it was a very big ledge) to see if I could see the chains at the top. No luck.

 

“Rob did say they weren’t that easy to spot.” Came Edna’s reply when I told him I couldn’t see any chains.

 

Not too bothered I walked back to the wall and started up the overhanging section. Although the climbing was strenuous and a little tricky and run-out at times, I wasn’t worried too often, but did start to wonder just when the chains would come into sight. Quang asked on a number of occasions if a traverse to the left (where the chains should be) was possible, and each time I looked at the blank unprotectable wall to my left and hastily informed him that no, I was not going to be traversing at that moment. Having gone through a number of crux moves up the route I found myself experiencing that interesting combination of fear of dropping and exhilaration at making moves that could not be executed without risking a run-out drop. I was scared and enjoying myself at the same time, although the rope drag towards the end did make the final run-out/crux combination on sloping holds very interesting.

 

At the top I found a set of chains off to the right of my position and wondered if it was a typo or if the book meant to your left as you face out from the cliff. Strange.

 

Pulling in the slack I had taken up 2 metres of rope when Quang called “That’s me!”

 

“How the hell do you confuse 48 metres with 25?” I called out; frustrated that such an obvious error could be made in the guidebook.

 

Quang followed, and seemed to really enjoy the route as well. “How did you get this hex in here?” He asked at one point.

 

“Threaded from above, it was really just there to protect me moving out from under the rooflet.”

 

“Oh, I see. This is a tricky route, good though.”

 

I Agreed.

Once he was up, we set our abseil off the chains, tying two ropes together and one at a time dropped off the ledge. Reaching the bottom I disturbed a sleeping Alex who had obviously been greatly inspired by our efforts.

 

Once Edna was down I pulled the rope through hoping to be able to catch the rope within a metre of the end as it whipped down from a height of 48m up so that Quang would buy me a pint of beer. I did catch the rope within a metre of the end, but Quang contended that seeing as it had gotten caught up in a bush just above my head that all bets were off… cheapskate.

 

Walking back towards GRRC Alex, distracted by thoughts of having a shower that night slipped and received a very bad gash down the side of her leg. Quang and I debated whether to try to get a helicopter in to airlift her out, but Alex, trooper that she is assured us she would be fine, and amazingly, stated her intention to continue climbing!

If you look really close you can see it.

I lagged behind to take pictures of a climber on a hard looking sport route while Alex and Quang kept moving.

 

Meeting up with Rob again, they told him how Moondance had been closer to 50m than 25, which surprised him a little. Hearing the conversation as I approached I took out the guidebook and checked again, only to discover that the “M” on the topo referred to a route named Melodrama, luckily, also a 15, but a route with two pitches! That explained the rope drag.

 

Read the guidebook Gimp you Doofus!

 

Okay, so now that we had established that perhaps my decision skills were a little off today we talked about what we were going to climb next. Rob seemed a little surprised by our discussion about climbing Garden Refuse Removed Cheaply (13) so late in the day, but perhaps sensing that we were determined to have another epic, suggested that if it got late we could traverse right and abseil off some chains at the top (somewhere).

 

Right, decided! Let’s climb GRRC! Yay!

 

Pitch 1 (crux). Gimp led (naturally, if unsure, send up The Gimp), and found things to be a little tricky, especially for a 13. As I progressed I had a nagging feeling that maybe I was about to be the victim of yet another Moonarie Sand-Bag. Hmmmmm. Not only was the start tricky, a thrutchy, awkward little chimney-type thing made the finish of pitch 1 interesting as well.

 

Oh well, soon enough we were all on the first ledge and thankful that the hardest part of the route was behind us.

 

Yeah, sure thing Gimp.

 

Edna volunteered to climb the next pitch and he seemed to do it in style, making his way (in inimitable Edna style – slowly, and carefully) up the corner crack that really was no walk in the park.

 

Seconding him I reflected on how sometimes you can tend to over-think things when you are seconding, and convince yourself that if you were leading instead of seconding that maybe you wouldn’t be able to do it. I think it has something to do with having the time to actually think about what is going on because your mind is not completely occupied; you actually have time to experience fear and doubt. For this reason I think it is not wise to spend too long seconding without leading as you increase your chances of convincing yourself that it’s not something you can do. Gimp wisdom, make the most of it, I now return to talking bullshit.

Alex amazed us with her flexibility, high stepping so much (straight legged) at one point that her foot was level with her shoulder! Bloody show-off! Next we’ll climb a friggin 23! That’ll teach the smartarse!

 

 

Edna did his best Buddha impression while belaying Alex up.

 

“Should I even bother taking all of the gear?” I thought as I weighed up the next pitch, a grade 9, described in the guide thus: The Garden Pitch – up the bushy corner. “Grade 9, not even a proper description in the guide, a bushy corner. Pffft! I bet I solo it.”

 

Of course, (and shut up Tom, Matt, Edna, I do think about these things), I was not silly enough to place no gear; mindful of the dangers of a factor 2 fall if I did not place any gear I placed a piece, clipped the rope, and trundled up at a fast pace, not pausing to place any more (obviously) redundant and time wasting gear as the shadows had started to march across the valley. “The less gear I place, the quicker we will be,” I thought.

 

And then, 27 metres above my last piece: “Hmmmmm, this is an interesting move.” I thought as all of a sudden the holds disappeared on me. Knowing that this could not be the case on a grade 9 I looked around for the jugs that I must be overlooking… not there. “Errr, that can’t be right, where are the gumby grade 9 jugs?” I thought with that sense of a Sand-Bag slowly seeping into my bones.

 

With arms fading from holding myself in a fairly awkward position on less than great holds I placed a cam in the awkward corner crack, clipped the rope and looked again, thinking that at least I could rest on gear if needed. Nope, there was nothing, except, maybe, just up there, 5cm up and just out of reach in the crack I could see a square looking ledge that looked big enough for a hand. Inching my way up on nothing I tried to contort my arm to get my left hand on the ledge… no good, “Dammit!” The crack was oriented so as to make it impossible to get my hand on the ledge! “Maybe my right hand,” I thought. Shifting position to reach in with my right hand I soon found that this just made things even worse; despite being able to get my fingers onto it sideways, I could not get a secure hold, and my body position was all wrong. Dead end.

 

Now, it was starting to get dark. “Shit! Come on Gimp, work it out, it’s only fucking grade 9! Don’t over-think this!” Looking onto the blank left face I noticed a small horizontal ledge, big enough only for a small crimp. It was no grade 9 hold, but it was a hold, and crimps were right up my alley. “Okay, well, that’s one hold, where to after that?” Above it I noticed what looked like another similar hold, “but what if it’s no good? Well, do you see anything better? Good point. Come on Gimp just climb this fucker, don’t think too much. If you’re gonna drop, bloody do something, because otherwise you’re gonna drop anyway, this is burning energy and daylight. Just shut up and move, it might work.” It’s funny, my fellow Sand-Baggers have noted when I get a little worried about things that I tend to stop talking. That’s not exactly true, I just stop talking to them and start talking to myself.

 

Grabbing the crack to layback awkwardly with my right hand I placed my left hand on the crimp, smeared my right foot on the slightly undercut right face and pulled.

With nowhere for my right hand I threw my left at the next crimp and to my relief found it to be about the same (not great but at least useable) as the lower one. I jammed my foot into the crack and lunged for the high sloper on the right face and… caught it. “Oh shit, thank God for that!” I thought as I performed an awkward mantle/beached whale manoeuvre and hauled myself up onto the small ledge.

 

“I’ll be fucked if that’s a friggin grade 9!” I called down to Edna and Alex. “More like a grade 20.” I thought, wondering how Quang and especially Alex were going to fare.

 

I set up on the small (2 person) ledge and belayed Edna up. He paused at the crux, and then seemed to breeze up it; “It wasn’t a 9, but not a 20 either. The fist jam was awkward, but not that hard.”

 

“Fist jam?”

 

“Yeah, I just reached up and jammed my fist into the constriction. It wasn’t the best, but it was okay.”

 

“Fist jam?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Oh man! I’ve go to work on my jamming. I didn’t even see, let alone consider it!”

 

“Heh heh heh,” Edna laughed, incredulous that jamming the crack never even occurred to me.

 

By this time guess what? Yep, it had started to get dark! Weird huh? Who would have thought? I had noticed the light fading as I fluffed around on the Garden Pitch, and with a desire to finish as much of the route with some semblance of daylight (and a ledge built for two) we decided that I would head up the final pitch  using the last five minutes of light before Quang brought Alex up.

 

With thoughts of the previous pitch still firmly in my mind I started up the last pitch tentatively, placing a couple of pieces early… no more smart arse assumptions about grade for Gimp today! To say I was shitting bricks would have been an understatement.

 

Approaching a flaring crack I discovered a nice big spider on the inside face (thankfully) not close to where I needed to put my hand. I clipped the piece of fixed gear (a stopper jammed years ago) and then marvelled at the next piece of gear that had been left behind; a quickdraw clipped to a bolt! Hmmm, someone’s second obviously misunderstood the difference between fixed gear and a quickdraw clipped to a bolt!

 

Now in darkness and climbing with the aid of moonlight and my headtorch, I climbed slowly and deliberately, cursing myself for deciding to climb the tallest route at Moonarie at 2.30pm. Convinced that we were all going to die I resigned myself to the fact and climbed.

 

It wasn’t until I reached a spacious ledge some 15m below the top that I realised that it had been a while since I had placed some gear.

 

As this was going to be the last chance to lower my head torch down for Quang to use I untied and lowered it using the end of the rope. Although this sounds risky (and Edna told me so), it wasn’t, the ledge was bloody big.

 

Oh well, looks like not much gear to finish with either I thought as I wandered along the ledge looking for the final exit section of the route by moonlight.

 

Edna called out that perhaps I should place something (we had discussed the run out casually as I wandered around) but I assured him there was no way I was falling off this ledge (It would have been like falling out of your lounge room by accident). Finally I spied the exit and made my way up, placing no gear, more from a lack of light than anything else.

 

“If I fall now I’m fucked!” I thought as I made the final dicey moves before the top.

 

Topping out I couldn’t help the thought that just popped into my head, and I apologise to Edna and Alex for it now: “Well, at least one of us lived through that.” It wasn’t something that I thought consciously, it just popped in, I am not proud of it, and only report it here to illustrate how serious I really thought things could have become.

 

Tying myself in to a convenient tree I radioed to Quang that I was safe, allowing him to bring Alex up. The time was 7.30pm.

 

“Hmmmm, I wonder what Alex has been doing all this time?” I know you are thinking dear reader. Well, I can tell you with a reasonable level of certainty, although we have never discussed it; She was sitting on the second belay ledge with her hands clasped in front of her, head tilted slightly with a far-off look in her eye, rocking back and forth slightly, oblivious to the darkness and repeating the same mantra over and over: “gotta have a shower, gotta have a shower, get nice and clean, go to Wilpena, gotta have a shower…”

 

And thus, Rainman was born! Honestly! She just had not shut up about the friggin’ showers at Wilpena ever since seeing them the day before! It was driving us nuts! She would actually change subject with “I think I might have a shower in Wilpena tonight” in a matter of fact tone that would just stop conversations dead!

 

Anyhoo, Edna brought Alex up to the third ledge with a little hauling at the fist jam crux (while I took pictures of myself with the moon in the background), and then started up the final pitch. Delighting at the booty (quickdraw) he soon began to wonder just what the hell was going on in my mind to have run it out so much. Of course, it was mostly just because I couldn’t see potential placements too clearly.

 

Joining me at the top, Quang and I shared a nervous little laugh and I set about bringing Rainman up.

 

All was fine until a tired Alex arrived at the awkward crux: “You might have to help me here a little,” she told us over the radio.

 

“No worries,” I called back “we’ll drag you up if we need to.”

 

“Okay!” Alex immediately took me up on the offer and all of a sudden the rope became a lot heavier.

 

“Oh crap! I think she’s sitting” I said in a falsetto voice as the rope attempted to provide us with crushed nuts for dessert.

 

“Hang on,” said Edna coming over to help me haul rope.

 

The next few minutes felt like we were reeling in a big Marlin: Quang and I would get into a crouching position then stand up while holding the rope static. He then locked his legs and griped the rope as tightly as possible while I took in slack and crouched again with the rope locked off. Edna would then crouch and the process was repeated until Alex was able to climb again (and no, there was nowhere decent to set up a pulley system).

 

Finally Alex was at the top with us and all three Fuckwits began the long walk back down in the dark again.

 

The end of day two, and despite summiting twice, Alex had still not seen the spectacular view of Wilpena Pound.

Flying Buttress by moonlight

 

We got back to camp a little earlier than the previous night, (about 9.45pm). By the time we reached camp I was completely sick of hearing about how Rainman was going to have a shower in Wilpena when we got back… Edna had not bothered to wait to listen, he had outpaced both of us on the downhill run, not because he was fitter, just because it was downhill and momentum had begun to take hold. By the time he was within 500m of camp he was rolling at about 60km/h and only stopped after knocking down his fourth tree.

 

Luckily, he was able to use all the felled trees to get a fire going and Alex and I arrived in camp to be greeted by a nice warm fire.

 

Dinner consisted of a spaghetti followed by some rather nice nibbles, camembert, mettwurst, cheese, crackers and other savoury snacks. Yum.

Needless to say, the leftover sausages from the night before were not needed, fate it seems, had a different plan for them.

 

We drank a lot more beer and wine (from the lovely Port Wakefield district, one of SA’s more famous wine producing regions), and Rainman flashed the other campers again having a sponge bath, while Edna and I attended to more important things (drinking beer).

 

Day 3: Day of the 'Henge.

 Perhaps it was because we were all supermotivated to get on the rock early, but everyone got up nice and early and prepared for the day's climbing... I actually think it was more out of a fear of being stranded up in the dark again.

Breakfast was made and we enjoyed a nice strong coffee while Rainman considered her next ablutions.

Sometimes when playing cricket, the bowler will just bowl up a nice slow full toss that just begs to be smacked over the boundary for 6. "Gimp, can you help me wash my hair by pouring some water on my head?"

"Errr, sure Alex..."

Moments, and some excited shrieks later, Alex was chasing Adam around the camp site with the little bit of (freezing) water that had not been tipped over her.

Of course revenge was soon exacted, with Alex tipping the rest of the water over Adam, cracking him in the nose with the aluminium bottle in the process.

After these shenanigans were over we set about preparing food for the day.

The sausages left over from Saturday night did not look appealing.

"Bit of a waste to just toss them out," said Gimp.

"The goats will probably eat them," suggested Edna, " hey, why not put them in a line for the goats to follow like a trail?" He added.

"Good idea." As Gimp started to line up the sausages he was struck by the way they cast interesting shadows and an idea occurred to him...

"Heeeeyy, how about if..?"

"How about what?" asked Quang.

"A Sausage Henge!"

Several strange minutes later we all had the theme to 2001 A Space Odyssey in our heads.

Sausage Henge in all its glory

 

If you build it they will come; The Gimp worships at Sausage Henge.

For some, it doesn't take too much time isolated from the world for strange behaviour to begin.